Sunday-school times

              VOLUME IV.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT ONE DOLLAR A YEAR—PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY 22, 1862.
NUMBER 8.
THE  SUNDAY-SCHOOI  TIMES,
A Weekly R«ligiom Pap»r.
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Address,
Thi Sunday-School Timbs,
148 South Fourth street, Philadelphia, Pa.
Subscriptions are also taken by
A. D. F. Randolph, 683 Broadway, New York.
Henrt Hoyt, 9 Cornhill, Boston.
Por the Sunday-School Times.
■      LITTLE ALICE.
LITTLE CHILDREN, I want to tell you a
story. You will think it a sad one
doubtless, but though I trust many bright
eyes will read these words, yet, no one of
you, little ones, has had a new year half so
joyous as we trust our little Alice's has been.
It is long since I saw her, and she was
neither pretty nor interesting y;hen. I remem¬
ber her as a pale, shy, timid child, occupying
a low place in the lowest class of a school
where I was teacher ; often absent, often in¬
correct in recitation, always awkward, a child;
whom no one loved I "Poor little Alice!" I
hear some among you exclaim; " she had no
mother, then! I am neither pretty nor in¬
teresting, but my mother loves me." And
another whispers: "I know how Alice felt.
My mother is dead 1" Dear little girl, who¬
ever you are, there is still a heavier sorrow
than to be motherless, and that is to have no
dear and pleasant memory of the mother who
has been taken from you ; not to remember
any word or look of hers; not to hold any
token of her love; not to know anything of
her life or of her death. This was little
Alice's sorrow. Taken, while yet an infant,
from I know not what abode of misery and
cuffering, brought up for eight years in an
almshouse, she was taken at last by a lady,
who wanted a little girl to attend to her chil¬
dren.
You have heard of Cape Cod. It is a rough
-place ; ocean-washed, and tempest-swept, on
whose barren sands no flowers bloom, in
whose wild sea-winds is heard no echo of the
song of birds. Cape Cod became little
Alice's home. It was not an unkind one ; it
was better than she had ever known or
dreamed of before, but mingling for the first
time with other children, she realized most
.painfully her own inferiority, her own solitary
and unloved condition. The children whom
it was her duty to wait upon, teased and
tried her, as children will, though she endea¬
vored most earnestly to win their hearts. The
children whom she met at school, bright,
loving, full of smiles which they brought
from happy homes, seemed, in her desolation,
to be no fit companions for her. She shrank
from them at first, and they never renewed
the attempt to make her their friend. It was
then that I first knew her, and I well remem¬
ber how hopeless seemed the task of bringing
any healthful gleam of animation .into those
dull eyes, of awakening any energy or emula¬
tion in that benumbed intellect. But God
knew better than I. He could touch the
rock, and bring forth the gush of sweet
waters. It chanced one morning that, in the
daily reading of Scripture, this verse came to
her share: "He is despised and rejected of
men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with
grief, and we hid, as it were, our faces from
him : he was despised, and we esteemed him
not." I know not what the child's thoughts
were, but something in the passage seemed to
touch her. She held the book open, and her
pencil pointed to those words through all the
remainder of the lesson. Finding her study¬
ing them later in the day, I asked, " Do you
know who that was, Alice ?" She made no
answer. Her face wore the same unmoved,
dull, hopeless expression as ever; but, half
an hour afterwards, a large tear, the first I
ever saw her shed,—though I had often re¬
proved her, and, perhaps, harshly sometimes
—gathered slowly, and dropped upon the
page.
I cannot tell all the work that was wrought
in the child's heart, for I do not know it; but
soon after, little Alice became, as we trust, a
Christian. She had little earthly help or
counsel. She did not know the way, but in
her ignorance and helplessness, she aBked
God to help her—and he did ; helped her as
he will help you, little girl, if you ask him;
if you are sorrowful and sad, seeking his
face, and mourning because you have not
found it. Child as she was, little Alice was
not too youDg to love Christ; neither are you.
From that time it was very beautiful to
note the gradual outward change that came
over her. The dull, stony look changed into
an expression of wistful tenderness ; the hands
which I had so often noticed crossed idly
upon the desk through a whole recess time,
became busy in deeds of love; the voice
which had never had the ring of childhood,
began to have something of the softness and
sweetness of happy girlhood. Alice had but
one joy in life ; she clung to that with an in¬
tensity which no words can express, until all
herlonely and painful life became, by it, trans¬
figured and glorious.
Leaving the Cape soon after this, I lost
sight of the child in whom I had become so
deeply interested. I heard from her but sel¬
dom, for she was by nature reserved and
timid still, and only the very few who saw her
intimately, could realize anything of the love¬
liness of character which was quietly but
surely developing. Two years passed away,
and then came heavy tidings.   Little Alice
had always been delicate. Knowing nothing
of her early history, it is impossible to say
whether the seeds fef early death were here¬
ditary, or implanted in those eight fearful
years of neglect and suffering, whose history
must be for ever unwritten. They had lain
dormant for awhile, but germinated at last
with fearful rapidity. The flushed cheek,
and wearing cough, were unnoticed at first,
for the calm cheerfulness and serenity never
failed; ths sweet smile never faded from the
lips, not even when they were white in death.
The feet that trembled with swift weariness,
still hastened cheerfully on errands of love;
the hands that daily grew more thin and
transparent, still labored unremittingly in
loving service. Little Alice was content to
spend and be spent for Christ, and, humble
as was her position, she was yet living a regal
life, " hid with Christ in God."
There came a day when strength failed
utterly. Strong hand3, made suddenly tender
by pity, lifted the fainting child, and laid her
upon the bed from which she was never again
to rise. But no one believed that then; Mrs.
Agnew, disturbed by the sudden interruption
in h«r orderly household, teased by the un¬
wonted care of her children, troubled by
Alice's sickness, and beginning to realize
something of her untiring faithfulness, hur¬
ried to and fro, anxious and sad, Tesolutely
shutting her eyes to every suspicion of danger,
and ending every sentence with, "She must
get well directly ; we cannot spare her."
The days and weeks went on, while the
little face grew whiter and thinner, and the
breath shorter and more painful. When the
Christmas chimes of 1861 were ringing out
upon the air, the kindly physician, who came
from little Alice's chamber, laid his hand on
Mrs. Agnew's arm, and said: " She will never
see the New Year." She did not, she would
not believe it. Four days later, on the 29th
of December, 1861, he spoke again ; "She is
dying." With sudden and sharp belief that
his words were indeed true, Mrs. Agnew
hastened to the chamber. The blue eyes met
her own as she entered. The wasted hands
were stretched towards her, as though be¬
seeching a caress for tbe first time in all the
years that the child had dwelt beneath her
roof. With sudden and great ruth for all the
lonely and orphaned life that the child had
led, Mrs. Agnew sat down on the bedside, and
gathered the wasted form to her heart. A
sweet smile of perfect rest and peace came
over Alice's face. " You have been very kind
to me. Good-bye." The lids drooped, the
hands unclasped ; the light of heaven seemed
just dawning on the still, white face, and
then suddenly it changed. A strange, trembling'
wistfulness spread over it; the eyes opened
with an intense, yearning look in their depths;
the lips, white and already growing rigid in
death, moved convulsively, spoke : " Tell me;
shall I ever find you again? Do you love
Jesmf" It seemed as though the spirit wait¬
ed for answer before it took its flight; and
the answer was given: " You have taught
me, darling. I will love him. I will begin
now."
Last New Year's day, they buried Alice Fos¬
ter Dana in one of the wind-swept burial-
places of Cape Cod. Over it the snow is
heaped. Above it, the winds hasten forever
hither and thither; sometimes in fierce anger,
sometimes with a wailing and sobbing moan.
Close by it, the ocean waves ebb and flow,
and chant their ceaseless dirge. It is a wild
spot, but Alice is not there. Whither she has
gone, many are following; some burdened with
heavy grief, " weary and heavy laden"; some
with swift footsteps that tarry not by the
waysido. Are you following? Little chil¬
dren ! I have shed some bitter tears since I
began to write this story, but I have written
it for your sakes. Shall you ever find Alice?
Do you love the Lord Jesus? Will you love
him ? Mabel.
Andover, Mass., Jan. 28, 1862.
[We shall be glad to hear frcm " Mabel"
again.—Ed. Sunday-School Times.]
For the Sunday-Schcol Times.
"Fill Thy Horn with Oil and Go."
Lines suggested by hearing the Rev. Dr. Tyng preach
from 1 Sam., 16: 1.
Christian pilgrim! cease yonr tears,
Christ can drive away your fears;
On his grace your sorrows throw;
It is boundless, mourn not so.
Christian pilgrim ! mourn not so,
" Fill your horn with oil and go."
Rouse the sinner from his sleep,
O'er his wretched state to weep;
Show him Christ, whose blood alone
Can for all his guilt atone.
Christian pilgrim ! weep not so,
" Fill your horn with oil and go."
Go and feed the starving poor,
Outcasts to sweet virtue here;
Dry the orphan's bitter tear;
Widows in their mourning cheer.
Christian pilgrim! mourn not so,
" Fill your horn with oil and go."
Heathens must the gospel hear,
Heavenly sounds their hearts will cheer;
Let your talents be employed,
O'er the world to spread his word.
Christian pilgrim! mourn not so,
" Fill your horn with oil and go."
Should your country call on you,
Serve her like a patriot true;
Till with Union we are blessed,—
North and South, and East and West.
Christian pilgrim! mourn not so,
" Fill your horn with oil and go."
Let the world your influence feel,
Serve the church with holy zeal,
Give her aid with willing hand,
Spread her triumphs o'er the land.
Christian pilgrim ! mourn not so,
" Fill your horn with oil and go."
January, 18, 1862. S. S. R.
For the Sunday-School Times.
SEEING JESUS.
rjIHE book of Acts tells of two men who
A had a sight of Jesus after he went back
into heaven. Stephen and Saul both saw
him. But the sight did not affect them both
alike.
Stephen, though in a court-room, sur¬
rounded by people who were fierce almost
like wild beasts, for they " gnashed on him
with their teeth," was full of delight and
peace at seeing Jesus. " Those who stood by,
saw his face as it had been the face of an
angel."
How did Saul feel? Before he had sight
of Jesus, he was going proudly on his road
to Damascus, surrounded by those who
courted and feared him. No doubt he felt
very zealous and important, with no thought
of being hindered in his errand.
Suddenly Jesus appeared to him in the
wayl Was his look calm and happy as it
met the look of Jesus ? In dismay, he fell
to the earth, and when at length he raised
himself, he stood there "trembling and
astonished."
What should have made this difference in
the feeling of the two men? Can you not
tell? Do you not love to meet the eye of
your best loved friend ? And do you not
dread to face the searching look of one whom
you have injured? There will come a day
when we must all see Jesus. At that day
" Every eye shall see him." What day ? The
day of judgment—when it will be too late to
begin to love him—too late to go away and
weep bitter tears as Peter did, for our denial
of him.
Whatever thoughts of Jesus we have carried
with us to our graves, must then be laid bare
before him. If we love him we shall not fear
to have him know it. Bat if we do not love
him, surely we must stand as Saul did,
"trembling aud astonished." Lynn.
For the Sunday-School^Times.
INFANT SCHOOLS.
DEAR TIMES:—Why is it, that most infant
schools, especially in our cities, are con¬
ducted upon a plan so widely different from
the Sunday-schools made up of larger scholars,
to which the occupants of these infant schools
are to be transferred ?
Why is it, that congregations expect one
or two persons (generally ladies) to take upon
themselves an amount of labor and responsi¬
bility, which they divide and sub-divide into
twenty, thirty, and even fifty different share?,
in an adjoining room of the same building ?;
Will any one, conversant with the facts,
assign some good reason for it ? My inqui¬
ries have been not a few, and I have yet tb
hear the first good substantial reason given:
Let me give you a few facts, taken from the
synopsis of a quarterly report lying before
me, for the quarter ending Dec. 31, 1861, of
the infant school attached totZion's Lutheran
church in this place. This school (being one
of three departments attached to that church)
is organized upon the same principle, as are the
others. It has a male and female superin¬
tendent, and a librarian. It is composed of
ninety-four scholars, of which forty-one are
boys, and fifty three girls, ranging in age
from three to seven years. It is divided into
twenty classes, taught by six male and four¬
teen female teachers. There is but one session
% day. Quarterly reports are required at the
hands of all the teachers, to facilitate which
(and also to secure uniformity) blanks are
handed them, which register the presence,
absence, punctuality, lateness, and conduct
of each scholar, together with the number of
verses committed, number of books taken out
of the library, and amount of contributions
of each scholar.
This report shows an average attendance
of thirty-one boys, and forty-four girls. Total
average, seventy-five scholars, and eighteen
teachers. Thirty-three scholars were present
every Sunday, unless detained by sickness,
for which they received a token for punctu¬
ality, in the shape of a card. Total num¬
ber of verse3 committed, 2,953. Number
of books taken from the library, 593.
Contributions for the quarter, $9.55. These
facts speak for themselves, and loudly for the
mode of organization. Can any superinten¬
dent, using the old plan, (that of instructing
an entire school with one or two teachers,)
show results like these just mentioned ? And
yet this is not an extreme case. I have no
doubt that other Infant Schools, similarly
conducted, will be able to repcrt just as
favorably, if not more so.
This is a subject of vital importance, and I
hope these few sentences will lead some of
your many readers to give the matter their
serious consideration.    Truly yours,
Lebanon, Pa. H. H. Roedbl.
For the Sunday-School Times.
THE  LIBRARY.
DEAR TIMES :—I will now give you my
experience with a library in a larger
Sabbath-school than the one referred to in
my article in the Sunday- School Times of Feb¬
ruary 1st. Having been appointed superin¬
tendent of a school in a large village, almost
my first work was to examine the condition
of the library. There was no order or system
connected with it. It was in a room adjoin¬
ing the school room. The librarian opened
the case containing the books, and the
teachers selected for their classes, charging
on the class book the number of the book
taken by each scholar. It was often difficult
to please the children with the selection, and
teachers had their patience tried in this way,
as they were frequently fifteen minutes in
trying to select books pleasing to their
scholars. Thus, as some of the teachers
were through with the recitations before
others, nearly one-half of the time occupied
in the exercises, they were passing to and
from the library, causing much noise and
confusion, while the classes during their ab¬
sence, were often anything but  quiet   and
orderly. A continuance of such a state of
things would be unendurable.
A few months previous, a new library of
H5 volumes was purchased for the school,
and the old library was laid aside. From the
latter we sent two libraries to the West for
destitute schools. I took an inventory of the
books, and found over thirty volumes already
missing—lost. No record could be found of
them, and only two or three have since been
returned. We added over 200 volumes during
that season, and adopted the old method of
having the books distributed to the classes
by the librarian, he leaving a suitable number
with each class, the scholars selecting, and
the teacher charging them. At the close of
the exercipes he gathered up those left and
returned them to the case, into which, as had
been customary, they were put in the most
convenient way without regard to order.
Some stood up, others lay down on the
shelves. Some were right side up, and others
down. Some with backs to the front, others
vice-versa. In this way books were lost, and
frequently so many books were out that there
were not enough left for a good selection. It
was necessary that something should be done
to better its condition. I will tell what
was done in my next. But let me ask if the
foregoing description will not apply to many
libraries to-day ? I know of more than one
other such. Superihtehdeht.
Conn., Feb.-5,1862.
For the Snnday-School Timer.
THK   DRY   STREAM.
66  JOHN," said Isaac to his brother, "do
t)   you know that the brook in the sheep
pasture was dried up?"
"No, I do not know any such thing."
«It is dry."
" I saw it running not an hour ago."
" It was dry this morning. I was going to
cross over on the fence, but there was no
water in the bed of the stream above or be¬
low the fence. I heard father say the brook
never failed."
" I know it has not failed."
" That comes pretty near saying you don't
believe what I say."
The brothers went on disputing till they
got very angry. At first, one was sure that
the other was mistaken. When they became
angry, one was sure that the other had
asserted an untruth.
Now the fact was that both had spoken the
truth. When the stream was low, there was
a gravel bank by the fence mentioned by
Isaac, through which the water percolated
without appearing on the surface. John had
seen the water flowing as usual in its channel
some twenty rods below the fence.
Men often dispute about things in regard to
which they really do not differ. We look at
the subject from different points of view.
Before you decide that a man is wrong be¬
cause he differs from you, see from what
point he views the matter. A. B.
For the Sunday-School Times.
"I AM GLAD I'M IN THIS ARMY."
WE often hear it said, " Every picture has
its dark side." Naturally we conclude
that its opposite must be something of a
"sunny side." If the experience of Sunday-
school teachers be not the exception, pray
oftener give it to us in its brightness. " La¬
borious," "self-denying," "thankless," and
like terms, are in common use to specify the
nature of the work. I fear the little ones will
learn to look upon and think of us, as coming
to them, with such leaden weights upon our
spirits, such mountains of discouragements
in our path, that we appear as weary and un¬
willing ones, treading an almost useless round
of duty. Oh! Sabbath-school teacher, bear
witness with me, that it is not so ! Does not
the brightening eye and warm smile of affec¬
tion, that greets your every coming, make a
joy of your work ? Is not the very presence
of the little circle around you encouraging ?
Neither force nor bribe brought them there;
"they love, they love to sing and pray to¬
gether;" and together, scholar and teacher
say from their " heart of hearts," "we're glad,
we are in this army!"
The thought of dealing with immortal souls
for eternity, sends a glow of earnest interest
into every question and response. If their
attention deepens to serious things, if now
and then we catch a gleam of the Spirit's
power upon their hearts, if from one of that
class, there comes the whisper, " pray for me
teacher," who would talk of " fainting by the
way ?"
Ah I fear the seat of discouragement is
more truly in our own hearts, than in manner
or circumstance of school, scholar, or their
homes. Are we not too eager for the times
and seasons to be as we appoint ? Do we not
unconsciously aspire to be the giver of the
increase, rather than to toil as the planter?
Does not our impatience as to results from
slight effort and weaker faith, say mine, not
" Thy will be done 1"
Who of us when mourning over the dis¬
appointments of our so-called best endeavors,
would dare submit them to the Saviour's test
—"according to thy faith be it unto thee?"
"Let us bring our precious, but sin-sick
ones, and " cast them down at Jesus' feet,"
crying, "Lord, we believe, help thou our un¬
belief." Then I trust we may look for^the
healing, and feel that our labor has not been
for that which satisfieth not. B.
Philadelphia.
A smile may be bright while the heart is
sad—the rainbow is beautiful in the air while
beneath is the moaning of the sea.
We do not know what we ask or desire
when we covet other people's spiritual joys
or strength. ^
Faith is a star that shines brightest in the
night-time of trial, desertion, and tribulation.
For the Sunday-School Times.
SABBATH-SCHOOL LIBRARIES,
AMONG all the different modes of manage¬
ment of the Sabbath-school library which
have recently been described in the Sunday-
School Times, there has been no plan recom¬
mended that seems to me to be as complete and
practical as the one adopted by the librarian
of the school of which, for three years, I was
superintendent. The library (if a good one)
being an important aid in securing attendance
in the school, will necessarily occupy a place
in the arrangement of the plan of every su¬
perintendent for conducting his school, and,
of course, any improvement in the manner
in which it is managed, contributes so much
to the ultimate success of the school. This
being the case, we rejoice that the subject has
secured attention through the columns of the
Sunday-School Times, and we will give you in
detail our plan, thus contributing our mite,
hoping that from it and others presented by
you, useful hints may be gathered for the
successful management of Sabbath-school
libraries, a matter which is confessedly some¬
what difficult.
In order to give a clear idea of the opera¬
tion of our plan, it will be necessary to give
details which may seem tedious, but without
which it cannot be made clear, and the
facility and accuracy of its operation be
shown. At the risk, then, of being consider¬
ed tedious, I shall describe it in detail.
The first thing to be done, is to procure a
suitable number of good boobs, and by this I
mean such as are adapted to the bind of scho¬
lars of which the school is composed. Then
have the books all plainly numbered on the
back of each book, so that the numbers can
easily be read while standing in the case.
This can be done by beginning with the
smallest books ; and here let me say that no
library need to contain more than twice as
many books as there are members of the
school.
Next make a catalogue of the books in
alphabetical order, attaching the number of
each book to its title in the catalogue, and
give every member of the school a copy of it.
Next, provide for each class a small slate,
with pencil attached to it, on which shall be
permanently written the name of the teacher,
and of each scholar, and the number of each
member of the school attached to his name.
Thus we have every member of the school,
whether teacher or scholar, numbered. Next
require the teacher and scholars to select their
books from their catalogue at the commence¬
ment of the school, the teacher putting on the
slate, against his or her name, the numbers only
of three books, either of which is wanted, and
do the same for all the scholars in the class.
We will now turn to the library, and here
the perfect understanding of the plan is neces¬
sary to see how certain is its operation. The
books are now (for the first time) all before
us, standing in their numerical order. The
door of the library case being open, on the
inner side of the door, which being now
open becomes the outside, is arranged the
whole secret of success. A suitable board of
white wood, say for a school of 175 members,
and a library of 350 books, 2J by 3 feet, has
been procured, and planed very smooth, and
prepared as follows :—Oa the right hand side
of the board, as the librarian stands facing
it, commencing at the top, is stamped into the
board the number- of every member of the
school, beginning at No. 1, and descending in
a direct line until the number 49 is reached;
then begin at the top again, to the left of No.
1, with No. 50, and descend again, thus ar¬
ranging all the columns in fifties, up to the
full number of the school. Next commence
on the top of the left hand side of the board,
and stamp the numbers of all the books in
the library, beginning with number one, and
arranging them in numerical order in the
columns by fifties. Next prepare a list of all
the members of the school by name, attaching
to each name the number that is affixed to
suGh name on the slate above referred to, and
paste this list on the board between the two
columns of numbers above described. Next
obtain a sufficient number of small brass card
holders, (I send a sample,) and screw one on
the board above each of the numbers stamped
on the two sides of the board.
Next get as many cards of thick, white
paper as there are members of the school,
number the cards, and place them in the
holder next above the same number that is
stamped in the board, on the right hand side.
We are now ready to distribute the books on
the first day of drawing. The slates, hereto¬
fore described, are lying on the table or shelf
near by, and the assistant librarian takes one,
and calls the number of the teacher on it to
the librarian, and takes from the library one
of the three books wanted, having the first
number on the slate, as wanted by said
teacher. The librarian takes the card from
its holder, on the right hand side, having
on it the number first given by the assistant,
(representing the teacher named,) and places
it in the holder, on the left side, next above
that number of the book called. The same
process follows for every member of the class,
and the slate, with the books laid upon it, is
put aside, and another taken, until all are
supplied, when the library case is closed.
After the recitations of the lesson, the slates,
with the books, are distributed to the classes
by the librarian and his assistant, and the
teachers pass tbe books to the scholars, leav¬
ing the slates in the seats. After the school is
closed, these slates are collected by the libra¬
rian and assistant, and deposited in the library.
The next Sabbath, the first thing after
.the school is opened, the slates are dis¬
tributed to the classes to which they belong
by the librarian and assistant, and the books
collected from the classes, and returned to the
library as follows:—The assistant takes up
any book, and calls the number on its back,
and places it in its proper place in the library.
The librarian takes the card from the holder
on the left hand side, next above the number
called by the assistant, (representing the
book,) and places it in the holder on the right
hand side, next above the number* on the card,
(representing the member who returns the
book,) and so on till all the books, that have
beeri returned, stand in their proper place in
the library. The cards remaining on the left
hand side of the board, show at a glance
what books are out, and who has them, the
number on the card revealing who the indi¬
vidual is, and the number next below is the
number of the book that is out of the library.
The slates are now gathered, on which are
now the numbers of books wanted by the
different members of the school, and they are
distributed in the same way as before.
Under this arrangement, no member can
obtain more than one book at a time, and no
book ean be lost, as it can be traced directly
to the individual member who drew it. The
rule must be strictly adhered to, that no per¬
son shall be permitted to have two books at
any one time, and no person should be per¬
mitted to come near to the libraay while it is
open.
This plan, the details of which appear so
irksome on paper, is found by experience to
work well, both in the facility with which
the books can be exchanged, and the certainty
of their preservation, or at least of knowing
at a glance where they are. The exchange is
easily made while the classes are engaged in
the recitation of the lessons, and no one has
any care or trouble, as all is made sure by
the plan itself. It benefits the school, by
making every member feel that it is readily
known whether they are prompt to return
their books, and thus indirectly educates
them in the way of being faithful. X.
New Britain, Conn., Feb. 1862.
[A sample of the brass card holders re¬
ferred to, and a diagram representing the
method of keeping the account of the books,
may be seen at this office.—Ed. S. S. Times.]
For the Sunday-School Times.
HOPE'S   ECHO.
Farewell! farewell! sad word and brief,
Epitome of love's worst grief.
Yet often as I say fare-well,
Hope's cheering echo whispers, "well."
Oh take this talismanic tone
And keep it near thee for thine own,
And where thy saddest bodings dwell
Let hope's kind echo whisper, "well."
And when far off thy footsteps roam,
And truant thoughts will ask of home,
"Is each one safe who bade fare well?"
Hope's echo still shall answer, " well."
I tell thee not one word of love,
Those thoughts of thee I send above;
My prayer is ever, fare-thee-ioeK,
And hope's fond echo still says " well."
H. S.
For the Sunday-School Times.
THE GOSPEL OF FLOWERS.
■ * YTTHAT did the new minister preach 1"
T Y   said Mrs. Jones, who was kept at
home by lameness.
" He preached the gospel according to
flowers," said Robert, a young man about
twenty years old. His father sometimes had
occasion to check him in the too free expres¬
sion of his opinions.
" What am I to understand by that answer ?"
"Instead of preaching Christ, he preached
about nature and flowers."
" Christ alluded to the lilies of the field in
one of his sermons."
" Yes, sir; but it was in order to illustrate
the truth. The object of the preacher did not
seem to me to be to make known the truth,
but to present a flowery discourse."
"You should not be too severe in your
criticisms. The preacher may have had a
good object in view, and may have misjudged
as to the amount of ornament he should use."
" I listened attentively, but could not see
that he had anything but ornament."
The writers who wrote under the guidance
of inspiration did not avoid beauty; but it
was always made subservient to the illustra¬
tion and enforcement of truth. A. B.
WHAT SUBSCRIBERS SAY.
" Forty-two years service in the Sunday-
school ranks has given me an appetite for
just such rations as you furnish. Please re¬
member I have been fasting since the last of
December.—A Life Member.—Providence, R. I.
"In these times that 'trymen's souls,' I did
not know how to spare a whole dollar, so a
friend is going to join me and share my paper,
for I cannot give it up."—Fairton, N. J.
"Dear 'Times:'—Please find enclosed $1
wherewith to pay for the continuance of your
pleasant visits during 1862. As a Life Mem¬
ber of the society, you have come to me
gratuitously for the past two years, and I find
that now I cannot do without you."—Aurora,
N. Y.
" I value the ' Times' so highly, simply as a
religious paper, not speaking now of its great
work as a Sunday-school journal, that if I
could have but one of the many religious
papers of the country, that one should be the
Sunday-School Times."—Morris, Conn.
" This terrible rebellion has so far changed
my worldly prospects as to compel me to re¬
move my family from Kentucky, and for the
present, this is my residence. I have given
up all my other papers, but I caonot give up
the Sunday-School Times."—Madison, Ind.
"I had thought of giving up the ' Times,'
but it seemed rather ungenerous to desert an
old friend in a tryiDg time, I therefore for¬
ward you $2 to renew two subscriptions."—
Mason, III.
" I met you, dear ' Times,' at the house of
a friend. I read, loved, and admired yeu.
I now want you to come to my house a regu¬
lar visitor."—Mecca, Ohio.
"The 'Times' I value very much, and am
not willing to do without it."—Pomfret, Conn.