m
VOL ni.
OXFORD, N. G., WEDNESDAY, MAY 9, 1877.
NO. 19.
THE Fl'KEEirS BBWAllO.
Kepp, keep tliy treasures—not fur tlieso
I brought the fair-haired child to thee,
Keep, keep thy silver-..ofter not
A recompense like that to me.
I found it ill the Sepoy’s track,
Ileneath the fierce and burning sky,
Still clinging to its motllei-’s breast.
And could hot leave it there to die;
But tore it from the arm.s which, stiff
And cold, still strained it to her heart;
And cruel, e’en in death it seemed.
The mother from her child to part.
Then keep thy gold and take the babe.
The blue-eyed babe, let it be thine;
To keep it'as my own, I know,
AVould only cost its life and mine.
And if for this one kindly deed,
Thy bounty would a gift bestow;
Then to my memory let a fount—
A cooling stream of water flow 1
Go on some desert’s burning waste
And dig for me a crystal well.
And let it to the wanderer faint
The story of the I'ukeer tell.
And when the palm-tree’s tufted crest
Shall cooling shadows round it throw,
lie’ll stoop and bathe his weary limbs
Within the pui-ling stream below;
Will slake his thirst and rise refreshed,
I’ho’ dying to the fount he came;
Ande’er he leaves will blessings breathe
Upon the kindly Fukeer’s name.
THE rwu ROADS.
offered up Jon liis belialt'. Over
whelmed with shame and grief,
he dared no longer look toward
that heaven where his father
dwelt; his dark eyes dropped
tears, and with a despairing effort
he cried aloud, “ Come hack, my
early days ! come back !”
And his youth did return ; for
all this was but a dream which
visited his slumbers on New
Year’s night. He was still young,
and his fault.s alone were real.
He thanked God fervently that
time was still his own, that he
had not yet entered the deep,
dark cavern, but that he was free
to tread the road leading to the
peaceful land where sunny har
vests wave.
Ye who still linger on the
threshold of life, doubting which
path to choose, remember that
when years are passed, and your
feet stumble on the dark moun
tain, you will cry bitterly, but
cry in vaiu, “ 0 youth, return !
0 give me back my earh' days !’’
—Anonymous.
time be devoted to them.
“When the excavations were
suspended in April 1874, I had
cleared out and examined the
whole of the temple site, and
thirty feet beyond the lowest ste[)
of the platform on which it was
raised elcepting on the east side,
nearl)' one half of which has not
been explored for more than six
feet beyond the lowest step of the
platform. In this large unexplor
ed area, and amongst the ruins of
a portico which was found sur
rounding the temple at a distance
of thirty-one feet, who can tell
what valuable remains of the
temple may not still be found on
farther explorations? I am most
anxious that the excavations
should be continued, and only
await marching orders to return
to Ephesus and renew my labor
there.”—Selected.
TEal'EE OF DIAXA.
It was New Year’-s night. A
aged man was standing at the
window. He raised ids mourn
ful eyes toward tlie deep blue
sky, where tlie stars were float
ing like white lilies on thesurtace
of a clear, calm lake, d hen he
cast them on the eartli, where
feiv more hopeless beings than
himself now moved toward their
certain goal, the tomb. Ahead}’
he had passed sixty of the stages
wldcli lead to it, and had brouglit
Irom his journey notliing but er
rors and remorse. His healtli
Was destroyed. Ids mind vacant,
his heart sorrowful, and his old
age devoid of comtort.
I'he da} s of Ids youth rose up
in vision before him, and he re
called the solemn moment when
his father had placed him at the
entrance of two roads, one lead
ing into a peaceful, sunny land,
covered with a fertile harvest,
and resounding with soft, sweet
songs; ivhile the other conducted
the wanderer into a deep, dark
cave, whence there was no issue;
where poison flowed instead of
water, and where .serpents idssed
and crawled. He looked toward
tlie skv, and cried out in his ag
ony, '• O youth, retui-u 1 O my
father! place me once more at
the entrance of life, that I may
choose the better way !”
But his father and the days of
his youth had both passed away.
He saw wandering lights, which
were the days of Ids wasted life,
float far away over dark marshes,
and then disapirear. He saw ti
star fall from heaven and vanish
in darkness. It was an emblem
of himself, and the sharp arrows
of unavailing remorse struck him
to his heart. Then he remem
bered his early eomiianions, who
entered npon life with 1dm, but
who, having trod the paths of
■yirture and of labor, were now
happy^ and honored on this New
Ye-ar’s night.
The clock in tlie high church
tower struck, and the sound, fall
ing on his ear, recalled his parent’s
early love for him, their erring
son, the lessons they' had taoght
him, and the prayers they
NATFKAE SCENERY.
Mr. Wood, the successful ex
cavator and discoverer, writes to
the Sunday at Home of what has
been accomplished, and remains
to be done, at the Temple of
Uiana at Ephesus :
“When the site had been com
pletely cleared and the meas
urements taken, the temple was
found to have been octastv’le and
dipteral, having eight columns in
front, and two ranks of columns
on the flanks; one hundred of
these columns, which ■were six
feet in diameter and sixty feet
high, surrounded the naos, or
ceThi; thirty six of the columns
were sculptured and five exam
ples of these sculptured columns
were found on the site. The
temple measured nearly one
hundred and sixty-four feet by
time hundred atid forty-thi-ee
feet, and it was raised to the
height of nine feet five-atid-a-half
inches from the pavement sur
rounding it, on a platform, which
measiied on tiie lowest of four
teen steps two hundred and
tldrty-nine feet by four hundred
and eighteen feet. The cella
was nearly seventy feet wide,
and was probably adorned with
two tiers of columns and entabla
tures. The major pait of the
sculpture had been chopped up
into small pieces, large heaps of
which were found ready to be
thrown into the lime-kilns found
on the site. All that was found
was sent to England from time to
in the raen-of-war which were
sent to Smyrna for the purpose ;
and in the British Museum can
be seen all that was imported.
At the extreme end of the Elgin
Gallery will bo found three of
the drums, the base of one of the
large columns of the peristyle, a
portion of the frieze, two capitals,
a lion's head from the eornice, a
specimen of the enriched cyma-
tium, and several^ interesting
fragments or archaic sculpture.
The.se are some of the most
tniporfant blocks : but the great
mass of the antiquities brought
over remain in tne shed under
the portico of the Museum until
more space can be spared for
.g..., the exhibition of sculpture in the
bad rooms and galleries which will Sn
Place has wonderful effect on
liuman feelingsand human actions.
The original inhabitants oi Scot
land and Switzerland, and those
of the sterile plains of Arabia,
were savages alike, the latter
having, however, the advantage
of letters which the former had
not. But the former, though
savage, were romatic, poetic, pa
triotic, and human; while the
latter were sensual, selfish, thiev
ish, nomadic, and Arab. How
conies it, that when the natural
scenery' is picturesque there is in
human character something to
correspoird, and that where Nature
spreads out her sandy plains
unrelieved by growth or verdure
human nature, too, seems barren
of every' outgrowth of beauty'.
These things illustrate the well
worn maxim that the mind
becomes what it contemplates.
Imjiressions made on the retina
are really made on the soul. Nay',
rather, they' are the mould in
which the soul is cast and takes
shape. Nay, more, they not
only give shape but complexion.
Nay, more, they not only give
color to the superfices, they' per
vade the interior, they are infused
into the substance : they amalga
mate with the essence, so that a
man is not only like what he sees,
but in a certain sense, he is what
lie sees. Tlie noble old High
lander has mountains in his soul
whose towering peaks point
heav'enward, and lakes in his
bosom whose glassy surfaces
reflect the skies, and foaming
cataracts in his heart to beautify
the mountain side and irrigate the
vale, and ever-gl'een firs and
mountain pines that show life and
verdure even under winter skies
and by a rock-bound coast.
The w'andering nomad has a
desert in his heart; its dead level
reflects heat and hate, but not
goodness and beauty; no dancing
wave of joy, no gushing rivulet
of lore, no verdanthope—asullen,
barren plain, that stretches over
earth and hugs it, but never
heaves up to heaven. Oh, give
me descent from mountain-born
sires, or from green and happy'
England, of patriotic Switzerland,
or from the glorious old banks of
the Rhine ! But if there be in me
a drop of that nomadic taint^of
that ostrich blood, that has no
house and loves noi home, and
sees onlv straight forward and
never looks up—oh. Open the vein
and let it out I
It is an interesting fact in the
history of Olir face, that those
who live in countries where the
natural se.enery inspires the soul,
and where the necessities of life
bind to a permanent home, ai'e
al’.vays patriotic and liigh-minded,
and those wlio dwell in tlie desert
are always pusillanimous and
groveling.
In the providence of God, but
a small portion of our earth is
barren of educational power.
Over two-thirds of it, rolls the
majesty waters.
And as for tiiS reflialnder, its
Alps and its Andes, its fertile
fields and flower-dressed vales and
woody glens, embracing every
varietv of scene, from the wilde.^t
riot of Nature to the more plastic
soil where Nature y'ields to Art,
all bespeak the wisdom and
benevolence which has surrounded
us with objects calculated to
elevate our tlioughts and refine
our sensibilities. If the inhabi
tants of such a World as this arc
not a noble race, it is not because
their Creator has not supplied
them with teacliers, but because
they lack the spirit which
“Finds tongues in trees, books in the
running brook.s,
Sermons in stones, and good in every
thing.”
-^II. H. Tuel-er, D. J).
hear in other seasons. The sun
lights up the picture, and there
staildS, pure and holy . in its
sMowv robes, the frost-wreaths
dancing; the shadows shiftiiigover
it all j the cascade singing sweet
ly on its onWard flow ; the fawn
dVinkiiig from the mountain
spring. But the hunter has left
tlie knoll, and I see him picking
his way stei.l.’hily downt he sunlit
valley toward the drinking tawn;
and I turn away—the picture had
lost its beauty', for the destroyer
had entered there !—Sunday Ma^-‘
azine.
AECUllOE CA'l’EC'HISED.
'n'lNTEK IN CANADA.
The sun was peeping over the
tall mountain-tops, lighting the
frost-wreaths on each feathery-
spray', till thet' formed tiny rain
bows dancing in the sunlight, and
smiling on the icicles that silver-
fringed the heights, till, forgetting
longer to cling, they dropped with
tinkling, bell-like music on the
frozen stream beneath. Right in
front of us, behind a clump of
cedars, the smoke curled grace
fully' up from some hidden home-
nests; and as the breeze freshened,
seemed to beckon us with its
vapory lingers.
Hown from one of the moun
tain-gorges came a faint, sobbing
lullaby from some cascade that
still flowed on, unfrozen over its
iev bed, mourning for the days
when the laughing trees hung
over it
when the trluebells
forget-me-not listened all
and
dav
long, and the gentle “milk-white
lilies” kissed its ripples and sank
to rest at eventide, lulled by its
murmured love'music,
Upon that bell-shaped knoll
that frowns a sentinel to tha
valley, a tall cloaked figure
stands leaning upon his gun, and
gazing a long way off into the
eastern day- gates, as if in the
morning’s purer air he caught, at
this their opening, the music of
the other land. Ear away to the
north the foam-like clouds were
floating lazily about, casting
weird shadows here and there, as
if they knew they were painting
brighter beauties on Winter’s
fairest flower—the “morning glo-
ry
” There, too, in that shadowed
valley is a little fawn stealing
beneath the leafless trees > pausing
timidly to listen when the ice falls
loudly', turns his head gracefully
this way and thal, and stooping
now and then to drink from the
' ice-walled spring beside him.
And there i.s all around us that
musical stillness that we never
1 anl recording, a matter of
liistory—of personal history—on
this question, when I say that I
for one had once no thought of
alcohol except as n food. I
thought it warmed us. I thought
it gave additional strength. I
thought it enabled us to endure
mental and bodily fatigue. I
thouglit it cheered the heart and
lifted up the mind into greater
activity. But it so happened
that I was asked to study the
actions of alcohol along with the
whole series of chemical bodies,
and to investigate their bearing
in relation to each other.
And so I took alcoliol from the
shelf of my labratory, as I might
any other drug or ohemieal there,
and I asked it, in the course of
experiments extending over a
lengthened period: “What do
you do, “Uo you Warm the
animal body wlien you are taken
into it f’ The reply- came inva-
riably-j “I do not, except In SI
mere flush of surface excitement.
There is, in fact, no warming,
but, on the contrary-, an effect of
cooling and chilling the body-.’*
Then 1 turned round to it in an
other direction, and asked it,
“Ho you give muscular strength?”
I tested it by- the most rigid an.,
alysis and expetiment I could
adopt I tested muscular power
under the influence of it in vari
ous forms and degrees, and its
reply was, “ I give no muscular
strength.” I turned to its effect
upon the organs of the body, and
found that, while it expedites the
heart’s action, it reduces tonicity.
Turning to the nervous' system,
I found the same reply j that is
to say, I found the nervous sy-s-
tem more quickly worn out Under
the influence of this agent than if
none of it is taken at all. 1 asked
it, “ Can you build up any of the
tissues of the body ?” , The an
swer again was in the negative.
“ I build nothing. If I do any
thing, I add fatty- matter to the
body ; but that is a destructive
agent, piercing the tissues, de
stroying their powers, and mak^
ing them less active for their
work.^ Finally, I summed it all
up. I find it to be an agent that
gives no strength, that reduces
tlie tone of the blood-vessels and
heart, that reduces the nervous
power, that builds up no tissue,
can be of no use to me or any
other animal as a substance for
iooA.—Selected.
Every heavy burden of sorrow
seems like a stone hung around
O'Ur neck, yet they- are often like
the stones used by the pearl
divers, whicli enable them to
reach the prize and to rise en
riched.
I
•'Ifl
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