by pressure. One room served us for parlor, kitchen, and study, and there were two little closets just big enough to hold a bedstead. It had to be corded before it was put into the room, it being absolutely impossible to get round it afterward. 'But how will you make up the beds?' asked my husband dubiously. 'O, easily enough. I can sit in the middle of the mattress and reach to either side.' 'But suppose one of us should be sick?' he urged. 'There is no room for sickness or any other luxuries,' I answered. Therefore we must contrive to do without them.' So we accepted the bedroom with a laugh, and made the most of our one room. The wall-paper had to be taken off. I could not endure it. It had been on twenty years, and it represented blue and orange coaches drawn by monstrous pink horses, and purple coachmen driving with railroad speed straight up into the heavens. We replaced it with a quiet, unpretending design in subdued colors; just a vine with tiny buds on a white ground. It was our first attempt at hanging paper, but we placed the book case and pictures so as to hide the wrinkles."

our brightest lights hidden. He will never assert his claim to a larger place. He will remain, as my husband did, a humble, devoted Christian, and a gentleman always. But unless some unusual turn of the wheel of fortune should bring him out before the world, he will die comparatively unknown. And that is the crowning mercy of his lot if he did but know it."

"Well, it seems then that he is all right. Let us leave him and come back to your narrative. You were soon on the wing again, of course."

"Our next move was a long one. I have not time to tell you about it now."

"But you will continue the narrative when you have leisure; though I am afraid you will not lessen my dislike to such a wandering life."

"It was not with me a question of liking or disliking, but of duty. If God called my husband to the work of the ministry, I was certainly called to take up the duties of a minister's wife. There is a great deal of nonsense, both written and spoken, nowadays, about such

"There were better stations, I suppose I mean places where ministers could live like ministers."

"O yes, many of them. But I learned in a little time that the most of those places were not for us. It was then as it is now, my dearforce of character won the day. Very few of those who now fill our best appointments are there because of their superior talents. But they have what Yankees call 'push,' and what the English call 'cheek.' It answers as well as talent, perhaps better."

"I remember, auntie, that you did not share my astonishment at finding so gifted a preacher as Mr. A. in that obscure parish among the mountains when we were traveling last Sum

mer."

"No; because I saw at once the delicate refinement of character which keeps so many of

haughtily, 'It is I, and not my wife, who is hired by the parish.' But let me tell you, Annie, there was never a true wife who did not sympathize with her whole heart in the lifepursuits and interests of her husband, and there is no true woman who does not know how to prevent such interest from degenerating into slavish toil and worry at the ignorant call of outsiders. There is only one question that I have ever asked myself in regard to moving from place to place, or in the performance of the especial duties of a pastor's wife: Does God require this of me? Every thing becomes easy and simple when brought to this test. Burdens are easy to bear if we 'endure as seeing Him who is invisible.' He knows how to proportion our labor to our strength, and he never overtasks us. The often unreasonable demands of ruling Church members do not come from him. The life of the itinerant who only serves the Church must be a weary and often a hopeless one, but the service of God is a different affair. The yoke of Christ is easy and his burden light."

"I confess, aunt, that I have never once thought of the subject in this way. That idea of doing all for Christ ennobles every thing. And I have never thought of my work being appointed by his providence. I shall come again to-morrow and hear the rest of your story. It will be like taking lessons for future practice."

want, our poverty and wealth is all only in comparative degrees. Were we to live in some prairie or forest alone, where none could criticise house, dress, or equipage, how much less would we toil for appearance' sake! This living for appearances is the great curse of our age, and, it seems, of our nature. It begins with the lowest and goes up to the highest; for scarcely the greatest of our land may compete with European magnificence.

My washerwoman will get patterns of the "latest styles" from me, and putting them together as well as she can, makes a burlesque of my dress. I make my dress in imitation of a New York dress-maker, but not having studied the art, can not hope to reach her standard; while Eugenie's modiste as far surpasses the New York artiste as I exceed my washerwoman. And if either of the lower steps in this ladder of imitation can see that above her, how discontented she will be with her own labor! And in society, Mrs. A. gets a shawl to imitate one Mrs. B. wears. As she can not afford a real shawl, she robs her table to purchase an imitation. Now, Mrs. B.'s shawl is one of the cheapest of the real type-got with money which ought to have purchased schoolbooks for her children, because she saw Mrs. C., the merchant's wife, wearing one of the first class. So the world goes on, ever straining after glitter and effect, and ever discontented. O if one-half the labor were bestowed on the cultivation of the home affections, and of a happy, contented spirit, what a bright, bright world it would be!

When the darkest clouds shroud our souls in shadow, why can we not look up and say, “I know there is sunlight behind them." My loving Father sends the shadow, and he doeth all things well. Let me always remember the blessings I have left. Let me not forget thy benefits. The glorious earth is full of beauty, and it is mine; for I have eyes to see. All the air is full of music, and it is mine, for I have ears to hear. And in every nook and dell of this mighty land, wherever homes spring up for humanity, there is strong human love, and it is mine, for I still have a heart alive to the breathing of affection. All of this and more. All the strong, brave thoughts from hearts as high as human hearts can be, who have lived, and loved, and suffered, and gone to their reward-are not these recorded for our benefit? easy of access, whether poor or rich? Poor! how can that be with all this wealth? So long as there are no actual wants of bodily comfort, one can not be poor. All the heritage of lands and sages; all the blessed air of heaven, with

its rainbows and clouds, its stars and sunsets; all the glorious earth, with her oceans, and lakes, and rivers-her mountains, and hills, and valleys her cascades and grottoes-her trees and flowers; and all the works of men who have gone before, and of the workers still toiling for the future-their glorious architecture, and sculpture, and painting, and many other as beautiful but lesser arts-all of these are ours to see and to enjoy! And what more can be ours when death shall come, even if we possessed our millions?

Ah! how the first evil fruit still grows and bears its seeds within the human heart! The fatal tree still holds out its fruit to our longing lips! Like the Down-Easter, we always "want to know," and when we do know all we can reasonably expect of the things of earth, the spirit will still go on, ever and always reaching out through the world, and after that, through the infinite spheres, always seeking, never grasping-still "wanting to know" what it can not, and leaving unenjoyed what it has. It is the old Adam and Eve nature, and nothing but a pure confidence and an infinite faith in God's goodness can cure it, and give us a mild, thankful, and contented heart.

THE LITTLE SLEEPER.

BY RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH.

No mother's eye beside thee wakes to-night,
No taper burns beside thy lonely bed;
Darling, thou liest hidden out of sight,

And none are near thee but the silent dead.
How cheerily glows the hearth; yet glows in vain;
For we uncheered beside it sit alone,
And listen to the wild and beating rain

In angry gusts against our casement blown.
And though we nothing speak, yet well I know
That both our hearts are there, where thou dost keep
Within thy narrow chamber far below,

For the first time unwatched, thy lonely sleep. O! no, not thou! and we our faith deny,

This thought allowing; thou, removed from haims, In Abraham's bosom dost securely lie

O, not in Abraham's, in a Savior's arms!
In that dear Lord's who in thy worst distress
Thy bitterest anguish gave thee, dearest child,
Still to abide in perfect gentleness,

And like an angel to be meek and mild.
Sweet corn of wheat! committed to the ground

To die, and live, and bear more precious ear, While in the heart of earth thy Savior found His place of rest, for thee we will not fear.

sleep softly, till that blessed rain and dew,

Down lighting upon earth, such change shall bring, That all its fields of death shall laugh anewYes, with a living harvest laugh and sing.

WE

FUL CULTURE.

BY ANNA JULIA TOY.

E can not properly educate the youth of the present day, unless we train them to the right use of books. Religious conversation and sympathy at home, parental prayers, public worship, Sabbath school instruction, are essential, but not one of them, nor all combined, can take the place of religious literature. Sacred History, Sacred Biography, Sacred Allegory, and Practical Theology must enter into the mind's early lessons. Upon these may be laid, strong and deep, the foundations of intelligent piety, so that the storms of after experience shall beat upon the rock in vain.

Sacred History-This department of knowledge is not to be left for adult age. The memory of childhood is retentive; the mind impressible. Facts stamped in early life can never be effaced. Dates and figures imprinted upon the plastic nature, will be retained through all the hardening process of subsequent days. Youthful acquirements become the geology of life; and at the age when more recent ideas fade, these alone are left to please. The child should be taught the great leading facts of God's government: the writings of Moses with their wonderful disclosures, the reign of the judges, the age of the prophets, the progress of the Church and the causes of its decline, its wonderful resurrection, and its sublime diffusion at the present. Profane History, rightly taught, may be adapted to sacred uses, for there is a God in all history.

It is objected that these dates and facts are too dry and uninteresting for children. The objection may be valid in respect to the manner of presenting them found in many books formerly prepared for our Sunday school libraries, in which appears page after page of bare statistics and bald, unattractive facts. But a change has come. Modern authorship and printing now render history among the most pleasing branches of reading and study. The easy statement, the consecutive narrative, the pictorial illustration, make the whole subject enticing and impressive. We have treasures, too, in the numerous books upon Bible lands. They aid in a kind of object teaching. They bring down to the present before the child's mind the mythical phantoms of the past, and give them real form. These tracings of the footsteps of Jesus and the apostles, this locating of Bible incident throw light upon Sacred History, and power into Scripture readings. By these aids, parents and

a wealth of delight in Bible study, as well as a wealth of knowledge for time to come.

The great value of this kind of reading and teaching is beginning to be appreciated. A word is nothing unless it imparts an idea. A word pictured out by the eye, the action, or the tones of voice, or by the teacher on the blackboard, or by the artist's pencil in books and maps, has something of the effect of an idea embodied, or a principle brought out into the life of a man. It is more easily realized.

The Bible is full of object teaching, or suggestions for the art. For instance, take your child out some early Summer day, to the spot where the bird has built her nest and feeds her young, and then repeat some such text as this: "As the eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them upon her wings, so the Lord alone did lead him;" or this: "Ye are of more value than many sparrows;" or this: "Consider the ravens, for they neither sow nor reap," etc.; could that child fail to be impressed with God's wonderful care of his people?

Heaven itself is represented by earthly objects-"Harps of gold;" crowns of glory;" "rivers of pleasure;" "streets of gold;" "fruitful trees;" "mansions in readiness." He who knows what is in man gives us this example. He ever imparts ideas of himself by similar means. "He weigheth the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance, and taketh up the isles as a very little thing." Indeed, spiritual things can be revealed only by natural objects.

"Is it lawful to give tribute to Cæsar?" asked the querulous Jews. "Show me a penny," was the reply of Christ. We mistake, moreover, when we suppose that the philosophy of history is above the comprehension of children. The skillful pens of the present day have so woven the subtile causes of the rise and

downfall of the Jewish race, and the glory and shame of other nations and individual characters, that great principles are unconsciously instilled into the youthful mind.

Sacred Biography.-Rich in valuable material as is Sacred History for the rising man, Sacred Biography is not less so. There is a certain individuality about all Scripture character that pleases and impresses childhood and youth. They feel that Abraham sitting at his tent door is real; that Isaac going meekly to the sacrifice is a truth reaching the sympathy and demanding tears; Jacob weeping upon the neck of his long-lost son is as though it were seen on some Summer night beneath the old sycamore of home.

This high achievement of biographic art is exhibited in our youthful literature. We have not only Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, living and speaking as it were in the present, but we have Naaman, and Ruth, and Esther, and Luther, and Wesley, and Carvosso, and the "Successful Merchant," and the "Christian Maiden," and Miss Lyon, and scores of others, all teaching great principles and marking the way to honor and wealth through the high-road of religion. Give our children, then, life-stories, as many of them as they choose to read.

But let them be life-stories! The death-bed scenes and death-bed talks of children should be sparingly brought before the mind of a child, for that is not always a healthy and vigorous piety which is grafted upon a sickly or nervous constitution. True, there are instances of genuine religious triumph over sickness and death in infantile years which are worthy of record, but a child needs more examples of happy living than of happy dying. Could we get the every-day life of a religious youth, by what means temper was overcome, bad habits broken, evil propensities eradicated, how by daily prayer, and praise, and effort, there came increase of love to the Savior and his Word, with only a brief account of the last sickness and death, or better still, with these principles projected into manhood, we could, with superior effect, place childhood biography before immature minds. But the shades of the sick-room and the shadows of death are not the best phases in which to present our joyful religion to the elastic mind of youth. Do you reply that it is but Nature that turns away from such? Let us accept this Nature as a finger of Providence directing us to a judicious course of procedure. A little boy once said, "I do n't want to be good-all the good children die!"

Sacred Allegory.-The Bible authorizes imaginative combinations. What are the parables of Christ but stories told for instruction? They are imagination and entertainment made subservient to truth; representations of real life by unreal scenes.

The prophets, too, spoke in allegory and acted allegories. The potter's vessel in the act of breaking, the fire, the knife, the scales, made truth much more emphatic and impressive than mere statement could have done.

Nature craves allegory. "Tell me a story, please," is among the first lispings of the infant tongue, and the attention of the sleepy adult in the Sabbath assembly is chained so long as the "narration" floats to his ear. Divines themselves are proverbial for their love of "stories" drawn from each other's experience.

VOL. XXVII-3

And shall we deprive the youthful mind of this portion of its natural food? Shall we endeavor to improve upon the Savior's method of teaching, and upon the way the prophets wrote and taught? Not at least till childhood's nature changes, or till the story of the " Prodigal Son" shall cease to win wanderers to a Father's love.

The unexampled tide of imaginative literature is a fact, and this alone makes it worthy of consideration. And we can not think this fact has no real meaning, and can be turned to no good account. As the tide rushes on and can not be staid, we would rather think there is healing in some of its waters. Let us submit them to the analytic test of truth. We do not advocate that class of books popularly known as novels. Most of these are pernicious in the extreme. The indiscriminating novel reader consigns himself to an intellectual, as well as a moral grave. He purchases, for a little "pastime," a weakened memory, a demoralized conscience, a corrupted heart.

The books to which we refer, carry the imagination beyond real life. They have falsehood for their basis. Weak sentimentality and faded commonplace are offered instead of fresh nature; false, preposterous characters are portrayed for truth, and to simple morality are often given all the adjuncts and results of genuine faith.

But shall we cast our ban upon God-given imagination because Satan grasps it when he can, and would pervert it to ignoble ends? What good thing has he not thus attempted to wrest from Christianity? If we propose to allow our foe to vanquish us on these grounds, we may as well lay down our weapons and write him victor at once.

Happily the writers of our juvenile literature have come to understand the threefold nature of youth; that he has reason, affection, and fancy; and they beautifully adapt their productions to the triple demand. Historical fact and philosophic investigation are excellent; they educate the reason. Sympathy with living actual character draws out the affections. But a perfect harmonious development of the entire nature will not be effected if we drop the imaginative element.

The difference between biography and the religious story, consists chiefly in this: Your biography follows a man through the scenes of his life, bringing out true principle wherever he can. If it comes to light no where in all the tracing, oblivion is glad to cover the volume and throw the name to Lethe.

The imaginative writer takes a principle of