IN ESSENTIALS, UNITY ; IN NON-ESSENTIALS, Volume XXXIII. THE TWO LIGHTS. BT J. *. T. "When I'm a man I" the utrippling criw, And strive* the coming yean to scan— "Ah, then I (hall be strong and tHsc, When I'm a man I'* “When I was young,” the old man sighs, “Bravely the lark and linnet sing Their carol under sonny skies, When I was young 1" “When I'm a man, I shall be free To guard the right, the truth uphold.” “When I wss young I bent no knee To power or gold.” "Then shat! I satisfy my soul With yonder pi ire, when I'm a man.” “Too late I found how vain the goal To which I ran.” “When I’m a man these idle toys Aside forever shall be flung,” “There was no poison In tuy joys When I was young.” The boy’s bright dream is all before, The man's romance lies far behind. Had we the present and no more, Fate were unkind. ’“V" Putj brother, toiling in the night, 8till count yonrtelf not all unblest If in the east therq gleams a light, Ur in the west. jSebdiong. THE BOY WHO WOULDN'T BE WHIPPED Gilderoy tells the following eiper ience in the Nashville Advocate. It i> as good for parents as children ; I may as well tell the boys now that my inotbor was a widiow, and i> woman of great Urmuess and deci sion of character, and of deep piety. When she said anything she meant it, and yet she was just as gentle anti tender as a Iamb. One time in tin fall of the year, whea I was about fifteen years old, 1 was out in the yard trying to piaveT» hftavjrjBfi^k.pt timber. I asked my brother, then twelve years of age, to assist, bnt he stood stock still and laughed at me while I almost strained my eye-bulb out of my head. At last i lost'-my^ temper, grew hot, got mad, and pick ed up a switch, and gave, brother •.< whipping. That was one thing moth er did not allow—she did not perrnil one child to whip another on bet ’jjlace. When she heard the row, sin came out of the bouse and gave broth er it good thrashing, and made bin help me put the timber in place, auu then said to me: * “Now, my sou, I am going to whip you for whippiug your brother/’ 1 had not had a whipping for a long time, and Had begun to leet line x man. la tact, 1 waited ou the girls now and then, and some white, downy-looking stuff Imd beguu to grow upon mj lip and chit* and I felt large over the prospect of a heard ai no distant day. 1 had no idea ol tak ing a whipping—none in the world 1 had violated one of my mother's rules, bat the provocation had been a great one to a boy. True, if I had goue live steps to the door, and told mother, she would have adjusted matters and made brother do what 1 wanted him to do. Iustead of this, 1 had assumed authority, had taken the law into my ow n hands, and had done what I knew my mother did not —allow. Hi said, “Mother, you shan’t whip “But I wUl d»it, my sou,’' she re plied, and smarted towards me, with a purpose iu her eje. I got out ot bei way, and, bad boy that I was, I turn ed my back upon home and mother, and went off about four miles, aud hired myself to a clever, thrifty, well to-do farmer for five dollars pei month. 1 told him what hud occur ed, aud how I had been outraged at home, and that, too, by my mother. He told ine that 1 had done wrong aud that I ought to go back home, and he proposed to go with me aud intercede for me. I had too much of my mother in me to yield just then. I went to work, but was not happy. I lost my appetite and could not sleep I grew worae and worse, but hoped all the time that mother would seud for me, aud" apologize, and lake me back “scat free,” bat I heard nothing from her. I began to feel that 1 needed mother aud home than mother and norne ueeded me—a les aon mosh boys do not learn uutil it is too late. At the end of the week, or ''Baturday inornUig.U told my employ • «r I wanted togjijlJpe. Heapprov amity offered to erred to go like lead in my pocket-, and grew heavier and heavier as I got nearei home, till finally i pulled it out and threw it as Tar as I could send it inti the woods, I didn’t go home in t hurry. It was lour miles and Ij was four hours on the way—and mortal hours they were. I hesitated and turned back, and resolved and re-re solved. The better thing in me said ‘•Go home, and yield to your motbei and obey her but some other thing said, ‘‘I’d die first.” Those who had never beeu in the shoes of the “prod igal son,” do not know what an ef fort that trip home cost the poor boy, nor how long - he was makiug it When I felt that I could go uo larth er, I would kneel down and pray.— i That always helped me. I felt firm er afterward. The" last hundred lards before I got home seemed to bt a mile long. If it had been night and uo lights burning, so motbei could not see me, how glad I -.would have beeu ; but there it was, a beau iiful suubright day iu the calm, cowl November. Oh, how black the bright light inakes’a guilty heart look I The last hour before day is said to be the darkest hour. When I got near enough to hear, mother was siugiug— ‘Je*u», loverof my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly. Ah I that 4o»g! what mingled feel ings it stirretMu my heart, aud how appropriate it was. Hope and shaint uad a struggle, but, thank God, hope prevailed just as I reached the kitch ill door, where mother was settiug the table for dinner. “Good morning, my son,” sbe said, just as pleasently as 1 bad ever beam ter speak in all my life. “Come in,’ -he continued ; “have a seat,” setting t chair tor me. “I hope you are Well ny sou f” That word “son,” how n turt me. I was not not worthy 01 it, “Very well, I thank you ’— I did not venture to say “mother.” “Arc all well f” “Well, I thank you, my son,” and she went on chatting away just a> pleasantly as if I had beeu a neigh nor called in. I wanted Jtp tell ^hfti uy win and stiame ; but did not Ruow where or how to commence. Dinuei was soou ready, and mother askeo -ue to dine with her, with ail the p-> liteness and deference due a visitor. When seated at the table, motbei said, “Will you please say grace for us?’ That was awful. The words cbok ed me, though I had been uccustoui oil to asking a blessing for a year 01 wo. I could uot eat: I was too full already. Mother hoped I was well I told her I was. When dinner was over l said, “Mother, what work do you warn me to do V’ “None at all, my son ; I do not ex pect visitors to woi k for me,” she an swered. “But, mother, 1 have come home and I waut to go to werk and qui his foolishness,” I said. She replied tirinly. “Weil, my son, to be candid will \ou, if you will now take a whipping you can stay ; but if not, you cai have your clothes and leave.” 1 jumped up aud pulled off my coa' and vest, and sat down with my faoi (oward the back of the chair', and my back toward mother, aud said : « “Well, mother, 1 will take tin whipping aud stay at home with you So get your switch aud give it ti uie.” Just then mother burst into tears caught me iu her arms, and said. “That will do, my soil. Let u> pray.” She led. O, that prayer, that pray erl It Ungers yet like the refrain o some old song, grand with the inelo dy of heaveu. I then had a houu .md a mother, aud was just about a happy as boys ever get to be in tin life. Now, boy s, I am ashamed of m. sin to this day ; but I am so proud o my motbei I thought I would tell yoi this story. 9 "WILL YOU, BROTHER?" By Mbs. Annie A. Tbeston. One bright afternoon during the stimmer of 1880 a number of cheerful faced, as well as sty lish-iookiug pe<> pie, were grouped on the shady suit oi a little country railway station in Vermont, waiting to take the next rain to New York. “I have asceriained that there an wo New York trains from here thi ilternoon, mother,” said a tall, baud mine ljnl, emerging from the station Igeut’s office with a handful ol tick •ts. “We can go as far as Spriug Held on the mail traiu, which passes here first, and then, alter haviug oui supper at the Massasoit House there we will continue our hoine«ani journey •White Mrtuutuiu’ex “Delightful1” exclaimed a blithe, sweet voiced lady, who seemed to be the roling spirit of the party in her own gentle way. “One gets such an excellent and dainty meal at the ‘Massasoitand then we can speak for seats in the parlor cars from Springfield to New York while we are waiting here,can we not, my son!’' and crossing the passengers’ room over to the little pigion-hole window which opened into the ticket office, she called out pleasantly to the sta tion-ageut, who was busy at his desk. “Brother, when the White Moun tain express arrives here this after noon, will you be kind enough to eu gage seats in the parlor car lor a par ty of six from Spriugtield to New York! We would like to take the next train so as to have more time to take in the scenery of your beautiful Connecticut river valley.” “I suppose I could,” replied the station-agent, brusquely and in an unwilling tone. “But will you, brother !” persisted the lady in her soft, cheerful voice, which was inure persuasive than any imperious manner or tone. “Yes, madam, I will,”came through the little window from the station agent, decisively, without, however, turning his head or lookiug up from his accounts. “Oh, dear me, mother I” groaned ihe lad with a scowling visage, sit. ting down by the richly dressed auti benign-looking lady, and putting an arm across her plump shoulders. “1 do wish you wouldn’t call every man von are obliged to speak to, brother; it-does grate on my ears so; I jus nate to go on any visit- or journey with you because f am sure to heai you‘brother’ or ‘sister’every siugh matt and womau whom you have t< addrgss, and it spoils all my pleasure Don’t you see how these depot loal ers even remark and laugh about it f “I am very sorry, my sou, to si shock your sense of propriety, as ) have' often told you,” replied the la dy; “but I fear you will never feci hiv differently about it until you .it}u_d von r,proud spirit and su-'cndei flour rebellious wTITto Odd, your »ia ter, and to Jesus Christ,your Saviour, then .yon will look 11 poii,,^, ~i$.»uItLh is a brother, and the term you now .•.(insider so objectionable will spring . oyour lips as naturally as it does t< The lad shook bis bead in a doubt i'ul way, almost contemptuously. Tin expected mail train rolled iuto tin station just then, and the pleasain party were speeding away, with litth bought of the lasting and salutary I impression. that, ./luring., their sbon j t they had made upon two souo a tl>« littio wayside passenger depoi The brusque station-agent wem iack to his desk, but uot to write, the lutle interrogatory, “Will you, ■irotber't” which the beautiful Chris ciau lady bad addressed to lmn in such a fraternal spirit, had awakeueo many touching and regretful memo . les. He recalled fragrant., murmur ug pines aud swayiug curtains 01 ountless white tents in a great en •awpmeiit of God’s people by the sea .ears ago. Again he could hear the iweet tones of h.Vmus tloatiug up ward to the blue heavens, aud eu treating voices in earnest prayer. His heart swelled again in respouse m that key note of memory as beouci uore heard a soft voice at his side. ur eyes at last.” That was the begiuning’o jval up there'iu the v'ciwr ittle railway station, but aster who dropped the tiny which a great, most salutary1 kindled, will not kuowof all t ier kindly Christian habit of spl uas done until ber Iruits are garu in eternity.—Church and Home. a revt of that ihe dear Liark by re was THF. Wtf tff ACHILO, It is easy to be disturbed by the my ot'a child in a pnblio conveyance >r in a public assembly ; and expres sions of impatience or of disgust are very common to those who are thus disturbed. But a child’s cry is one of the most potent ibices in all na nre. How it takes hold of a moth er’s heart ! And who has power like t mother f How it takes hold ol'an.\ rruo heart, wheu it really comes uome as a call to that heart f It was ihe cry of a child, which, humanly ■speaking settled the fate of Moses and of Israel. When the daughter of Pharaoh saw the Hebrew babe in its ciadle of rushes, ‘-behold’the babe weptjaud she had compassion on him.” And because of the potency of that cry, Moses was brought up as a king’s sou, and became “learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and was mighty in words and in deeds,” and did a work for God as the leader of Israel and the founder of its com mouwealth, when otherwise he might have perished by the river side.— And our Lord seems to represeut the guardian augels of little children as always having the Father’s ear wjjjpL i he objects of their care cry for "help ■•‘Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones,” he says; “for 1 say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face ot my Father which is tu heaven.” It God is always leady to listen to the cry of a child, ought we to feel above it I And is not (his potency of a lit tle oue’^t cry, in the ear of our heav enly Father, a source of comfort to each of us in our personal helpless uesa ! “For what ain 1 ? /~ An infant crytng in the night ; An iutaal cry ing for the light And with no language but a cry.” —rllie Christian. Get at the root of things. The gold mines of Scripture are not in top tayi; you mast otteu a shaft. The Aireciousdrf~~JHj^>erieiico are 4 , " : theu' ■Meitiowh SOMETHING TO SHOW. There are a good many persons who are anxious to do work that will show;: when their work is done they want to have something to show for it. In some cases the show is a big church, a high steeple, or a new bell; some thing which everybody sees, aud which stands as a memorial of the toil and diligence of the earnest i worker. But there is other work done which, thoogh apparently invisible, may show by and by. Yon may have seen invisible writing, where a whole page was covered with characters which could not be seen, and yet the work was done, and when by and by the sheet was submitted to the proper processes, the writing would shine out, visible to all. There is much good work done in this world which is invisible here. The men who love the chief seats iir the synagogues are sure to have their doings duly eliron icled and published; but there are others who wurrk lonely, unseen, and often sad; whose work is no less real and useful. Ou board of an ocean steamer there are officers in uniform moving about the deck, or standiug where they can see and be seen, aud their position and occupation is oi great importance. But there are other men, blackened and griDimed, who toil iu the depth of the vessel’s hold nuseen, unnoticed, and uukuowu throughbufr-the whole voyage, who feed the devouring furnace, aud main taiu the glowing tires, without which the boilers would grow cold, the steam go down, and the vessel would roll helplessly amid t lie storms, or sii “Idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean." The toil of the unseen workers lies at the very foundation of all success; and without the grimy fireman the steamer could never make her voy age. So there are many who art working to day nuseeu aod unknown but God sees aud knows tbe work they do, and iu the great day in shall bring it forth to view. Iu tin light of the great white throne nian.v liueis that are here invisiblebci then’0 grass, no stock; uo stock, no manure. No manure; no permanent mprovemeut of the hind.”—Planter aid Farmer. MANAGEMENT OF A COLT. The following practical advice* on of co'.ts is from the Lancaster Funner : If a colt is nev *r allowed to get an advantage, it 'ill uever know that it possesses a mwer that man cannot coutrol; and 1 made inmiliar w ith strange objects t will uot be skittish and nervous, ft a horse is made accustomed, from iis early daysAjto have ei-ij. • *—« i iioirf>«n'Th8 tJeels, hack and hips, he will pay no attention to the giving nit of harness, or of wagons running igaiust him at any unexpected mo cueut. We once saw an aged lad\ Irive a high-spirited horse, attached o a carriage down a steep hill, with io hold back strays upon the harness, iii*1 she assured us that there was no lauger, for her son accustomed his uorses to all kinds of usage and • :ghts that commonly drive auimals uto a frenzy of fear and fright. A gun uau be tired in front of a horse. An Umbrella..held over his head, a mffulo robe thrown over his neck, a Bilroad eugiue passing close by, bis leels may be thumped with sticks, uid the animal lakes it all as a nat iral condition of things, if ouh aught by careful management that ne will not he injured thereby. POTASH IN WHEAT. Why is it, when growing wheat or rye is being struck with rust, that a ittle plot here and there where stumps, logs or brush have been burn ed to ashes, will he bright and free from the attack $f rust! Because he growing plants employ potash and silica not only to give stiffness md rigidity to the straw, but to form, is it were a glass coat of mail over the surface of every leaf, glume and straw to fortify the tender and deli cate parts against the attack ol spores that are floatiug in the atmos phere. We all know how readily sub -taiices in the atmosphere are turned away when they come in contact with glassy surface. Potash and sand are che essential elements of glass. The roots ol growing plants have the power to employ the sharpest sand aud pot ash to form a thin, elastic glassy cov ering which is spread over the sur face to exclude moisture, and to re pel any attack of fungus.—Practical Farmer. In neai ly all the soils ashes are ben eficial. Their action is manifold ; they supply to plauts inorganic ele ments, which they require ^they ueu tali?e acids; they act chemically as solvents upou other salts in the soifc They ate more beneficial on sandy [ and gravelly soils tbau on clay. For plants that contain a large amouut of car SELECTED-RECIPES. If yon buy carpet choose small figures. Bruised horse radish, applied the wrist, is recommended as for neuralgia and toothoebe. Paint, varnish or japan may softened or removed from surfaces with a soin soda. ara an Glass should be washed in i_ ter, which gives It a brighter I cleaner look than when cleansed Wi warm water. " hen cows are becoming too stop the meal and increase i A very fat milch cow is a losing 1 of property. To heat the whites of eggs put in a pinch of salt. The 'lie eggs the quicker they will Salt cools and also freshens thei In boiling eggs hard put them In boiling water ten minutes, and tljbz^ I at them in cold water. It will pre; vent the yolks from coloring black, A lemon eaten before breakfast every day for a short time will ;ed rirely prevent the feeling of lassitude peculiar to the approach of spring. .Ink spots on floors can be removed by scouring them with sand wet in oil of vitroil, an! To irin* aboK to perfotO Did you ever think that to make a half bale of cotton to the quires the same amount of < as the acre that pr