THOUGHTS ON THE PAST YEAR.

BY "WENONA."

The Psalmist of Israel has said, "We spend our years as a tale that is told." While we are engaged in the busy concerns of the world, taking no note of time, and living as though the earth were our only home, we are daily approaching the close of our mortal existence, and ere long the last year will be numbered with us all. "For what is our life?" It is even as a vapor that appears for a little time floating upon the air, then vanishes away. Uncertain indeed is our hold upon life. "Fearfully and wonderfully made," how slight a cause "will loose the silver cord, or 'break the golden bowl, or pitcher at the fountain, or break the wheel at the cistern!" Time in its rapid course, delaying for none, is constantly bearing us onward on the fitful voyage of life; and few will be the mornings that will dawn on us here, before death will close the scene.

To most persons the new year is regarded as a time of festivities, of mirth, of friendly greetings and social joy. And surely there is much of pleasure associated with this era in our lives. The voice of friendship that wishes "a happy New Year," touches a chord of tender feeling in the heart, and makes us rejoice in the warm and generous sympathies of our natures. The little remembrances that come as the offering of affec tionate friendship, are received with a peculiar and blessed gratitude; and it makes us sensible that we live not alone. The gatherings of families around the paternal fireside, and the joyous minglings together of childhood and age, may mark the bright and sunny spots in the pilgrimage of life. And there is a holy delight in recounting the blessings of the bygone year, and in laying upon the altar of the heart, an offering of pure gratitude to Him, who gives seed time and harvest, and whose goodness crowns the year.

But in retrospecting the year that is past, the scene is not all brightness. Clouds, dark and stormy, have swept over some hearts, bowing them down with anguish and sorrow-leaving nothing but wild despair, and hopeless yearnings. Busy memory will call up before the mind images of the departed, and tell of joys that will never return. Within the period of the twelve past months, how many, alas! of our fellowbeings have gone down to sleep with their fathers, while their places here on earth shall never know them again. Who, among us, has not, since the last year dawned upon the world, parted with some friend, or kindred, who has been laid in the narrow bed. And sad as such reflections may seem, at this joyous season, they cannot be suppressed.

The opening of this new year seems calculated to awaken in the mind a remembrance of the events, during the one just closed. And what is more natural than for us to look around upon our acquaintances, and number those who have ceased to live on earth? The loved, pious departed cannot be forgotten; nor can the places which they occupied among us, cease to be respected. We cannot ridicule the fond superstition of those,

who have reserved places at the festive board, for loved ones who have passed away from the earthly dwellings of men. Rather let us even indulge such thoughts, than bury our affections with our friends, and think only of the living. Our hearts may be made better by a sort of mysterious communion with the spirits of departed kindred. We seem almost to hear them in their returning visits, in the solemn stillness of the night, when the world is shut out from view, and the spirit holds converse with the angels and with God! And when we feel (though it may all be pronounced unreal) that they come near us, the soul is subdued in tenderness, elevated in purity of feeling, and incited to strive after that holiness, without which no man can see the Lord.

The past year has brought changes to us all. We have passed through lights and shades, and experienced a variety of joys and sorrows. We have done both good and evil, been both faithful and unfaithful to our duty. If we should candidly" search and try our ways," what would be the real character presented before the mind of each individual? What have been the governing principles of our lives? How far have we right-. eously discharged our high obligations, as men and Christians? What progress have we attained in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ? And if we should now be fairly weighed in the balance of rectitude, in what degree should we be found wanting?

These questions, which are always worthy of serious consideration, seem especially to claim our attention at this time. There are certain seasons of life, which seem peculiarly fitted for the important work of self-examination. And there are places in our pilgrimage of life where we may well halt, and look around, and within us, and diligently consider our ways. Human life may be compared to a journey. There are certain eminences upon the road, from which the traveller, may view the steps which he has already trodden, and obtain some prospect of his future course. The wise man, instead of pressing onward without reflection, and eagerly following the inclinations of his own heart, regardless of his duty, and not considering the consequences of his own actions, pauses in the journey to examine himself and the way. He thus converses with himself: What has been my character through the past stages of my life? What manner of man am I now By what principles and motives is my conduct prompted, and directed? To what interests is my life devoted, and whither is my conduct tending? He sees time misapplied, opportunities unimproved, and blessings abused. He feels his unworthiness and confesses his faults before God. And humbled in spirit, and covered with shame; the honest and manly determination of his heart is, "I will search and try my ways; and turn again unto the Lord."

But the man who is "void of understanding," sees not himself. He pauses not to reflect; but ever pursues some vain phantom that dances before his mind, but to mislead and bewilder. His whole past career, though full of instructive warning history, conveys to him no salutary lessons. Wise in his own conceit, he looks from no high place to contemplate his own follies. Confident in himself, but deceived in all his expectations, like the rash and foolish mariner, he heeds not the rocks, and dangers that lie in his future course, but passes blindly onward to ruin. Reader, reflect upon these things; and let our prayer to God ever be, "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

THE HOME UPON THE MOUNTAIN.

BY PHILO.

How refreshing it is, after driving along the mountain side, until you reach the very summit, and then having wended your way through a thickly shaded forest, your eye is greeted by an humble cottage beautifully situated upon an open lawn.

The picture is truly pleasing. There stands the rudely constructed log-dwelling, surrounded by the adornments of nature. The lawn in its livery of velvet green, gradually inclines toward the woods. On the rising slope, back of the cottage, is the orchard. The birds are flying from tree to tree, singing merrily on the branches. Here and there are wild flowers in the orchard, which, with those of the dandelion, impart a tinge of variety to that waving sea of blossoming clover.

Lo, there is a spring. Come, take a draught of this bright, sparkling water. How cool and refreshing it is on this lovely morning of June! There is a tidy appearance in all the surroundings of this humble home. There is perfect order; every thing seems to be in its place.

To the right of this cottage, lies the garden. What large and healthful shrubbery. How tastefully the different beds are arranged, with the box-like green fringe bordering the edges. How accurately every thing is done.

The arrangement for the different salads and vegetables, displays much care. The walks are paved; the entire garden is adorned with many beautiful flowers. After wending your way through the forest, I say it is refreshing to behold such a sight; Yea, it is lovely.

But let us venture further. Who are the inmates of this humble cottage, situated in so lovely a spot? They have evidently an eye for the beautiful. This fact is manifest from the artistic taste displayed in its surroundings.

Entering this unpretending home, we learn that a widow and her only daughter are living here. Both are coarse in their appearance. They are accustomed to hard toil. See their brawny hands. It was these that weeded the beds, planted the shrubbery, paved the garden-walks, and kept everything in neatness and order. But what mean those rabbits made of cloth, those nicely formed birds, and that flock of sheep in the glass casing? These are the handiwork of the widow's daughter.

From nature she learned these lessons, even when a child. Having grown into womanhood, her mind and hands are employed during her leisure moments, in fashioning these things. Her actions show a certain

purity of mind, innocency of character, and a child-like simplicity. Yonder is a cage, in which is confined a squirrel, and her young. This young daughter feeds them with much care. She attends to all their wants, having learned their habits and modes of life.

The widowed mother, seeing her visitors interested, directs her daughter

to the drawer, to bring forth specimens of her needle-work. The designs are all her own. She copied them from nature. The leaf and the vine; the berry and the flower, worked with the needle, in her quilts and counterpoints, showed that she had learned her lessons from the mountains.

This unpretending home belongs to them. Along with it, they possess several acres of land, which they themselves cultivate. It is in this manner they obtain their livelihood.

To meet such worthy people, in a lowly cottage, situated on a beautiful lawn, early in the morning in the month of June, after driving through woods on the top of the mountains, is truly delightful.

In such persons, you are apt to become interested. To be truly interested in an individual, implies a solicitude for his spiritual well-being. How is it then in this respect with this family? There lies the well-worn Bible; it speaks for itself. It bears the marks of constant use. Aside of it is the prayer-book and the hymn-book. This is the extent of their library. From these this family has learned many a useful lesson. From them, in the hours of sorrow and bereavement, have they derived many a sweet consolation. They have learned in whom to place their trust. They have faith in Christ; faith in the Church; faith in the Christian ministry; and faith in Christ's religion. They feel secure under the loving protection of their Heavenly Father.

There is such a family living on the Schuylkill mountains.

Recently this mother took sick. She was asked whether she desired that some one should invite her pastor to come and pray with her: "Oh! no, she replied. He has often told me what I must do to die happy. He made clear to my mind the way of salvation. I know what I must do. And here is my Bible, and my prayer-book; they can give me the necessary consolation. Though I should enjoy his visit if he came, yet I would not put him to the trouble of coming expressly to see me."

On being asked, whether she was not afraid to live alone here on these mountains, so far from the reach of any of her neighbors, she said: "Oh no, God sends his guardian angels to watch over us. He has done so for

many years, and why should we not trust him in the future?"

To meet such steadfastness, and vital piety, in such an humble home, on such a beautiful spot, on the top of the mountain, is refreshing to the soul. Where the beauties of nature-native artistic taste, and an earnest Christian faith, are so beautifully blended in a family, there truly can be seen a lovely sight, be the home never so homely, and the members never so humble.

THE LIFE OF FAITH.-In the "life of faith," we do not merely look at the principle of dependence on God, or of confidence in Him, though that may be the thought immediately suggested by such words. It signifies much more. It is a life of large and various energies; for, according to God, or Scripture, faith is that principle in the soul which not only trusts Him and believes Him, it is also that which apprehends His way, acts in concert with His principles and purposes, receives His promises, enjoys His favor, does His bidding, looks for His kingdom, in His strength gains victories, and by His light walks in light; and thus it is ever, though variously, exhibiting a life according to Him, or formed by communion with Him

A DEMAND FOR GENTLEMEN.

BY THE EDITOR.

A Christian is God Almighty's gentleman. A gentleman, in the vulgar superficial way of understanding the word, is the Devil's Christian. Good manners are in great demand. According to some authorities, they are becoming scarce. There is much complaining that people do not know how to behave themselves. There is said to be an evident lack of good breeding; a want of courtesy and due regard for the feelings and claims of others.

The elite of northern and middle Europe, charge us Americans with a native boorishness. In Berlin, the slightest restraint of manner, or a transgression of a trivial, social propriety, will be met with the remark: "ein roher Amerikaner"- -a raw American. Unfortunately this impression has of late years been confirmed, by the grotesque parade of our "shoddy aristocracy," and "oil kings." Having grown rich suddenly, without brain or breeding, to fit them for the social and intellectual position to which their wealth might aspire, they have furnished cultivated Europe with new specimens of "rohen Amerikaner."

It is not pleasant to be called a nation of ill-mannered boors. Mr. Leonard W. Jerome, of New York, feels the insult. He seems to think that even our educated people lack manners. As a remedy, he lately gave $5,000.00 to Princeton College, of which the annual interest is to be devoted "to the purchase of a medal, to be awarded to the graduating senior, who shall be declared by vote of his classmates, to be the first gentleman in his class."

In his letter, conveying the gift to the President of the College, he says: "I know you are surprised, dear doctor, at the novelty of this request but you will be still more so when I tell you that you are the cause of it. I have not forgotten the remark you made upon a certain occasion to my class: Young gentlemen, with all your getting, I advise you to get a little manners.' I am right then to offer a premium to carry out your views.

I think the most pressing necessity of Young America just now is the article you recommended. We have plenty of science, and are pretty well up, considering our years, in art, but our manners, I must say, are rather rough. If the trifle I offer shall have the effect to stimulate the young gentlemen under your charge, to improvement in this respect, I shall feel that I have done them and the country a service.

The character of a gentleman I consider within the capacity of all-at least it requires no extraordinary intellect. A due regard for the feelings of others is, in my judgment, its foundation."

While we do not admit, that Americans are of all men the most unmannerly, there is room for improvement. But the question is, whether our manners can be much improved by gold medals. Of course, every student will do his utmost to get one, and to pass for the first gentlemen in his class. But in principle he may be as ungentlemanly as any of the rest. We have no faith in paying people for learning to behave themselves. No faith in prizes, as inducements to piety or purity of manners.