now, this moment, in this room, with his finger in the ink-horn, not to write your constitution, but to blot it out." This sudden address convulsed the convention with laughter, which in a moment dispelled the storm, and revealed a clear sun, which, instantly perceiving, he added, "there, there, he has gone already to his blue brimstone." any one would manifest who would openly break such a tie. "Now," continued he, "just such a slender, delicate thread has come from God to you this afternoon. You do not feel, you say, any interest in religion — but, by coming here this afternoon, God has fastened one little thread upon you all; it is very weak and frail, and you can in a moment brush it away. But you certainly will not do so. Welcome it, and it will enlarge and strengthen itself, until it becomes a golden chain to bind you forever to God." Another instance, equally good, but of a very different order, may be given. A few years ago, a Universalist, in one of the Western States, who did not pretend to be a moral man, met a minister of the Gospel, and com- To mention the various plans of good labormenced addressing him in the presence of a ed for, and accomplished, on the part of this large number of people on his favorite doc- excellent man, would be to almost fill a voltrine, saying a great deal about what Christ ume. One more only shall now be adverted had done for all mankind. The minister to. A gentleman, who saw and conversed heard him through, and then said "Friend, with him in Boston, when he visited that city if you are a reasonable man, I will convince you, from your own words, that Jesus Christ never did anything for you. Now, what do you say Christ came into the world for?" "To save us from our sins." "Well, he certainly has not done that for you, since you are committing sin every day." "He saves us from the punishment of sin." "But you have just told me that you receive the punishment of your sins every day, as you go along; and he certainly has not saved you from hell, for you said that there is no such thing as hell!" The Universalist was glad to retreat in silence. Very few ministers, either in this or in any other country, had more tact in the discharge of duty than Dr. Payson. Once, in the progress of a revival among his church in Portland, after having repeatedly invited meetings in his house, of those who wished to seek religion, he one day gave an invitation to all those young persons who did not intend to seek religion. Any one, who did not know Dr. Payson, would be surprised to hear that thirty or forty came. He had a very pleasant social interview with them, saying nothing about religion, until just as they were about to leave, he closed a very few plain and simple remarks as follows: "Suppose you should see, coming down from heaven, a very fine thread, so fine as to be almost invisible, and it should come and attach itself to you. You knew, we suppose, that it came from God. Should you dare to put out your hand and brush it away?" He dwelt a few moments on this idea, until every one had a clear and fixed conception of it, and of the hardihood which toward the latter part of his life, was led by his preaching and conversation to very serious concern for his soul, but his wife was still, in a great measure, indifferent to the subject. Meeting her one day in company, he said to her: "Madam, I think your husband is looking upward; making some effort to rise above the world, toward God and heaven. You must not let him try alone. Whenever I see the husband struggling alone in such efforts, it makes me think of a dove endeavoring to fly upward, while it has one broken wing. It leaps and flutters, and perhaps raises itself a little way, and then it becomes wearied, and drops again to the ground. If both wings co-operate, then it mounts easily." A SMOOTH SHILLING. "THAT piece won't go, sir!" observed the man behind the counter, handing me back again a shilling so worn that nothing could be seen on either side of it but a dull silvery lustre, and no perceptible figure. I took it, and replaced it in my purse. But as I rode homeward my meditations were of the shilling. It won't go, he said; but why not? It is no doubt a genuine coin: for ten, twenty, or even fifty years, it has been in constant circulation. The hands of some thousands of persons have held it. It has sparkled as a pretty toy in the tiny fingers of some sweet child; it has been clutched by the ferruginous hand of the miser. It has laid upon the glazed eyeball of a youth in the shroud; clinked in the till of a liquor dealer; been tossed to the street musician as an inducement to him to cut short the agony of his organ. It has traveled through all the States, passing current from the seaboard to the remotest interior, and never at a discount. It has been exchanged in its time for commodities enough to make any beggar a Crœsus. To multitudes it has brought, over and over again in some shape, the worth of a shilling. Others have possessed and lost it, but obtained no equivalent. It was their fault, however, and not the shilling's. But now the tide is turned. The faithful piece of money would seem to be delinquent. "It won't go." But why not? again I ask. Because it is smooth. Its surface tells no tale that we can credit. It bears not the impress of the mint, or the government insignia. No head, pillars, or date does it show. A coin must have impressions, or it is only a plaything, a medal, or a silver button-mould. Smooth pieces of silver "won't go" any better than if they were bits of my grandmother's spoons, or those famous old knee-buckles that figured on my grandfather's small-clothes. The genuine current coin must have the genuine stamp. Here, thought I, is a lesson for us. Our minds, hearts and lives must bear the right impressions, or we cannot pass current in good society. Of little worth is he in life of whom "the smooth shilling" is a type. The man on whom you can see no head, or date, or stars, or pillars, or eagle, nothing by which it could be guessed that he was "E pluribus unum,' his expression only the dull resemblance of tarnished silver, his eyes of pewter, in which there is "no speculation," his soul unmarked with any trace or brand of moral obligation, of generous sympathy, of Christian fervor; every body is ready to say of him, as said the tradesman of the shilling, "That piece wont go, sir." It ought not to go. It has been loosely drifting about long enough. It is time it was returned to the mint as bullion, to be re-issued, to receive the stamp of a man. Ah! there is the fault with him. It was the original sin of his education, that no deep, strong, correct impression was made upon his nature. He had no pious mother to furrow his soul with her tears; no godly father to drive marks deep into the substance of his spiritual existence. The pulpit did not raise, along the margin of his affections, the breastwork of faith and hope and fear of God. The sanctions of the Bible were either unknown or unheeded, so that no "image and superscription" of divine truth was ever inscribed upon him, when in the mint of his years-his plastic infancy. The world, the flesh and Satan, have made him rough enough, but no trace of the divine government is on him, no stamp of the powers above. He is smooth for all such impressions, and, therefore, he cannot pass current. Reader, are you a parent, a teacher, a pastor, a Christian, a lover of your race? Put your stamp upon the young. Prepare the dye with the greatest care. Improve your opportunity. Make your mark. Let it be deep and indelible. each immortal coin, each living soul, be charged with the image of our heavenly King, with the radiant lines of the Redeemer's face, and then shall it be legal tender in the Church below, and at the gates of the New Jerusalem. [Congregationalist. Let N. P. WILLIS wrote the following lines, when he was a young man, and a much better man than he is now. Often have we read them with feelings of in tense pleasure; but how it is to be regretted that "leaping pulses" should ever have made him forget that "mother's voice." My mother's voice! how often creeps Its cadence on my lonely hours, Like healing sent on wings of sleep, Or dew to the unconscious flowers. I can forget her melting prayer While leaping pulses madly fly, But in the still unbroken air Her gentle tones come stealing by, And years and sin and manhood filee, And leave me at my mother's knee. The book of nature, and the print Of beauty on the whispering sea, Give aye to me some lineament Of what I have been taught to be. My heart is harder, and perhaps My manliness hath drunk up tears, And there's a mildew in the lapse Of a few miserable years; But nature's book is even yet With all my mother's lessons writ. I have been out at eventide, Beneath a moon-light sky of spring, When earth was garnished like a bride, And night had on her silver wingWhen bursting leaves and diamond grass, And waters leaping to the light, All that makes the pulses pass With wilder fleetness, thronged the night, When all was beauty-then have I, With friends on whom my love is flung Like myrrh on winds of Araby, Gazed up where evening's lamp is hung. And when the beautiful spirit there The spirit of a bended knee, I've poured a low and fervent prayer, To rise in heaven like stars at night, When night was stealing from the dawn, And mist was on the waking rills, And tints were delicately drawn In the gray east-when birds were waking Upon the whisper of the breeze, Like words from the departing night- First prayer with which I learned to bow, Have felt my mother's spirit rush Upon me as ir by-past years, Have risen up the gay, the wild- NON-INTERVENTION. It THIS is not barely a political question. is destined, at no distant day, to have an important influence on the progress of Protestantism throughout the world. The British Quarterly Review has an article on the subject, which may interest our readers. It will be seen that the Reviewer advocates non-intervention, except on certain contingencies: : "As firmly as we believe in the vital importance of the doctrine of non-intervention, so rigidly are we bound to employ all the resources of our national character and influence, in compelling this doctrine to be respected. In acts of international piracy, such as the French invasion of Rome, and the Russian invasion of Hungary, there is an undoubted right on the part of England to exert her strength, whether for remonstrance or chastisement. The manner of exercising the right, of course, is a subject for prudential consideration. Peace or war is an alternative over which a statesman may well hesitate. "For England, the whole question of our foreign relations is merging rapidly into a question of self-defence. The coup d'etat of Louis Napoleon has brought despotism to our doors. The whole area of the continent being now virtually or really under Russian influence, the only part of Europe that remains to be conquered is England. Belgium, Sardinia and Switzerland are already doomed. Let the present rulers of Europe only feel that they have consolidated their powers, and as sure as fate there will be a determination of their whole strength against the powers and liberties of this island. There are already symptoms of this in the treatment abroad of our tourists and our ambassadors. The Englishman, it seems, is to become a mark for every petty official to spit at! Attacks on our commerce will come next. Last of all, when the time is ripe, will come, on some pretext or other, a declaration of war. England, which replaced all the kings of Europe, may have their enmity as her recompense. An invasion of the island itself on the one hand, by the Algerian Generals of Louis Napoleon; and a march into British India, on the other, by a Russian army proceeding through Persia ; these are contemplated possibilities.. Hence these paragraphs about rifle clubs, the accoutrements of our army and the like, which appear daily in the newspapers. A month or two ago, those demonstrations of alarm would have been denounced as ridiculous; now, even Cobden holds his tongue. Fortunately, however, there is a higher hope of safety for us than in all ball clubs and rifle clubs on our own account. In the battle, when it comes, we shall not stand alone. The same battle which is a battle of self-defence for us, will be a battle of freedom for the whole world. When England takes up arms for the defence of her liberties, there will be Polish, Hungarian and Italian officers in her army; and other men than we now see will have a place in her councils. England will then be a rendezvous of the Liberals of all European nations. America, in such case, could scarcely be inactive. To be a mere looker-on, while the great interests of humanity were at stake, would be to sell herself to infamy as lasting as the world's Greek Church Erastianism, and Materialistic Socialism; on the other, Freedom, Protestantism, Anglo Saxony chivalry, and the nobler forms of Social Aspiration. He has been calling civilization. The English worsted in such a writing him an answer This battle, among other things, will help to solve the problem of the fusion of nationalities. If the issue is as we are bound to hope, the people of the old world will be the willing members of one great commonwealth; if it is the reverse, liberty will seek a refuge in the new hemisphere, where all the nationalities are already commingled." HOW GREAT MEN ARE TRAINED. Ar a public dinner recently given in Acton, Mass., Hon. R. C. Winthrop made an excellent speech, in which he introduced the following anecdote of John Q. Adams: "Let me illustrate this idea, Mr. President, by relating to you one of the most interesting personal incidents which I can look back upon in the course of ten years' service in Congress. It was an interview which I had with our late venerated fellow-citizen, John Quincy Adams, about five or six years ago. It was on the floor of the Capitol, not far from the spot where he soon afterwards fell. The House had adjourned one day somewhat suddenly, and at an early hour, and it happened that after all the other members had left the Hall, Mr. Adams and myself were left alone in our seats, engaged in our private correspondence. Presently the messenger came in rather unceremoniously to clean up the Hall, and began to wield that inexorable implement, which is so often the plague of men, both under public and private roofs. (Laughter.) Disturbed by the noise and dust, I observed Mr. Adams approaching me with an unfolded letter in his hand. "Do you know John J. Gurney?" said he. "I know him well, sir, by reputation; but I did not have the pleasure of meeting him personally when he was in America." 66 Well, he has been writing me a letter, and I have been "How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By fairy hands their knell is rung, There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, THE SWORD AND THE PRESS. THE following beautiful extract, illustrating in a powerful manner the advantages of printing to mankind, is from an essay by Thomas Carlyle, in the British Review, published nearly twenty years ago, when the somewhat noted writer clothed his ideas in plain English, and his works could be read without an insight into the mysteries of Transcendentalism : "When Tamerlane had finished building his pyramid of seventy thousand human skulls, and was seen standing at the gate of Damas the sun of cus, glittering in his steel, with his battle-axe on his shoulder, till his fierce hosts filed out to new victories and new carnage, the pale looker-on might have fancied that nature was in her death throes; for havoc and despair had taken possession of the earthmanhood seemed setting in a sea of blood. Yet it might have been on that very gala day of Tamerlane, that a little boy was playing nine-pins in the streets of Mendiz, whose history was more important than that of twenty Tamerlanes. The Khan, with his shaggy demons of the wilderness, 'passed away like a whirlwind,' to be forgotten forever; and that German artisan has wrought a benefit which is yet immeasurably expanding itself, and will continue to expand itself through all countries and all times. What are the conquests and the expeditions of the whole corporation of captains, from Walter, the Pennyless, to Napoleon Bonaparte, compared with those moveable types of Faust? Truly, it is a mortifying thing for your conqueror to reflect how perishable is the metal with which he hammers with such violence; how the kind earth will soon shroud up bloody footprints; and all that he achieved and skillfully piled together, will be but like his own canvass city of a camp the evening loud with life, to-morrow all struck and vanished a few pits and heaps of straw.' For here, as always, it continues true, that the deepest force is the stillest; that, as in the fable, the mild shining of the sun shall silently accomplish what the fierce blustering of the tempest in vain essayed. Above all, it is ever to be kept in mind that not by material, but moral power, men and their actions govern. How noiseless is thought! No rolling of drums, no tramp of squadrons, no immeasurable tumult of innumerable baggage-wagons, attend its movements. In what obscure and sequestered places may the head be meditating, which is one day to be crowned with more than imperial authority! for kings and emperors will be among its ministering servants; it will rule not over, but in all heads; and with these solitary combinations of ideas, and with magic formulas, bend the world to its will !" his THESE never enjoy comfort: an envious man, an excessively feeling man, a dissatisfied man, an angry man, a melancholy man, and one who lives upon another man's purse. A REMINISCENCE. Ar a meeting at the close of one of the Virginia Anniversaries, in Richmond, some thirty years ago, it had been arranged that several brethren should address the meeting. The venerable father, Reuben Ford, the oldest minister present; father Courtney, pastor of the church; R. B. Semple, and Andrew Broaddus, were in the pulpit. Father Ford, who, in his latter years, would sometimes add to his many gifts, what the excellent Semple used to call the gift of continuance, made the first address. A densely crowded audience, and a glowing spiritual atmosphere, seemed to fire the breast of the aged speaker, till he appeared to have lost all recollection that others were to follow him. What was to be done? Broaddus, looking over the old pulpit, and seeing near him the tall, black-headed form of the warm-hearted Montague, called to him in a strong whisper, "Sing! sing!" and in an instant his strong, full voice was followed by the whole congregation in one of their happiest songs, in which the old brother was completely drowned; but under the impression that his address had produced the burst of joy and praise, he sat down in tears of joy himself, perhaps the happiest individual in the assembly.—[ Texas Presbyterian. THE Selected for The Casket. DEBTOR AND CREDITOR ACCOUNT KEPT BY NATURE. NATURE keeps silently a most exact savings-bank and official register, correct to the most evanescent item, debtor and creditor, in respect to one and all of us; silently marks down, creditor by such and such an unseen act of veracity and heroism; debtor to such a loud blustery blunder, twenty-seven millions strong, or one unit strong, and to all acts, and words, and thoughts executed in consequence of that — debtor, debtor, debtor, day after day, rigorously as fate (for this is fate that is writing); and at the end of the account you will have it all to pay, my friend; there is the rub! Not the infinitesimallest fraction of a farthing but will be found there, for you and against you; and with the due rate of interest you will have to pay it, neatly, completely, as surely as you are alive. You will have to pay it even in money, if you live- and, poor slave, do you |