the accumulation of wrath, and is willing to sacrifice principle and honor to attain it. We cannot estimate too highly the influence of christians in their everyday relation to the world around them. One who is known as a professed follower of Christ, is the more keenly watched for that reason, and if he is obscene and immoral in his conversation, not reliable in business, careless of his word as a man, he continually betrays the master he pretends to serve, and that too, for much less than thirty pieces of silver, for often a single piece, and that the smallest of its kind, is enough to tempt him to deny him practically. Weak and inexperienced followers frequently stumble at his inconsistencies-men of strong religious tendencies, whose hearts yearn for something outside themselves to rest their faith upon, are disgusted with the seeming shallowness of christianity, whilst those who scoff and sneer at religion, are given an opportunity to vent their jeers and jibes at the church as a whole, unjustly condemning the pure fountain of living water because of a filthy and stagnant puddle. But a consistent christian, upright, honest, truthful-firm in his principles-unswerving in his integrity-earnest in his desire to praise God by his daily walk, continually upholds and strengthens the weaker ones around him. They take courage from his firmness-they are animated by his moral heroism, and nerve themselves to endure and conquer as he has done. His consistent life in business, in conversation, and every other respect, bears daily testimony in favor of the truth, and men are forced to acknowledge that there is a power in Christ, not found in the world. It is of importance, especially to young men-those who are about to take responsible positions in the world-to act for themselves as full grown men, that they should lay the foundations upon which they hope to build their reputation, strong and deep. No time-serving, vacillating, compromising man, will ever make his mark for good in the world. Bnt let a man plant himself upon the rock of eternal truth-make principle of everything and ignore policy, suffer all things rather than willingly do wrong, be ready, if need be, to sacrifice everything, even his life for the truth, relying always with implicit faith on Jesus Christthe author and finisher of your faith, and he will not only make his mark in this world as a man of sound piety and correct principle, but what is far better, he will inherit eternal life in the world to come. ALL'S WELL. THE clouds which rise with thunder, slake Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to break The love of God more plain; THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO-BY AN EYE WITNESS. RY REV. D. WILLERS. THE RETREAT. IT is often easier to retreat than to advance. However, the faithful soldier does not give up one inch of ground, unless by stern necessity. Our retreat as it was premeditated, commenced on the 17th of June, 1815, at 2 o'clock, P. M. It was a voluntary retreat, agreeing with the laws of Field-marshals Wellington and Blucher. There was no enemy in pursuit of us, and yet the retreat was made with long steps, though in regular order. We retreated till 4 o'clock, when it became necessary to halt, for we were prevented by other troops, who were ahead of us, to advance. These two hours of retreat have made a lasting impression upon my mind. We retreated over many ditches. Fences are a scarce article in Flanders. The ground was low and marshy. At about three o'clock, the vaults of heaven were opened by a rain shower. It rained, as if poured down in buckets, and we called it a rain spout, as no doubt it was, for since that day. I never saw it rain in a similar manner. Frequently we waded half knee deep through the water. Soldiers lost their shoes in this marshy ground, and it was good luck that they had another pair in their knapsacks. As we halted, detachments were sent out in the neighborhood for provisions. We came to a large farm house built of brick, in a square style. The one side closed by the house, the second by the barn, the third by out-houses, and the fourth forms the entry, with a large gate for men to walk in, and a large one for horses and teams. In the midst of the square buildings was a fountain, where the water emptied into a large basin. We entered first into the house, which gave signs that it was owned by a gentleman of fine taste. A large parlor room was decorated with oil paintings and statuary. Here was visible among the soldiers, the spirit of civilization and christianization. Whilst in the fifth century after Christ, the rude heathen nations, as the Goths, Visigoths, Huns, Alains, Vandals, Heruli, Lombards, Burgundians, Gepidae, Sueves, made their invasions into the Roman Empire, they had no taste for architecture, paintings, sculpture, no taste for the fine arts, and they destroyed many a valuable monument of antiquity. In the chateau of the gentilhomme, no picture was destroyed or molested, or injured. They were considered sacred. As we came to look after provisions, and there was none found in the upper departments of the house, we endeavored to go into the cellar, which is the proper place for provision. Here we could find no admittance. The German troops were too late, for the English had taken possession of the cellar, and waded almost as deep into the beer as we did in the water during the rain spout. The owner had a large ale cellar. The English filled their cantines, and we stood and gazed at them. Here were applicable the words of Cicero in his Offices, (Book 1, 39.) Ah, good old house, alas thy present lord, Is widely different from the former one. But as we wanted to have something to do, we did not look long on our English neighbors, but went into the stable, where we found a good sized calf, which we killed and quartered, and subdivided again. We returned to the army with difficulty, for the Provost Marshal of the army nearly overtook us, whose commission it was to see whether the detachments had paid for their provisions, and if he found it otherwise, he had the power to hang the soldiers without any further trial. As soon as the detachments had returned, the retreat was continued with vigor. It was near five o'clock. We retreated now frequently in running, as fast as the ground and strength would permit. At six o'clock we heard again the roar of the French cannons. We saw, from a distance, the turnpike of Brussels, where we arrived at half-past six o'clock. But what an aspect! Here the brave English cavalry protected the retreat of the infantry and artillery. These men, who deserved to be called knights, were splashed with mud and blood, and made a frightful appearance. They had been a good while on their post. The French artillery was posted on a high eminence, and as the turnpike was wide, they had the whole breadth filled with cannons, which every moment poured out their deadly balls on Wellington's retreating army. There was not a quarter of a mile distance between us and the French. We were the last retreating troops, and if we had come ten minutes later, we would all have been made prisoners of war. As the French cannon balls struck on the turnpike so thick, as if they were raining from the clouds, we marched on the turnpike by divisions or half companies, so as to come quicker beyond the cannon fire. Many a man and officer was lost here, in about ten minutes, and the divisions were considerably diminished. The cannon balls occasionally took away two or three men, flying from one division to the other, and proceeding like a hurricane-in fifteen minutes we were beyond the reach of the cannons, and we marched now in platoons, till 7 o'clock. At this time we defiled to the left, where we came again on marshy and muddy ground. We advanced now towards the ground, which Wellington had chosen; where he wanted to give battle to Napoleon. Our place of destiny for the great battle was reached at eight o'clock in the evening. It was an immense field, sowed with rye, as far as the human eye could see. Here Wellington formed his line. On the right he was supported by the forest of Soignes, and on the left by the forest of Ohaim, by which he kept open his communication with field-marshal Blucher. Here he could meet the French in an open field. Our position now was on a high eminence, near Waterloo. When we came to the end of a day's work, the muskets were set together, four by four. But before we came to rest, the order of field-marshal Wellington was received, in which he gave great applause to the German troops under the command of General Lieutenant von Alten, for their bravery and heroism, during the last two days, announcing however at the same time that for the next day, the German Hanoverian troops with the rest of the centre, were placed there "to live or to die." Indeed, hard orders! We now prepared ourselves to make a kind of bed of the rye, which surrounded us, and which was, at least six feet high. But it made a watery bed, for the rye was very wet, and the ground below far from being solid. So, wetted through to the skin, we laid down on the wet rye, without any thing to eat or to drink. Soon the fires of numerous barracks brightened the night, and the forest of Soignees, in possession of Wellington, appeared like one combined blaze, giving light to the farms of Belle Alliance and La Haye Sainte. The rain during the night fell in torrents, only ceasing towards day-light. The great fatigues of the day overcame all our needs, and with all the noise of the rain and the guards, we received, in our wet clothes, a refreshing sleep, until the break of the day. A LITTLE WHILE. BEYOND the smiling and the weeping, Beyond the waking and the sleeping, Love, rest, and home! Sweet home! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the blooming and the fading, Beyond the shining and the shading, Love, rest, and home! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the rising and the setting, Beyond the calming and the fretting, Love, rest, and home! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the parting and the meeting,. Beyond the farewell and the greeting Love, rest, and home! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the frost-chain and the fever, Beyond the rock-waste and the river, Love, rest, and home! Lord, tarry not, but come. EDITORIAL SEED-THOUGHTS. "GATHER UP THE FRAGMENTS THAT REMAIN, THAT NOTHING BE LOST." SIMPLICITY OF LANGUAGE IN SERMONS. There are in every congregation many simple-hearted pious persons whose education is very limited, and whose acquaintance with language extends only to the simplest words and expressions. They are limited to the Saxon words, and what goes beyond that is "Greek" to them. Hence ministers, instead of aiming at using "great swelling words," which is commonly, but falsely called "good language," ought to study the greatest simplicity. This would not only make Sermons shorter than they generally are, but render them much more intelligable to the ignorant. On a certain occasion one minister exchanged pulpits with another. The strange preacher delivered a sermon on the Martyrdom of Stephen, in which he invariably called him the Proto-Martyr. After the sermon, a simple-hearted old lady went up to the preacher and addressed him thus: "I liked your sermon very well so far as I understood it; but there was one word that I did not understand, and that kept me from understanding much of the rest of the discourse-it was Proto-Martyr. Pray what is Proto-martyr?" "Proto-martyr," said the minister, simply means the FIRST martyr.' "O" said the lady in a sad tone, "why did you not then simply call him so! The minister felt reproved. He saw that he had kept a pious soul in severe distress throughout a whole sermon, by using a word derived from the Greek, when he might just as easily have used a word easily understood by all. cruel thus to perplex the minds of the simple, when it can be so easily avoided. How We remember another case of a similar kind. A pious old lady went and presented herself before a pastor who just had preached his first sermon for them. "I liked your sermon," she said, "but in one thing your preaching differs from that of our former pastor. He always had so many LIKES in his sermons. I al You had no ways like those LIKES. LIKES in your sermon at all." "How?-what do you mean by LIKES." asked the new pastor. ed it. "Why you know, he always said one thing was LIKE another-and so explainYou know, as our Saviour did. His preaching, you know, was full of LIKES. He said the Kingdom of heaven was LIKE this or that; then explained it, that is what I mean. Our 'pastor, you know, preached with those LIKES. His sermons were full of them. O, I understood him so well, because he had LIKES in his sermons!" The good pastor had learned a lesson from this simple-minded pious old lady which he had not learned in the Seminary. It was the fact that uneducated people do not think abstractly, but always by analogy; and that if he will do this class of persons good he must illustrate, as our Saviour did, things spiritual by things natural-the higher by the lower-the heavenly by the earthly. In one word he must put LIKES into his sermons. It is said that the venerable Dr. Alexander used to preach in certain places near Princeton in neighborhoods composed of comparatively simple people. Sometimes when he could not go himself, he sent some of his students. The consequence was that the Doctor was entirely eclipsed by his own students! The people said that his students were much more learned than their teacher, because they could understand him, but the students went beyond their comprehension! At length the people took courage to inform the Doctor, how his reputation for learning was suffering by contrast with his learned students! "You know," said the Doctor, "there is quite an old lady who sits near the far end of the house." Yes, they knew her. "She is very ignorant, is she not," he asked. They said she was. "Well," said he," I always have her in my mind, and endeavor to speak so simply that she can understand me; and |