It will clog their wines, and prevent them from flying. Just try that plan." This we cried and nothing more. "Oh, no!" cried he. "That's no way! You must give them a chance, too. If I can't fight them fair, I won't fight them at all!" Our glory had departed. We admired his sense of honor and noble courage. We felt like telling him what Abraham Lincoln told General Grant: "You are right, and I was wrong." We put that boy down ever since as a brave boy. Of just such stuff good soldiers are made. We heartily wish he might secure an appointment at West Point. We know he would prove an honor to the Regular Army. No fears that he would starve soldiers in a "Libby Prison," or in an "Andersonville pen." "But, Charley," said we further, "when will you go at it?" "On Saturday afternoon, sir," was his reply. "Why not on Sunday, Charley?" asked we. "Because we must go to Sunday-school, then," said he, and ran away. Good, thought we. The world moves onward and upward. In conse quence of Sunday-schools, boys have something better to do than to rout Bumble-bees' nests. Surely this is a more excellent way than the one our boyship trod. President Harrison was once asked, how the boys might be kept out of the public orchards. "Plant Sunday-schools over the neighborhood, and then you may plant orchards, too; the boys will not molest them." Charley and the Bumble-bees taught us two lessons: - I. Some boys are kept from profaning the Lord's Day by means of Sunday-schools. II. We were reminded of what St. Paul had told us long before: "And if a man also strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he strive lawfully." A NATIONAL WEAKNESS. BY I. D. You and I, good reader, have our weaknesses, and one or more. Are not we Americans too excitable? over small things? Consult the files of your city or country paper for the last twenty-five years, and you will find great reason to agree with me. Indeed, we are fond of excitement, and are therefore glad of a chance to run wild over a novelty. Has not every year its own great topic of interest, attracting general attention, and moving public feelings? Of course you recollect how, a few years ago, Jenny Lind quickly warbled us into a most delightful excitement. We paid large prices to hear her sing, filled the pockets of P. T. Barnum, and lovingly called Jenny, the Swedish Nightingale! During the same year, the bold and brave Kossuth thrilled our national soul with his eloquent appeals in behalf of his suffering land. Were we not wild with sympathy for those helpless, but pleading Hungarians, on so has our nation, Do we not run wild whom proud Austria had placed her oppressive foot? Our hearts bled for Hungary, so at least we said, our purses yielded bountifully for her cause, and in less than a year we quietly acknowledged ourselves humbugged. Afterward came our Japanese friends. On them we bestowed a vast deal of public money, time and attention. Did we not show them the sights, from Maine to California? Yea, did we not also show ourselves? Every one seemed fully to appreciate that shaved heads are not to be seen every day. Next came along our young trans-Atlantic friend, the Prince of Wales. As usual, we showed our strength and our weakness at the same time. Our papers gave wood-cuts and minute descriptions of his royal physiognomy; they described and discussed his manner of private life; and so fed our craving appetite with a new delicacy. Everybody ran to the depots, surrounded the cars, and clambered on the platforms, to see royal faces. The churches where our guests went to worship God, were never before so full; and special service-books-gold-mounted-were provided for their use. New York ladies paid eighteen thousand dollars for the use of borrowed jewelry to attend the Prince's ball, and would have given as much more for the privilege of dancing with his Highness. Unfortunately, the Prince could not accommodate them. "Oh, times! Oh, customs!" Jenny Lind and Kossuth passing away, left us anxiously wondering and waiting for the next novelty. The Japanese and the Prince afforded temporary relief, and we again feverishly asked, What next? Alas! our wonder soon ceased. War, horrid war came next. When Sumpter was struck, what a sudden, fearful uprising there was among us! Drums beat, colors waved, steel flashed, men marched, tents rose, citizens became soldiers, fields became battle fields, homes were broken and sorrows came fast. How soon our land was fired with enthusiasm! We learned and sang our national songs as never before. We sang them in field and tent, in churches and parlors, in kitchens and play-grounds. We were thoroughly aroused. Examples might be multiplied, but there is no need. Plainly, we are a very excitable people. Of course, it requires a matter of national interest to arouse the nation; but our weakness is seen also in smaller circles. Every State, and even every community has its own exciting forces which quickly arouse those within that district! The more local the cause, the smaller its circle of action; but do you not know that the excitement within that circle is quite as great, and the feeling as deeply stirred as in regard to more general exciting causes? In the building of a church, in a change of pastoral relation, in a congregational difficulty, in a coming concert, in a country school exhibition, in some family joy or jar- we are quite as noisy, wild and uncontrollable as in the case of causes of a more general character. These little things afford table-talk for days and weeks. Now, let us soberly inquire into the philosophy of this national weakWhat does it mean? Why are we so excitable, itchy, restless, feverish? Several answers may be given. ness. As every one is free and independent, every public thing is his business, and he wants to do his own seeing, hearing and thinking. Accordingly, there is a general rush for sights. Then again, we are a people made up of many different national elements, which, like certain chemical substances, are quite enough when kept separate, but fearfully effervescent when thrown together. But, begging pardon for levity, there are more sober reasons. Our national temperament-however you may account for it-is sanguine. Wherefore we are very active, impulsive, frisky, feverish, wide-awake. We are always on the tip-toe of expectation, looking for something new to calm and soothe our nervous souls. How, then, can we help but love excitement? It seems to belong to our national nature. No wonder, then, that, like the Athenians, we are always engaged in hearing or telling some new thing. Another reason for our excitability. Our people, generally, are intelligent. A common education is within the reach of all. Few are learned, but all know something about almost everything. Every family has its newspaper and book of general information. Accordingly, when anything happens, all our people hear of it, know something about it, and want to know more. All feel interested, and all talk about it. Yet, after all, is not our national weakness a very innocent one? We, likely, have others far more serious. Indeed, these occasional excitements, these wild outbursts of feeling, seem good for us. Are they not a kind of safety-valve, from which the young nation may, in an innocent way, allow some of "the superfluity of naughtiness" to escape? ZUM ANDENKEN AN DR. HEINRICH HARBAUGH, BY REV. C. Z. WEISER. Dei Harf hängt an der Wand im Eck; Wie ungern sag' Ich was Ich main! So lang die Welt noch steht! Dann du warscht allfart früh und schpoht, Sie war dir nie verlaid. Ich main Ich that ah, wan Ich steh, Und an die Wand in's Eck nei' seh, En Liedche höre geh'! Sis wie en Orgel an're Leich, Ganz duse, und doch in Troscht so reich Sis traurig, awer schö'! Des is-so bild Ich mir gern ei’, Und 's könt ah werklich Wohret sei'— Dei Lob-Lied wu Ich hör; THE LOSS OF A SOUL.-What-if it be lawful to indulge such a thought-what would be the funeral obsequies of a lost soul? Where shall we find the tears fit to be wept at such a spectacle? or could we realize the calamity in all its extent, what tokens of commiseration and concern would be deemed equal to the occasion? Would it suffice for the sun to veil his light, and the moon her brightness? to cover the ocean with mourning, and the heavens with sackcloth? Or, were the whole fabric of nature to become animated and vocal, would it be possible for her to utter a groan too deep, or a cry too piercing to express the magnitude and extent of such a catastrophe?—Robert Hall. DUTIES OF PARENTS. BY WENONA." There is no relation in life, imposing more solemn and fearful responsibilities, than those which parents sustain to their children. By this relation they are bound to protect, feed and clothe them, to train them up in the ways of knowledge and virtue. Children are helpless, and unable to provide for themselves; are ignorant, and know not what is for their interest. God has, therefore, ordained that parents shall be their guardians and guides; defend them against all evil, and give them all the advantages for mental and moral improvements which circumstances will permit. Hence it is said, "Ile that provideth not for his own has denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." "Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, but train them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." On the faithful performance of these duties depend, in a great measure, the virtue and peace of the children. If neglected, and allowed to grow up without intellectual and moral culture, but faint hopes can be entertained of their usefulness and happiness. How great, then, is the responsibility of parents, and guardians, and all such who have the care of children, and withal, how often we see these duties laid aside, and children permitted to grow up in neglect and sinfulness. It is for them to say whether their children shall lead idle, sinful, and wretched lives, or whether they shall be honored, useful, and happy. Let them provide faithfully for all their wants, oppose all their inclinations to vice and irreligion, set before them a good example, hold the reins of parental authority with a steady hand, never speak nor punish in anger, never perform an act, nor utter a word which it would be improper for them to imitate. Let no parents suppose it is enough to teach by precept; they must teach by examples also, or they will be the worst enemies to their children. Example gives a living exemplification of religion; here is the reason why it is so much better than precept; while the latter gives only an abstract idea of religion, the former exhibits it in the life. Thus, all who set a good example, present religion in its most engaging light; they give it personality, thus exhibiting its beauties and attractions before the world. The little child, which is incapable of having sentiments instilled into it, will catch the ideas, and conform to the manners of those around it. As it advances in life, its behavior and conversation take their cast from the company it keeps; its mode of speech, tone of voice, and gait, will be copied from its superiors and instructors. Thus, we see how easily children are moulded into the image of those by whom they are surrounded. How necessary, then, that all parents should be Christians, and let their examples shine, and seek, by their captivating and controlling power, to draw their children into the paths of virtue, and render them disciples of the Saviour. Let all parents, therefore, carefully watch their actions, and |