Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 January 1876 — Page 3

RENSSELAER UNION. HORACE E. JAMES, Proprietor. RENSSELAER, - INDIANA.

ONLY THE SUNNY HOURS. tSnggested by the inscription on a run-dial: I “ Boras non numero nisi serenas."] Only the sunny hours Are numbered here— No Winter time that lowers, No twilight drear. But from a golden sky When sunbeams fall. Though the bright moments fly— They’re counted all. Mv heart its transient woe Remembers not! The ills of long ago Are half forgot; j' But Childhood’s round of bliss. Youth’s tender thrill, Hope’s Whisper, Love’s first kiss — They haunt me still! Sorrows are everywhere, Joys—all too few I Have we not had our share Of pleasure too? No Past the glad heart cowers, No memories dark; Only the sunny hours The dial mark. —-Edmund Clarence Stedman. in Scribner's Monthly.

THE ICE-GORGE.

“It’s coming, mister! It follows me close, and if you’re wise you will make tracks before. Why, it’s Mr. Bradburn— Mark Bradburn, isn’t it? I didn’t know you at first.” I, for my part, knew the speaker—a young American assistant surveyor in State employ—well enough; and as he checked his fast-trotting horses and leaned over the side-rail of the light, highwheeled wagon which he drove I could see by his flushed cheek and excited manner that something serious must have occurred. “The ice-gorge so nuw>fe .talked of is really descending, then?” I began. “I thought precautions hud—/ —” “Ay, but we’re dead beat,” interrupted McKinlop—for that was his name. “ The engineer-in-chief has tried everything, but the enemy $s too strong for us; and unless we can get time to blast it as it reaches the Narrows nothing but a miracle can save the towns of Clayville and Port Adams. It’ll be at Ithaca a quarter of an hour after I am, and let me tell you it’s no sport to try conclusions with the drifting pack that so big a stream as the Delaware can send down.” And without further parley he lashed his horses and hurried down the road that skirted the bank; while almost immediately afterward 1 caught sight of a number of vehicles of various sorts and sizes rattling along at furious speed. These were filled with men, women, children and household gear; and as the drivers went past the spot where I, with several of my neighbors and some of the workmen from the mine of which I was manager, was standing they shouted aloud some hoarse words of warning, looking back and pointing up the river with their whips. Every eye was turned toward the jutting point where we were likely to catch the first glimpse of the advancing foe. “ Bruton, and Dutch Town and Sparta, on the New Jersey side, were swamped yesterday, so ,’tis said,” remarked an old farmer in blue homespun and boots of untanned leather. “ I guess we Pennsylvania folks won’t get otf shot-free nouther. There it comes. Britisher—rounding the point!" Looking toward the spot indicated I described something like a moving wall of glistening greenish ice, sparkling in the sunlight; and advancing slowly and with a stately majesty down the broad river, which it seemed to fill from bank to bank. This could be nothing less than the socalled ice-gorge, or accumulation of floating blocks and slabs from the upper waters of the Delaware, partially melted by the hot sun of an American spring, and damming back the chafing waters of the swollen river to an extent which threatened mischief. All this was new to me, an Englishman born, since it is only in very hard winters that such phenomena are witnessed in those regions; and during the four years which I had passed in the country this last winter had been exceptionally severe. I, Mark Bradburn, had, at the age of five and twenty, been reckoned fortunate in being promoted to be acting manager of the Black Star Iron Mine, close to a town called Ithaca, on the Pennsylvania shore of the Delaware. But then I had for two years had an opportunity, as clerk of the works, of proving to the satisfaction of my principals that I was capable of superintending the business efficiently enough. A Staffordshire lad, I had from childnood been familiar with iron ores and their treatment; while, having early in life been placed under the tuition of a mining engineer, 1 had brought out with me to America that technical knowledge which so greatly tends to smooth the path of an emigrant. It was for the sake of my widowed mother in England— who loved me very dearly, and who, I knew, never failed night and morning to put up a prayer for the safety and well-being of her boy beyond the seas—that 1 was so eager to earn the means to establish a home which I could ask her to share. With this end in view during the first years of my residence in the United States I had practiced self-denial as well as industry; had roughed it contentedly, and had spent my leisure hours in perfecting myself in the theoretical lore of my . profession and in cultivating an acquaintance with the German language, in which I could now converse fluently—a useful accomplishment in a district where so many of our workers were fair-haired new-comers who knew- no tongue but that of their native Saxony or Pomerania. My post, as acting manager of a Pennsylvanian mine, was one which entailed some privations, much vigilance and a good deal of patient toil. The Black Star was but a propertyjof moderate extent—not one of those mammoth mines that yield their thousands of tons in the monthly output—but the iron whs of excellent quality; fine red hamiatite that almost equaled the best Swedish in luster and purity; and nothing but the cost of coal and of labor prevented us from carrying on a much larger trade than we actually did. Our workmen were a motley crew of varied nationality, for, the best of the native pitmen had (been allured away by the gold and silver of the tar West, while the sturdy Irish immigrant*- preferred open-air labor to earning a livelihood below ground. So high were the wages we were forced to give that Cornish miners, and colliers from Scotland often found it worth their while to cross and recross the Atlantic, spending their own slack season profitably among our shafts and galleries. Salaries in the United States are perhaps not quite on a proportionate level with weekly wages, but then tlie opportunities of rising in the world are prob-

ably riiore frequent than at home; and I did not complain, anticipating the time when, as permanent manager, I should be in receipt of a better income and, prospectively, of some share in the profitsof the firm. For the time being I had board and lodging, at the rate of $1.50 a day, in an upland farm-house, and ran no risk of damage, either in person or property, by the inundation that menaced the dwellings of those who lived closer to the river. I was therefore a mere spectator, though ready and willing at a pinch to be useful to those who were lesfc fortunate. “ There’s a woman on Ship Island, there, waving something and calling to us. May I never, but it’s young Mme. Parnell herself! Yes, and there’s the child with her,” said one of men on the bank. “ Can’t be,’’said another, incredulously. “ The farmer would never have lingered this long, till he’s right in the grip of the ice.” “ Parnell’s not tew hum, I tell you,” answered the other in his New Jersey accent. “He’s away this week past to Philadelphia city. Yes, that’s the wife calling for help, poor young thing! Guess those cowardly skunks of hired men hev gone off in the flatboat and left the woman and child to shift for themselves.”

To explain this I may briefly say that two miles above Ithaca and almost opposite to the bluff on which we were standing there is an islet in the river shaded by trees and which takes its name from some fancied resemblance in its shape to that of a ship. On it stood a farm-house with brightly-painted gables of carved woodwork, a tiled roof and a porch which in summer was festooned with twining roses —a, picturesque object in the landscape. Often in the still sultriness of an August day I had looked admiringly at this house, with its peach and apple orchards, its -grassy meadows shaded by tall cottonwood poplars, and its sunny garden sloping to the water’s edge, where the great streaked melons and yellow pumpkins lay basking in the midst of blooming flowers, and had considered it as the very abode ot peace, i knew the proprietor of this enviable dwelling—Sfetli Parnell, by name - but very slightly, and had never met with the other members of his family or set foot on his tiny domain. That the island farm was in great danger from the advancing ice was but too manifest; and I was astonished when, on demanding who was ready to assist me in carrying aid to the deserted woman and child, no response was made beyond a depreoatory growl of dissent from my proposal. “ Throwin’ life away as you’d throw a corn-stalk, that’s what I call it,” pithily rejoined after a pause the old yeoman from the hills. “ ’Tain’t the drift that’s speckling the river now that I’d value the snapping of a gunlock,” he continued, pointing to the loose ice floating by; “ it’s the gorge itself that would smash in the side of a hundred-ton sloop as a boy cracks a peanut; and see, mister, the jam’s breaking already!” And indeed the ice-wall, which had for some minutes been stationary, having probably anchored itself on some shoal or sandbank, was again in motion, urged by the resistless pressure of the flood above it, while the shrieks and despairing gestures of the lonely occupant of the islet show T ed in what an agony of alarm she beheld the near approach of the destroying wave. Still, although I made an urgent appeal to around me to aid in manning a broadliorn—one <of a nifhiber of boats, of various build and size, that lay moored in the creek hard by—no volunteer answered to the call; and when I declared my intention of going alone jo the rescue of those on the island, efforts were made to dissuade me from running the risk of what, to the bystanders, appeared to be all but inevitable death.

“Good grit; I’ll say that for the Britisher!” Such were the old farmer’s valedictory words as I sprang into a canoe, grasped the paddle and pushed off. “ Pity, too, to see it done. We oughter hev held hint back by force, neighbors.” However, I was by this time well out of the creek, which formed a sort of miniature harbor, and plying my paddle with the vigor necessary to contend with the force of the current, now swollen by the effects of the long-continued thaw. Luckily, during my residence beside the Delaware I had acquired that dexterity in the handling of a canoe which nothing but practice could confer, and I succeeded in eluding the shock of those sheets of floating ice—the impact of which might have proved fatal to my slender skiff—and had almost gained the southern extremity of the island when a.Joud shout of warning from those on shore made me turn my head, to behold, with dismay, that a quantity of gigantic masses of the gleaming crystal had broken away from the slow-moving gorge and were rushing furiously down the stream, revolving in giddy circles as they came. Almost mechanically I gave one long sweeping stroke with the paddle, and, as the canoe darted forward, rose to my feet and sprang into the water, which proved to be little more than waistdeep at the spot, so that I easily scrambled up the garden bank, while my frail bark, caught and crushed between two of the drifting blocks, floated a helpless wreck along the river. Up to this moment I- had achieved a partial, but only a partial, success. I had reached the island, but the heaviest part of my task, as I was well aware, lay before me. The canoe was gone, so that, unless some boat belonging to the farm should be still Listened to the banish I must depend on my own ingenuity for the means of conveying myseif and those for whose lives I liad imperiled my own to firm ground. Had I but time I had little doubt that, by some one of the expedients that suggest themselves to a trained engineer, I could ettect ajsafe passage to the shore; but I could not avoid entertaining some dismal forebodings as I noted the alarming rapidity with which the floodwave was rising. Another so-called “jam” had taken place as the .ice-gorge touched upon the-shallows the island and I could hear the grinding and clashing of the ice as slab upon slab was piled up by the . mighty pressure' from above. 1 had enough to do to soothe the fears of poor little Mrs. Parnell—a gentle, blue-eyed little woman—who had thanked and blessed me as her preserver when we met, but who now, as she saw the river rushing over the islet, 'sweeping away bam and byre, and invading the lower rooms oft lie farm-house, gave up all for lost; while the child—a noble-looking little boy—showed scarcely any sign of alarm. Those were anxious moments which succeeded. I coujd tell by the dull thudthud ! as of a steam hammer, that the ice was beating against the stout timbers of the farm-house. The meadows were submerged, the garden a dreary waste of floating fragments of wood-work, uprooted shrubs and turbid water. The flood was up to my knees as 1 crossed the threshold of the dwelling itselt.” That there was no bbat but that which had .been, carried off by the cowardly hirelings who

had left their master’s family to perish I had speedily ascertained. Of rescue from the shore there could be no reasonable prospect. The danger had increased tenfold since first I set off on my venturous vojage, and no one was likely to launch a boat in the face of almost certain destruction. So far as I could see, there were bat two courses open to us. We might remain in the upper stories ofjthe farm-house, or, if hard pressed by the mounting water, take refuge on the roof, trusting that the strong wooden framework would hold together till the flood should abate. But the manner ill which the walls trembled beneath the shock of the on-coming ice was not reassuring, while the frightful rapidity with which the water rose threatened absolute ruin. The other alternative was to construct a raft capable of battling with current and pack-drift; and to this I at once addressed myself. Luckily a number of empty flour-casks set on end, and some sheep-hurdles, which I espied floating about in the yard, now transformed into a lagoon, in the midst of which the affrighted poultry screamed and fluttered, supplied the needful materials, while my professional handiness stood me in good stead; but the peril was pressing ana immihfent, for now the blows dealt by the ice-blocks without made the house reel as though beneath the strokes of a batteringram.

Never before had I toiled as I did then, well knowing that life and death depended on nry promptitude, and that the breaking up of another “jam,” or temporary ice-dam, would probably render the river unnavigable, so that, should the house be swept away, our last poor chance of safety would be gone. So I worked on with fierce eagerness until the empty casks and the osier hurdles were as tightly secured with withes and cords as could be effected by one pair of hands; and then the precious raft was launched, Mrs. Parnell lending her slight strength to the task as, slowly and painfully, it was dragged through the shallow water in search of a place where there should be sufficient depth to set it afloat. There was a moment of agonizing' suspense, and I strained every muscle and sinew in the attempt to drag the light structure clear of some uprooted trees, while the house shook perceptibly beneath the thundering blows of the piled-up ice, which now rose many feet high at the back of the islet. Then the raft floated; and, bidding those under my charge to sit still and leave the rest to me, I seized a fir-pole and thrust it off from the bank into the whirling water. Once, twice and yet a third time I touched the bottom with the pole with which I tried to steer the rude craft, and then we were in deep water, and’driving along at the mercy of the current. A shriek from Mrs. Parnell made me look back, and I saw the whole side of the dwelling we had just left collapse like a child’s house of cards, while with a roar like that of artillery the ice-bar-rier broke up, and in pell-mell confusion the shining hillocks and glittering slabs began to hurry toward us, the horrible grinding sound of the blocks as they dashed against one another being loud enough to deafen the ear that heard it. For a moment, but only for a moment, despair took possession of my heart; but then, as the eddy swept us in shoreward, a ringing cheer from the men clustered on the bank, and then another, attracted my attention. The ice was very near, but the shore, thank Heaven, was nearer still, and a long rope was thrown to us. I caught it, and we were dragged to the bank, where, amidst the drifting ice, the rait was upset, and it was not without some trouble and peril that, bruised, wet and breathless, we gained the solid earth.

Half an hour later Mrs. Parnell and little Louis, chilled and exhausted, but unharmed, were safe under the hospitable care of the kindly folks in whose house 1 lived, while before night her husband arrived to clasp the rescued ones to his heart. “ Under God’s mercy,” said the honest fellow to me, with a quivering lip, as lie took my hand and wrung it for the tenth time, “ I owe the preservation of all I love to you. We’re friends for life, I guess.” And stanch and fast friends have we been till now, though years have rolled by since that day and both of us have prospered in the world aud have happy homes and a fair sufficiency of the good tilings of life. But we have neither of us ever forgotten the events of that terrible winter, or let slip from our memories the ice-gorge and what came of \i.—Belgravia. p

Two-Thousand-Hollar Hymn-Book.

Burnham, the antiquarian bookseller of Boston, has a collection which he lately bought at Dr. ShurtlefPs auction. But he did not succeed in capturing the “ Bay Psalm Book,” which would have sold for $1,500 or $2,000 if the Old South deacons had not withdrawn it from the sale by the aid of the Supreme Court. The growth in pried' of old books is well illustrated by this example of the Bay Psalm Book. Old Dr. Prince left his library to the Old Smith Church, ing five or six copies of this work, which was one of the first books printed in New England, and was from the press * J of Stephen Dgye, the first college printer at Cambridge, who was brought over from England by Mr. Glover, and set up his printing-press at Harvard College in 1759. Although a rare book, it had no great pecuniary value thirty years ago, and copies could have been bought for thirty dollars, perhaps. One of the first to obtain a copy from the Old South deacons by barter was Edward Crowninshield, at whose sale, some years afterward, it was found that the British Museum was a bidder for this particular book, and got it at a fabulous cost—perhaps £IOO or £125. This instantly put up the price of all othercopies, including Dr. ShurtlefPs, which he had bought for what was then a reasonable compensation, paying,, for it, not in money, but in other books. His title to it will probably be found unimpeachable, but perhaps his family may compromise the matter by giving it up to some library without a sale at auction. Harvard College wants it, and ought to have it;the Boston Public Library also wants it to make one more in thtelistof rare books, of which it has more than one copy. The Prince Library, which used to be kept in the steeple of the Old South, is now more safely lodged in the Boston Library building, in Boylston street, and the librarian there is as watchful of .its interests as of his owni— SpringHeld (J/trsa.) Republican. l —The King of Burmah interposes no objection to the coming of missionaries to his Kingdom. On the contrary he has requested those now in the country to write to England, Scotland and America “and ask for teachers to come and reside in Mandalay. The King said he should like to have them, would protect them and see that all their wants were^upplied.”

Our Young Folks. • " I —T ONLY A CENT. Kite* bewildering, blue and red, One, two, three in the window spread,; A penny apiece, the label said. Without, a* the window, in amaze An urchin suddenly paused to gaze. Paused to speculate, half iu doubt, Concerning the hope his eyes held out; “Truly," he cried, “kite-stock is low’’— Fortunate moment to dnd it so, For the penny essential jbigled nigh, The question was only which to buy. The boy was puzzled to make a choice: “O dear!" he continued, with tragic voice, “ I s’pose I may as well take the blue, 1 wish I could buy the others, too. So cheap they’ll surely be gone belore— e If only I had two pennies more!” Yet truly a bargain this blue-faced toy; He turned to jostle another boy, Staring like him with greedy eyes. Though not with the air of a boy that buys; Staring not at the blue and red Temptingly in the window spread. But just beneath, where, cuddling close, A heap of savory buns arose. Speckled with raisins, sugar-spread; A penny apiece, the label read. Sobbed he: “If only I had a cent!’’ So drearily forward his great eyes bent, Not strauge that the kite-enthusiast paused— Strange if this sight no pity caused There came a struggle, and then a thought Which suddenly back his spirits brought; He seized the wondering urchin’s hand, A moment later within they stand. “Pray, sir,” the kite-enthusiast cries— Bulged-out the other’s startled eyes, Impatient to knjsW’VPllUl un this meant—- “ Between us Both we’ve but a cent; Couldn’t you. somehow, give a kite And bun, too, just lor this one night?” “ No,” growled the shopman, “see the cost; Money already on them lost.” Then came a tug—hurrah, he won! Softly answered: " I’ll take the bun.” Down on the counter dropped his cent; Breathless forward his comrade bent, Paused a moment in sweei surprise. Then seized, devoured, whilst lips and eyes One lingering, wistful “ Thank you” spoke. Some other happy little folk, * For past the wonderful blue and red, Temptingly in the window spread, Past, forgetful, an urchin sped; Somehow never his heart so light, Though he had neither cent nor kite; Somehow never so sweet a night, • 'or nev’er before, with all he’d spent, Had he bought so much 11s with this cent. —llona Graham, in Christian Union.

KITTY’S WISHES.

Kitty Hathway sat by the open window and looked out. in a disconsalate frame of mind. Her mother had told her that the sun was too hot for her to go out in the yard without a hat on, and her hat was away up-stairs in the nursery, and she did not want tcjC go up there for it. Nurse was putting the baby to sleep, and so she could not be called to throw it down, and Kitty, in a very lazy frame of mind, did not know what was to be done about it. She had a habit of letting herself be very discontented. She knew it was wrong, for her mamma had often told her so, and said that if she did not overcome it and stop wishing for things she did not have, and be satisfied with what she had, that she would grow up to be a very unhappy woman. But Kitty thought her mamma was very hard ou her; that no little girl could be contented with everything; she must want things she could not have, and be very unhappy that she did not get them. As she sat there thinking it over she was so engaged in being unhappy that she did not see a little fairy come in the window; however, she could not have seen her, anyway, for she was invisible to mortal eyes. She was not a very pretty fairy; she had an unhappy look" on her face, her eyes were drawn down, the corners of her mouth went in the same direction, her hair hung down all limp and draggled, as if she had just come out of a sea-bath, her clothes were and hanging loosely oii her, and altogether she was in a forloi'B plight. It was hardly to he wondered at, for she was the fairy who (grants foolish wishes, and the poor thing was so pushed for time, so dragged hither and yon by the quantity of foolish wishes people made, that she had not a moment of time to “ do up” her hair, or ke*p her clothes clean or mended. ' There were so many people wanting her just now that she could not stay by Kitty; so she just waved,, her wand, which looked very much like a scourge, over her, and, in a twinkling of an eye, surrounded by the land where . wishes come true.

She did not know it, however, but still kept thinking about how nice it was out of doors, and how- far it was up to the nursery where her hat was. As she thought, some sparrows hopped down on the pavement and began to eat the crumbs her mitlier had thrown out to them,{. “ O dear,” sighed Kitty, “ I do wish I was a sparrow, then I could go out in the sun without putting on a hat.’ 1 ’ Much to ner surprise she suddenly began to dwindle away; her legs shrank up until they were not much larger than a. match, her clothes changed into feathers, and her arms grew into wings. “ Dear me!” she exclaimed, in surprise, “I am a sparrow-. Isn’t that nice?” And up she started to fly out of the window and join the others; but she had never flown before and, of course, did not know- how, so she flew against the win-dow-pane and fell down' on the ground, nruisea by the fall. She made another attempt and succeeded no better, and it was five or six minutes before she was able to fly out of the window as she w anted to. When she finally did get out she flew directly to the rest of the sparrows, thinking Uiat, of course, they would know- her and be glad to see her. But she found they did just like little girl# do when a strange child comes among them. They drew off and began to whisper and laugh as they nodded their heads toward her. She felt very uncomfortable about it and tried hopping up nearer to them, and saying, “Peep, peep,” which she meant for “ How do you do?” Then they flew at her and commenced to peck at her leathers, so she grew- frightened and flew off by herself. She saw her pussy-cat toasting herself near by in the sun, and thought, at any rate, xhe would know and play with her; so up she hopped, in the most confiding manher. The pussy-cat was really very well behaved in regard to sparrows when they kept out of’Ker way; but what cat could be expected to resist such temptation as a sparrow- deliberately walking up to its very mouth. Pussy, of course, made a ferocious spring on her poor little mistress, who did hot at all understand what it meant until she felt the sharp claws in her w-ing; then she remembered, and peeped out: “oh, I wish I was a t pussycat instead of a sparrow.” No sooner said than done, and slie turned into the cat, and instantly felt Verv indignant that tlio sparrow had escaped from her. \ “ It really is too bad,” she thought to herself, “that when I so seldom 'have a chance of catching a sparrow I Should miss when I did have one almost in hry claws.”

“ Never mind!” she wenton; “ I know where there are some nice young mice in the stable across the alley; I will go after them.” f Off she went down the yard, not even 1 stopping to frisk with a dead leaf that blew in her way., until she reached her own stable. She had cleared that out of mice some time ago, and they had not yet come back, so now she had begun to prey on the neighbors’ stables. Under the door was a hole where she could creep out and go” into the alley. Reaching it, she found it was so closely filled up with bricks that she could not get out any more. In the midst of being so provoked at finding her hole shut that her tail bristled up, and her hair stood on end, she suddenly remembered that, as Kitty Hathway, she had that morning put in the bricks herself to keep Kitty Pussv from going into the alley, where she kept bad company and soiled her pretty white fur. “This serves me right,” she thought; “ the first thing 1 will do when I am Kitty again will be to take the bricks out of poor Pussy’s hole so she can go through. However, there’s a hole in the next-door stable; I’ll go through there; and out, she rushed into the yard again, a very frolicsome kitten, and went right up the fence, thinking, as she rushed to th§ top: “ Oh, isn’t this nice—to climb the fence so easily; it is a dreadful trouble when I am a little girl. I’ll always stop a cat.”

With which words down she jumped into the next yard, not noticing, in her delight, that Carlo, the neighbor’s large dog, stood ready to catch her as she came down, which he did, and holding her down on the ground with his big paw barked at her in the most ferocious manner, almost terrifying her out of her wits. She was too frightened to know what to do, and Carlo’s foot pressed so heavily she could hardly breathe. She thought that she was just dying when a voice called: “Fie, Carlo! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, teasing Kitty Hatliway’s little Pusssy? Let it alone, sir!” Carlo raised his foot as he turned to look at the speaker, and Kitty sprang for her life back over the fence, quicker "than she had come over, thinking as she went; /“ Oh, dear! oh, dear, I do wish I was Kitty Hathway again.” She spoke tomguickly, for she changed back into a litU'e girl while she was still in the air, and came down upon the ground on her hands and knees. She fell so hard that it hurt her very much, and, jumping up, she ran into the house, crying, and forgetting all about the dog. Her mother met her, and as she was washing the dirt off her hands she said: “How did you hurt yourself, Kitty?” “ I fell off the fence, mamma,” she sobbed. „ “ That fence is too high for you to try to climb.” “ I wasn’t myself, I was Pussy, mamma,” she answered. “ Mfell, you musn’t play pussy on high fences, any more,” her mother said. “Bdt l was Pussy,” Kitty answered, with a sob, “ and 1 fell off and turned to myself.” "Heir mother laughed and said: “You are sleepy come and take a nice nap and -you’ll feel better.” Mrs. Hathway shut the shutters and made the room cool and dark, and Kitty soon fell asleep. When she woke up everything was quiet, and she lay there thinking. Presently, little by little, it all came back to her and she began to wonder whether it was a dream all about the pussy and sparrows and Carlo’s almost killing her, and she could not quite settle it to her satisfaction. “Anj'way,” she said to herself at last, for she was not always a foolish, discontented little girl, but often had nice, sensible thoughts, “ I suppose it was meant to teach me what mamma is always telling me, about how wrong it is to make foolish wishes and not to be contented. I will try and remember it now, and, when I make a foolish wish, remember what a dreadful time I’ve had to-day.”— N. Y. Observer.

RELIGIOUS AND EDUCATIONAL.

—No edifice, says the Churchman , of Hartford, Conn., can properly be called a church which is under any indebtedness, or even liable to become so. —There is a strange rumor that Pere Hyacintlie, now on liis way to this country, is to receive a call from a leading church in this city . Boston Herald. —lt is in contemplation to erect a large Presbyterian church in the northwestern part of Philadelphia, capable of seating 3,000 persons, and not within five blocks of any other church of the same denomination. —Within thepasttwenty years Connecticut has expended about SIOO,OOO for libraries and apparatus in the public schools of that State. About three-fourths of this has been contributed voluntarily, and the remainder has been furnished by the State. —Secretary Northop,'of the Connecticut State Board ot Education, has made preparations for displaying at the Philadelphia Exhibition evidences of the educational development of the Chinese students who are now in this country under the'charge of Mr. Yung Wing. —A recent Port Jervis (N. Y.) letter to the New York Sun says: religious revival in this city was closed last evening. The number of conversions amount to over 700 in the Methodist Church, and the converts in the oilier churches w-ill raise the number to nearly 800.” —The Northern Presbyterian Church in its march South liasjjfganized the Synod of Atlantic, comprised of six presbyteries in four States, having 123 churches, forty-four ministers ana about 10,000 members, mostly colored. Most of the churches have preaching but once a month, but other services are kept up regularly. —The Young Men’s Christian Association of Vermont have sent out a body of experienced men, who are to hold what are called Gospel meetings in every town in the State. They devote from three to five days in each place. ’ The churches are taking up collections to pay their expenses. This requires but four, dollars lrom each church! —The first col®rcd clergjman of the Reformed Episcopal Church was ordained by Bishop Cummins, at Pineville, S. C., Dec. 5. The newly-ordained deacon, Frank C. Ferguson, has been a teacher of a large school. A school for the training of co»ored ministers will be opened by the Reformed Episcopalians in Charleston at the beginning of this year, —The programme for the celebration of the centenary of American Independence by the Methodist Episcopal churches has been published. The thanksgivwill begin on the first Sunday in/ J unhand close on the Fourth of July. Each chutch will select a Sunday during the interval named. The exercises will Be a memorial sermon and a children’s meeting. The people are invited to devote their gifts to the cause of education.

UNDER THE SHADOW OF THJ WINO. Pub*, holy, stored, tender dove. Brood on ny soul in patient love; A*, ’neatb Thy moving, once the deep Wakened from the gloom and formless sleep. So mold the ebsoa of mv heart; J Set light and darkness wide apart; My stormy soul in mercy bring Under the shadow of Thy wing. «. When Jeans stood within the tide. Heaven opened—when? Thou dost abide; Thy yearning pinions there outspread, Folded above His aacred head. So, spotless Spirit, ration me: Let me this hour receive from Thee A new and deeper christening. Under the shadow of Thy wing. ’ , '' rb< ; D bteaka the first faint flush of mors, Lead Thou my soul unto the dawn; Encompassed by the noontide hour, Oh I clothe me with Thy grace and power; And with the falling twilight come, To lead my wandering spirit home— Hide me from morn till evening Under the shadow of Thy wing. Fill every home of pain or death With the sweet fragrance of Thy breath; Take every wearied head to rest This nighi upon Thy peaceful breast; Let every wayward child rejoice Who, through the darkness, hears Thy voice; Gather the grieved and suffering Under the shadow of Thy wing. Spirit of purity! from sin Cleanse me, and make me fair withlnt Spirit of Holiness—oh 1 dress My soul In Jesus’ righteousness I Lead me, at last, O Tender One, Into the presen e of the Sou Where I the marriage-feast shall sing ' Under the shadow of Thy wing. — C. H. Woodmdn, in Christian Union. International Sunday-School Lessons. VIRST QUABTBK OF 1876. Jan. 23 David in the Palace....|l Sam.xviii. 1-16 Jan. 30 David and Jonathan, .. 1 Sam. xx. 35-42. Feb. 6 David Sparing Sanl.... 1 ham. xxiv. 1-16. Feb. 13 Saul and his Sons Slain 1 Sam. xxxi. 1-16. Feb. 20 David Established King|2 Sam. v. 17-25. Feb. 27 The Ark Bro'ghttp Zion 2 Sam. iv. 1-15. Mar. 5 God's Gov't with David 2 Ham vii. 18-29. Mar. 12!Absalom's Ifebellion... 2 Main. xv. 1-14. Mar. 19, Absalom’s Death ,2 Sam. xviii. 24-33. Mar. 26. Review |

Lawyers Studying the Bible.

The Rev. Dr. Vaughan, one of the most distinguished clergyman of the Church of England, has commenced a course of public reading in the Greek Testament at the Middle Temple Lecture-room, London, at eight o’clock in the morning. The course is intended specially for Ihe benefit of the lawyers in whose courts the lectures are delivered, and it is to be continued every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday during the law term. One who was present at the opening lecture writes: “The announcement to which we have referred awakened our curiosity. We were anxious to see how such a man would, to such an audience, expound the words of the great apostle. Despite, therefore, the early hour and the six or seven miles which lay between our house and the Temple, we resolved to be present. With some difficulty and after a good many inquiries the lecture-room of the Temple was reached a few minutes after eight o’clock. To our surprise and, let us add, pleasure, the room was full. It looked like a theological class m one ot our colleges. Ranged along desks or seated in odd corners, where some lacility for writing could be found, were seated thirty or forty men—some»in the early morning of life; some who were drawing near to its evening hour. Judging by appearances, nearly all belonged to the legal profession, which finds one of its favored homes in the winding courts and halls of the Temple. Here and there, however, appeared a dress which told unmistakably that its wearer belonged to the clerical order. Everyone, however, meant work. Note-books and interleaved Greek Testaments were being rapidly filled with the words which fell from the lips of Dr. Vaughan. Hewas seated at a little desk with Greek Testament and Concordance before him, and with a rare grace of manner and finish and precision of statement was discoursing of Paul’s second letter to the Corinthian Church.” It must be an interesting sight, an assemblagb of men learned in the law gathered at such an early hour to study the word of God in the tongue in which it was written. But what could be more appropriate!— N. Y. Observer.

Undoing.

Mb. Joseph Bahker was for some years a noted English infidel lecturer. He died a short time since at Omaha, and the following account of the last scene is made public by his son, Joseph Barker, Jr.: A few days before the closing scene he made a final arrangement of his affairs, and, feeling that paralysis was approaching, he called his eldest son, Mr. Gilbert, his lawyer, and Mr. Kellom, one of his trustees, to his bedside, anfLsaid: “ I feel that I am approaching my end, and desire that you should receive my last words and be witness to them; I wish you to witness that 1 am in my right mind, and fully understand what I have just been doing; and, dying, that I die in the firm and f ull belie| of Jesus Christ, and in the faith and iove of His religion as revealed in His life and works, as described in the New Testament; that I have an abiding faith in and love of God, as God is revealed to us by his Son Jesus Christ; and I die trusting in God’s infinite love and mercy, and in full faith of a future and better life. lam sorry for my past errors; but during the last years of my life I have striven to undo the harm I did by doing all I was able to serve God by showing the beauty and'wisdom of the religion of his Son Jesus Christ. I wish you to write down and witness this my last confession of faith, that there may be no doubt about it.” We commend this to the attention of young men especially.

A Pious Daughter.

Children, says the Rev. W. Jay, have conveyed religion to those from whom they ought to have derived it. “Well,” said a mother one day, weeping, her daughter being about to make a public profession of religion by going to the Lord’s table, “ I will resist no longer. How can I bear to see my dear child love and read the Scriptures while I never look iqto the Bible; to See her retire and seek God jwliile 1 never pray; to see her going to the Lord’s table while His death is nothing to m|B!” “ Ah,” said she to the minister who called to inform her of her daughter's intention, wiping her eyes, “ Yes, sir, I know she is right, and I am wrong. I have aeon her firm under reproach, and patient under provocation, and cheerful in all her sufferings. When in her late illness she was looking for dissolution, heaven stood in her face. Oh, that I was fit to die! I ought to have taught her, but I am sure she nas taught me. How can I bear to see her joining the church of God and leaving me behind —perhaps forever!” From that hour she prayed in earnest that the God of her child would be her God, and was soon seen walking with her in the way everlasting.