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THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES.
VOLUME VI.
PUBLISHED EVERY §ATURDAY AT ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS A YEAR.--PHILADELPHIA, AUGUST 20, 1864.
NUMBER 34.
THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES,
A Weekly Religious Paper.
Price One Dollar and Fifty Cents a Year in advance.
money enough to build a neat Sunday-school
room. Try it, and you will be surprised to
find how much money there is ia the neighbor¬
hood, of which you had hardly suspected the
existence.
Bristol, Pa.
Philadelphia subscribers who wish the Paper served
at their residence*, will be charged 60 centa additional, j
Those who call at the office will reoeive it for One Dollar i
and a half.
The Postage is 20 cents a year, which must be paid In j
advance at the post-office where the subscriber resides,     j
Letters containing articles for publication, should be j
Addressed
Editors Sunday-School Times,      J\
PHILAD,5IiPHIA' PB!ra'A- j been thinking much of her Sabbath-school
Letters containing   subscriptions   to   the Paper, or
orders for books, should be addressed
For the Sunday-School Times.
"Why Art Thou Cast Down?"
(Psalm xlii: 11.)
\ LONE, weary and  sad, sat Miss W ,
one Saturday eve.   She had that day
J. C. GARRIGUES & Co.,
148 South Fourth Street,
Philadelphia, Penn'a.
For the Sunday-School Times.
T&e Unhandy Sunday-School.
s     By the Rev. Alfred Taylor.
5 v. 1
MHs its meetings in the body of the
jjjK|S|h, no Sunday-school room being pro-
- <1
bu *S
at
it. Although the church is a fine
well adapted to the wants of the
ople who worship there, it was not
unday-school purposes, as a glance
ncomfortable company of children
and "teachers there assembled, very plainly
tells us.
The children are seated in the church pews,
a whole pew being allowed to a class. In some
respects they are better seated than if they
were on Sunday-school benches, for they have
cushions under them, and stuffed pew-backs
behind them. But the seats are so high that
the feet < the smaller children do not quite
reach tb ioor, and this produces more dis¬
comfort v.ui the cushions m«ke up for. The
teacher £>. the ones who are specially in-
convenm •: ed. A teacher ought, to face each
membe his class. But he must occupy
the next pew to the one hi3 scholars sit in.
If he sits on the pew seat, his back is towards
the children. He must turn round so as to
look them in the face, which involves the
risk of wringing his neck off, or of dislocating
his shoulders. He soon finds that so uncom¬
fortable a position, that he tries standing up.
Tnis brings his head so far above the level of
the juvenile heads, that he has to come down,
to keep the children from wearying their
necks a3 they look up at him. He concludes
to put himself in a position which is half way
between kneeling and reclining. Thi3 is as
fatiguing as either of the others, and he des¬
pairs of being comfortable. It must Be hard
work to communicate the truths of the gospel
to children under such circumstances.
And there is yet another difficulty in the
way of his teaching successfully. His chil¬
dren are arranged in a straight row. Suppose
he has six to instruct; if he is talking to the
boy at one end of the class, it is tolerably
certain that the boy at the other end will not
hear what he says, unless he raises his voice
so load as to disturb the next class. What is
said to those who are in the middle may be
heard at the ends, but there i3 not the oppor¬
tunity for free and social instruction that is
afforded by a semi-circular or square bench.
And sometimes, when the pew owner3 are
too particular about their gilt edged hymn
books and other valuable pew furniture to
allow the school to sit among them, we find
the school up in the gallery. If it i3 a gallery
which occupies only one end of the church,
and which is very far up towards the ceiling,
tbe discomfort is greater than down stairs.
If, however, it is a gallery which is built along
the sides of the church as well as at the end,
it is in all respects better than to meet in the
down stairs pews. With the three-sided gal¬
lery a school can be very conveniently seated,
the only serious objection being (as down
stairs) that each cla33 is in a straight line
instead of in a semi-circle around the teacher.
The musical apparatus of the church can be
pressed into the service of the school without
removing the instrument from its accustomed
place. The pew which the teacher occupies
is generally a step below the one in which
the children sit, and he can stand np to his
work without danger of distorting either his
neck or theirs.
A very simple improvement can be made in
church pews which, while it will not interfere
with the com'ort of the pew owner, will afford
great relief to those who teach and are taught
in the pews, if the school must meet in the
church. Let the seats of certain pews in the
church, enough for teachers to sit in, be hung
upon hinges. When the school meets the
seat3 can be let down, and the teachers take
their seats in the pews, each provided with a
comfortable chair. The cushion can be rolled
up, and put out of the way, and the gilt edged
hymn books can be nicely stowed away in a
drawer built on purpose for them. When
school is out the chair3 can be lifted out and
the hinged seats raised and secured in their
proper places, each by a bolt. The change
can be effected in a few moments. Any car¬
penter can so alter pew seats in a short time
and at a trifling expense. Or the F.eit can be
jo hinged as to raise, cushion ftnd all, against
the back of the pew, where it can be held in
place by a button or small bolt till school is
done.
If our friends who hold their Sunday-schools
ia church buildings (and there are many) will
try these or similar improvements, they will
find relief from much of the unhandiness and
discomfox ifrom which they suffer.
But tne aest improvement ihat can be sug¬
gested fo the relief of schools so circum¬
stanced i for a few earnest people to go
round with a subscription list, and to collect
class, and was much disheartened. Six
months before she had had a large class of
interesting girls. Now four were in a neigh¬
boring city at school, one had found a home
in another city, another still, Lizzie C ,
was lying on a sick and dying bed. Only two
were left to meet with her from Sabbath to
Sabbath.
Presently her pastor entered, and after a
few words, said: "I have been in to see Lizzie
0 , to-day"    "Is she still peaceful and
happy ?"   asked   Miss   W .     " Perfectly
happy, and seems to have no fears of death,"
he replied. "She was very calm, except
when she spoke of you, then sbe was much
affected. She said it was in consequence of
your labors, and in answer to your prayers,
that she was now enjoying such peace j for it
was you who first led her to Christ. She
desired me to give you her love, and to tell
you that you could never know how much
good you had done her."
Tear3 filled the teacher's eye3. She could
not speak, for her thoughts led her back one
year to the time when she had made unusual
efforts for her class. She remembered bow she
then pleaded for each of them at the mercy
seat; and she remembered well the joy that
filled her heart as one and another of those
dear ones came and told her of their new¬
found hopes, of the joy they felt in be¬
lieving on Jesus; and in the retirement of her
own room that night, she raised the voice
of thanksgiving to " our Father," that he had
permitted her to labor in thi3 part of his vine¬
yard.
A few days more, and Lizzie C  stood
on the bank of the river of death. As her
feet touched its cold waters, she bade her
friends farewell, adding, "Tell Miss W I
love her dearly, and hope she will do for
other souls what she has for mine." What
greater reward could that teacher ask for the
anxieties she had felt, the tears she had sbed,
the prayers she had offered for that soul now,
we trust, in glory?
Sabbath-school teachers, do you realize the
greatness of the work in which you are
engaged? Is your heart filled with love
to Christ and his cause ? Is your manner
such as to show to your scholars how deeply
you feel for their future interest? Do you
plead for them in faith? Remember that
precious immortal souls are intrusted to your
care, for which you must give an account.
Shall they shine as stars in your crown of re¬
joicing? or shall they rise up and reproach
you in that day for your neglect of duty ? Be
faithful; and such joy as is felt only over
repenting sinners shall be your reward.
E. E. M.
For the Sunday-School Times
The Trial of Prosperity.
WE often speak of the trial which adver¬
sity makes of the hidden springs of cha¬
racter, but there i3 another arch inquisitor
more searching still. Adversity may try a
man's faith, and patience, and energy, but
prosperity tries his whole nature. Many who
can stand the test of the first fall before tbe
last. What strange developments it often
makes of those who before had stood fair in
their professions before the world! Hazael
rejected with scorn the prophet's prediction of
his great wickedness, but Elisha's answer was
full of meaning when he simply said, " The
Lord hath showed me that thou shalt be king
over Syria."
How often have the tender-hearted become
hardened and inured to scenes of oppression
and cruelty, when the power has been placed
in their hands.
Pliny, the younger, seemed a marked ex¬
ample of all lovely and noble virtues. His
benevolence to the poor, his espousal of their
cause when pleading at the bar, and his
generosity in never taking a fee, called
down blessings upon him from thousands
of households. His beautiful letters have
awakened the deepest admiration at their
spirit of benevolence and philanthropy.
Yet this same man, when proconsul under
Trajan, proceeded coolly to torture two
Christian women, in a manner the most
excruciating, in order to extort from them
something to tbe disadvantage of Christians.
Many were executed by hi3 order for their
adherence to the faith, and,pity for their suf¬
ferings seemei excluded from his breast. How
few, even of the most gentle hearted, aie able
to stand the te3t of absolute power!
Not only does worldly prosperity develop
hidden, social traits to which the person was
before a stranger, but it also shuts out too
gpuch of heaven from the soul, if it does not
in the end shut out the soul itself from heaven.
"When I was in a low estate," said Pius
Quintus, "I had some hopes of salvation; but
when I was advanced to be a cardinal I greatly
doubted ; but since I c^me to the popedom I
have no hope at all." It is a great help to
contentment to keep ever in view the dying
day, and estimate all things as loss that tend
to make that day one of gloom and dread to U3.
J. E. L.
For the Sunday-School Times.
" The Sheep Follow Him, for They Know His
Voice."   John 10:4.
WHEN we once learn to recognize, to
"know" the voice that is leading us
through this world, what a peace comes in the
« following!"
It is indescribable, this foretaste of the sur
render of our wills to Christ, which will be
entire hereafter. If you have not felt this
quiet, indwelling content, coming sometimes
in the midst of your most acute suffering, no
one can explain it to you. The nearest illus¬
tration of it, to me, is the sight of a little child,
flushed after the excitement of a contest with
proper, loving authority, falling asleep with
its tear-stained cheek pressed close to the
heart it has learned to obey, and the little
heaving breast giving out an occasional wea¬
ried sob, folded in the arms of the loving pa¬
rent it has been resisting. Oh how tenderly
the little one is held, and soothed, andquie'ed.
" If ye, being evil, know how to give good
gifts unto your children, how much more shall
your heavenly Father give to you?" It is
hard, we all know how hard, to give up our
own way, to take the appointed trial meekly.
We look about and think, if this person had
done differently, or if that thing had not oc¬
curred, we should not have suffered. We do
not Bee the need of it. We groan under the
second cause. But whea we hear a gentle
voice saying, " It is /," we "know the voice,"
and are ready, unresisting, to " follow." At
such times, tearful, sobbing we may be, but
we feel the rest, the " sleep that he giveth his
beloved," to fit them for the remainder of the
journey.
There is great safety in yielding ourselves
to our Father's guidance. The pain, the un¬
certainty, the agitation, the doubt, the turmoil,
all give way to peace,'rest, being cared for and
led. Not that we experience the "perfectrest"—
that "remaineth' for the children of God. But
we have a glimmer of the light, a foretaste of
that which shall be when our trembling lips
form the prayer, " Thy will be done on earth
as it is done in heaven."
Could our faith ever mount so near the
" pearly gates'' that, like Paul, we might look
into the "glory that excelleth,"the "joysGod
has prepared for those that love him," our
doubts, and fears, and rebellion would soon
vanish. But it is not yet given us to " know"
and " see." " Blessed are they who have not
seen and yet have believed." We are now
called to "glorify" by obedience and faith,
and let us walk worthy of our high vocation,
as children.
Not servants, not friends merely, but chil¬
dren of the household. We bear our Father's
name before the world—shall we dishonor it?
We feel his love in our hearts—shall we turn
away from it iu coldness ? No 1 let us cling
close to the arm that was once, for our sakes,
stretched on the cruel cross ; let us welcome
pain, humiliation', disappointments, if they
but bring us into " fellowship" with Christ,
looking forward to the day of deliverance, that
may not be far from any of us, but which is
hourly drawing nearer to ail—when, whether
in the body we cannot tell, or out of the body
we cannot tell, but this we know, we shall see
God !—see the Father's face and live—look
upon the face of him whom our sins have
pierced, and behold the smile of welcome, and
hear the saving, loving words, "Him that
cometh to me I will in no wise cast out."
We can look no further into heaven. The
vail of the temple has indeed been rent in
twain, but it is not yet, for us, taken away
from the Holy of Holies, and until we hear the
command "Come up higher," we must stay at
the foot of the mountain and watch for the
dawn. Not in idleness, however. We mu3t
work as well as wait and watch. The harvest
truly is great, and the laborers are few. Let
us therefore use diligence iu what our hand
findeth to do, until, like Stephen, we " see the
heavens open" and we fall asleep.     L. S. T.
heart. It comes from the heart and therefore
it reaches the heart. It springs from a dpep
and heartfelt conviction of the reality and im¬
portance of the truths spoken. It cannot
easily be counterfeited.
Do any ask, how can this earnestness be
obtained ? It is the fruit of faith. " I be¬
lieved, therefore have I spoken." The faith
that deals with things unseen as ever-present
realities will p:odace earnestness. Again, it
is the fruit of personal experience. The man
who speaks what he knows and testifies what
he has seen and felt is in earnest. Tbe man
whose own soul is filled with the love of God
will be in earnest when he cries, " Oh taste
and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the
man that trusteth in him."       Mayflower.
For the Sunday-School Times
EARNESTNESS.
"VTEVER was there a successful laborer in
-l-i the vineyard of the Lord who was not
pre-eminently an earnest man. Earnestness
is the secret of success. Vehemence is not
always earnestness. Loud declamation is not
earnestness. A vehement manner of address
is doubtless sometimes assumed to conceal
the lack of real earnestness. It may require
much learning to appreciate the profound
speaker, and a cultivated taste to appreciate
the ornate speaker; but neither profound
learningn, or a refined taste, is required to feel
the power of an earnest speaker. The man of
life-long experience and the little child, the
man of cultivated intellect and the ignorant
savage, can alike appreciate the earnest man.
Some years ago, three American mission¬
aries were sent to labor among a certain tribe
of Indians. After hearing the first of the
three, a council was called to decide whether
the Great Spirit spoke to them through that
man. They unanimously decided that he did
not, because the man was apparently less en-
giged in the delivery of his message than they
were in their ordinary concerns. The second
missionary addressed them in a very vehement
manner, and the council decided that the
Great Spirit could not have spoken through
him, because he was mad. The manner of
the third was earnest and fervent. The coun¬
cil agreed that the Great Spirit might speak
through him, because he was both earnest
an i affectionate, and he was therefore warmly
received and kindly treated.
All true earnestness has its fountain in the
For the Sunday-School Times.
COMFORT IN TRIAL.
aOD'S people are often apt to be "dis¬
couraged because of the way." There
are times of such overwhelming grief that the
siul passing through them would answer to
every possibility of peace and joy in religion,
" I cannot feel it." Yet even then, when the
poor soul out of the depths cries aloud, as if
the blessed Saviour were out of hearing—
when by the inscrutable purpose of the Al¬
mighty, we lie prostrate in darkness, ready
for the enemy to insult with terrible sugges¬
tions of unbelief, even then let us take the
words which God hath given us, and plead
with him still.
Though only uttered in sighs and groans,
the petition of the feeblest believer will not
bejdisregarded. Our heavenly Father clearly
discerns all our affliction and all our dismay j
he'is as near and mighty to save when the
due time of trouble is ended, as he seems to
be in those calm hours of prayer, when before
we. have done speaking he answers, and he
will infuse comforts more than equal to the
sorrow which has intensified the ardor of
supplication.
iDavid, the sweet Psalmist of Israel, says :
"This is iny comfort in my affliction, for tby
wprd hath quickened me." While performance
of God's promise is delayed, we may be "re¬
joicing in hope ;" and the promise is our com-
rort in affliction. This comfort will not, like
all others, fail us when we most need it, in the
day of sickness, darkness, distress, and at the
hpur of death; but will always keep pace with
bur necessities, increasing in proportion as the
pleasures of the world decrease, and then be¬
coming complete when they are no more. So
powerful is the word ot God to revive us, when
dead either in sins or sorrows. "Thy word
hath quickened me."
Reader, art thou now weary or desponding?
Is some cross heavy on thee—some trial op¬
pressing thee—some thorn in the flesh sorely
lacerating thee? Jesus says, "My grace is
sufficient for thee." He baa an antidote for
every sorrow—a balm for every heart—a com¬
fort for every pang. "No chastening for the
present seenieth joyous, but grievous, never¬
theless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit
of righteousness." Have faith in this "after¬
ward."
Believe! In the darkest hour of trial look
unto Jesus ! From him every promise is de¬
rived. In him every promise centres. Par¬
don, peace, adoption, consolation, eternal
life,—all "in him " To you is given present
grace here, and for you shines eternal glory
hereafter.    "He is faithful that promised."
S. A.
COURTESY.
AN ATHENIAN STORY.
In Athens, ere its sun of fame had set,
Midst pomp and show the gazing crowds were met,
Intent for ever upon something new,
The mimic wonders of the stage to view.
So where tho wide-extended circus spreads
In gathered ranks its sea of living heads,
Ranged in close order, rising row on row,
The void arena claims the space below.
The seats were tilled; but ere the show began,
A stranger entered—'twas an aged man;
Awhile he sought a place with aspect mild;
The polished young Athenians satlmd smiled,
Eyed his confusion with a side-long glance,
But kept their seats, nor rose on hi3 advance.
0 for a burning blush of deeper hue
To mark the shame of that self-glorious crew;
How poor the produce of fair learning's tree,
That bears no fruits of sweet humility !
The growth of arts and sciences, how vain
In hearts that feel not for another's pain !
Not so the Spartan youth, whose simple school
Instilled the plain but salutary rule
Of kindness, and whose honest souls preferred
Truth to display—performance to a word.
These Spartan youths had their appointed place,
Apart from Atticus, distinguished race,
And rose with one accord, intent to prove
To honored age their duty and their love;
Nor did a Spartan youth his seat resume
Till the old man found due and fitting room.
Then came the sentence of reproof and praise,
Stamped with the sternness of the ancient days,
For, standing full amid the assembled crowd,
Tho venerable stranger cried aloud:
" The Athenians learn their duty well, but lo !
The Spartans practise what the Athenians know."
The words were good, and in a virtuous cause;
They justly earned a nation's glad applause ;
But we have surer words of precept given
In God's own book, the words that came from
heaven—
" Be kind, be courteous, be all honor shown,"
"Seek others' welfare rather than thine own."
—Macaiday.
comfortable view of the divine favor, and
"rejoice in hope of the glory of God ;" if we
would find by blessed experience, that "the
ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and
all her paths are peace;" if we would obtain
the witners of the blessed Spirit, the earnest
of our eternal inheritance, and the foretaste of
heavenly happiness, which are enjoyments-"
vastly preferable to all the pleasures of sense,
we must " add to our faith virtue," «,nd main¬
tain a life of holiness and good works.—
Dickinson's Familiar Letters.
THE BOOK-MARK.
A YOUNG lady, says the correspondent of
a contemporary, once presented me witb
a book-mark, having the inscription, " God
bless you," and exacted a promise that it
should be placed in my Bible, but it was oever
to remain a day opposite the same chapter.
Faithful to my promise, I took it home, and
rubbing from the lids of my Bible the dust of
a week, I placed it in the first chapter of Mat¬
thew, and daily read a chapter, and changed
its place. I had not read long before I became
interested, as I had never been before, in this
good book; and I saw in its truths that I
was a sinner, and must repent if I would be
saved. I then promised God that I would
seek his face at the earliest opportunity, and
if he saw fit to convert my soul,tbat I would
spend my life in his cause. It came: I sought
his face and received the blessings of hi^ love,
and now I have hope within me big witb im¬
mortality ; and all do I attribute to that book¬
mark, and the grace of God. And this was
the beginning of a great revival at S. Many
sought his face, and found it; and the flame
kindled there spread over the entire district,
and scores were brought into the church of
God. "Despise not the day of small things."
A word spoken in season, a simple Christian
act, a sincere, simple prayer, even a book¬
mark, may turn a poor wandering sinner from
the error of his ways.
IFIVD the genealogy of my Saviour strange¬
ly checkered with four remarkable changes
in four immediate generations.
1. Roboam btgat Abia; that is, a bad
father begat a bad son; 2. Abia begat Asa;
that is, a bad father a good son ; 3. Asa begat
Josaphat; that is, a good father a good son ;
4. Jo3aphat begat Joram; that is, a good fa¬
ther a bad son.
I see, Lord, from hence, that my father's
pirty cannot be entailed; that is bad news for
me. But I see also that actual impiety is not
always hereditary; that is good news for my
son.—Thomas Fuller.
For the Sunday-School Times.
GOD IN LITTLE THINGS.
THERE are many habits of almost universal
prevalence among professing and real
Christians which sadly mar the beauty and
symmetry of their Christian character; and of
these perhaps none is more common than that
of failing to recognize God in the little occur¬
rences of every day life. This fault is seen in
those who not only bear the name of Chris¬
tians, but who are so evidently sincere that
we cannot well question the reality of their
piety. It is seen in those who offer with their
lips, and doubtless with their hearts, the
prayer " Thy will be done," and who bow
humbly and submissively to that will when
its power is felt in severe trials and bereave¬
ments. But let these same persons go forth
with well-laid plans to the duties of the day,
and let some little untoward circumstance
disconcert these plans, and then their weak¬
ness becomes apparent. The waywardness of
a child, tbe carelessness of a servant, almost
any little vexation is sufficient to m>tke them
irritable, and to cloud the whole day for them,
and for all about them. If we inquire for the
reason of this inconsistency, is it not evi¬
dent that they are unmindful of the fact that
God directs and allows even those trials that
come to us through human instrumentalities,
and forgetful that his strength is just as ne¬
cessary to enable us to bear these as greater
trials ? If we ask for a remedy, may we not
And it in the cultivation of a spirit of entire
reliance on God for everything? We have
'elt that he must help us to do and bear great
things, but practically we have regarded our
own strength sufficient for the less. " With¬
out me ve can do nothing." Y. E. A.
Selected for the Sunday-School Times.
GOOD WORKS.
GOOD works are necessary to our inward
peace and comfort. We often see that
observation verified, that "the wicked are like
a troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose
waters cast up mire and dirt;" and that " there
is no peace to the wicked." They must have
seared consciences indeed, who can have
peaceable minds in a progress of sin, and in
the neglect of practical godliness. A truly
tender conscience will always remonstrate
against the indulgence of any 3in, either of
omission or commission. And how unhappy
and uncomfortable a life it is to have our own
hearts condemning us, to have a worm gnawing
in our breasts, to have conscience applying the
terrors of the law, and representing to us our
guilt and danger. And yet this cannot be
avoided withwut a life of good works. We
cannot have grounds of rejoicing, but from
" the testimony of our consciences, that in
simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly
wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have
had our conversation in the world." As they
who live careless and sensual lives, cannot
have good evidences of a renewed nature
and a safe state, they must necessarily be
strangers to that joy and comfort which flow
from the refreshing views of an interest in the
covenant of grace, and from the sense of
having the eternal God for our father and
friend, compassionately to provide for ug here,
and to make us eternally happy in the enjoy¬
ment of himself. They must likewise be alto¬
gether strangers to the unspeakable consola¬
tion which flows from a life of communion
with God. For this is never obtained without
a progress in holiness and good works. If
therefore we would have the continual feast of
a peaceful conscience;  if we would enjoy a
For the 8unday-School Times.
PETER ROGERS'S FLOWERS.
BY   THE   REV.  JOHN   TODD, D. D.
New Series—No. 24.
SOMETIMES when I go past a large, costly
mansion, surrounded with its tall trees,
its green, smooth lawn spread out like soft
velvet, its walks so winding and beautiful, its
large, perfect garden, its grapery and green¬
house, its coach-house and barns,it seems to be
that the owner must have his heart full of en¬
joyment and gratitude. But alas ! sometimes
I find the man dead and gone just as he had
finished his plans. Sometimes I find him an
invalid, unable to enjoy anything of all these
luxuries. Sometimes I find him unsocial
and unamiable, and so repulsive that nobody
wants to go near his grounds. What a pity
that we can't receive gratefully and enjoy all
that God has given us!
And sometimes I find a very humble
dwelling, yet bearing the marks of good
taste, a place of great contentment and
of high enjoyment. I have such a place
now in my mind. It is the home of Peter
Rogers. Peter is an aged man, a full-blooded
negro, with a white head, a high fore¬
head, and a mild, thoughtful countenance.
His little house stands just at the foot of the
slope from the mountain, nestled in among
the trees and flowers, which grow and bloom
as beautifully on bis grounds as on the grounds
of the rich. Indeed, flowers seem like the
smiles of God, and are as beautiful at the cot¬
tage as at the palace door. Peter has not a
large number of trees, or of flowers; but what
he has are all perfect of their kind. His trees
were selected with the greatest care, and some
choice ones were sent for at a great distance.
Every limb and branch is perfect.
One day, as I was passing, I noticed Peter
bending over a charming heliotrope, and
gazing at it with most evident pleasure. A
mother looking into the eyes of her babe could
hardly be more absorbed.
"So you love your flowers, Peter?"
" Indeed I do, sir."
"Can you tell me why ?"
"Not exactly. Sometimes I look at them,
and wonder how God came to think of making
just such a flower I Take this heliotrope. It
grows in the same bed with those fuchias, but
how different in form, in color, and in smell!
£ sometimes wonder at the great variety
of kinds; sometimes I wonder at the rich
colors so nicely put in them; sometimes
at the number of colors in a single flower. I
stand here, sir, and sometimes wonder how
God, who made that great, high mountain
under whose shadow I live, should stoop to
put in the little leaves and the bright colore
of this flower. You know I live all alone, sir,
but I take great pains wiih my flowers, for it
always seems to me that Cod must kind o' love
fioioers !"
" What makes you think that, Peter ?"
" Why, sir, I cannot exactly tell. But I feel
that he does. One day, when I was younger
than I now am, I climbed that great mountain
all alone. I wanted to see how it was made.
Well, sir, when I got up near the top among
the rocks, where I felt sure no other human
foot ever trod, there, nestled in among the
huge, broken rocks, I found some most beau¬
tiful flowers 1 What were they made for, but
for God to see ? And I said to myself, • Peter,
this is wonderful! If the infinite God every
day turns aside from the care of the great
worlds which they say roll in the heavens, to
visit and paint these little flowers, it must be
because he loves flowers!' So I dug some of
them up, and in the shady parts of my garden
they have grown ever since. I think God
must love beautiful things, and so he puts
beautiful colors on the feathers of the bird,
and on the shells which grow far down in the
deep sea, and on the blossoms of the fruit trees,
and on the bow which he hangs in the heavens.
And I sometimes think, sir, that if I was mor*
like God, I should love my flowers more than.
I now do."
"Bat, Peter, when yoa die, you must leave
all these beautiful things, and have nothing
of the kind."
"Don't you believe that, sir. Sometimes in
the dark night, when I cannot sleep, I can
recall, and I seem to see my flowers just as
plain as if it was morning. I see them in my
memory. So, sir, if I don't find flowers in
heaven, I shall carry them with me in the
memory. But we shall find them there. Is
it not a garden, a paradise, where all the good
and the beautiful thiDgs that God hath made
will be gathered ? There is to be a river, and
trees, the fruit of the tree, and why not flow¬
ers? Why, I believe, sir, that where God
smiles, will be flowers in proportion to his
smiles."
Would you be exempt from uneasiness, do.
not one thing you know or suspect to be
wrong. Would you enjoy the purest pleasure,
do everything in your power you are con¬
vinced is right.