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how shall the bird escape that is in the snare of the fowler? Various efforts for his deliverance from this destructive habit were made, but all to no purpose. Never shall we forget how he once came to us when, as a boy, we were engaged at some work in the barn. Some of his clothes but barely hung fast to his haggard and wretched looking person. He said he wished to break off from his evil habit; and added that if he could only get a dollar to pay for a pair of pantaloons that were ready for him with the tailor, he would drink no more. We had no doubt of his sincerity. We had a dollar-our only stock and store -and it was not a small fund for a farmer-boy to possess in those days. The bargain was made-we gave him the dollar, and he promised with tears to drink no more. As sincere in his pledge, we believe, as ever man was, he started for the tailor-shop. But he had to pass a tavern! It was too much for him. He was drawn in. He spent the dollar for liquor and was as wretched as before. Sorry are we to be compelled to relate, that all subsequent efforts to redeem him from the serpent that hung to his vitals, were not any more successful, and the poor blacksmith went down, at last, to a drunkard's grave!
Whether he was a suicide, or whether those who tempted his weakness, and caused him to break all his well-intended resolutions, were murderers, the day of judgment will determine. One thing we know, that this case of the poor blacksmith fully convinced us of two things: First, that there are many wretched drunkards who truly desire to reform; and would do so, if they were properly sustained by their fellow beings. Secondly, that the only way to sustain them, is to take the temptation out of their way. Hence, we have ever since firmly believed, that the tempter is worse than the tempted; and that it will be more tolerable, even for such poor wretches, in the day of judgment, than for those who, when they would reform, feed their weakness and lead them out of the way.
One thing is certain selling strong drink makes drunkards; this result, those who sell, either can or cannot prevent; if they can, they are the most miserable wretches in creation for not doing it; if they cannot, they ought to quit a business, the ruinous effects of which they cannot control. Sure we are, that one swift witness against some of them at the day of judgment, will be none other than our poor old blacksmith.
ONE HOUR.-There was once a lad who at fourteen was apprenticed to a soap boiler. One of his resolutions was to read one hour a day, or at least at that rate; and he had an old silver watch, left him by his . uncle, which he timed his reading by. He stayed seven years with his master, and his master said when he was twenty-one he knew as much as the old squire did. Now let us see how much time he had to read in seven years, at the rate of an hour a day. It would be twenty-five hundred and fifty-five hours, which, at the rate of eight reading hours a day, would be three hundred and nineteen days, equal to forty-five weeks, equal to eleven months; nearly a years reading. That time spent in treasuring up useful knowledge would pile up a very large store. I am sure it is worth trying for. Try what you can do.
A FEW WORDS FOR THE SORROWFUL.
BY OLD HUMPHREY.
I SUPPOSE, with regard to the love of rural scenery, it is much the same with my neighbors as with myself; for among the endless variety, the countless grades and shades of disposition among mankind, every one breathes the fresh air of heaven with pleasure; every one gazes on the beauties of creation with delight.
The spring and summer breezes always set my heart beating. The spirit of the country seems to beckon me abroad, and I cannot help revelling in my fancy among knolly green fields and retired lanes, woods and waterfalls.
When Old Humphrey is once surrounded by elms, gnarled oaks, and rural scenes, rich with vegetation; when the mossy green grass is cool under his feet, and the sunlit clouds are bright above his head, his heart dances for joy. All things around him are then felt, indeed, to be the gifts of God, and he pants, as the hart after the water-brooks, to show forth his thankfulness.
No wonder, when spring and summer bring out the verdure and beauty of shrubs and flowers, when they wake the insect tribes to animated life, and call forth the song of joy from the warbling birds, that the heart of man should join the jubilee of creation. Again I say, when the breezes of spring and summer blow, the spirit of the country beckons me abroad.
It was an early hour of the day that I wandered forth, enjoying the wonderous beauty of the earth and skies. I had turned along a retired path, a sort of bridle-way, but little used, except by the owners of the adjoining fields, and by a band of bird-catchers, who have been long accustomed to lime their twigs, to place their cages, and to spread their nets there. Now and then, a solitary rambler, like myself, may be seen, seeking the privacy that the place affords; but with these exceptions, the spot is little frequented; no wonder that the green grass flourishes their in abundance.
In this secluded place, an ass and a horse were grazing. The ass, poor thing, was blind, and the horse seemed to be as heavily afflicted as his lowly companion. No doubt he was the wreck of what he had once been; he had neighed and snorted and arched his proud neck, in his time, and rattled over the ground at a rapid rate. He had, doubtless, been petted and patted, and curried as horses are, when they possess beauty, when their necks are clothed with thunder, and their hoofs are shod with speed; but these things were all over with him. The summer of his life was gone, and his high hips, broken knees, rueful coat, and ribs that might be counted, told a sorrowful tale,
I stood, for some time, looking at him, as he eagerly tore away the fresh grass from the green turf; but it was neither his high hips, his
broken knees, his bare ribs, nor his rueful coat, that made me gaze on him with interest. One of his hind legs was sorely diseased. Whether occasioned by ill usage, hard work, or accident, I cannot say; but he could not set his foot to the ground. Even while he was grazing, he kept raising his diseased limb to an unusual height, evidently in a state of suffering; hardly could he limp forward, when he had closely cropped the herbage within his reach; and when he did so, he laid back his ears, showed the white of his eyes, and exposed his fore-teeth, in a way that spoke eloquently of pain. Poor wretch! thought I; but his days are numbered, his trials are almost over, It is but for time. It will not be so always.
The poor animal, it is true, had only bodily pain to endure; he had no wants to provide for, no yearnings after life, and no fearful forebodings of death; and, therefore, he was mercifully dealt with in the midst of his misery; but the only solid satisfaction that I could fall back upon, was what I have already expressed-the reflection, It will not be so always.
This little incident set me thinking on the sorrows of the animal creation, and then on the afflictions of mankind. It was not in a merely sentimental mood that I mused on human trials. No! a strong spirit of affection for my species, of tender compassion for all that mourn, came over me, and my heart yearned to pour oil and balm into the wounds of the stricken, and to bind up all that were bruised and broken.
Why there should be so much sin and suffering in the world has been a puzzling question to many a wiser head than mine. This is a shadowy page in God's providence, that I have pondered with pain. I have mused and mourned over it, and blurred and blotted it with my tears. There are gracious passages in the word of God, however, that throw some light on this dark subject, though it is sometimes awfully mysterious; and their is much consolation afforded to my mind by the conviction, It will not be so always.
Always! no! Time is but a span-a speck; and the gloom of the Christian will give way to glory. Shadows shall be exchanged for sunshine, pain for pleasure, and temporary grief for eternal joy. If we only believed in the realities of eternity with the same undoubting confidence that we feel as we gaze on the things of sense, then might we smile at calamity, and rejoice in tribulation.
But there is such a thing (I speak feelingly) as being weak in faith. It is well, therefore, to have a few strong points in creation and revelation to fall back upon in seasons of infirmity. When we doubt the power of God, we should gaze on the sun and the moon suspended in the air, and ask if aught but Almighty power could hang and uphold them there. And when we doubt the mercy and grace of the Redeemer, we should read over again and again these heart sustaining texts:-"This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." "He is able also to save them to the uttermost that come into God by him."
Far be it from me to draw away the heart of any Christian mourner from the blessed promises contained in the Holy Scriptures. These ought to be meat and drink, a refreshing draught and a sustaining cordial to us all; but sometimes a simple, short observation, though lisped by a stammering tongue, or written by a very indifferent pen, may be of service.
If, then, you happen to be afflicted, perhaps you will dwell with me for a moment on the words, It will not be so always.
There are very few of God's people who have not some open, or some secret affliction; for the words, "In the world ye shall have tribulation," are not a figure of speach, but a literal truth. A man may have hidden troubles as well as hidden treasures, in his strong box, that no one knows of but himself; and this may be your case. We conceal our infirmities and our afflictions, oftentimes, with more jealousy than we hide our money-bags.
Are they not animating words to say to the blind :— Cheer up, fellow. pilgrim, for your eyes are about to be opened?" To the lame:"Take courage; the use of your limbs will be soon restored, and you will be enabled to run without weariness, and to walk without fainting?" Are they not enough to make the one or the other sing for joy? Why, then, should not you sing? The time is short; the kingdom of heaven is at hand;" you are in trial, but, It will not be so always.
Whether you are afflicted in the sight or the sinews, the head or the heel; whether you are groping, as the poor ass, or hobbling about like the horse, no matter. Whatever may be your troubles, whether affiicted in mind, bod or estate, take courage. I say, It will not be so always.
What are our troubles of yesterday to us to-day? And what will those of to-day be to us to-morrow? But you may think that your troubles are peculiar. Well! what of that? God's people are a peculiar people, and have peculiar support; no wonder that their troubles should be peculiar also. Dwell not upon them, but look forward to peculiar joys. These afflictions-heavy though we think them-spring not from the dust. They are weighed in the balance, and are not a scruple too light or too heavy for your case. Whether for a moment,
"The heart is mournful or with rapture glows,
Bear, then, your afflictions patiently, submissively, acquiescently: It will not be so always.
If we did but know what our afflictions defend us from, as well as we know what they bring upon us, we should be more reconciled to have them for companions. They may give us pain, and yet be so blest as to afford us peace. They may give a gloom to time, and yet impart a glory to eternity. I have some friends, now, whose afflictions I put into my prayers, not that they may be removed, for that might or might not be a blessing; but that they may be among the "all things" that work together for the good of God's people.
When I began these homely observations, I hoped to make them better worth your acceptance, but I have found before now, to my mortification, that strong sympathy has oftentimes none but very weak language at its command. You must give me credit for my thoughts being better than my words; and taking what comfort you can under your afflictions, from the remembrance that, It will not be so always, look steadily, hopefully, and trustfully to the God of all consolation, who hath said, "Even to your old age I am he; and even to hoary hairs I will carry you." "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
THE GREEK AND LATIN LANGUAGES.
THEIR UTILITY IN A LIBERAL EDUCATION.
BY HON. A. L. HAYES.
THE agency of Grecian and Roman authors in the revival of letters in modern Europe, must forever commend them to the veneration of enlightened minds, throughout the world. The recovery of the gems of ancient literature, from the cells of the monasteries in which they had been for ages immured and preserved from the Barbarian Spoilers of the Roman Empire, roused at once the dormant energies of the European intellect, and served more than any other cause to dispel the thick darkness which, followed the desolating irruptions of the Goths into Italy. Such was the admiration excited by this resurrection of ancient genius, that for centuries after, all other studies and literary occupation were deemed trivial and unimportant. The works of the Greek and Roman poets, historians and philosophers, were thought to comprise whatever was desirable for the accomplishment of the understanding and the improvement of morals. They were dignified with the appellation of humanities, litera humaniores, implying their superior, if not exclusive, excellence; and whoever dedicated themselves to the study of them, received the corresponding title of humanists, as exhibiting the meliorating influence of their pursuits:
Emollit mores nec sinit esse feros.
The progress of the useful arts, compelled at length some degree of attention in the systems of education to mathematical and physical studies, but the text-books of the sciences were for a long time published and studied in Latin, which continued until no very remote period past, to be the exclusive language of scientific and philosophical treatises. With the gradual improvement of the modern languages of Europe, a party was formed, who from denying the propriety of learning the sciences in a foreign tongue, proceeded to question the utility of making the ancient and dead languages an object of general education; contending that the period devoted to the acquisition of Greek and Latin, would be much better employed in acquiring the mathematical and physical sciences, and the many branches of daily useful knowledge. In contradistinction to the Humanists, these were called Philanthropists
Both, as adverse parties generally do, pushed their peculiar dogmas to opposite extremes, whilst truth and reason occupied their appropriate sphere in the midst.
The controversy has been maintained with ability on each side, and with the occasional appearance of some champions on the extreme wing of the Philanthropists, whose position there has caused us, in the language of King David, "to drink the wine of astonishment." In this remark, however, we would not be understood to allude to the late Ste-phen Girard, who declined to recommend the introduction of the Greek