North Carolina Newspapers

ST n ii rsy r 1 3 a fa l n fi l It s - 1 II fl II ri I la I IS I PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY A COMMITTEE OF MINISTERS FOR THE HETHODIST EPIS COPAL CHURCH, SOUTH. RUFUS T. HEFLIK", Editor. R A L E I G Il7 T H U R S D A Y , FEBRUARY 17, 1859 VOL. IV NO. 7 ORIGINAL. For the N. C. Christian Advocate. The Veil Withdrawn ; OR. GLIMPSES AT ITINERANT LIFE. An interesting manuscript con tailing the unfini.-hed autobiography of llev. Ab ner Allbright, a member of the Confer enc, has incidentally fallen into my hands. I have concluded that a few facts, mei- dents, and reflections gleaned from its paces might interest and profit some of the readers of the Advocate. It is-Jhoped that these sketches will be the more acceptable inasmuch as the incidents to be described have occured recently in our midst, and our hero is still among ns with the dew of youth upon his brow. The reader need not hope to be entertained by the spell of romance or the charms of fiction; he may expect nothing but a faithful transcript from itinerant life. In everything the " veil will be withdrawn," save the names of persons and localities ; delicacy requires that these should be vailed. llev. Abner Allbnglit was born in tne i awtul diange through winch lie was pas country a few miles from Mt. Pleasant, a j sing, and indifferent as to the future. The prosperous inland town, in the fertile hills majority of Christians, however, liavj al ofour State, where he remained till he ! ways believed, Avith Bishop Home, that was twelve years old. His father, Henry i Hume's jocoseness in his dying hour was Allbriffht, was a successful farmer for ma- I meant for a deception of the same nature ny years,' and though not in affluent cir- j and for the same purpose as the expedient eum'stanc'es, he enjoyed the conveniences of the boy who, passing sonic gloomy place and comforts of life. " A series of misfor- I in the night, whistles to lessen his fears, tunes, such as seldom befal man. overtook j or persuade his companion he does not feel Mr Vllbrio-ht and he was stripped of all j his possessions. In this destitute condi tion he removed to Mt. Pleasant, having obtained a situation which he hoped would secure a comfortable support for his griev- ins family. He had occupied his new sit- ,,1; V.nt a short time when his wife was ! called very suddenly into eternity, leaving j words, said to have been written not a very a large family of children dependent upon j long time before his death : him for support. This sad bereavement j "Methinks I am like a man who, hav thwarted all his cherished plans, and ren- j ing struck on many shoals, and norrowly dered it necessery to procure employment I escaped shipwreck in passing a smrdl frith, for his children, at the very time wm.n he j has yet the temerity to put out to sea had hoped to place them at school. Abner was placed in the employ of Mr. James Crain, where he was associated with seve ral disipated boys and worthless youn t t . n " 1 : 1 1 1 . .. c.!wi. ; men. lie naturany liuuimi uitn ; nn.l formed their habits, and in a short ) time outstripped them all and became the leader in all manner of wickedness. lor more than five years he remained in this abandoned state. At length a religious interest was awakened in the Methodist Church, under the faithful ministry of the Rev. Mr. Sampson. For several weeks the interest increased, and the whole com munity was brought under Divine influ ence. A large number embraced religion, among whom were some of the companions of young Allbright. Finally he was in duced to attend the church more, it was thought, for amusement, than from a dis position to be profited. The first evening he was amused and entertained by the ex citinsr scene before him. The second, he became serious an arrow had pierced his heart. He returned home with a wounded spirit. He retired to rest, but sleep de parted from his eyelids. The morning came, and he went forth to his toil with his head bowed like the bulrush, and with a broken spirit, mourning in silent grief. The night came, and he was found a weep ing penitent at the altar of prayer. The services closed and he returned home with a bleeding spirit. Two more days passed over his head and he still felt that "he was in the gall of bitterness and bonds of iniquity." He was tempted to give over the struggle ; his sins were heavier than he could bear ; his soul was stirred to its deepest depths ; "the pains of hell got hold of him " ; and he felt that he was damned and damned quickly unless he found help somewhere. He determined to make one more effort ; and, looking to God to help him, he summoned up all his powers to sustain him, determined, sink or swim, live or die, never to leave the altar of prayer until hope should dawn upon his benighted soul. The struggle lasted but a short time, and all was over. His dark ness was dissipated ; his mountains of guilt were gone ; the raging turbulence within was calmed ; and he found himself stand ing up and singing the sweet air, ' Lord and is thine anger gone, And art thou pacified ; After all that I have done, Dost thou no longer chide ?" Here, for the present, we leave him who is now the Rev. Abner Allbright, rejoic ing in the warmth of his first love. His sky is clear, and his soul anticiptes a hap py life and and a blissful immortality. Happy youth ! He dreams that sublunary care is o'er ; that sin and sorrow will be known no more. It is well that he cannot lift the veil that hides the future from his view. A few years wiU reveal many a sad tale of woe. Be patient, gentle read er, and you shal hear all. ALFONZA. In IJSoom. At Augusta, Geo., last week, peach and pear tret were in bloom. SELECTIONS. From the Northwestern Ch. Advocate. Hume's Death. The biographer of this celebrated author and infidel tells us Hume died like a phi- losopher. It is well known that he employ ed the last hours of his life in reading the " witty, profane and indecent" dialogues ; of Lucian, playing at whist, cracking silly jokes with the fabled Charon, and in tri fling conversation with Dr. Smith, his phy sician and encomiast. His death is the boast of skeptics everywhere. They say, "Go to his bedside to learn that ir-fidtls, as well as Christians may "die in peace." He, indeed, seemed reckless of his ap proaching dissolution, and when he knew it must be near, boasted that he possessed " the same ardor as ever in his study, and the same gayet in company." If his self possession was unreal, say infidels, he suc ceeded well in affecting the- utmost compo sure iu view of death. He appears to have expired in comparative insensibility of the them and was in reality no more or less than 1 " Moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe." And we are not, now, without abundant evidence that such was the fact. In what follows we give the reader Hume's own again m the same leaky, weather-beaten vessel, and even carries his ambition so far as to think of compassing the globe under the same disadvantageous circumstances. All- lllfilll niv tf n.iif ii-i.i ii-i: mtiVnc i.wi -- .......j ..... j.... ..n.,.., uluo .i- tident of the future; the wretched eondi- tion, weakness and disorder of the fac ulties I must employ in the inquiry, in creases my apprehensions; the impossibil ity of correcting or amending these facul ties, reduces me almost to despair, and makes me resolute to perish on the barren rock upon which I am at present, rather than venture upon that boundless ocean which runs out into immensity. " This sudden view of my danger strikes me with dread despondency, and I cannot forbear feeding my despair with all those melancholy reflections which the present subject furnishes me with in such great abundance. I am at once confounded and affrighted with that forlorn solitude in which I am placed by my philosophy, and fancy myself some uncouth, strange mon ster, who, not being able to mingle with and unite in soci"ty, has been expelled from all human commerce, and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate. Fain would I run into the crowd for shelter and warmth, but cannot prevail on myself to mix with such deformity. I call upon others to join me, that we may make a small community apart, but no one hearkens to me ; every one shuns me, and keeps at a distance from the storm which beats upon me on every side. When I look abroad I see on every side dispute, contradiction, anger, calumny and detraction ; when I turn my eye inward, I find nothing but doubt and ignoi a ice. All the world conspires to op pose and contradict me, and) such is my weakness I feel my opinions loosened and fall of themselves, when unsupported by the approbation of others. Every step I take with hesitation, and every new re flection makes me dread an error and ab surdity in my reasoning; for with what confidence can I venture on such a bold enterprise when, besides those numberless infirmities peculiar to myself, I find so many that are common to human nature ? " This intense view of the manifold con tradictions and infirmities of human reason has so worked upon my brain, that I am ready to reject all belief and reasoning, and can look upon no opinion even as more probable than another. Where am I, and what? What beings surround me, and on whom have I any influence, or who has any influence on me? I am confounded by all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed with the deepest darkness, and utterly deprived of the use of every member and faculty!" (See Todd's " Hints to Young Men," p. 286.) Here, by his own confession, his philo sophical sj-stem was but 'a leaky, weather beaten bark,' memory of past errors made him 'diffident of the future,' inquiry but 'increased his apprehensions ;' a step furth er on, and we fiud him almost 'reduced to despair,' quite 'resolute to perish upon the barren rock of the present.' A view of his danger strikes him with 'dread depyon- j dency,' and he 'feeds his despair with mel ; ancholly reflections;' he is 'confounded and affrightened' at the 'forlorn solitude m which his philosophy places him ;' he fain would have some refuge from the storm which 'beats wildly upon him on every j side,' but he will not turn to the Rock of I Ages, and he turns in vain to feeble man. He calls for help and succor, but no one j will hearken to him,' and he 'isleft utterly j abandoned and disconsolate !' Could his j confidence in his system be strong when i. i - i 3 i i.n:., ne ielt ins opinions looseueu. auu luiiiug of themselves, when unsupported by the approbation of others V' No wonder every step was taken 'with hesitation,' and he filled with dreadful apprehension of detect ing 'error and absurdity' in his reasoning. He could look 'upon no one opinion as more probable than others,' therefore there must have been, to his mind, a 'probabili ty that Christianity was true ! And we are not surprised to find that 'this intense view' so 'worked upon his brain' that he was driven te the borders of desperation, J and exclaimed, ' where am I, and what ?' j Enough, however, of sense and diseern 1 ment remained to reveal to him his awful ! state 'environed with the deepest dark ! ness,' and 'in the most deplorable condi i tion imaginable.' j If such were the thoughts and language ' of Hume in health and strength, 'this in ! tense view' must have been more vividly ! presented to his mind in a dying hour. And are these the words of one at peace with God, mankind, or self? Do these dark, disquieted whisperings from the cra dle of death, as it rocks the soul into the embrace of "One long, un waked, eternal sleep,' speak of calm and undisturbed repose ? Nay, verily! 'On the whole globe there probably was not acting, at the time' (of Hume's death) 'so mournful a tragedy as that of which the friends of Hume were j the spectators, without being aware that it was anv tragedy at all.' To human sight the surface of the sea may have seemed se- ! rene, but to self-consciousness and the eye of Omniscience, the great deep of the hu man heart was 'into a tempest wrought,' and the soul felt the agonies of a torture more -miense' than that of which it before confessed it had caught a 'view.' Envir oned with deepest darkness,' the spirit of the proud skeptic vanished from the earth, verifying the truth of the revelation he des pised and rejected : "Yea, the light of the wicked shall be put out, and the spark of his fire shall not shine. The light shall be dark in his tab ernacle, and his candle shall be put out with him. The steps of his strength shall be straitened, and his own counsel shall cast him down. His confidence shall be rooted out of bis tabernacle, and it shall bring him to the king of terrors. He shall be driven from light into darkness, and chased out o! the world.' Surely such is the doom of the wicked such is the portion of him who knoweth not God, and such was the end of Hume. From the N. 0. Christian Advocate. Advantages of an Itinerant Pas torale. Mr. Editor : The notion is generally prevalent, both amongst the the Methodists and others, that the success of the follow ers of Wesley, has been greatly promoted by the itinerant system. In every thing that has proved itself to be useful, it is well to inquire into the ele ments of that utility, that they may be preserved iu all their force. To what then is the success of the itinerancy to be at tributed ? What principles of humanity does it operate upon or call into action promotive of success? In the first place, it furnishes a variety of ministerial talent for every community. The minds of men are variously constitu ted ; some are moved by the beautiful and poetic, some by the astute and logical, some by the bold and strong. In some, the imaginative ; in some, the reasoning ; in others, the emotional powers preponder ate. Access to men is usually obtained by operating upon that faculty of mind which has the ascendency in them individ ually. This diversity of mind is found in the ministry and in every community. And by one congregation being served in rota tion by ministers who vary in mind, every individual comes to be addressed by the gospel in that way best calculated to insure success. We find amongst the apostles great diversity in mental character. We find the same in the ministry of the pres ent day. If the labors of these are to be confined to single congregations as settled pastors, the advantage of this diversity of talent is lost. Again, the constant removal, at stated times, of ministers, renders it impossible for them to engage in secular employment. The itinerants are obliged, from the nature of their work, to be men of one work. Thus their work in spiritual things is not destroyed by their attention to temporal things, nor do they sufiVr that loss of re ' ligious influence with man, by coming in i business contact with them, so commonly the misfortune with settled ministers. Again : There is in human nature a love of variety ; a fondness for something new, which is gratified by this change . Of this, it is lawful to take advantage in present ing the gospel. A new preacher, of even inferior talents, will oftei; draw out large crowds to hear; where abler, but settled men, preach to vacuity. 3Iany of these are often led to conversion. , This change also .relieves the minister from sundry cmbarasyuen island keeps his zeal and activity continually revived. I?e has, perhaps, committed errors, in genial intercourse or in the administration of dis cipline ; there would be drawbacks to his usefulness, if he remained where they transpired. He has failed, perhaps, to per form some ministerial duty. If he remain ed lie would continue to neglect it, but coming in contact with a work where this duty has been performed, he too, is stimu lated to perform it. In fact, he carries with him to his new field of labor, all the skill, experience, and knowledge, that he has acquired in the previous years of his ministry, without the einbarassmentsin the midst of which they were obtained. He goes amongst them too, happily ig norant of those personal collisions, which often render it difficult for him who has full kuowledge of them, to preach without be ing considered a partizan. Besides all this, there is an interest an excitement awakened in tlie mind itself by the new scenes and associations that sur round him. If a man will do his duty at all, he will do it upou entering upon a new business in a new place. And he does it then, not to deceive his new em ployers, but from the impulse naturally ex cited in man by such surroundings. ANNOTATOR. Smithville, Miss, Dec, 1858. How to make a fcitarrel. William Ladd was the President of the American Peace Society, and Le believed that the principle of peace, carried out, would maintain good will among neigh bors as '.veil as uationc - But there was a time when he had not fully considered this subject had not thought much about it as I dare say hit young readers have not, and he believed that if a man struck him a blow, it was best, and fair to strike right back again, if.hout considering if there were not some better way of over coming the offender ; or, if a man did him injury, why, as peojle commonly say, he would 'give hiin as good as he sent.' He then had a farm ; and a poor man who lived on land adjoining his, neglected to keep up a fence wlieh it was his business to keep in order, and, in consequence, his sheep got into William Ladd's wheat field, and did much misc'iief. William Ladd told his man Sam to go to the neighbor, and tell him he must mend the fence and keep the sheep out. But the sheep came in again, and William Lidd, who is a very orderly man himself, wa provokt.!. ' Sam,' said he, ' go to that fellow and tell him if he don't keep his sheep out of my wheat field, I'll have them shot.' Even this did not do the sheep were in again. 'Sam,' said William Ladd, 'take my gun and shoot those sheep.' ' I would rather not,' said Sam. ' Bather not, Sam ? Why, there are but three ; it's no great job. ' 'No, Sir; but the po.r man has but ihree in the world, and I'm not the person that likes to shoot a poor mans sheep.' ' Then the poor man should take proper care of them. I gave him warning ; why did he not mend his fence ?' ' Well, sir, I guess it was because you sent him a rough kind of message ; it made him mad, and so he wouldn't do it.' ' I considered a few minutes,' said Wil liam Ladd, ' and I told Sam to put the horse in the buggy.' ' Shall I put in the gun ?' said Sam. ' No,' said I. I saw he half smiled ; but I said nothing. I got into my buggy and drove up to my neighbor. He lived a mile off, and I had a good deal of time to think the matter over. When I drove up to the house the man was chopping wood. There were a few sticks of wood and the house was poor, and my heart was softened. 'Neighbor!' I called out. The man looked sulky, and did not raise his head. Come, come, neighbor,' said T, ' I have come with friendly feelings to you, and you must meet me half way.' He perceived that I was in earnest, laid down his axe and came to the wagon. ' Now, neighbor,' said I we have both been in the wrong ; you neglected your fence, and I got angry, and sent you a provoking message. Now let us face about and both do right. I'll forgive you. Now let's shake hands.' He didn't feel quite like giving me his hand, but let me take it. ' Now,' said I, neighbor, drive your sheep down to my pasture. They shall share with my sheep till next spring; and you shall have all the yield, and next sum mer we shall start fair.' His hand was no longer dead in mine, and he gave me a good friendly grasp. The tears came into his eyes, and he said, ' I guess you are a Christian, William Ladd, after all.' ' And the little fracas with my neigbor about the sheep was,' said William Ladd, ' the first step to my devoting myself to the Peace Society.' Cleveland Leaflets. 3Iuic fn Schools. Tf grca-.f end of prnic ' were to demonstrate to ' papa' that his dear Jennie had not misused the privileges for which he had to pay down such hard cash, or to convince some fashionable suitor that the performer had enjeyed the advantages of a ' polite education,' then were this painfully acquired 'flngerfertlg'celt' enough. A free and graceful executiou of one of Strauss's rattling waltzes would answer either of these purposes perfectly. If, however, the young lady devotes herself so many tedious months to the acquisition of musical skill, in order that thereby she may make her homo more cheery, and minister to the happiness of others, why should she be kept thrumming forever at jingling quicksteps and unearthly pol kas, which either bewilder or torture all b) standers with their execrable tangles of sound? Her acquisition is so far from tributary to domestic and social enjoyment that there is a kind of secret felicitation at the close of her performances. Weary papa congratulates himself if, on returning home at night fatigued with the turmoil of the office, he finds the piano closed and Jennie out. This ought not so to be. He used to love to greet Jennie on the return, and she always was sure of his first kiss. She is larger now, fairer, more intelligent, almost a woman. O if she only knew some simple song which he used to love when young, some old familiar air, to which her cunning brain during the day fitted a little ballad of home history, some grand old hymn, how quick could she smooth out papa's furrowed face, and make him forget all his weariness! But no! her music teacher never taught her such things. And now when, of a Sunday eve, she would give the gathered household a sub lime old anthem of the ancient Church, or a taste of some of the old oratorios of which they have read, she finds nothing in her music-rack but ' marches,' and ' chansons, and ' bottle-pieces,' respecting the repeat ed infliction of which the family have al ready a hundred times ejaculated sighs of worn out admiration. What avails her hard acquired skill practically ? When ' Independence Day' comes round, she cannot diversify the monotony of guns, and crackers, and whistled Yankee Doodles by summoning the family around her to hear the stirring ' JlUuns enfant de hi pntrv ' When thanksgiving comes she cannot give them the old time-honored ' Te Detim liudamis. Practically Iter musical acquirements are almost useless. A llocate and Jott nnl. Afrralsain's Faith. In imagination, we see Abraham and Sarah on their weary way to Canaan . They meet an old neighbor returning from Egypt. 'Where are you going, Abraham?' is the natural quei-t'on. ' I am going to the land that God has promised to me and to my children as an inheritance.' Where is it ?' I do not know.' ' Yv'har kin d of a country is it level or mountainous, healthy or sickly ? Are the people moral or immoral, refined or bar barous ?' I do not know any thing about the land. I only know that God has said, ' Get thee out of thy country and thy kin dred, and from thy father's house,, into a land that I shall show thee.' And I go forth, not knowing whither I go.' And Abraham passed on, and entered the land, and came to Sicheme, to a wide spreading, noted oak. And Sarah was weary, and she said to Abraham. How long must we continue this toil some journey ? When shall we reach the promised land ?' And Abraham said : ' I know not ; I travel ti 1 He shall bid me stop. Apparently, this cannot be the place, it is already possessed. The Ca naanite, the abominable idolator, is here.' And they lay down and slept. And the Lord appeared unto Abraham and said : ' Unto thy seed will I give thu land.' And with a good heart did Abraham awake in the morning, and joyful'y did he then, as a token of gratitude, build an al tar unto the Lord, who had appeared to him. Years passed on, Abraham is again under the oak. Again his old neighbor, in his journeying, passes by. And this,' says he, is Abraham, the son i f Terah ! And so you have found the promised land at last ?' ' Yes.' But how is this, Abraham ? Then are wicked men on your lands. How much do you own ?' ' Not a foot." 4 And yet you left a beautiful land up where your father, and brothers, and sis ters lived, and came down to get this ; and now fter this long time, you do not own a foot of it !' ' No, but God is about to give it to me, and to my seed after me.' ' To your seed ! How many children ba,r( yon ?' ' T have none.' ' How old are you, Abraham ?' ' About four-score and ten.' How old is Sarah ?' ' About my age.' ' And, in all your wanderings, Abra ham, did you ever meet with any one who had children at your age in life?' ' Never.' ' Did you over hear of any, except way back in the days of Noah ?' ' Never.' ' And arc you expecting to have chil dren ?' ' Yos. The promise is, I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth; so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered." ' And, Abraham, how long before you expect that your seed will take possession of this land, drive out the Canaanites, and call it theirs ?' ' God has said it shall be four hundred years." Gen. xv. 13, 15. And are you going to wait ?' ' Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ?' And the Chaldean went on his way, and said in his heart, that Abraham was get ting old and childish; but all the good have in all generations wondered at and tried to imitate the faith of Abraham, and God has called him his friend. The Chal dean has now been more than three thous and years in the spirit laud. What would he say about it to-night? Zion's Herald. The I'arents or Ianiri ertT. The Newburyport Herald has an article on the parents of Daniel Webster, which contains some anecdotes never before in print. " The revolutionary services of his father were very important, extending through the whole war. At first a captain, he was promoted in 1784 to the rank of Colonel. He was a brave, trusty and reliable officer, and engaged in many situations of great responsibility. He was in the army when the news came of the birth of his son Dan iel. Calling to his brother-in-law, Steph en Bohonnon, he said : ' Here. Stephen, I have another boy at home : get a gallon of rum and we will be merry.' This, of course, was before temperance days, when every good Christian thought it no harm to use a little stimulaut to help keep the heart cheerful. It is said on one occasion, Captain Web ster was encamped with den. Stark, near the Brittish, a little stream alone dividing them, the British, however, in much great er force. A storm of great length and severity arising, the Americans found shel ter in a large barn. When fair weather came, it appeared the British had disap peared. This seeming like an interposi tion of Providence, some one proposed prayers. "D n the prayers," said a soldier: " let those pray who want to." (Jen. Stark was so much incensed at the language, that he struck him over the shoulder severely with his swo.id, saying the name of God should not be profaned in his army ! Tin y all went into the barn, where they called on Capt. Webster to lead in prayer, who, mounted on a haystack, prayed with such fluency and fervency, that, as Stephen Bohonnon said, "there never was so much blubbering at camp-meeting." Judge Webster's second wife, the moth er of Daniel, was Abigail Eastman, born in Salisbury, just opposite Newburyport. She was a tailoress by trade, going round from house to house, as her services were required. Her father was the owner of a small farm. The family came from Wales and first settled in Salisbury. She had two brothers, Ezekicl and Daniel, from whom she named two of her children. The story of the courtship is thus told Soon after Mr. Webster became a widower, which was in March, 1774, he came to East Kingston, his old home, on a visit. A lady friend said to him, " Why do you not get married again?" " I would," he replied, " if I knew the right one." " I can tell you," said she, "one who will just suit you Abigail Eastman of Salis bury." lie mounted his horse and went to Salisbuey. Reaching the house, a young woman came to the door, whom he asked if Abigail Eastman lived there. She told him she was the one, when he handed her th letter of introduction he had brought. $1.50 a year, in advance. She invited him in, and before he left t r-A j bargain was made. They were married ; October 13, 1774. How Co Hoe Came to be ITsed. It is somewhat singular to trace the man ner in which arose the use of the common beverage, coffee, without which few per sons, in any half or wholly civilized coun try in the world, would seem hardly able to exist. At the time Columbus discovered America, it had never been known or used. It only grew in Arabia, and Ethopia. The descovery of its use as a beverage, is ascribed, to the Superior of a monastery, in Arabia, who, disirous of preventing the monks from sleeping at their nocturnal ni-v'ees Tiade thorn 1riitk the iiifmion of coffee, uinthe report of some shepherd.-, who observed that their flocks were more lively after browsing on the fruit of that plant. Its reputation rapidly spread through the adjacent countries and in about two hundred years it readied Paris. A single plant brought there in 1G14 became the parent stock of all coffee plantations, in the West Indies. The extent of consump tion can now hardly Ic realised. The United States alone annually consume at the cost of its landing, from fifteen to mx teen million of dollars. You may know the Arabia or Mocha, the liest coffee, by ita small bean of a dark color. Tin; Java and East India, the next iu quality, a larger and paler yellow. The West India Kio has a blush greenish gray tint. Second-hand Slander. There is a decision in the last volume of Gray's Kejrts which is at once pound morals and good law. A woman, sued for slander, was defended on the ground that she only repeated, and without malice, what was currently reported. The Court held, that to repeat a storj which is false and slanderous, no matter Low widely it may have been circulated, is at the peril of the tale-liearcr. Slander cannot always be traced to its origin. Its power of mis chief is derived from repetition, even if a disbelief of the htory accompanies its re lation. Indeed, this half doubtful way of imparting slander is often the surest meth od resorted to by the slanderer to give eurreiM-v to bis tale. All Ollene. A Methodist writing for the Xa.iltrill Christ inn sJdrocafe says: 'When pen itents are at the alter of ChrV it of fends me to sec a preacher, or other Chris tian, after approaching one of them, and getting near to the car of the mourner, in a stentorian voice, utter a tissue of inco. herent and meaningless exclamations, and continue this process, until what was at first a mere hypothesis becomes a lamenta ble truth the person addressed grows deaf!" He thinks that penitents need to have the way of salvation made clear to their minds, and that it is fruitless and hurtful to attempt "to storm them through with Amen! believe! just now! do, Lord !' and the like." Posture in Irajr. And he went a little further and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Fath er, if it be possible let this cup pass from me. Jesus. I fell upon my knees, and spread out my hands unto the Lord my God. Ezra And Soloman stood Ix-forc the altar of the Lord in the presence of the congrega tion of Israel, and spread out his hands to ward heaven. () come, let us worship and bow down ; let ns kneel before the Lord our Master. David And Elijah went np to the top of Car niel, and ho cast himself down ujion tLo earth, and put his face between his knees. Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house ; and his windows being open in his chamber towards Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks as he did aforetime. But Peter put them all forth and kneeled down and prayed. They all brought us on our way with wives and children till wo were out of the city ; and we kneeled down on the shore and prayed St. Paul. For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. St. Paul- That at the name of Jesus every knee j should bow, of things in heaven, and I 111 VIII LU,KIIM WAHIU hllV VllUt ! Hi. Paul. The Humble Christian. The humble Christian from the world ro- cedes, And proves his piety by silent deeds ; He values not the meed of noisy fame, And little cares if fools applaud or blame ; Kebnking vice.tlic sinner wounds him sore, And hypocrites, when censured wound him more : j With modest light he shoots his beams afar, ! Yet shines, scarce noticed, like a midnight I star; He gives his substance to the poor, and sheds The dews of mercy over dying beds ; And dies himself, in Faith's calm warfare brave, With scarce a tear to wet his aninewn grot.