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The advance. (Ogdensburgh, N.Y.) 1861-1864, September 06, 1861, Image 2

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2 THE ADVANCE, SEPT. 6, 1861. SABBATH TREASURY. •CRAPS ?BOX A HOTE BOOK. [Written for th<* A<lmiir«*.} On a gloomy evening in April of 18— I was sitting alone in my room, the *tili- nes* of the apartment and the murky atmosphere without, had perhaps their full influence upon my sensitive nature, but In? that n* it would I soon found my- •elf busily occupied with thought** less congenial to my feeling than the solitude which surrounded me, and though ac- customed to looking ut the bright*tit pictures in the great panorama of life, yet owing to the realities of my situation I had no control over the thoughts which intruded themselves upon my hour of meditation. I had always been indua- trious and given sutisfnetton to mv em- ployer*, 1 hnd endeavored to hv punctual. upright and hon 0t, and now I had nought attainable employment which I felt competent to undertake - once, twice, thrice, — und was <loomed to disappoint- ment. I had not only to depend upon my own exertion* for u livelihood, but there were others dearer to me than life whom I felt hound to protect by ^xcry sacred tie. My means were nearly c\- halisted and soon poverty would stare me in the face! What could I do ( Where should I turn < Those with whom I daily associated endeavored to rally my droop- ing spirits and though I appreciated their sympathy, I could discover no mine wherein I might search for gold. Could I oxpoftc my situation to those, whom I saw around me? My pride was unconquered and revolted, I could not. I had already received assistance'from distant relatives and foreborc to afflict them by disclosing my Rad tale of sorrows - my deep untold anguish ! I belonged to Societies whose confidence I enjoyed, but my voice wns nilent --my heart beat heartily and I in- wardly shuddered ut the faintest idea of making known the cau*coftny emburusn- nictit ; and what was must piercing of all I was connected with those whom fortune had favored with wealth, but who passed me by, with only a cold bow of recog- nition, and why ( Hud I ever done any- thing to merit coldness or contempt J Alas ? the HUH of prosperity did not shine also for me ; 1 had tasted life's bitter cup and proved the emptiness of human pro fessions: I hnd experienced the injustice andcrueltv of masked selfishness and hoi low hearted treachery. I hud given no cause for such ungenerous treatment. 1 p.* flee ted upon my past life but became the more firm in the opinion that the balance of account was in my favor; I hnd cheerfully responded to every en 11 wen at the risk of my own health aiwl happiness. Was not this- my hour of need, the v<r) tiiuc when I had n right to expect H\mpath\ '. Hut the return \vu- chilling neglect, heartless ingratitude I U ! bane, human depravity how nil that is noble and good in nature revolts tit the developments of thine inhumanity ! And were it not there nre mnginmimous and generous spirits that there are green und fttinny spots in the- garden of life- -that there, are fragrant and beautiful flowers scattered nil along its pathway, the world indeed Would be a desert, when- the gentle and &>ond, the fair ami the lovely oould never dwell. Hut to return, the rvening was wearing nwny, the coals which had been glowiugin the grate wurc becoming dim. und I was about compar- ing theniVitli my sinking hopes and un- favorable prospeets, when the question arose in my mind shall 1 who has buttled ' bravely with all the trying vicissitudes of life/give wny to despair i I who have faced deuth and danger nnd struggled with the wild wave* of adversity «s they have rolled recklessly around me while the elements were in fearful commotion { I who have IMHMI HO often guided by the rheering stur of hope and have learned to meet difficulty ami disappointment, trial nnd suffering with composure learned to control passion unit to govern my »inm. 1 * and tastes? Hut I was un- prepared for the trial of seing those whom I loved nubjcVted to the iron grasp of poverty. No -I would not despair—I Would arouw all my energies, I would make another effort, I won hi school my self to diligence and patience, listening to the teaching %i \A-X not mercy and truth forsake thec ; bind them about thy neck ; write them upon the table of thine heart: iKo shall thou find favor and good under- standing in the sight of God nnd man.\ I arose an if inspired by the thought while I seemed to hoar a whisper 4 * Prosperity *hall be thine.\ Suddenly I heard a gentle tap at the door and the well known voice of a friend inquired \ Have you seen the morning Paper?\ I annwercd I hnd not. \ Here is a notice of your engage- ment in —-.*' Wan it a dream I I took the Paper nnd what was my astonish- when I beheld my name;—it wan really HO. ' I wan Overcome by emotion. 1 wept for joy while a deep Ming of gratitude pervaded my whole being! The heartfelt pleasure of that moment far outweighed the trial and suspense of the many weary hours which had preceded it and at the name time taught a lesson of trust and submission which might nerve the faintest heart against apathy and despair, to move onward through tin; vast unseen future with a firm and even step, while hope, like a constant, brilliant star through darkness, continuully points to a blissful Heaven. *.> PICTUEE8. (Written for tin- Advance.] How strange it is that we should over- look the beautiful things around our daily paths and admire only the far fetch* ed and famous. How many admire the delicate shading which a brush pencil has laid upon a painted tlowret, who never turn aside to wonder at the Inimit- able tracery of color in a forest blossom. We gaze with wonder at the curious und perfect crystals the chemist produces in his laboratory, and never notice the myriad forms of beautiful crystallization which come drifting down in snow-flakes about our very doors. We pay our quarters to visit the Dusseldorf Gallery or Athen- eum, und feast our eyes with gaziug ou master-pieces of art and talk with en- thusiasm of n Murillo, Rembrandt, Guido or Leasing ; and this is well, for the love of the ixMiutiful is next to a love of the holy, and blessings be on him who paints a tauutiful picture, but we overlook the magnificent scenes, which fikc moving panoramas are ever before our eyes, with the picturesque grouping of objects, the piny of light and shade, the misty haze upon the distant hills, the matching colouring of sky, nnd gorgeous cloud drapery which no pencil can reproduce, no painter's art rival. We may have gazed with rapture upon a picture of sun-rise on the hills, and never stopped to admire the stealing on of the real sunrise, the grndual brightening of the eastern sky and all the changing brilliancy of clouds, till the crimson and golden drapery is dazzling in magnificence nnd the distant hills light up with u rosy blush, nnd nnd at last the broad disc rises above the horizon and the world awake to another day. We have looked with delight, it may be, upon the artist's \ Italian sunset/'and | never watched to see our sun fold his robes about him and lie down (o rest with I he golden rays gleaming up behind the hills, und the grand old mountains, like giants resting in conriousiicss of might, rearing their heads in the failing light till the stars come out in the curly twilight bind a coronet upon on their brows. Every day brings new pictures to glad- den our eyes and let us not be unmindful of them. While we love the works of art und-glory in him who ''paints for im- mortality,'* let us not fail to love better the pictures which the Infinite One pre- sents to us the work of him who gives immortalitv. \ Nut tiro nr?tr <ll eiruv Tho btiiri lluii \o\n\ her ; ' lin h«-\r |>r|vll<>u<? Tliroujjli nil tlu> \<iirtt of fliirt our lift, tu Irnd From joy t o joy.\ In the words of Huskin, \ All those passings to and fro of fruitful shower and j grateful shade, and all those visions of silver palaces built about the horizon, and voices of moaning winds and threat- ening thunders, and glories of colored robes, and cloven rny, aifc but to deepen in our hearts the acceptance and distinct- ness, and dearness of the simple words \T)m Father which nrt in Heaven.\ WHKN Pmtbyterianifmi was at its height in Scotland, the great object of lift; was to \jv, in n state, of affliction. A Christian must beware of enjoying his dinne*, for none but the ungodly relished their food. To write poetry was a grievous offence, and drawing was extremely sinful. Smil- ing, provided it stopped short of laughter, might occasionally ho allowed; still, l>cing a carnal passion, it wan a sin to smile, on Sunday. We ought to feel thank- ful that our lives wen; not cast in such a doleful place. W0KA1T8 KLOQtnVCE. Header, you know a» well as we do that woman will talk. You have a gen- eral idea t hut she talks partly from a con- stitutional necessity, and partly from a dangerous habit. You feel, generally as though you were not called upon to lie- lieve all she says nor give her credit for doing so.. In a word the world of mas- culines speak slightingly of her influence as a talker. It gives her tin: credit of Iwing garrtdou*) hut seldom of being efo- t/nmt. You have shared in that opinion. Without assuming to be her champion, or without admitting, as we may have I>een willing to do at times, that she is inclined to take small occasions to* 4 make talk,\ we give you her own defence, on being arraigned «H Iwiug inclined to scold, which was her 4l highest form of eloquence.\ Read it, it will do you good perhaps, or ut least convince you Unit that sometime* a woman can In: in ear- nest. Scolding isn't their \ highest form of eloquence,\ cither. Acid philosopher, whose gall and bitterness evolved itself into that outrageous sentiment, did you ever have a mother ( Do you remember back to the days when you were a little child, and she used to tell you whispered stories, with your head resting u|M>n her shoulder, while the golden crescent of the young moon hung in the violet sky, above the hills? Has the world ever brought you aught of eloquence to surpii&Wfcthose softly murmured by liable*? Did you ever have a wife? Did you e\er come home at night, wearied and wornout, dis- gusted with frail humanity, and sick ut heart of life's discordant tumult, until her gentle voice anil pure sweet sympa- thy kindled a nobler lire on your heart's altar ? Did you ever hear the murmured niUKic of her half uttered prayers over your baby's fairy pillow ? Did you ever stand where the April wind was idly stir- ring the violets over a little* grave, and listen to the tearful words about her little one who has passed through the jwarly gates?—words so full of hope that you almost secra to behold the tiny feet wan- dering the celestial asphodels' that blos- som on the hills of heaven ! If you know nothing of these things, you have no more right to profane the subject than the man who plays a hand- organ has to criticise the marvelous mel- odies of Handel and Mozart. You don't know even the alphabet of woman's elo- quence, and you don't deserve to know it. Leave it for those to talk about, who understand it ! BELOW THE ATLANTIC. Hounding* in the Atlantic have l>cVn particularly pushed lorward, and have excited, on account of the telegraph csu ble, more general interest than any others yet taken. They have revealed the fact that :it least two hundred and thirty miles from the coast of Ireland the water is still shallow ; in other words, that there is another Ireland, only waiting to be raised—thus reversing the famous pana- cea for keeping the country quiet. It is just beyond this that the true Atlantic begins, the gulf suddenly sinking to nine thousand feet. Thus Ireland may oue day have a const line an high as the Alps. The whole floor of the Atlantic is paved with u soft, sticky substance, culled ouzc, nine-tenths consisting of very minute ani- mals, ninny of them mere lumps of jelly, nnd H thousand of which could float with ease in a drop of water; Home resembling toothed wheels; others, bundles of spines and threads hhooting from a little glol>- ule. dome, however, arc endowed with the property of separating Hint from the sen-water—which is mon* than every chemist can do ; and there arc hundreds of square miles covered with the skele- tons of. these little creatures. Parts of this oaze are doubtless from the clouds of rain-dust which rise from the vast steppes of South America, in such masses as to darken the sun, and make the animals fiy to shelter, and which* after sweeping like a simoon over the country, lose them- selves in tho \steep Atlantic.\ No bones have been found, of the larger animals; so that the kraken and sea-serpent might sleep their last sleep, and leave not a bone or a vertebra to tell the talc. Not a mast or anchor, not a block or strand, not a coin or a keepsake, has been found, to testify of the countless gallant ships and more gallant men who have gone down amid the pitiless waves. Avonorr sunn m THE UHITID STATES. \ Dim und mysterious is the early history of man on this continent. It is enveloped in darkness, never, it may be presumed, to l)e penetrated by human research. And yet ruins of ancient cities are fre- quently discovered, that tell of a race which hatilong since panned away—prob- abty exterminated by the ancestors of our present Indians, who are also fast depart- ing from the human family—fairly dying out Ittfore tho ever advancing influence of the palu-faccs. But these monumental cities indicate great population, and prove the existence of mighty men of old. A new stimulus is likely to be given to American archaeology by a discovery, recently made, some ninety miles north- east of Fort Btanton, u long account of which has appeared in the Fort Smith (A rkansas) TVMA. The plain upon which lie the massive relics of gorgeous temples and magnificent halls, slopes gradually eastward toward the river Peeos, antl is very fertile, crossed by a gurgling stream of the purest water that not only sustains a rich vegetation, but perhaps furnished with this necessary element the thousand* who once inhabit- ed this present wilderness. The city was probably built by a warlike race, as it is quadrangular, and arranged with skill to afford the highest protection against an exterior foe, many of the building on the outer line being pierced with loop-holes as though calculated for the use of weapons. Several of the buildings arc of vast size, ami built of massive blocks of dark granite rock, which could have only have been wrought to their present con- dition 1>y a vast amount of lal>or. There arc the ruins of three noble edifices, each presenting a front of three hundred feet, made of ponderous blocks of stone, and the dilapidated walls are even now thirty-five feet high. There are no partitions in the area of the middle (supposed) temple, so that the room must have been vast*, and there arc also carv- ing*in has relief and fresco work. Appear- ances justify the conclusion that these silent ruins could once boiist of halls as gorgeously decorated by the artists hands as those of Thebes and Palmyra, The buildings arc all looped-hooped in each side, much resembling those found in the old feudal castles of Europe designed for the use of archers. Tho blocks of which these edifices are composed arc cemented together by a specie of mortar of a bituminous character; which has such tenacity that vast musses of wall have fallen down without the blocks being detached by the shock. ATHEISM. •* What can be more, foolish,\ says Jere- my Taylor, a titan to think that all this rare fabric of heaven and earth could come by chance—when all the skill of art is not able, to make an oyster i To see rare of.eets, and no cause; u motion, with- out A mover ; a circle, without a centre ; a time, without an eternity; a second, without a first; are things so against phi- losophy and natural reason, that he must be n beast, in his understanding, who does not assent to them. The thing formed, says that nothing formed it; and that which is made, is, and that which made it tVr not. This folly is infinite.\ PUNCTUALITY.—It is said of Melano thon that when he made an appointment he expected not only the hour but the minute to l>e fixed, that no time might be wasted in the idleness of suspense; and of Washington that when his secretary, beiiur. rqwatcdly late in his attendance, laid the blnmc on his watch, he said, \ You must either get another watch, or I another secretary. 1 ' DEATH OK AN INFIDEL.—When Vol- taire came to die, he was in the greatest horror. As the {Physician came, he ex- claimed, \ I am abandoned by God and man. Doctor, I will give half of what I am worth, if you will give me six months of lite.\ Tho Doctor answered, \ 8ir, you cannot live six weeks 1\ \ Then\ said Voltaire, \ I shall go to hell, and you will go with me 1\ and soon after expired. Do HOT be troubled because you have not great virtues. God made a million spears of grass where he made one tree. The earth is fringed and carpeted, not with forests, but with grasses. Only have enough of little virtues and common fi- delities, and you need not mourn because you arc neither a hero nor a saint. A THOUGHT FOB DBUVKABDI. While the proclamation, \ Drunkards shall not inherit the Kingdom of God,\ is, in iU aspect earthward, a terror from the Lord to alarm the guilty; it is, in its aspect upward, a consoling promise to the heirs, that their home in Heaven will not be disturbed by those wild fears that terrified or tore them in the house of their pilgrimage. When the Lord, and they who waited for Him, had, in symbol, en- tered into the eternal rest, \ the door was shut.\ The clang of the shutting door resounds in both directions—a terror in- deed to those who are without, but a thrill of joy unspeakable through all who are within. 14 Nothing shall enter that deflleth.\ •— - - r - — DE. FRAVXXIV AHD THOMAS FAIKZ. When Paine was writing his infamous u Age of Jieason,' 1 he sent part of it to Franklin, for his opinion respecting it. In tho reply of the latter, he tells the, skeptic, \That probably he (Paine) is indebted to his religious education for the very habits of virtue on which he prides himself,\ and he closes by advising him to employ his talents on some other subject; ** For,\ he adds, \ among us, it is not necessary, as among the Hotten- tots, that a youth, to be raised into the company of Twevt, should prove his man- hood by batting hi* mother ;\ concluding with the remark, \ If men arc HO wicked even with religion, what would they be tpitfumt it r THE Christian rule is this* :— \ When you make up your mind to take any one as your friend, or as an object of your love, take, him in the plenitude of his weakness, and faults, and sinful- nesses. Determine at the beginning, or soon after, that you will love him on ac- count of what you have got, and not on account of what he has got: and say, 1' I will bring a heart to love him that will overcome the effect upon me of any defi ciencies which there may be in the com- pliance of his disposition and life, with my ideals.* 1 If you takfc the one course; if you sit all your life long judging, there will be, a* the result of your friendship and companionship, a quarrel with two sides to it—your friend a rcllisus culprit; and you, an angry judge l>eforc whom he is arraigned. But if, on the other hand, you enter into friendship and companion- ship on the ground of mutual imperfec- tion, and say, \ I will not love by nice measuring, by worth, by estimates, by weighing, but will have such a likeness to Christ as to love things that do not suit me, us to love being rather than quality,\ then then? will be that which will outbrave the htonns of life, nnd life itself. You must bring the Christian clement into }our friendship and com- panionslnp,or}«»u cannot have the highest element of love. You must keep in mind the element of immortality, or you cannot have patience to bear with the imperfec- tions .of men. The nearer you bring together people that are not arniod with this victorious influence of love, the harder it is for them to live together.\ PAYISO THE DKJJT OK NATVRK. — \Death says John Foster,\.. 44 is not, to the Christian, what it has Vfkn IHJOII called, ' paying the debt of Nature.' No, it is not paying a debt—it is rather like bringing a note to a bank, to obtain *olid gold in exchange for it. In this case, you bring this cumbrous Jn>dy, which is noth- ing worth, und which you could not wish to retain long ; you lay it down, and re- ceive for it, from the eternal treasures, lib- erty, victory, knowledge, rapture.\ A OHKAT deal of our heart life is eryp- togamous—mosses and, inconspicuous, blooms hidden in the grass, thoughtlets, the intent* of the heart. We are hardly aware of this life; but as God sees in winter all the flowers which are yet sleep- ing beneath the soil, so He sees all tho hidden feelings of our hearts. He knows every r^ot, and what will spring from it T and comprehends its intents, which art* yet but germs, as well as its thoughts, which have already blossomed.— Beecher. A GOOD RULK.—-\ Two persons, I be In-re a husband and a wife,\ says the memoir of Howels, \being very much at variance, referred their quarrel to Mr. Howels. Each accused the other, and both declared themselves to be without blame. Mr. Howels heard them very pa- tiently, and then said, * my judgment is this: Let the innocent Jbrgive. the guilty.\ OBEAT TXl No evil propensity of is so powerful that it ma by discipline, God puts the excess of in order that it may be * man who is despondent. Tmc stream of life for is apt to run in one char in another. As flowers never put clothes for Sunday, but less raiment and exhale day, so let your Christ in stain, ever give forth the love of God. THE BIBLK.—\There elements of mighty pow gle copy of it, rent asun of the man of sin; and sions of it» might will e the foundations of all hi THE world i» so fruit hardly even blunder v forth some good. We scheme, however wild ar but it will strike off son from the tree of knowlec IT IH with the singing tion as with the sighin the'forest, where the not rustling leaves, and the upon each other, altoge mony, no matter what 1: discord*. DEATH AMX> SIK.— U \W death would never have were it not for death, have an ending.\ IK ANT man is rich comes under that law the higher branches mus ings of the sun, and sha lower; by which the tal tect the weak plants lieether. APPROPRIATE TO ALL. of God,\ says Bishop troubled alx>ut what is twnfts against God, to I what is present; and an troubled for what is pas ABUSE.—Plutarch, ir biographies, tells us tha being scurrilously treatc who led a licentious ai ftuid to him quietly : \ A thee and me, is very u: canst bear ill language return it with pleasure ; 'tis unusual for me to li agreable to speak it. .\ PRKCJOUS TRUTII.- count his converts by th by hundreds, nor yet by them by units, saying, ' the presence of God ovt repentotn.\ He valued yet at last shall he. welt ed as an innumerable r no man can number.\ KKLHIIOK TO JJK PI faith that only reaches never sanctify the hot without experience, will than fainted fire will bu: water cleanse. It may d as the knowledge of ? wan useful to him, while the flood.\ MANY children grow der l>ell glasses. They only by artificial and pr They are house-bred, r bred, mother-brod—eve bred. The. object of tr. the child to take care 'many parent) use their c kind of spool, on whie! own experience; and th corded until they peri break all lx>nds and cr ruin by reaction.— //. W THK BIBLE.—We ha more truthful remark •of all book*,\ than the fr Bible,\ Rays Home, 4 * U c dangerous for whom ? for infidelity, which it gerouH for sins, which i ens for Satan, whom it geroua for false religic masks; dangerous to ev dares to conceal it frot whose criminal imposti sions it brings to light.

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