MSB FMHT'S EXPLOIT. ; .pj*' ABOUT ten yew* ago, A man by the atne of Elkaaah Flint moved with his family from one of de New Xtagland gftrr to Hennepin Conntj, Minn., he took up land under the Home- jrtead law. ' Being unable, for some reason, to <#<*••* Obtain a clear title to his land, he ^^Tgnoved again, and settled on the St. Jiouis River, about thirty-five miles northwest of Duluth. It was while at Duluth that the writer Was told the fol lowing story: Flint's family consisted, beside his tife and himself, of three children, hose names were Jason, a boy of fif-en, a daughter, Abigail, two years jrounger; and a liwie girl but three jrears old, whose name, I think, was Flora. i*'* Their first clearing was made on a fertile wooded interval, on the right bank of the river. About a hundred tfods back from the stream stood their ; Kouse, built of cottonwood logs. It was a wet season, and their loca tion proved tn be a damp one. From this cause, very likely, Mrs. Flint and •fcer little girl sickened froni colds, and "both died of pneumonia. The death of 4he child occurred two days after the death of the mother. V' All the care of the household thus fell jqpon Abby Flint, now in her fourteenth jear, and who seems to have been a Very capable girl. Her brother Jason was of a different stamp, and rendered ids father but little help. He was at tracted by nothing but hunting and scouting. Often he brought home a Seer, or a quarter of moose, but it was ' with the greatest reluctance that he set himself to plowing or planting. To trap along the upper course of Jhe river was far more to Jason's liking 4han felling trees. He was very adroit in trading with the Indians, parties of whom often icame to the settler's house. So sharp, indeed, were his bargains in furs with them, that they had, within a year, be stowed upon him the nickname Tarouch- 4k-gippoo; which I should translate lib erally as 4 4 Young Skinflint." ••'i-'i It was not very long afterward that •"the memorable troubles with the Sioux -' began, marked by those horrible mas sacres of the settlers in the back coun ties of Iowa and Minnesota. During the first days of June of the * U .•Jrt'i" rear of our story, Mr. Flint set off in Jiis 44 dug-out" boat for the u on small Tillage of Duluth, to procure some farming implements. He ordered Ja- 1 lion to remain close at home, and set him to hoeing in a small field of pota- : '|oes. on a piece of ground recently '>a*©Ieared and burned over. But Jason, whose mind was intent **? 4Mt Indians, believed it necessary to .t^ i amake a scouting tour across the coun- fc1<--»4ry to a neighboring settlement. This -trip occupied the first day of his fath- ^H^fr's absence. * r« The next morning he set to work on #he potato-patch--all the more diligent- l» :i;^y because Mr. Flint was expected iiomc that night--and, as was not very „ uncommon with him, lie coaxed his sis- *mjjer Abby to leave her work in the house 4i : land help him. Sprouts from the roots and stumps ' 4lf the lately-felled trees had come up plentifully among the potatoes. Abby "Went ahead with a bush-hook, or bush- jjj ̂ bili, and cut up the sprouts, while Ja- «; ^aon followed Mid hilled up the potatoes with a hoe. •**«• But his eyes roved about a good deal s*s he hoed, and for once, at least, 4hose sharp, wandering eyes of his did »'f«\4iim good service. Chancing to look 3*> (forward to the end of the row, where ^ *the forest bordered the clearing, he saw im Indian in the act of stealing for ward from behind the trunk of a great maple to a blackened pine-stub, which T had been burned out hollow by the re- -/tfent fires, and which stood in the ont- 4 t fikirts of the potatoes. ^ Boy though he was, Jase was ̂at no ^ JdSs to understand the movement of the •avage. He knew that he was only waiting there for his sister and him self to approach nearer, when he would f i.i^s'obabiy shoot him, and endeavor to >• .it-wiie Ms sister prisoner. ̂ The distance to the pine stub was $ ̂ ighteen or twenty rods--too far for ^IheTedskin' s gun to shoot with certain- Dropping Ms eyes, Jase 'hoed on With apparent carelessness. Abby had not seen the Indian, and ' dared not even whisper a warning her, lest she.should take fright, and .->y. thus bring the savage at once upon *>?*Xthem. Jase1 s own gun, though load- «jd, was at the house, which was out of •'Kfight behind the bushes. With great presence of mind, Jase ~:i to his sister: 'Don't hurry so, Abb. It's too feawwarm to hurry. I'm going to fetch stout some water." Ana setting down "•#r»tii8 hoe. he strolled leisurely across the ()iece, whistling as he went, half-ex- at every step to feel a bullet. Getting among the bushes, he ran to T j "Hthe house, and caught down his gun -and powder-horn, with the intention of w.iimakiug a circuit through the woods, ~ K-fand coming round in the rear of the 4 u«|§avage, who, he thought, would be in- 1 .*:tent watching his sister. But the leathern poach which held , bis stock of bullets was gone from the . peg- In doing her work that morning, y k*d herself knocked it off, and it * i fallen down through an opening in K floor. >^In breathless haste, Jason searched ®he room over and over, but could not **••* ^®d the pouch. Knowing there was **5* moment to lose, he set off, with ®nt the single charge in his gun. He had but just got out of the door when he heard Abby scream. Then athere followed a smothered sound. And Tthen he heard her try to call his name. ! Even then the boy's presence of mind " *414 not desert him. He knew that if the savage were alone, his sister's sole ce of life lay in the Indian's not •vering that he was pursued. e ran to the edge of the bushes that ^.'.skirted the potatoes, and looked out The redskin was dragging Abby after .«jp Mm by her wrists, and was just enter- fcfc ing the woods on the farther side, going •<- {,] out toward the river. From this, Jase concluded that the -Mi Indian had come down the stream in a 'put canoe, which he had probably left not ftr off If the savage should regain His canoe, Jason's only chance would be to shoot him from the bank. This he resolved to attempt. Not muoh more than a mile above the dealing, the river makes a great bend, and at one point is quite swift and narrow. ' Making a circuit through the woods, Jason ran to intercept the Indian at the bend. He was right in his conjecture, for he had but just crept through some thick alders on the bank, When he saw a ca noe coming swiftly up the stream. The Indian's paddle gtittered in the sun as he sat in the stern, and, with quick, strong strokes, propelled the little craft against the current. He could see his sister crouching in the middle of the canoe, with her head muffled in some coarse cloth. Jase cocked his gun, and, with the greatest caution, brought the piece to bear on the savage, determined to lire the instant he came near enough. But the wary Indian either heard some sound from the shore, or suspect ed danger at this narrow point in the channel, for, before he had come with in range, Jane saw him creep forward and crouch beside his captive, in such a manner as to shield his own body with hers. Jason saw the 'savage's sharp eyes scanning the bushes, but he did not lire, lest he snonld shoot his sister. u Though baffled by this trick, the bold boy was not disheartened. Three or four miles farther up the river was a rapid, where the channel was broken by ledges and large bowlders, against which, near the upper end oi the broken water, were piled great heaps - of drift-logs and brush. Jase had trapped there and knew the place well. There were three piles of drift in the stream at that point; one near the right bank, another on a ledge a little farther out, and a few rods higher up, and a third one lodged against two enormous rocks, still nearer the opposite bank. It was between these banks and the shore that boats and canoes going up the river usually passed. For the cur rent was here neither so strong nor so swift, but flowed smoothly over a peb bly* bottom. With a line, a canoe or boat could be pulled up against the current; and the water was not so deep but that a man could wade and draw a boat after him. To shoot at the savage when he drew his canoe up the rapid was Jase's next thought. After a hot run, he came out near the rapids, and easily waded across to the first pile of drift. There were rocks on which he was able to jump to the second of the three. But it was only by wading that he was able to get to the farthest drift-pile, the point he wished to reach. Several times he was nearly swept away by stumbling over the slippery rocks upon the bottom. But he got over, and, hiding himself partly under some of the brush, and behind an old tilted-up stump, he lay in wait for the Indian. From this lurking-place he could not see down stream; but in about twenty minutes he heard the Indian wading in the rapid, splashing his way up, pull ing the canoe after him. A minute more, and Jase caught sight of him--bent Over, as he carefully i planted his moccasined feet among the slippery stones on the bottom. He had the line over one shoulder, and the canoe, with Abby, was ten or twelve feet behind him. The girl was now sobbing bitterly, quite despairing of escape or rescue. The Indian had come within thirty or forty feet of Jase, but at that moment his quick ear caught some sound from the drift-heap. He stopped and turned sharply round. This was Jase's chance. Before the savage could stir, the young backwoods man had fired at him. And it was a most fortunate shot--for Abby Flint, at least. Jase had hit the Indian in a vital part. Uttering a dreadful cry of pain, the savage let go the line, and attempt ed to reach the drift-heap; but being so severely wounded, he lost his footing and rolled down the rapid. The canoe, too, caught sidewise by the current, was upset, and Abby, clutching at the gunwale, which was und with basket stuff, was carried with it into an eddy beneath the other bank. Hang on to it. Abb!" were the first words she heard from her brother. Jase had waded into the stream, and, crossing over, he seized Mold of the canoe; but stepping into a deep hole near the eddy, both he and his sister sank completely out of sight. For a moment they were near drowning. The boy struggled out, however, and pulled his sister to the shore. Neither of them saw anything more of the Indian. Probably he was carried into the deep water below the rapid and was drowned. 1 wish I had been able to learn more of the subsequent career of Jase Flint; but I could only hear at Duluth that he had become a scout and Indian fighter out West. He was certainly a cool-headed, steady-handed youngster--if not a very food farmer's boy. I wish he could ave been both. But there is an old proverb that "it takes all kinds of folks to make up a world;" and also another, that 44 you cannot have every thing in one boy." So, while we re gret Jase's failings, let us praise his pluck and energy.--Youth"1 s Companion. #nr Girls. --Wnen Mark Twain lectured re cently at a town in Massachusetts, it was arranged that T. B. Aldrich, the poet, should introduce him. When Mr. Aldrich was about to step forward to perform his duty, Mark cheeked him. Then, advancing slowly to the edge of the platform, while the amazed poet resumed his chair, the humorist remarked: 44 Ladies and gentlemen, my friend, Mr. Aldrich, was going to tell you who I was, but I would rather not--he knows me too well." GOOD dairymen contend that milk is partly absorbed when kept for a long time in the udder, also asserting that cows milked thrice daily produce more milk and butter than u they were milked only twice a day. --Oliver P. Dunn, ninety-four years of age, of New Brunswick, N J., is seeking a parson to unite him In mar riage with a Mrs. Way, ittme twenty years his junior. *8* been a grtwt&£Tttald, during the last twenty or thirty years, concerning the health of American women, and the general spininess and delicacy of American girls. We have never given much credit to the state ments in general on the subject, having found, in our own observation, an average of health comparing favorably with that of most English and French women, and with that of the more in telligent and cultivated German wom en, and holding the matter to be more the stock in trade of certain paragraph- ists than anything else. The frame of the American woman, we know, does not in her youth greatly incline to adipose, although in her ma turity she is likely to be round and plump enough to hinder wrinkles for some years after they are overdue, while the natural American complexion is of a peculiar soft and tender tint, that ignorant people might take for pallor. But neither absence of adipose nor tenderly-tinted skin really consti tutes, or is a symptom of, ill health, and the thin and delicately-fashioned young woman will undergo a world of fatigue and strain, and will rise from her sleep the next day fresh as a lark, while the rubictmd and roly-poly one will be overcome with exhaustion, and good for nothing; and while the latter may have died before fifty, the former, wiry and indomitable, a bundle of nerves, will be able' to give younger people odds at eighty. But the random and long-continued statements of which we speak, whether true or false, have really done a good work, and fathers and mothers of late have paid a very different sort of atten tion to the health of their children from that paid a half-century since; so that children now not only inherit such good health as there was in the past, but have all that the added solicitude, the care ful diet, the warm clothing, the out door pursuits, of the present can give them. With all those having any abil ity to do so, a care has been taken of health of girls, especially, that can hardly be rivaled in any other land; they have been encouraged in most of the sports of their brothers, that they might live the more in the open air, fed on simpler food than Once, although abundant, and allowed to take such sleep as they need, without regard to the unwise old saws about early rising, and all in such manner as to counteract any unfortunate influence that too-stim ulating study might exert; and the re sult is a tribe of rosy, rounded creat ures, whose sparkling eyes, shapely forms and elastic steps are full of prom ise for the health and strength of the future. f It is a pleasure to see these children stepping along; they are satisfactory to mind and sight; objects of beauty in their abundant health, they are objects of a yet greater beauty in view of the health they are hiving to give to the generation that is to come, doing their part in the physical, and therefore in the closely-following mental and moral; perfection of the race.--Harper's Ba zar. Z ' 43omantIc Love Story. Mr clock on this occasion misled me, and I arrived at my hostess' at too early an hour. As I went in I met a young lady preparing to go out. We exchanged a word or two and I gave a second rapid glance to discover what it was that made me wish she would stay. There was no beauty in one sense, but piquance and grace and something else It was a face that suggested events, and I said as to my hostess. 44 How strange!" she answered. 441 will tell you about her. You see she is young and this moment particularly sad. She has hardly a footing, she says. She is in a half dream or in a world not exactly real, as it is to the rest of us. Two or three years ago a well-known publisher in Paternoster Row, who for many years had been prosperous in business, and deserved his prosperity, failed through no fault of his own. The ruin was so complete, save that his honor remained untarn ished, that he has been obliged to take an humble situation, and the older daughters of the family to become governesses. The youngest daughter, Alice, the young lady you met in the hall, has been kept at school, that she might be educated to fill the place of a governess. Last year, when the ani mals which had been presented to the Prince of W ales on his Indian journey were exhibited at the Zoological Gardens, this child, with the rest of London, was anxious to see the Prince's pets. She went to the 4 Zoo,'as it is called here, and while in the crowd, observed a thief pick a gentleman's pocket and get off with his stealings. As soon as she could, she touched the gentleman on the arm and pointed out the thief. The gentleman said, 4 Let us watch and see if he relieves anyone else of a purse.' The light-fingered party pursued his craft, ana they on the watch gave the alarm, and the thief was arrested. Alice started for her home. The gentleman begged that she would give him her name and address, that he might fittingly thank her, but this she declined to do. He must have followed her, for the next day he met her on the way to school, and again asked for her ad dress. saying that without her testi mony it would be impossible to convict the pickpocket, and she complied. He called at her father's house, made the acquaintance of the family, escorting Alice to the Magistrate's Court, where, on her evidence, the sharper was sent to hard labor for two years. This new- made acquaintance continued his visits, and was marked in his attentions to Alice. He gave her valuable presents, and begged that he might be at the cnarge of her education. He took up the role of guardian in the most natural way, and became the dearest friend of the whole family. He was an invalid, and traveled more or less during the early season for his health. Not very long ago he surprised them by coming to take leave, saying that he was obliged to go to San 1 rancisco to take possession of a valuable property that had been left him there. H« wrote to Alice during the journey, and after his arrival; and then came the last letter saying that he was ill and must die; that ; he hoped to make her his wife, and that, by his will, he had left her £600 a year for life. Shortly after the receipt of this, Alice received a visit from his father, who informed her that hit son had died a few days after writing to each of them, and that he had exacted a pledge from him that he should see that the provisions of the will were ex ecuted. He himself was going to San Francisco to attend to his son's business there, and settle the estate. A few days ago, on his departure, Alice received from him a magnificent bouquet, in which was a most tender noto and a diamond ring of the rarest value. Here the story pauses for the present. Later on I may be able to tell yon whether anything further comes of it. My friend has the idea that the father, who is a widower, is as much pleased with Alice as the rest of us."--London Cor. Ha/rtford (Conn.) Couranfi, A Mormon Romance. IN the year 1875, there lived near the Town of Richmond, Ky., a family by the name of Stevens, consisting of fa ther, mother, two sons and daughters. The youngest of the daughters, flattie, was a beautiful girl of some fifteen summers. Living near was a young and well-to-do farmer named Lucian Robertson, who occasionally called at the house to pass the evening, and in the course of time an intimacy sprang up between the two that ripened into love, and, unknown to her parents, they were engaged. When the family learned of the fact, Robertson was for bidden the house, and their meetings afterward were very seldom, yet they were not daunted, but in their stolen interviews vowed eternal love and fidel ity to one another. In the meantime her family moved with her to this State, settling in Tarrant County. Her lover soon followed, purchasing and putting into cultivation a farm on the Neuces River, in Live Oak County. Last fall, when the Mormon fever swept over some of the western coun ties in the State, her father and all the family, save herself, were converted to the faith, and he determined to sell out and leave for Salt Lake City, which he did. The girl, who "is represented as being very intelligent, greatly deplored the religion her family had adopted, and begged her father to allow her to remain in Texas and teach school to make a living for herself. This he pos itively refused to do, and they left last fall for Mormondom with a party of con verts that left Fort Worth. She noti fied her lover by letter of the fact and he soon followed, opening up a store in Salt Lake City. Finding that Robert son had followed in their wake, the fa ther and his two sons began a system atic persecution against him, and nothing was too mean in their eves to do against him. The girl, true to her lover, defended the slurs and slams that were hurled at him, and she, too, in turn, was also per secuted by her fanatical father and family in a most cruel manner. She was made to keep in the house days at a time, while her and her affiance's notes were intercepted. The father's objection to young Robertson was that he was a Gentile, and he swore he should never wed his daughter. Dur ing this time her mother died. Think ing the old man might possibly be soft ened by the death of his wife, Robert son once more essayed to gain his con sent, but was rudely and indignantly repulsed. Her brothers threatened to kill him if he was ever caught making further overtures to their sister. AJ1 this time the young girl was undergoing a most merciless persecution, while an attempt was being made to force her to adopt the Mormon faith. She managed to communicate with her lover, howev er, now and then, and finally wrote him that she could not bear the treatment and persecution to which her family and their brother Mormons subjected her, and begged him, if it were possi ble, to aid her in making her escape. The young man took a sensible view of the case, and reported the matter to a United States officer, who, upon the swearing out* of an affidavit, released the young girl, whom he found shut up in a dark room. The two repaired at once to a Magistrate, where they were married, and they lost no time in taking a hasty leave of the scene of their trou bles, and yesterday evening the happy pair passed through the city en route to their farm on the Neuccs. Wo learned the particulars of their rather roman tic life from a friend of Robertson's, who rode down from Denison with them. He is well acquainted with her two brothers, and is afraid they may yet wreak vengeance on his friend.-- Dallas (Tex.) Herald. Surprises of California. THE California coast is full of mar vels. Every year brings something new to the surface. Things extraor dinary in size, character and mystery are turning up every day. When Cali fornia was first settled, gold was the great thing. The soil appeared to be a heap of dust. It took a long season to find out how rich this country was in everything that pertains to agricultural life. A single night's rain will turn these dust hills into a verdant pasture. The grasses are annual. They must be re-sown every year, unless the seed hid den in the earth is sufficient for a new crop. Even in the absence of rain, cat tle turned out on what seems to be a plain or a hillside, dry as ashes, pick up a good living on what is known as the dry crop. The valleys are hot-beds of vegetation, This is true of the San Jose Valley, the Napa Valley and the Sonoma Valley. Fields are laid out by the mile. The wheat fields are small when they embrace only 100 acres. They are large when they are thirty miles long. The taste here is for huge farms. The land is worked by ma chinery. The world don't show such inventions to aid in agriculture as are found here. It is common to see eight horses, four abreast, drawing a gang of plows. Without machinery these im mense fields could not be cultivated. One of the machines takes off the heads of wheat and leaves the stubble to be burned or plowed in. Before the ma chine has done with the crop the grain is threshed and bagged, ready for the market, before it leaves the field. The sheep and cattle are kept in immense quantities, and 1,000 head of each is a small allowance.--Cor. Boston Journal. Religious* % L1TTUS CJEBJ0* LETTXM TO J#8?8. k POSTMAN stood with puzrled brow. , > And in his hand turned o'er and A letter, with address so strange , , f Ak he had never seen before. ̂ The writing cramped, the letter* small, r; And by a boy's roach hand engjfevenf The woid« ran thus, To Jesus Christ," And underneath inscribed, 44 In Hea1™" ** The postman paused; full well he knew) No mail on earth this note could take, And yet 'twas writ in childish faith. And posted for the dear Lord's sake. • « ; •tf "M With careful hand he broke the seal. And rer rently the letter read; TWHB short, and very simple, too, v For this was all the writer saidt ' My Xiord and Savior, Jesus Chridl, ; * I've lately lost my father dear; Mother is very, very poor, ' life K«r ia aarl and drear. Yet Thou hast promised in Thy Word s That none can ever ask in vain For what they need of earthly stgjte, * • t H only asked in Jesus1 name. 1 So I am writing in His name. To ask that Thou wilt kindly send # f Some money down; what Thou canst spuja. And what is right for us to spond. I want so much to go to school; • • While father lived I always w«nt, , , Bat he had little, Lord, to leaver i y' And what he left is almost spent. -f, ' I do not know how long 'twill be Ere this can reach the golden gate; Bat I will try and p-itient be, And for the answer gladly wait," The tidings reached that far-off land, u ' i'r . Although the letter did not go,.. And straight the King an angel urn. To help the little boy below. Oft to hip mother he would say, i!"" ^ "I knew the Lord would answer make When He had read my letter through, <- Which I had sent for Jesus' Bake." Ah! happy boy, could you but teach - My heart to-trust my Father's love, And to believe where aucht's denied Tis only done my faitn to prove. --Christian at Work. Snatfay-Sehool Lessonfc FIRST QUARTER. 1878. Pibrli-Joiii Repairing the * Temple .. .....„ 2Chron.24: 4-18. Feb. 24.--Uzziah s Pride Pun- if.hed ............. „. ...2Chron.26:16-28. Mch. 3.--Ahaz Penust nt Wick- • •• •- 2Chron.28:19-27. Mcha 10--Hez kiah b Good Rei£m.2Chron»2&; l-ll* Jlcli. 17.--Hezekiah and tne .Assyrians ;•••••• 2 Chron.82: 9-2L Mchu 24,--Manaaseh Drought to Kepentanee. 2Chron.38: 9-16. M c o * l i e v i e w o f t h e L e s s o n s f o r t h e Q u a x t o r * Tbe Right Education of Youtlu WHAT is an education to the youth without the pure teachings of religion being intermingled, as a surer and l>et- ter guide to the youthful mind in its pursuit for knowledge? What is a ship at sea without chart or compass or some one to guide its course aright? What is a household without some one to guide its multitudinous affairs in the rignt way, and keep all things in order? What is the formation of character without some guiding hand to shape its course and mold it aright? I fear were there not a sustaining nand in shaping, controlling and influencing the youthful mind, that there would be more wrecks of people about us than we now see. A mother's influence, a father's counsel, the prayers of Christian people, help to guide, and control, restrain, encourage and improve the young. Review for the moment the catalogue of names of those who started life's voyage with you, and see the result attained by those who thought themselves com petent to manage themselves. What ao you see to flatter your conception of human greatness? Go back to their early homes and see what kind of train ing they had. Were they there taught obedience to their parents; and was there mingled with their teaching Biblical instruction ? Were they taught to venerate the Word of God, and re spect its teachings, and love its truths? Is there not a spirit of worship innate in the human soul; and why should it not be properly cultivated, instead of being trampled upon and crushed out. Should religion be a one-day affair, or should it enter into our every-day affairs, and be as an aroma of sweet- scented herbs around about us, sanctifving and making better our every-aay acts, and constantly purifying the channels of work? A beautiful character, or a beautiful life, is the ad miration of all. It may not show bold and striking points, but it does show consistent, salient and soul-stirring points that are worthy of emulation. It may not be the smartness that the world admires, but it saves its possessor from a lonj? abode in the Penitentiary, or from a life of reproach, and it af ford# promise of a cotter home here» after. Let religion be taught at home and in school, that the daily lives of youth may have its elevating and refin ing influence. Where can we better go to derive that comfort which we need than to the inspired teachings of the Bible? Let its sacred truths be en graved on the tablets of the heart as with a pen of steel, that no future events can wholly eradicate them. The pliant mind of youth takes in truths as the thirsty earth absorbs the drops of rain that fall upon its surface. What more noble conception can it have than from Nature to look to Nature's God?--what more trusty guide than the truths con tained in the Bible?--what more fitting time to receive those truths than in early youth, when they can bless and render happy a life-time? Every day needs the mellowing influence of relig ion, that old age may seem sanctified to its possessor. Tnen, as they lay down tlie burden and crosses of this life, they can in another world wear the crown of joy and receive the full frui tion of the blessed. Rejoice in the Lord. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him.--Christian Union. «*. n The Victory of , , THAT is a very great Scripture, 4 4 This is the victory that overcometh tlie world, even your faith." Too fre quently we read it wrong. I read it thus for many years. I was wont to read it, 44 This is the victory that over cometh the world, even your fight.'" It is not fight, however, which over comes, but faith. It was thus I dis covered the real meaning of the Script ure: , It was one wintry day. The ground was snow-covered. I was passng along the street. My child, a little girl, was coasting with her sled. Some rude boys seized her sled. She had been in tussle with them. She could do noth ing with the boys of herself; they were too much for her. Just then she saw me coming round the corner. Imme diately «he left the Jtoys, sled, every thing, and ran to me. 44 Papa." said she, 441 want my sled." Tiwnshewas quite sure that she possessedlt, because she knew that 1 was mightier thaili the boys, and could get it for her, an J would. That was the victory whicll overcame the world of that ehildislt trouble--even her faith. She put thd. whole matter in my hands, and by heil faith in me was conqueror. Since then I have read this Scriptu. as it stands. The victory that ove cometh is that of faith. Toward th temptations, toward the trials, towa the troubles of our lives, we are - helpless in ourselves as was my littl daughter toward the boys who hay seized her toy. Toward the tempta* k tions, toward the troubles, toward th|^? trials of our lives, we may be as conS quering as was my little daughter to|; ward those boys. It is not needful tha§ we be vanquished Christians. Ther| is for us infinite resource. It is faith|j however, that unlocks it, and not fights Carry your pain or peril to the Lord|} in the same definite actual" way ii| which my child carried her capture^1; sled to me, and the might of Christ pledged you. This is the secret of vie* • torious Christian living. It was Paul'|» secret. 44 The life which I now live ii|} the flesh I live by the faith of the So# t of God."--Rev. Way land Hoyt, in Chris? tian Union. Farm Life--Its Advantages and forts. THIS then shall be the song we sing, " Go work upon a farm. Do not wait until your hair is gray, and then go because you are compelled to go somewhere where a subsistence may be had whiph will hold body anC soul together. Begin in the commence ment, not at the end, of life, when youth, strength and manhood are wast ed away; then you are no credit to the profession, Although the brotherhood i* so kind that many are admitted at thaifc late day. Farm life may tie compared to a per son dressed in sober-colored garments, they may be of the richest and most substantial mateiial, and worn with ex quisite taste, yet a superficial observer would fail to see any beauty or comeliness about such a dress, while a gay attire would wake his admirations- even if it were of an undesirable quality and would not at any time bear exam ination. Such is the town life in com parison, the former being the better dress. One must first become con vinced that such is the case before it will be adopted. As in religion, the beauty and utility of a Christian life must first be seen or felt before it can be embraced. Are the inducements of farm or country life so vague that they can neither be seen nor felt? Are they a substance or a shadow? Let us see. In the first place, all will admit that so long as we have bodies we must live upon the earth, consequently must be clothed and fed, and where are the facilities better or surer for obtaining pure and nutritious food than upon the farm, and with the surplus an exchange can be made for comfortable clothing-. If sickness or misfortune overtake the farmer his farm is a bank which can be induced to supply his physical wants at least. Inactivity for a limited time does not hinder the hay or grain grow ing or prevent the beef or mutton fat tening, whereas in case of the lawyer, mechanic or tradesman, as soon as he stops his income ceases. In regard to the favor the Tax Col lector shows him one may call it an evil or a good according to the misan thropic or philanthropic view of the case. He certainly is not compelled to pay as much for public conveniences and benefactions as his peer in the ad joining city. But let us hope he is lib eral minded enough to donate with free will to the extent of his ability. Let us consider the next advantage--his promise is fair for having a durable and comfortable home through life, and as he is generally found on the as cending scale, this is also much in his favor, for he has a solid foundation on which to build, the fear of falling thus being removed. Farm employment is conducive to in dustry, industry with frugality leads to wealth, and wealth ought to be a source of comfort and good to the pos sessor, and through him to the world. If it has not this effect, then it is only a stumbling wherever it may be found. Experience, too, teaches the farmer noble lessons, bearing wisdom with its fruit; wisdom should bring contentment, and does not contentment bring happiness, the good of life? There is a quietness about the coun try life that brings out the calmest and best part of our being, while in town life the friction produced by constant rubbing against so many natures emits sparks which oftentimes result in fires neither pleasing nor profitable. Some verses taken from Frazer's Magazine* entitled 44 The Honest Farmer," I would be glad to copy here, but wil| only take the privilege of quoting a few lines: " Happy I count the farmer's life. Its various roand of wholesome toil; Thice happv, surely! in his breast Plain wisdom and the trust in God; His path more straight from east to weak Than politician ever trod, ' # ' mHui gains no lose to other men; . .. • jWia utalwitrt blows inflict no WoundL" What better picture can be draw® ©f conscientiousness in any profession? As the conclusion of inward reasoning, providing I have failed to present it be fore others in a convincing form, it seems strange that some person with the power of one who said, 44 Young man, go West." does not now rise ana say to the young men and maidens who encumber the villages and cities, 44Go work upon a farm." If it could be said in thunder-tones, and reverberate the length of time the famous expression above quoted has, who dare say it would not accomplish much good. There are many who have the qualifications neces sary for a good farmer, but are blind to their own interest; in truth, they are too much attached to the dry-goods boxes of their native town. I do not believe in fixing upon a farm any per son who has a special taste or genius for some other profession; neither any who are particularly qualified to fill the many important positions which must be occupied. As It takes "all kinds of people to make a world," so this varied multitude call for a diversity of em ployments.--Cor. Detroit J\m and Trib une.