W4W* îiii&i.imiai ue£2L>t&'J l^siJ?£b'i -t ,' • t «L«f*:iSr|yt Lightning Beds. ITHERB is probably no <NM simple •Bastion of which the man of die peo ple are so ignorant, or dt iHfcji th#y aland in as much awe, Mi fclecftrioity and lightning. And tiw artfole of lightning rods is made the medium of more imposition in proportion to tne attest of the bnaiiwi, Ulan in any otter branch of trade. Having ob tained the best authorities on the sub ject, we propose to give some plain in* atmntiote fcboot lig^teing rodfe. And as o«r traele it not iwteMied to inter im the least with the honest busi- of patting up rods, we ask the ed itors of tne State to aid in giving a cor net notidh of lightning rofls, their use, maimer of ouiisu uuiiou wd probable oost Prof. Henry W. Spang, of Philadel phia, has made electricity a life study, and he has spent eighteen years in •operintending and directing telegraph ic business. He has just published an- elaborate #ork on 41 Lightning Proteet tion," and in all the positions taken in this article, which is at variance with the popular theory, and especially in opposition to the talk of swindling lightning-rod peddlers, are from Prof. inch in diameter will weigh half a pound per foot, and is worth live oents per pound, or two and one-hall oents per foot. The rods spliced by a black smith costs but little* and are the best invention which tea* possiblybe made. In this way a lightning nod-for an ocdi- nary farmer's house cap be paid lor with a bushel of wheat, instead of a cow or a horse*. ; JTOW SHALL IT INS PTNRFOLFP The rod should be painted wittt rd«t- proof paint. 4£Paint or any Ordinary amount of rcat upon the surface of a metallic conductor does not Affect its conductivity.1' Non-conducting insu lators aire the devices of the ignorant. Any woocf or metal, when wet, is a good conductor, so that anything which Will luc iyu iii pwotuGu is all that is necessary. ^ the rod, is safely con nected with tfite Water'beif in the earth, the atf&Ctaon thereto too great to allow the electricity td pass off upon anything not connected with the moist earth. - METALLIC POINTS. This is another device of the enemy. Sharp pointed silver or fine tipped poi||t$ with several branches may be ornamental, but it is usually luxury of great expense, ftof. Spang (for #e wish to quote authority on fashionable Span£, *nd in most cases we giv<e the .follies) says, page 92: "To improve u theories in his exact woras. Akfc RODS or ANY USE? 4Met*Uic conductors oriightniiig rojje lAf e been -used and approved by scien tific stem for over a centwry. And there are but few cases, where rods were pitt' up rightly, of destruction of life or property. There are serious errors, negligence and impositions, which have caused many to doubt their utility. Prof. Spang is confident that when metallic conductors are erected accord ing to electrical science, which is easily understood, and their earth terminals are connected with the subterranean water-bed or permanent moisture, they •re, absolute protection to life and, jgrppr WHAT ABE BODS FOB? j1 ' It was contended by Franklin, Ar&gd and Faraday, in the early history of electricity, that^ it was the function of lightning rods "to silently draw off the accumulated electricity existing in the clouds, and • thereby quietly estab lishing an equilibrium, and preventing' a disruptive discharge in the vicinity of the building." But this theory has been superseded. When a metallic conductor is well connected with the earth, and extends above the highest projecting point of the building, it will only silently establish the equilibrium between the electricity of the earth and that contained jn the lower stratui^ of the atmosphere, in the immediate vicin ity of the conductor. During a' thun der-storm the lower stratum of the atmosphere is highly electrified, though not explosively. From the long dis tance of most of the thunder-clouds from the earth, their great area and the great accumulation of electricity therein, it is quite evident that metallic conductors, with one or more points at the top, or along their entire 'length, cannot .possibly restore the electrical equilib hum silently between the said clouds and the earth and prevent dis ruptive discharges between them. M. Arago, it is true, differs in thi3 respect with most "physicists, but experience has fully demonstrated that when heavy discharges of electricity have .occurred firtSmhigh thunder-clouds to the earth or to metallic conductors, it has been by,brilliant streams of electricity known as lightning. • , . '* 'then the function of conductor when •attached to a building is simply tt> fur nish a better path for the passage of disruptive discharges or" lightning be-.. tween the thunder cloud and the earth or the water bed, thati the path through OT over the object we wisn td protect. In; 'order, therefore, ,to thor oughly protect a building from light* ning the metallic conductor mnfei be mqple many times a better path, and provided with, a good earth terminal, the building to be protected. < I i l si ' WHAT KIND OF METAL? ' ; <"This is a subject on which tfaere is ttiueh popular error. To electri'city, which is generated by a galvanic bat tery, copper is a far better conductor^ , •• or-.offers l^r -leas reftiotaui;;;..to the pas- age of it than iron; and hence, by "the3 aid of professors of pollcges, a great error is prevalent on this subject. • But Prof. Spang positively says? page 77: lightning is, however, eleetricty of * ^ery high potential, and is able tp overcome ordinary resistance rekd- ily- The difference in. the conductiv- i ity of copper and iron, to a lightning discharge, is small, jind practically amounts to, nothing. Copper is not liable to corrosion, but it cannot be eaid to have any other advantages over , iron for lightning protection. Iron is a good conductor of electricity, Mid will safely convey a heavy light- ; ^.discharge when sufficient is used, ana is well connected with the earth." i Iron; then, is equally safe, costs one- tenth as much as copper, and is far eas ier prepared for the purpose. • To humbug the people it is getting'to be fashionable to be peddling about the country combined rods of copper •nd iron. What does Spang say on ftjg subject? It Is this, page 77: "Two dissimijar metals, like copper ahd iron or zinc,. should, if possible, not be used in the construction ol a light ning conductor.11 When copper «f»d irpn are used in close contact, in moist Places or in moist earth, a chemical action takes place between them, there by causing a galvanic cftrrent to be generated, same as in a galvanic cell or : battery, and eventually the iron Will be eaten away, leaving nothing but the copper. This, then, settles the question •hst mixed rods should not be used, and that iron is equal to copper, with the advantage that iron, in case of a heavy discharge, is not as easily fused , ooppor., Many ana fatal cases are on record of eppper conductors totally - ,,fai'ing under the heat of electrical dis-- .„<#argea* v u. . in * THBSIZE'Or I ROW WECE88AKY ' Span£ says that $ round rod of* not 'teesthan seven-sixteenths of «« i_ < ^dfcUfceter should be used. TMB size he -flftys, page 78, "is amply sufficient, 7®r then, is no case on, recgrd where *" nn iron rod ol said aize,.well con- "'meted with the earth, has evtjr fused or •tly heated by lightnina. This, then, e jiiejtal and th® size oTthe rod. • ,mH WHAT WILL IT COST? ^ A round rod seven-sixteentha of ah the appearance oi the air terminal con ductor, the upper end. thereof- can be pointed, but th* protective capacity Of the conductor is not improved thereby. The point need not be tipped with gold,' sflVer, platinum, or copper, in order tot prevent it from beconifhg coated With rust, as ail the rust that may accnmillate thereon woulfd not aJfeottfaie conducting capacity thereof. * Lightning prefers blunts* to points for its explosive violence, and if suitable metallic chim* ney caps, railings or other misses of metal on the tops of buildings were* em ployed as the air terminals of the main conductor, they would answer much better than all ttye fancy points or balls that could be employed.1' * Whether the air terminals of a conductor end in points, blunts, or balls, lightning al ways selects the best route with the least resistance to, the earth's water- bed. Spang therefore.say3, "appoints are practically of no benefit, as far as a thunder cloud is concerned," there, is; *Ao necessity Of employing th^Hti.'M 1 j , » CONCLUSIONS J 1 1 ^ As, therefore, the best authorities 'in1 America or Europe conclude that plain irori rods are safet conductors, without points or tips, and that insulators are useless, what, is the cost of a good lightning rod fof a house? It is not to exceed four cents per foot, including rod, splicing* fastenings and: putting up. This, of course, does not include pay to the farmer for going to town to purchase or taking rod home, which, when spliced, wiffnave to .be dragged behind a wagon. No iron rod should be spliced with copper joints. Selling and putting np lightning rods is a legitimate business, and when itis done with a reasonable profit no one should object. It is our business to teach our feflow-laborers on the farm the use, cost and manner Of construction of a safe lightning rod. It is a plain and simpl<T thing, and anyone who pays thirty, forty or fifty cents per foot", with additions for points, is swindled, and it is our objectto let them know it. All the different devices, ornaments and combinations in lightning rods are de-t lusions, and one of the means of roving vagabonds living easily off the .hard earnings of others. , Let every farmer cut this article but ol this paper and paste it in the back of his Bible or copy of Shakespeare, so. that it will be ready when the subject is presented for his consideration.--•' loyta Stat Journal. i t t s What the Phonograph A JtAiNY afternoon kept si* young ladies in the-house, and for three hpurs their tongues ran at a rate that a suc cessful Keely motor, could it have heard them, would' Wave committed suicide out of sheer envy. A phono graph was loafing in the room during the conversation, and tjie next jd4y when its crank was turned it epoke •ferbatimieally as follows: " A lovely Swiss organic, trimmed with «•> Ohariey Edwards* Moustache looks like--a perfect fright in that belted basque, and--six yards of fly- fringe on the--Sunday night George was here he--wore a handsome chip bonnet ahd--I was atwfully ashamed, with my old wrapper on--such a stuck up thing as she is, and her--Princess* ovprskirt with sixteen--beaux go there every night in the week, ami--on Sun day I'm going to. wear my new--Tom and Jerry are coming over to see--my new suit of garnet linen lawn--for--the horrid old thing, I wouldn't speak-- and he promised to take us to see-- Mary Bront's bourette dress! did you ever--see a raorfe lovfely shade of silk than--4£rrstce Laman's brother Joe said ---Good gracious! girls, I've sewn this on the wrong side of-r-Jack Fen ton's carriage cost--as much as fifty cents a yard for new passementeries, and--I can't see what Carrie means by having that awkward booby rfannttag--her nose is no more Grecian than' rm--an • old piano not worth---1' , , . - . And so on, et cetera, ad infinitum, 'to the extent of three - columns--all about the beaux and dresa; and the phono graph was sick for two days after being relieved of the stuff. Vvhen a voung lady reads this she will indignantly ob serve that if a phonograph were to sneak into a room and absorb the con versation of a half dozen young men, it would swear worse than a Bret Harte poem when the handle was turned, and would smell of sulphur and brimstone for two weeks afterward. And per- haps, she ,would^ell the truth«rr#<lttTp- tvwn Herald, < ^ j --An English vicar on a'Monday morning was standing at his gate, when one of li\s parishioners arrived with a basket of potatoes. "What's this?" said the vicar. " Please, sir,11 replied the man, " it*s some of our Veiy best tatur's--*«. v«rvr r#Ve klsd, sh*. My'wile said you ehe^d lmv« some of them, as she beard you eay in* yonr sejrmon that the common taturs aidn't agree with " *ydto.v • •^ • " OM tf the Moet BaitarknHle Caaes of Anchylosis on Reoort. IK tiie year 1848, a boy then* eighteen yeaH of age by the ttime'of Jea&ttiah E, Bass, lived, with fieoiye W, Bbgprs, of this city, in a honaeoai the 'gieuad now occupied, by t^be LoekpojrV Jff&rnal Building. One evening whue u his wsLy to a pasture field above High Itreeti, for the ebws, he was taken with a severe pain in the hottoiA of his tight loot, He supposetl at hnttthat nail was hurting him, but upon ej|JUbina- tion he could find nothing.; night and for a number of days hig faot was swollen very badly and was exceeding ly painful, and then got Hetfter^ but w»s more or less troublesome after that. la the £«*!} of 1849, he arej|t to Avon four months, bpt got np better. That wintei; he attended school at our Unidn School, ahd in the Spring went to Buffalo for a time, itteWmWhite get ting a little worte. For a few months of the following summer lie Was able to act as Captain of a canal boat, which he ran between Buffalo and Rochester- He did no wotk, however. After that Be went to G. W. Eswtman's Commer cial School at Watervilhs, Oneida Coun ty, and in 186S kept books for HHII & Co., of Buffalo, but, continuing togrow worse, had to rive up Ms place^ and came to Ms home in Cambria., In 1854-5, he did a little Writing for parties in Lockport, and in '56 Was very bad, and suffered very much; all the joints of the body and limbs becoming more or less affected ,by, this time. In 1852, he was put on an invalid ,b^d, made by Moore & Glais, of this city, from^ which he has never been removed. < He coilld manage, however, with a good deal of difficulty, to feed himself for eight years, after that, since which time he has biben fed with a spoon, which is quite a difficult task, as his jaws are firmly set, and nothing thicker than a knife-blade cat! pass them. Yet he eats almost everything that a other people do, and is very F$t pork, fat beef, baked beans, potatoes arid milk aye his favor ites. Being very much interested an the war. reeding everythmw-that 6ame in his reach, which he could do by hav ing it placed on, a rack before him, he- soin jured his eves that in 1869 he (be came blind, and,has remained so since. He talks without difficulty, is verv in telligent, and converses freely upotf 'any subject that he has had an opportunity to study up.' The Writer of ithis article called upon Mr, Bass, a few days since, and made a careful examination of his physical condition, and fdund every joint entirely anchylosed,* or grown into solid bone, with the exception of his fingers and toes. The bones of the fingers of the right hand have been nearly absorbed, and the flesh remain ing1 is puffy, and flaccid. In the left hand not only thfe bones of 'the fingers, but the (bones of the whole hand, have undergone this same process of absorp tion. The finger-nails on, this were grown out beyond the ends of the fin ger* three ana one-half inched, giving a weird and inhuman appearance to the hand. The arms are straight down by h's sides, and fixed in this condition, and in the middle of the arm and fore» arm measured only five inches in cir cumference. The limbs are straight!--with a dislo cation of the right hip' joint--but ail firm and splifl bono, the thigh: measur ing only eight and oijie-hal# inches around. The bones of the toes are absorbed the same as the hands, and the flaccid toes droop and hang down like fringe.* The spinal column is also perfectly consolidated, thus rendering the bddy capable of being lifted by one's hands under his head and heels without yield ing or bending the slightest Whatever. The muscles are not parlyzed, but their action,, seems perfectly under his con-- trpl as seen bv the action of the tendons ahd cords. " • The pulse Is rfcgtriiftv beating i&venty to the minute, strong and full. All the vital organs are sound &nd in active condition, thys rendering him capable of living many ye^rs longer. On the whole, this is probably one of the most remarkable cases on record in this or, any otiter i{N. T.) JoUfnai. - ') . j-"?*'; • i • .iMsl? ! ; > ! ' HO'! I' fi^hful l*e6ple. ... Ill wit • --What's the difference between the Prince of W,ales arid water iij a fqun- tain? One is heir to the thrfine, and the other is throw* • lh§ air. --Oom- mercial Advertiser. OF those wastes and burdens-of life which we call minor ̂ miseries, bashf ul- ness is ^conspicuous, evil. jTJ^e ,bash ful frian forever runs a gauntlet of in genious public tortufe. He is endued with a sixth dense1 Of Suffering. Ar rows of sarcasm never aimed* at him find every joint in his harness. Blaws of criticism meant for some antipo dean fall oh his defenseless head. Fires Of Condemnation lighted for far-away offenders scorch him to the quick. * For it is true, as the witty " Anfav qrat" declares^ that bashfulnesa is van ity turned wrong side out. It is not » lack of. sufficient self-conceit^ but of due self-esteem. It is not an und4r-vaiua» tion of one's quality, but an uneasy'fear of other1 s.undervaluation.' 'The bash ful man who, in the horse«<uar, stumbiea over his neighbor's' feet, upsets the ad jacent children, knocks dowq all the tfmbrellas within his radius, and hides his confusion behind his 'morning par per, is so large a figure in his own horr izon that he is persuaded the world is looking ^n at him with disapproving eyes; whereas his existence la. forgot ten by a preoccupied public ^he instant order is restored. ' The woman Whose uneasy color deep ens if a stray glance rest a perceptible instant on her pnffs, or her, toilette, or her packages, falls instantly to jn anx ious reviewing of her p6ssible eccen tricities of dress, dr manner 6r styb. Her vanity is alarmed, ntft flatterei, but none the less is the been sentinel On her watch-towers vanity and not mol ester. She so fills he*: own conscioiis- ness that she cannot, conceive of hep* self as absent from the consciousness >f her fellows. And so weary a compan ionship is this constant presence of s«lf that tile be cornea morbid, sees neglect wfyere none is shone, • detects slights where only consideration oc tets, o? even falls into moods of BfU- distrust that are apt to kill all effort' " Often, indeed, shyness does not tfoa deform the whole *htracterv and v<ry worthy persons are to be found in the list of the bashful ' But these unlorus- Hates are usually those whose jneeiil sensitiveness to the observation dt thiir kind is due to the knowledge of a spe cial delect, or to a doubt of some one gift for whose exerelaji the wprld calls. Thus, Socrates, pronounced by the ora cle the wisest of mortals, walked aniong his pupils and taughttherq in the' calm of conscious power, tin mindful of'1 his plain face, his graceless figure, his awkward presence* But When he at tempted some public performance be fore the people, he faltered in the first onset, and was so dismayed at the conscious presence of Socrates that he could not recover himself, but was hissed and hoQted home. Plato the Broad, master of all knowledge, be1- ca.ine to aware of Plato when outside his meditative groves, that he wae dashed oht of countenance by an illit erate rabble, hawked; demurred and hesitated, before he oould get to the end of one short sentence. The gold en-tongue d Cicero began those ora tions Which swayed Rome in a weik, hesitating voice, like a school-boy'fear ful of being whipped for not beitfg per fect in his lesson. It wao only when he had forgotten Cioero in Cicero's cause that his speech thujpdere4 and light ened, and the orator seemed to bring a message from the gods. The great Hooker, most majestic of English writers, was so bashful that he never «wiiliagly looked any man in the> face, and where he fixed his eyes at the. beginning of his sermpn, there they continued till it was ended. But then, like the great elder saint, he felt his bodily presence to be weak, and his- speech contemptible. Pope, vain, as all little men are, and always pugna cious, admitted, tha$ he icould neper hold an argument, or even make a clear statement of length, fn the presence of half a dbzen people, so bashful did his perception of his deformity make him. Popr Gray so dreaded the observation of his kind that he shunned all compan ionship, and hid away with his hooks' and his pen, being duly punished fpr this isolation by the roist *rers of the university, who hunted the owl-like scholar from his dim haunts in college after college. Yet even these' great names ought not to reconcile the bashful man and wotuan to this community of suffering, since their cure depends upon them selves. A child whose life is made wholly objective, whose interests are all external, who is taught not to think of himself, does not grow up to be em barrassed by his members, distressed by the fashion of his clothes, or fright ened at the utterance of his opinions. Let the bashful person, then, seek a like "peaceof liberty." First, l^t the garb be so simple and so. fitting that it cannot engage curious attention?--Then all further thought of the garb may be dismissed. Second, let the manner be so quiet, the voice so low-toned, the speech so moderate, that criticism is forestalled; Then all doubt of one's style mav be set at nest. And, first, last and always, let the bashful person refuse to talk of self. This abstinence will presently invite such an interest in external affairs and people as shall crowd out the thought of self, and then the bashful person is redeemed. , In a word, manners rest upon mor als. And perhaps the most compre- hehsive as well as the most' exact pre scription for the cure of bashfulness is found in the noble motto of the Harry Wadsworth clubs: "Look up, and not down; look forward,* and not back; lookout, and notin% and lend a "hand." --Harper's Bazar. i • <'> a' > " '< - Insurance on the TIMrJ ' " MARCUS C^ELIUS," Cicer/) said to his legal friend, meeting him one morn ing on the other side of a soreen tinder the capitol, "what shall it be?" Cselius said he would take alittle spir- itus fumenti optimus, straight, and the orator remarking that that was about the size of his, went on: " I wish you could get out the neces sary papers some time to-day, and bring' suit for me against the Yellow Tiber Fire & Marine Insurance Company, for the amount of its policies on my villa at Tusculiim and my town house.11 M. Cselius looked up in amazement. "Why," he exclaimed, '*whendid they burn-down? And what was it? Accident? Mob? Some of Clpdius1 jppople?" " ' k " No," Cicki'o said, ** there are intact as yet,7And in fdfet, I hdvenH insured them, yet, but I ton going to do so to morrow, and' I want to bring suit against the company now, so tnat if they ever should happen to burn, I won't have quite so long to wait for the motiey.1' Caelius saw that' the orator's head was level, and brought suit that afternoon. Eleven years afterward the villa at Tus- culum and the town house -were: both destroyed by fire. The suit had by that time been in five different courts, and had been confirmed, and reversed and remanded, arid referred to the Master to take proof, and stricken from the docket'; and amended, and rebutted, and stir-rebutted, and impleaded, and re<- joinderedrand filed, and quashed, an^ continued until n »boay knew what it was about, and Cicero was notified, three weeks after the fire that he would have to prove willful and long-continued absence and neglect, as he could not get a decree simply on grounds of in- tompatability of temperament. And when he went to the Secretary of tfee company, that otitaial told' him the company didn't know anything about the fir^ and had no time to attend to such things. The company's business, the Secretary said, was to insure houses, not to run around to fires, asking about the insurance. If he wanted any in formation on those points, he would have toasktjiep^emeifcort^ienewspaper reporters. " ', \ , , * The toore' a m^n reads in tfcuese old histories, the more he is convinced that the insurance; business in the days of the praetors was a great deal more like \y \^\n-<fay,--Mnrlington Ilawlt-Ey*. , Beligtoiis. i.) THE FOUR ANCHORS, THE night it dark, but *5od;tnJ ^ nhcreand inopumuwd; i iiii And sure am 1. wh<*n norniiut bteeM. i •. Iabsll b® ^ AAd nnce 1 knowtind*rko«* ia \ To hun as Runaikrt nnr, 111 cast the anchor Patfxr.ee out. And -bat wait--for day. H I * "tierce drives the storm, but winds'siuf %MW> .Wi^inHiaW.^haW, And, triutms in Omnipof »*TiMy IHMMto iweetiygi ,If wrecked, I m in Hw SO the anchor JVrf/A," 111 wan-but waife--fojr day. And, fruting in Omnipotence, " *" ̂ "rqMlM, I'll :j • • ;• tm Eftill Beem the momenta j I rest upon the Lord; IIIJUWOU Sm RITUUNI 'ytwra,'* - r And wish--but yait--for daj|«| « Owifdom infinite! O light And love «m preme, Sivi ne! If*-" j feel one tinttermgjdaiMi ̂ lf ! _ In hands so dear as Thine? . , , I'll lean on> J •axy best beloved, heart on Thy heart lay; oastintr out the Anchor Low, I'll wish -and wait -for day. , --Christian Mt • i- --i i* ^ ^ ^^nflay.HchooI i^cisoii. ,, > , , 8BOOND QO^BTKB. 187& Jane 9--Daniel in the Lioa'o Den ...... Daniel i - \ I . i i ••iUB. Tin aiufA»ira CCnVfifSiSg Concert which had , taken place, the youngei1 to • the twd, who nad been present, was asked if Miss X-- --, one 9f • the singers, was eneored. Her voutfeful fancy .must h^ve been drawn in another direction, to? sha replied, 44 Oh, no; she was in velveL'*. --A gosling with four winks runs about the streets of Natchez. Tne lhtle goose is quite happy. Jane 2^T^S*l>scre?o^pyrai. 2 June 30--Beyiew of the Lessons fat the Qoaiter. : , i - l i t f e k o n H i e I f r l g h t S l l l e # ' ^ | . i A - - " •: ' \ j 8 THEKE one of .us who does not some times need this hit of advice? Things are contrary. The people around ns are not entirely congenial. Our world ly affairs are not adjusted to our satis faction. . The children are fretful. Our' favorite,book has been borrowed, and the borrower is a notoriously careless person, so that we know that it will come home despoiled of its freshness. The plan of life on which we have built seems very much like a failure. We a,re*tn _ some anxiety about some loved one, whose^ chamber of sickness may perhaps become the chamber of death. Some other loved one misun derstands us, or opposes us with caprice and temper when we are in almost childish want of sympathy and support. Perhaps our hardly-earned money, the accumulations of faithful toil and fru gal savings for years, is gone, like a, puff of smoke, or a breath. Look on the bright side? How can we? We are ready to say that the heaven is hung with gloom, the earth obscured, the on- waird path hidden from our view. We are in the condition of travelers in a mountain land, on whom, midway in their journey, has descended a Cold, blinding ahd impenetrable veil of fog. A step either Way may be perilous, for it may be over a precipice. It becomes to our thought almost an impertinence, this sweet voice which bids us be of good courage, anil eOunt up the mer cies, instead of lenoiirnlhg 6ver the dis asters. •• • > Yet, there is, if we but care to look for it, alwftyi a bright, serehe aspect somewhere, always an element of cheer, and always the hope of better days to come. It is very seldom, in deed, that things are so utterly forlorn that they mav not be worse. In our- reasonable moods we recognize this, and however great our trouble, we' can acknowledge that it might be greater. This is true, particularly with regard to calamities and afflictions, such as visit us and constitute, events in life. These, it is true to say, are frequently encountered and* borne with rare hero ism by those wl^ose fortitude fails them when small worries , and cares annoy and distress. ' It is amid the trifling, fletful pin-pricks of vexation and daily embarrassment that' we> are mortified by finding that the soul's armor is not oi proof. Then we are resolved to see no bright side, and we are angry at those who try to present it to our view. Quite apaft from Inaterial burdens and sorrows, there is another region of life in which at times there seems to be no brightness possible, "in the mid- silence' of the voiceles^ night.'1 have you ever lain awake, questioning your own soul, \tfhile the tick of the clock and the echoing footfall of some be lated passer on .the street alone broke the stillness? Ah! the mystery^ the vague, the terror, which havp black ened on you, and shut you in; as the tide imprisons a loiterer in, some cave ,on . the . ocean shore! How the (thought of. a swift- coming eternity lias mac^e you feel your own nothingness, your helplessness, and with what awe you have contem plated the-hour when but a few failing pulse-beats should be between you ana that vas.t unknown. Speculation, sep arated from faith, §ets you adrift, a mere xjhip tipon a torren^, and you have taken up the cry of one of old^ "Lord, what is man, that Thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou vis- itest him,?" with a chill dismay creep ing oyer you, lest you should slip away from the ever-present care of God. Some of the purest, noblest natures suffer from this be^umbin^ paralysis of doubt, now and then. It is humiliating to reflect, too, that the tortures which visit this intellectual and mental part, are. of ten part of the penalty which an abused physical constitution exacts. The nerves are over-wrought, the brain lias been unduly stimulated, or the stomach has been ill-treated, and then the body makes its reprisals on its spir itual ten aht. But* come fjrom what source soever it may, there is a mute agony of soul, which we sometimes endure, and in which it is a consolation indeed to re member the Master, and His hard and bitter conflict, beneath the olives of Gethsemane. At such hours, like sheet ed ghosts, the errors and defeats of, the past revisit you, a%i; life grows unut terably sad. Is there a bright side here? Some poet has said that the mark of rank in »o nananifv for Mil). And tn these nights of sorrow there are corre sponding days of joy. But the real bright side is found only when, out of the whirl of struggling emotions, the spirit casts itself upon the sympathy of Jesus. So strong, so true, so tender is the love of our Lord, that even as we cry, 44 Save or we perish," there comes, swift as our need, the answer, 44 J*o, I am with you always," No subtler habit of evil is there in the world than that of self-pity! The victim of this form of selfishness is al ways surveying the dark side of things. If we choose we can cdltirafce in our selves and in our children the sunny nature, as w^ell that ever bemoaning itself, andT comparing its lot with .that of others. It would be well for each of us, every day, when the trials press, to say, "But af{er all. how touch pleasure there is here; how xnueh delight there is yonder,mnd what a garden of glory, is this beautiful World. Let me, at least, try to be as happy as I oan."--Margaret E. Sti jfert in Christian Intelligence^. *N * i' Prof, ttetarj's Religions Faiifc. fallowing is an extract from a private letter written by the late Prof. Joseph Henry (so many years at the head of the Smithsonian Institute) on the 12th of last April: " In accordance with this scientific View, on what evidence does the exist ence of a Creator rest? Ftrst, it is one of the truths best established hy ex perience in my own mind that I have a thinking, willing principle Within me, eapable of intellectual activity arid of moral feeling. Second, it is equally clear to me that you have a similar spiritual principle withireyourself, since when I ask you an intelligent question y°w give, me an intellectual answer. Third, when ,1 examine operations of Nature I find eYerywhere through them evidences of intellectual arrangements, of contrivances to reaeh definite ends precisely as I find in the operations (of man; and hence I infer that these two classes of operations are results of sim ilar intelligence. Again, in my oVn mind I find ifle$s of right and wrong, of good.and evil. These ideas, thpn, exist in the universe, and therefore form a basis of our ideas of' a moi-al universe. Furthermore, the concep tions of good which are found among, our ideas associated with eiil can be ^attributed only to a being of infiniite perfections like that which We denomi nate * God.' On .the other hand, we are conscious of haying such evil thoughts and tendencies that We cannot associate ourselves with a divine being, who is the director- and the governor, of all, or even call upon him for mercy without the intercession of one >%ho niftv 'affiliate himself wfth d|i.^ : • lie, Pastor'a PlaU. DETAINED oyer, Sundaytip the little hamlet of Wnitrieyville, near I^ew Haven,! Conn., it was my good fortune not only t» listen to a sermon of more tha^i average ability, but to witn^ps an incident so rare in its character, and reflecting sd creditably on the pastor as to merit public mention. It beihg fashionable to.have church debts,»of course the little Whitneyyille church must have theirs, and it was the duty of the good minister at the close of the sermon to attend to the pressing char acter of this obligation,. He said: 44 The tim^s are hara, and we are popr. How, then, can we pay the debt? Now, my dear people, I can see but one Wjsiy to do it, and that is through the strict est economy. But you will say, where can we economize? The items of fuel and lights we have already reduced to a minimum, and the choir and sexton give us their services gratis. Well, then, my friends, there remains the salary of your minister, and that ipnst be cut d6wn. When times were good you voluntarily raised my salary frpm $600 to $800. Now retrenchment is de manded, and yoii must cut off the ex tra $200, and, appropriating this sav ing to the payment of the debt, $ou will, in two or three years, again pe free."' " This narration of actual fact seems, indeed, stranger than fiction, and car ries with it its own beautiful lesson. All honor to t this worthy, self-sacri£- cing inan of God.--Cor. N. Y. Rcrqfyl. -v i*>Mosaic's Last Mementetf . f. • 1 THEKE is something strikingly beau tiful and touching in the circumstance of his death. " His sweetest song w|is the last'he sung"--the " Requiem." He had been employed upon this Ex quisite piece for several weeks--his soul filled with inspirations of the rich est melody, and already, claiming kin dred with immorality After giving it its last touch, and breathing into it tnat undying spirit of song which was$o consecrate it through all time " as Jlis cygnean strain," he fell into a gen^e aha quiet slumber. At length the light footsteps of his daughter Emilie awoke h i m . 4 4 C o m e h i t h e r , ' ' s a i d h e . t 4 4 r i # y Emilie--my task is done--the Requiem is finished. " Say not so dear father," said the little girl, interrupting him, as tears stood in ner eyes; 44 you must be better--you look better, for eyen p your cheek has a glow upon it. I am sure we will nurse you well again--let me bring you something refreshing." 44 Do not deceive yourself, my* love," said the. dying father; 44 this wasted form can never be restored by hunicm aid. From Heaven's mercy alone do^I look for aid in this my dying hour. You spoke of refreshments, my Emilie r--take these, my last notes, sit down by n^y piano here, sing them with t)fe hymn of thy sainted mother; let me ohee more hear those tones which have been so long my solacement and 4** light." Emilie obeyed; and with W voice enriched with tenderest emotion, sung the following stanzas: »f t "toirit! thy labor is o'er! , . ;rt Thy term of probation is ran. . u . ; Thy steps are now bound fertile tifctrbdMn shore, . ; ,, itadtfce race of immortals begin. ' Spwit! h>ok not on the strife, i Or the pleasures of earth with secret, u Pause not on the threshold of limitless lies, , . To moorn for the day that ie set.* t. - .SaMt! nocan bind, . • • »*• ' H> Wo Viickecl. have power to molest; ,,<• n-» Ufere th»> weary. Eke thee, the wretched, shall find , s , > A haven--a mansion of zest. Sgirit! how bright in the road . '• Tor which thrxn Hrtc > « v a > ' • « Thy home it will be with thy Savior and ' Qod, tteir loud halkiajahs, to sing." - J - As she concluded, she dwelt for; A moment upon the low, melancholy notes of tne piece, and then turning from the instrument, looked in silence for the approving smile of 'her father. It was the stiU, passionless smile whioh the rapt and joyous spirit had left, wJUi the seal of death upon those features.--- N. Y% Graphic. Wr:;