Monongalia mirror. [volume], November 12, 1853, Image 1

About Monongalia mirror. [volume] (Morgantown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1855

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A WEEKLY FAMILY NEWSPAPER?Independent of Parly Politics or Religious Sects.?Devoted to News* Literature, Morality, Agriculture, the Arts,
S. SIEGFRIED, Editor and Pnormr.Tnn.
S. SIEGFRIED, Jun., Assistant Editor,
MOR'GANTOWK, (Va.) SATURDAY, NOVEMBERS, 1853.
Volume V.?Whole So. 222.
THE MONONGALIA MIRROR
I? published every Saturday morning, at the
office on Front Btroct, noxt door to N. Madera's
old Post office stand, at the following terms:
81 50 a Year Cash in Advancej
82 00 AFTER SIX MONTHS HAVEEXPIREDj
S2 50 if never paid, without tocrsion.
TERMS of advertising:
For 1 square, 3 weeks, - - $1.00
cach additional insertion, - U.2/5
For one square, 3 month*, - - 3.00
do. 6 months, - - 6.00
do. 1 year. . - 10.00
For one column, minion type, 1 year, 30.00
For Announcing Candidates, each name, 2.00
ID" No paper will bo discontinued until all
arrearages are paid up, except at the option of
the Publisher.
No subscription taken for a shorter period
than six months.
?POETRY.
From the Ladies' Paper.
woman's love.
or MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.
Like a water-lily floating?
Unconscious,cold and white
All its snowy lcaies 'unfolding
In the bosom of the night,
Her soul lies, in Its vastness,
On the stilly waves of hfc,
Till love breaks up their waters
To wild and sparkling strife.
There it sways in its deep happiness,
As the buds heave to and fro,
While the palpitating sunbeams
Feed on their kindling snow ;
Us holiest depths grow luminous,
Its strings arc rich with tune,
And the visions floating through it
Have the roainess of June.
Her life grows bright ond glorious,
Her faith ib deep and strong,
And thought swells out like music
3ei to a heavenly song;
Her heart ban twin'd its being,
/ji And awakes from its repose
Ai a flower licgins to trcmblo
? When its chalice overflows.
I Then she feels a new existence?
For the Iavejera do not live!
The best wealth; of the universe /.
Is hers to keep and give
Wealth, richer than carte's golden veips
That yield their blood to toil,.
And brighter than the diamond lights
That burn within the soil.
Oh, her sou! is full of richness.
Like a goblet of old wine
Wreathed in with purple blossoms
And coil tendrils of the vine;
Its thoughts rise ever starward,
In a flight with his to heaven,
Aud two spirits trend together
Up'thc starry steeps of even.
. Oh, she counts not time by cycles,
Since the day that shd%was born !
From the soul-time ofa woman,
Let all the years be shorn. ,
Not rich with holy happiness?
Not brimming o'er with love
Not speaking of her womanhood
To the Iloly One above.
Oh, God, how very beautiful
Is this great world of thine?
When hearts, that love grow prodigal
lii feelings so divine!
. How nobly life is rounded
When its etcepcst paths arc trod
fly souls that link with heaven
Thy darkest earthly sod.
TTIicre is tli? Spirit Laud J
^ . ?V LUCY A. COLBV.
? . Where is tho Spirit Land?
O toll me, ye who know,
Where o'er the silver sand
v The heavenly waters flow ?
t For my soul is wildly yearning,
Toward the loved and unrcturning,
Who loft me long ago!
Tell me ye orbs that roll,
And shed your beams afar,
0 tell this sorrowing soul,
Where its loved ones arc!
Tell me if you behold theui
Where God's great love enfolds them
Tell me Sun, Moon and Star!
Till me, ye (lowers that grow,
In field, and wood, and dell,
0 Jell me if you know,
Where tlio beloved dwell!
' Ye look so pure and holy,
On the greonsod bending lowly.
It seerncth ye might tell!
Tell me ye graves, where rest
Tho forms that oil of yore
1 tenderly caressed;
Where is that hoppy shore,
That country of tho blest,
Where I may iioj?o to meet them,
And in joy's dear transport greet ihem,
When life's lust pang is o'er.
t
Where istlio Heavenly Clime,
'flic T.iiiiJ lili pure and litir,
tVliose joy an^l peace sublime
My spirit lwiJ?lo ?hare'
Than day by day in redncM,
1 think upen its. fludnem,
? "WIIKBII'
From the New York Musical World and Times.
A COUNTRY SINGING MASTER'S
First Visit to !Vcw York.
MR. PILK1NS PUTS VP AT TUP. ?ASTOIt
AND IS HIGHLY DISSATISFIED
THEREWITH !
A few Jays since, as wo wove assort
ing and arranging the "many new in
ducements for persons to subscribe for
I tbe Now York Musical World am!
j Times," (a tedious job, by the way, as
they are 60 numerous,) a man entered
' our Sanctum, helped himself to a soat,
leaned back in his chair, rested his feet
on our table, lookod us squaro in tho
eyo, and asked our namo. We gave it,
without a momont's hesitation.
"That'll do," said our visitor, "my
name's Pilkins?Williams Pilkins, Esq.
Professor of Music and Teacher of the
Violin and Accordoon, is the way I put
it on my keard, (card he meant), but for
short I call it in conversation, " Bill Pil
kins, Singing Master."
Wo shook hands (without rising) with
Mr. Pilkins, and 'hoped he enjoyed his
visit to New York.'
"Well, thero now, neiglibor," said lie
" you touch me in a tender spot j 1 don't
enjoy it. New York is a mean, dirty,
rascally place. I've beon here only
three weeks, and it's cost me already
over two hundred and fifty dollars; yes,
sir, two hundred and fifty dollars," re
peated lie, emphasising each syllable,
" and I can't make any show at all for
the money. And that is what I havo
como to toll you about. I want you to
hear my story and then pitch into the
rascals?give it to 'em as you did to
Woodbury; they deserve it as much as
he did."
" Is your story a long one?" we asked,
" I should kind a think it was," said
Mr. Pilkins.
" Any objections to having it publish
ed in the Musical World and Times i"
we; inquired;.
That's the best idea afloat," respond
ed Mr. Pilkins, with groat animation,
"put it right in, in the biggest kind of
typo, that'll do tho business for them,
and it won't bo a bad shot for mo either,
i will it ?" asked lie.
! Wo told him we thought it wouldn't,
if his story were rich and racy?that is
if he had beon a very groat fool and had
boon done very brown.
" Well," said ho, " I think I can beat
anything yoaovor hoard of in your life."
" Go ahead," said wo, "you won't
disturb us j we can writo and liston at
tho same time.
Thereupon, Mr. rilkins began his
story, (tho bost part of which can be
told in three words, namely, it is true),
which we took down, phonographically,
word for word, and which we now give
as it was told to us, minus the gesticu
lation, pronunciation and intonation;
which, it is to be regrettod, cannot bo
depicted in pi int.
But we havo not described Mr. Pil
kins'personal appearance. Mr. Pilkins
was about six feet high and fairly pro
portioned; dark complexion; full, beam
ing, black eye, much like Tom Corwins;
black, glossy hair, cut close; a foot as
big as Grant Thornburns, and a hand to
match ; he had on a brown fult hat; a
brown linen coat; light corduroy piinla
loons; a nankeen vest; patent leather
gaiters, which ho said he gave five dol
lars for the day before ; a blue striped
shirt, with turn-over collar, and a red
silk neck-cloth?so red, that one felt
like calling for a fire-engine lo play upon
and extinguish it. Mr. Pilkins' phre
nological dovelopements wore good;
his Intellectual organs were large; his
lienevolenco very lull; his Combative
ness, Firmness, and neighboring organs
wore well developed ; but he was defi
cient in Caution and Secrotivencss. He
was a kind, gonial and confiding nature,
and being fresh from tho country, he
could easily be imposed upon and fleec
ed by the "Artful Dodgers''of New
York.
I'll begin, said Mr. Pilkins, at the
beginning, and givo you a touch at my I
early life, so you can tho better appre
ciate my present situation. I was born
up Salt River, in Kentucky, how far up
is no matter. While I was quite young,
[ just old enough to stono tho bull-frogs,
j my father moved out uinong the Black
| hawk Indians, and thero I was raised?
; I grew up liko a wild grape-vine?pok
ing about where I pleased, and catching
' holil nf any tjiing I eh""'.' My, pi inci
pal occupation was (vying to avoid lianl
work, and tny chief nmusoment was
flogging the young Indians. I oxcelled
in both. I had a groat ear for music,
and could whistlo various tutios at an
early age. When I was about sixteen,
I heard there was to bo a music school
at a place 'Somo thirty miles from my
father's house, so I put a bailor on old
Lino Back (that's tho name of our old
mare) and skectcrod. Tho school was
hold in tho meeting-house, and thoro
were lots of us there. Things went off
very Well for a while,'but by'mby the
Teachor got saucy; so Wo just took him
to the river and soused him in. He
caught cold and couldn't sing, and the
school broke up,?which is a warning to
Singing Masters not to be saucy.
Well, not to make too long a story of
it, I grew up. I taught singing and va
rious othor polito branches of a liberal
education. I wasn't saucy; so I didn't
get soused in the river; I didn't catch
cold; my school didn't break up; and
the consequence has been that I have
done a good business, made money, and
got along first rate.
But, you see, I wasn't satisfied with
vegetating everlastingly out West; 1
wanted to get more light; and, as light
comes from tho East, I determined to
come to the East, and get the light fresh
and new, right at the source of its ori
gin. New York is the place, says I,
and to New York I'll go. Well, I star
ted. I was very green, and 1 knew it;
and, what was more, every body else
know it. The passengers 011 the steam
boat and railroad took advantage of my
greenness, and made me baggage mas
ter all tho way; I'm blamed if I didn't
have from eighteen to twenty-five trunks
and boxes to take care of, all tho way
round, although I owned nothing but a
carpet-bag.
When I arrived in New York, the
Question waa.?\Yj!e;<3-filiall I pat ur^
I'll heard of the Astor House, as being
the crack hotel, where all distinguished
strangers stopped, and as I knew every
body would ask me where 1 stopped
when I got home, I thought I'd put up
at llio Astor. Besides, I intended to
increase my prices for teaching, when
[ got home, and it struck me that the
fact of my having stayed at the Astor
along with Governors and Generals and
such like, would mako my scholars
moro willing to come up to the scratch
and fork over a higher tariff. So 1 went
to tlio Astor. You know it's a tremen
dous big place, and looks like one of
the old castles wo read of; and as I
walked up the steps 'and saw such a
crowd all 'round I began to feel skeary.
But, thinks I, if I don't act green it will
bo all right, and the way not to act green
is to act as though I woro at homo. So
I determined to do it.
I walked into tlio offico and marched
straight up to a fellow who was stand
ing behind the counter with a pen stuck
over his car, and says 1, kind a pleasant
and agreeable.'
'Good morning, sir, how do you do
this morning 1'
'Very well, I thank you,' says he
just tlio least grain stiff, as I thought.
'Who keep this tavern V said I.
The Young man looked at me a min
ute, and then lio^ays, 'Coleman and
Stetson, sir.'
'Oh,' says I, wishing to appear know
ing, 'Coleman & Stetson keep it, do
they ? Where's Colomnn V
'Out of town,' says the young man.
'Oh, Coleman's out of town, is ho?'
said I,'where's Stetson]'
'Not down yet,' replied tlio young
man.
'Oh, Stotson's not down yet, hoy V
says I, 'welli whore's Mrs. Coleman 1'
'Sir, Mrs. Coleman's not down yet,'
says the clerk, just a little touched.
'She aintdown yet, hey; well, where s
Mrs. Stetson !' says I.
'Mrs. Stotsou is not down yot, either,
says tho clerk quito sharp like, 'why do
you ask so particularly for them 1
'Why, I thought I'd stop a bit with
'em,' said I, 'and I wished some of 'em
jost to take my carpct bag and put it a
way safe, as it has somo valuable things
in it.
The clerk looked at mo for some time
in rather a queer way, and then says ho
'Hand mo your carpet bag, I'll take
good caro of it.'
'All right, shys I, as I passed him the
utensil; 'now I want some broakfust''
'Ploaso register ynur name,' says lie.
'Do what,' says I.
'Register your name?write it there
in that book.'
'Certainly,' says I and I did. 'Now
then, what about breakfast, for I'm as
hungry as a grizzly bear.'
'Go round in there,' says ho, pointing
to a door, 'and you'll get it.'
I went round in there, and found a
dreadful big room, ttvo tables to match,
and lots of waiters, but as for the break
fast, that was nowhere. All I could see
}n the table was a little bran bread,
some milk, and some butter and melas
ses. Well, thinks I, this is a pretty
slim chance for a breakfast at the Astor
House, but then thcro's a heap in aname
my way. May be they'll make it up at
linuer. Consoling myself with that last j
dea, (which, under the circumstances, I
.hink was a happy one), I poured some
?nolasses on my plate, spread some but
ler on a pieco of white bread, and oat
iway,
At last, a waiter came up and asked
no what I'd have. I looked all around
o see if there was anything worth as k
ng for, but not a thiug could I see. I
lupposed, of course, they must have
lofi'ee, and so I told him I'd take a cup
if coffee. I'd have askod for meat, but
t occurred to me that perhaps it wasn't
ashionable to have meat for breakfast,
ind that such a request would expose
ny greenness; so I let it slide, deter
nining to make it up when I come to
linner. The coffee came, and as I sat
here eating away by myself, 1 thought
if what I'd hoard, namely, that Yankees
:ould live on faith and catechisms, and
hat this camo nearer to it than any
hing I ever saw before.
By ami by tho waiter came back, and
says ho. 'what will you have now, sir?'
A? 1 knew of nothing else to ask for,
says I, 'I'll take another cup of coffee.
He brought the coffee, and as I was de
termined to do my best, 1 quit the white
bread and tooKto mo'Oruwi>n"wiittej
then I changod bock to the while, and
so kept on till I made way with what
ever there was in my reach, and then
went out to pay for my breakfast; de
termined to leave the house, as 1 would
not ho imposed upon in such a shameful
manner.
Says I to the clerk, 'Look here t want
to know what I've got t.< pay for that
breakfast I got in there !'
?Six shillings, sir,' said ho with an in
sinuating smile.
I was mad. Says I, 'See here, stran
ger, I never dispute a man's bill, but 1
must ask how you can have the face to
charge a man six 'bits' for suck a break
fast as that!'
'What do you mean, sir?' said he.
'Why, I mean just what I say. Six
bits for a cup of coffee, and some bran
bread and butter! why, I could have
got as good a breakfast at any eating
house for a dimo.
'Didn't you have anything olse V
'Why, I eat everything thero was to
eat, and I suppose 1 couldn't have done
more.'
'Did you call for your breakfast, sir!'
says he.
'Didn'tI tell yon,'said 1,'that 1 want
ed my breakfast, and didn't you tell me
to go in there, and I'd get it I'
'Well, but didn't you toll tho waiter
wlmt you wanted V said the darned fool.
' What good would it have done if I
had?' says I, getting lathy. 'I eat all
there wus on the table, and my mother
always taught mo never to ask for any
thing I didn't sen on tho table, for it
wasn't polite, as the folks might not have
it, and it would make 'cm feel bad to bo
asked for what they didn't have.'
'Hut didn't you liavo a bill of fare?'
said he.
' A what V said I.
' A bill of fare,' says he.
?What's that r says 1 ; beginning to
lool rather streaked, for fear I'd been
sold after all, and had shown greenness
enough torejuvonato tho whole city.
? Just look here, snys he: this is what
t mean. This paper contains a list of
all the dishes wo have (or break fist; wo
don't put them on the table, as they
would then got cold. Il*ach person asks
for what he wants, and it is brought to
him, hot from the kitchen. Do you un
derstand 1"
'Uu-derstand.' says 1,'I guess so.?
Do you mean to say you had all those
nice things within hail, wbilo I break
fasted oil that cussed old brown bread
and melasscs 1 Wake snakes! 1 m sold
out clean. Hut, neighbor, see here!?
don't say a word, I'll stay witli yon a
littlo longer?at any rate till Coleman
gets homo. Ultimo me, if I weren't
stuffed so full of that bran broad and
butter, I'd go back and taslo of every
dish you'vo got) but I'll make it up lit
dinner, or olse there aint any handsome,
girls in Old lyentuck, and there nrf'loU
uf 'ein, ai history rvltttes
From the Wheeling Intelligencer.
THE FOWL TKJBE.
Tnnoccuco in the country lias been
from lime immemorial connected with
feeding chickens; and among the ma
ny improvements of the age, tho im
provement of the breed of chickens has
assumed much importance until the
chicken crop has become almost as im
portant as tho hog crop, groat desire is
manifested to get hold of the best and
! most useful fowls to be had, and great
attention is paid to their comfort and
respectability. Neither are they regar
ded as solely useful?they are often not
only declared ornamental, but Lewis
Gaylord Clarke, of tho Knickerbocker
has made chickens classic, even more
than they bad become by scriptural his
tory or Roman glory.
We have however, nothing to do with
the history or literature of chickendom.
As usual, we deal in the practical, and
we propose to give a few items from the
experience of Mr. Charles Barnard, of
Belmont Co., 0., as the most experien
ced and best chicken grower wo can
boast, who has tried more experiments
in the raising of them, than probably,
any man in Ohio.
Mr. Barnard says his experience of
all the breeds of chickens is that the
Cochin China is the best breed there is
now known. Mr. Barnard, in his cor
respondence with us says that last year
he had 55 hatchod, and raised 53, two of
them having been taken by the hawks.
?They run in his ground? and wore fed
in the ordinary way with screenings of
corn, oats, wheat, &c. They lay woll,
set well and nurso well, except that they
lay too quick after hatching and thus
wean beforo the young arc quite able
to take care of themselves. This year
he hus raised over 100. The rats caught
afew,"i?rtd three were crowded and
picked to death, but none died by weak
./.Ltasi ir tidU alio
gaps, which he cured by pounding gar
lic root in a littlo water, squeezing Out
the juice and giving a teaspoonful to
each every morning for three or four
mornings. lie then fed them all for a
short time on corn-meal and flour with
a little garlic. lie had no more gaps
and all the sick ones got well. He has
had no gaps this year. His heaviest
Cochin China weighed 9 pounds, at six
months old. They will generally fall
but littlo short.
This is his favorite cliickcn for profit,
and for tho table, tho meat being finely
flavored and tender. To this we can
testify.
W/iitc Shanghai.?This breed is also
rather a favorito tvitli Mr. Barnard; He
says lie got a puir last year. They laid
well during the winter, and this spring
commenccd raising chickens. They
havo a larger egg than tho Cochin Chi
na. He had about twenty-five of these
hatched out; hut tho rats killed all
hut seven, tho chickons roosting on the
ground instoad of flying to tho most.
The rats kill moro of them than of any
other chicken, as they aro cither too
weak or will not fly. Their oggs are
very superior for eating.
Tho Dominique Shanghai aro less
hardy than the Cochin China. They
lay pretty well, and hatch and nurse
well; but the dew on tho grass seems
to weaken them, many of them die, and
all keep poor whore they aro so expo
sed.
The White Dorkings he finds vory
good layers and nufses. Tliey grow
quick, but not much larger than tho
common hen. They aro very fino for
tho table?tho meat sweet and tender.
Tho Black Poland, if .well provided
for in winter, are good lavors; but un
less they are, they grow poor and will
not lay at all. Thoy are bad setters
and bad uursos. Thoy wilt not light
for their young as woll as any other hen,
and ho does not rogard them as healthy.
Thoy will not prosper without very
groat care.
The White Poland or Pheasant chick
en, is si bettor nurso of tho young; but
will never prosper; without great care.
If woll cared for in tho winter thoy aro
the best layers ho has, and vory good
setters.
In 1849 ho had IB black, and white
Polanda>?He resolved to spend SlO in
food, and togivo thorn a warm range
for their comfort, plenty of Hfcvel, lime
ami fresh water, ns wcll'as (ho rcfuso
of tho meat. He had'had them in 'juav
ters hut a short time before they began
to lay and from the 70 ho got five doz
en eggs daily. These ho sold at from
10 to 25ets a dozen. Heat first thought
ho would feed them nil the proceeds of
the oggs?then half?then a quarter;
but the food did not coat over an eighth.
These 76 lions yielded him nett, through
winter, from 37ic to SI por day, and in
the spring wore ready to get nearly all
their own food, and produce eggs and
chickons rapidly. Ilis common chick
ens, treated the same as the Poland, did
not lay.
lie prefers tho Black Morsonto any of!
the common breed. They are more
hardy and better than Dorkings, and
rather larger than any other of the com
i mon breed. Ho thinks them the most
beautiful breed there is.
Mr. 13., has now between three and
four hundred of all kinds, and he re
gards them as tho best crop he can raise.
Ho thinks them more profitable than
neat cattle, hogs or sheep, when well
cared for. Fresh water is essential to
(their health, as they drink as much as j
ducks.
I Ducks.?Mr. Barnard prefers the Po
land and Angolo mixed. They are vc
! ry large, lay well and set well. The
egg is very large and the young very
healthy. Out of 65 hatched this year, ?
he has not lost one. Ho considers the
flavor finer than that of any other tamo
duck.?The Silesian ho regards as much
better than the common duck for rais
ing. They lay and set'better and are
finer flavor, when dressed.
Mr. B.p has most of these fowls for
sale, and he will give nny itistructio'n
needed to those who desire to raise.
No poultry does as well when con
tinued too long oh the same spot. They
should be moved every two or three
years.
"HE'S NtJBODY BUT AJ'RINTER!"
?riiu^an()roran*excliangeleticfnvo
at somebody, after tho following style:
The above was the sneering remark
of a person residing not a thousand miles
from the door of our sanctum, in refer
ring to the profession we followinpride.
"Nobody hut a Printer!" It makes
tho blood run rampant thro' our veins
to hear such expressions from the lips
of those nursed on republican soil. 'No
body but a Printer, anyhow!1'
Who was Benjamin Franklin ?
Nobody but a Printer!
Who was Williari Paxton, one of the
fathers of Literature 1
Nobody but a Printer!
Who was Earl Stanhope 1
Nobody but a Printer!
Who was Samuel Wood wort h, the
poet 1
Nobody but a Printer !
Who is the prosentGovernor of Penn
sylvania '(
Nobody but a Printor!
Who is the Governor of California?
Nobody but a Printer!
Who is Georgo P. Morris, Jas. Har
per, Horace Greely, Robert Sears, Geo.
D. Prentice, Senator* Cameron, Dix,
Niles, and James Buchanan? Who are
they ?
Nobody but Printers, anyhow.
One thing is evident/ every person
who chooses cannot be a Printer.?
Brainsare necessary.
Hit him again, Typo!
'? . ?.
REV. I. J. ROBERTS.
T!io Tennessee Baptist regafds the
mission of Mr. R. with'decided favor,
and thus referred to him in tho last num
ber of that paper:
Tho labors ,of what missionary have
been so honored as those of bro. Rob
cits ! What missionary over sacrificed i
more for the privilege of preaching to
tho Chinese 1 Ho gave tip a large pro
porty in the southwest, valued at S30,-|
000; provided his, own outfits, and hasj
nevertheless labored nnder the most ]
singular and untoward cireumstunccs.
Dismissed last year by the Hoard in
Richmond on account of misunderstand
ings, wo must charitably liopo, ho is
now left penniless in that fur-olT lalitl,
anil yet liko nn heroic spirit, maintain
ing his ground and trusting in llic God j
who fed his ancient servant lly his ra- ]
vetis, to feed hint. At our last advice
I he was preparing to go to the army of
the revolutionists, but was waiting (for
means to go. Wo are forwarding uitrt
such sums as are sent to its. Jfho rilice
reaches the cnnip his sufferings will he
at. an end, and his wants all supplied,
and h? will doubtless becdma the first
niiuistor'fil'the now Emperor.' 1
EXTRACTS FROM " COD WITH iltsS BV REV.
samuei. osnnoi).
Tho Roman Pontiff will lull a* uraiii lit)
true Chrislianity is presented in a modeiiS
cflicicrft 08 his hierarchy,
That tendency towards the lands ?f
the setting sun, which drove the patriarch
to tho shores of the Mediterranean, hac
never Inst its power; it survived in Paul
when he sought Home, and in Atigiistin?
as ho faced towards Britain. It was not
lost when Columbus plumed the cross on
the soil of a tiew world, or when the May
flower dropped anchor in the harbor of Ply
mouth. iSgrapvin'g still the earnest hearts
of the woflcito look westward with hope; -
and calling myriads to build hoises and aV
tars upon the far Pacific shores.
The genius of the Psalms is the genius!
of the principal author, who has given them
name and character. The collection, as it
exists in our Bible, is to bej^egarded as the
Hebrew Anthology, or pcrhips'more fitly, as
the hymn-book of the Hebrew church. I>a
vid is named in the titles as the chief wri
ter, although six names are given in additioit
to his. Seventy-one of the one hundred and
fifty ate ascribed to him. What is his ge
nius? Its chief characteristic is eminently
this?the power to ctiibody every emotion
of the heart iti langirage and imagery, at
once simple, graphic, exalted. He uses the
familiar objects of nature as his alphabet u(
expression, Slid trees, hills, mountains, seas,
heavens, birds, beaEts, men, range them
selves ?1 his bidding, and heroine interpre
ters of his soul. Every state of feeling has
ite speaking imagery;
Humility is not the pliant. supplb
thing that the superficial suppose it to be.
Columbus was humble, when refusing to
sacrifice to the ridicule of the multitude the.
belief which he deemed providentially given;
that a new world awaited his adventurous
fleet. Luther was humble, when, lifting up
the Bible before the Imperial Diet, he refu
sed to recant, antl stood boldly npou tho
ground of the New Testament against royal
threats antl Papal anathemas. Paul wm
humble, when, at Athens, and before Agrip
pa, and at Romedie bpldlv ,nrufe*V'|.hii?
allegiance to Christ, audconlirmcd that al*
legiaitec at last under the sword ol the ex'
ecutioner. What, indeed, is humility, but
the surrender of man's will to tiie Divt;i?
will?a surrender that may give prj^ol of it
self, now id lowly penitence and prayer, anil
now in bold confession and heroic daring 1
What a book it is, that of the Pr?i
verbs I Forget that wo were ever obliged
:o repeat litem mechanically ill our child
bond, read tliem bs they stand in all tlierr
breitdth anil richness of their meaning, with
nur better experience nf life,' tlnd noihing
short of utter astonishment anil admiraiiliii
will be our feeling. Ftich gems Of wisdom
in such golden Settings, Irom one \rt$Kv?il
and died before the name of wisdom wna
known among tho nations from w hom tlm
world's saiteo have Since spruugi- What
shrewd perception of human character nil
derail conditions and' nwods-rwhat com
prehensive exhibition of life In its wholn
coinpasf, ami of Divine Providence in its
moral dims and sure rewards and punish
ments?what counsels to frugality, Rulu?tr>\
moderation, prudence, benevolence, peace!
What varied illustrations from man utid
beast, nature and art! How terse anil pol
ished the style ! How condensed the tho'U
To think of reading the little book through
in a day would be folly, ulthonch its lines
may be run over in an hour. Each line in
a sermon, auil gives food for new reflection
every time we rccur to iti
Pictorlnl Illustrations of the Bil/Ic.
Doctor Adam Clark says, that the
worst commentators on tlio Biblo are
(lie pointers j and a truer remark ho nev
er uttered. The Knickerbocker Lei Is
a little story that amusingly-/illustrates
the Doctor's posit ion. 1 t'is of a little
boy in Virginia. Long before ho had
learned tlio alphabet, his parents modii
him familiar with the narrative portions
of the Bible, which they were accus
tomed to read to him. Ono day he was
permitted to have the old fartlily Bible
toloukattho pictures; and entiling In
the picture of " Daniel in the Lions'
Den," ho gazed at it for a loiv minutes
silently, then running to his mother
bonk in band, he brolto furth in an indig
nant tone:?
"Mother, this Biblo don't loll the
truth!''
"Why, my child, rthat makes yci
say aol'1
" Why, mother, didn't you read to rno
thut when Daniel was thrown into the
Den, God sVut the lions' mouths 1 and
see liorq) they are wide open !"
'file chiln believed the picture instead
of the text.
Why are'good wrolytinhs tijto fti"t> _
i|ij ludica J Theytait canviiig out,