when he carried her off, and I quite hate him now, she is so sedate and moping. I desire to keep my neck out of the matrimonial noose." Shortly after this, Emma's mother sent her some delicacy, manufactured by herself, of which she knew her daughter to be particularly fond. Mrs. Hall brought it into her room, and set it down on the table (as though she were testing the strength of the dish), and said, "I wonder if your mother is afraid you'll not have enough to eat here; one would think you were a child at a boarding-school." Emma controlled herself by a strong effort, and made her no reply, simply taking the gift from her hands, with a nod of acknowledgment. Every day brought her some such petty annoyance; and her father-in-law, who was old and childish, was quite as troublesome as his wife: in these respects it required all her love for Harry to carry her through. "I could not tell you, dear Harry, how I should like the place till I saw it; but I should fear it would take you too much from me. It would seem so odd to have five miles' distance between us for the whole day. Oh, I am very sure I shouldn't like it, Harry;" and the charges of the mother-in-law clonded her sunny face, and, in spite of herself, a tear dropped on her husband's hand. "Well, dear Emma, now I'm very sure you will like it (and his large dark eye had a look she could not understand, with all her skill and practice in reading them), and so I'm going to drive you out this very afternoon; and we'll see," said he, gaily kissing her forehead. "Oh, what a little paradise, Harry! Look at that cluster of prairie roses! What splendid old trees! See how the wind sweeps the drooping branches across the tall grass! and that little low window, latticed over with sweet briar! and that pretty terraced flower garden! Oh, Harry!" yet so tastefully! Table stands and mantles, She still adhered to her determination, how- "Well, let us go inside, Emma ;" and apever, to conceal her troubles from her hus-plying a key he held in his hand, the door band; and though he noticed she was less vi- yielded to his touch, and they stood side by vacious, perhaps, thought the mantle of ma-side in a little rustic parlor, furnished simply, tronly dignity so becoming to his wife, that he felt no disposition to find fault with it. In the meantime, old Mrs. Hall, being confined to her room with a violent influenza, the reins of government were very unwillingly resigned into Emma's hands. The endless charges she received about the dusting and sweeping and cooking, ending always with the soliloquy (as the door closed upon Emma's retreating form), "I'm a goose to tell her anything about it; she's as ignorant as a Hottentot; it will all go in one ear and out at the other; " and the old lady groaned, as the vision of the nose of the tea-kettle pointing the wrong way, or the saucepan hung on the wrong nail flitted through her mind. Emma exerted herself to the utmost to please her, but the gruel was always "not quite right," the pillows not arranged easily behind her back. or she expected to find "Bedlam let loose," when she got down stairs, and various prognostications of the same character. "Emma," said Harry, "how should you like living five miles out of the city? I have seen a place that just suits my fancy, and I think of hiring it on a trial.” Emma hesitated. She wished to ask, "does your mother go with us?" but she only said, 66 "Nobody? What a teaze you are! To whom does this furniture belong? and who arranged everything with such exquisite taste? I have been expecting every minute to see the mistress of the mansion step out. "Well, there she is!" said Harry, leading her gaily up to the looking-glass. "I only hope you admire her half as much as I do. Do you think I have been blind and deaf, because I have been dumb? Do you think I've not seen my high-spirited little wife, struggling with trials, day by day — suffering, enduring- gaining the victory over her own spirit, silently and uncomplainingly? Do you think that I could see all this, and not think she was the dearest little creature in the world?" And tears and smiles struggled for the One agonizing cry of grief, and, like a broken flower, the task will be difficult?" The answer, though highly satisfactory to the husband, was not intended for you, dear reader- please excuse FANNY FERN. For The Casket. A SCENE IN REAL LIFE. The 13w, sad winds, which tell of summer's death, Were sighing round, and mournfully the human heart Responded unto Nature's voice, as flower and tree Yielded their beauty to the Frost King's breath. Bear her back unto her childhood's home again. Thus closed the grave on youth's high hopes, TENNESSEE. THE ATHEIST REBUKED. A CORRESPONDENT of the Christian Intelligen er elates the following scene, which occurred in Kentucky the last summer. It was the close of the Sabbath, and there had been no public worship in the village where the writer tarried: "After the darkness had come on, and the Oh, there is that in Nature's death which moves the crowds began gradually to desert the streets, I bent my steps towards the woods, for the soul, Like melancholy wailings from a world unseen! thought. Alas! that in this world of ours a darker grief should be! forest is to me always the fittest temple of Round one, on whose pale lips and brow ye trace The signet of the king of terrors. He was like the Eagle in its lofty flight. Genius-high, commanding Genius, sat enthroned upon his noble brow, And intellect shone from his dark eye forth, Just entering on the proud arena of life, With all manhood's high aspirings, and a heart Which bowed to Heaven alone, he stood a Bright and shining light among his fellow-men. Friends spoke proudly of the long course of Honor and renown which lay before him; And one, a lovely maiden, in whose dark eye Lay shadows of deep love, felt her glad Heart thrill with fond thoughts of love and joy. In vain! The Spoiler came; and on the bed of Pain and death he lay. Friends gathered round, And wistfully thro' blinding tears they gazed Upon the Healer's face, as if some gleam of hope To catch. A summons sped unto his gentle bride To come and view his form once more in life. Ah! can ye fathom the woe, the agonizing woe, That wrung her bleeding heart, as kneeling by His couch she saw death traced upon his browThat brow to her so beautiful-and listened To that low and gentle voice, breathing once more Of love, but not of hope, on earth. Calmly he Spake of Heaven, and Jesus' love, and strove to Lift her wavering faith up to his Father's throne. Ah! Hope's glad light was in my bounding heart, Ambition's fiery dream was on my soul, and Love strewed flowers upon my joyous path. Dearest, it was not well; my Heavenly Father saw Those glittering meteors bright would lure me From my faith, and gently now he draws His wandering child up to his home in heaven. Weep not, beloved; a few short years, and we Again shall meet, where sorrow enters not. Those lips are mute! one look of love upon that Form so dear, and to its rest above goes Forth that generous spirit from its clay abode. "I had rambled for some time, when, from between the dark trunks of the trees, a light burst upon my vision, and presently I heard the accents of a voice, apparently engaged in vehement declamation. Hoping that I had at last found some in that place who worshipped God, I pressed forward through the underbrush, and stood within the woodland meeting house. It was a wild, yet lovely scene; a grand old hall, roofed with heaven's arch, carpeted with the green grass, and columned with massive oaks. A pulpit made by felling trees, and forming a breastwork with their trunks, with a rough board for a desk, was lighted up by two large flickering torches. Rude seats had been arranged in rows before this singular rostrum, and upon them were seated between one and two hundred dimlyseen forms. "But my eye very soon yielded to the horror which my ears took in. A young man was harranguing the assembly in a flippant style, in defence of infidelity, and in the exhibition of apparent inconsistencies in the Scriptures; and though he only rehearsed the stale and sophistical objections of all freethinkers, and reminded me of a child levelling his little arrows at the Alps, most of his auditors seemed pleased, and the rest quite unconcerned. He had almost concluded when I arrived, and I had not been there many minutes before the silly wretch, vain of the applause elicited, took his seat in a conspicuous place on the platform, and looked around him with an air of perfect triumph. I was hesitating whether to leave the spot, or to endeavor, in my feeble way, to counteract the effects of his words, when a form arose in an obscure corner of the camp-ground, and asked to be heard for one moment. It was an old, gray-haired man, who leaned upon a staff. He spoke much as follows. I recollect his very words. The simple eloquence of his manner, and the attendant circumstances, have ineffaceably stamped them upon my memory: 666 My dear neighbors, I have lived a great many years in your midst. My form has gradually bowed, and my locks have been bleaching before the effects of seventy winters; and you will, I know, hear me. "Out in that copse, which is now lighted up by the pale moonbeams, I buried two hardy, noble sons, and yet that spot is to me the pleasantest place upon this blessed, beautiful earth; for thence went up two sainted spirits to the abodes of everlasting joy-yes, to that heaven which yon scoffer affects to deride. But though his wicked soul cannot realize such a place as heaven, I will show that there is a world which he not only conceives of, but which in his secret soul he believes and fears. "You all know the cataract, which is even now sending its sullen whisper through these leafy woods. I stood but a few days ago upon the brink of the swiftly flowing river, just above where it casts itself headlong from the precipice. I noticed suddenly a skiff, containing a single man, shoot out from the opposite shore and prepare to cross. Just as he had attained the middle of the stream, one of his oars broke, and the other was jerked from his grasp. I shall never forget the look of agony which convulsed his face when he saw that all his supports were gone, and that the boat was rushing down towards the fatal cataract. At first, loud calls for help awoke the mountain echoes for miles around. He did not see me. Think you that he recked then of the body merely, which would be mangled by the foaming rocks beneath him? No; conscience, which lives the most when nearest death, had been quickened. The river flowed swifter and swifter, and the whirling eddies caught him and tossed his light bark in silence from one to the other, but onward and onward. "Soon the cries of agony were over, and he fell upon his knees within the boat, and there he prayed. Oh, what burning words, what ravings of terror, what promises for the future, what reproaches for the past were shrieked to Heaven. "Just then I succeeded in obtaining help and attracting his attention; and he, who had been within one short moment of eternity, stood safe again upon the shore. "That man sits there. Yes, he who prayed when God's strong hand was hurrying him on to eternity, is here, cursing and denying that very Being whom he then acknowledged, and who saved his vile life.' "Every eye was turned to the first speaker; and that countenance will haunt me while I live. Pale as the moonbeams, in whose full lustre he sat, his eyes turned in a fearful gaze to the sky, his hands clenched, he had risen to his feet, and stood for one moment, then breaking through the throng he disappeared in the forest. A thrill of fear and a cry of horror ran through the Assembly, as they sat an instant chained to the spot. Then dispersing, the old man and myself were left alone. I clasped his venerable hand, and our tears and thanksgivings flowed out in unison." THEOLOGICAL EDUCATION SIXTY YEARS AGO. WHILE theological seminaries are indispensable at this period, to meet the exigencies of the age, both as tending to the great increase of ministers so much needed to supply the wants of our growing population, and to raise up home and foreign missionaries; and also to bring forward men better furnished, to meet the enemies of truth in this age of heresy, of liberal thinking and abounding error; yet that more practical and every-day life of a pastor is not to be winked out of sight, a knowledge of which is much better acquired with a settled pastor, than in the cloistered retirement of a theological seminary. And hence, would it not be an improvement, to adopt in part the good "old way," and let our young theologians spend months with some judicious parish minister, to learn the practical part of ministerial conduct, and become initiated into the sober realities of pastoral life. Be this as it may, the theological education of ministers sixty years ago is not to be despised or undervalued; and this is fully evinced from the general character of the ministers of that period. All our colleges at that age were officered by men, who, if they studied theology at all, studied it with settled pastors. And the first set of officers in all our earliest theological seminaries were furnished in the same way. Some of these men still live, and noble men they are. One has recently gone to his grave, who has done more to advance biblical criticism and sacred literature, than any other man perhaps in this country. And where did he study divinity? Where did that great and good man, the late Dr. Alexander, study divinity? Under the direction of a private teacher, the Rev. Dr. Jonathan Edwards, then of New Haven, and subsequently President of Union College. And where did all these great and good ministers of former days study divinity? They qualified themselves for their great work, both as ministers and theological teachers, as did Dr. Charles Backus, who pursued his theological training under the direction of Rev. Dr. Hart, of Preston, Connecticut. Under such appliances and discipline as a judicious minister's study and parish afforded, he laid the foundation to become the able divine, the popular preacher, the successful pastor, and the learned theological instructor. All his pupils, yet living, unite in bearing testimony to his admirable tact and ability as a teacher in divinity. Rev. Dr. Vail. For the Casket. HERNANDO DE SOTO. "The Discoverer of the Mississippi slept beneath its waters. He had crossed a large part of the Continent in search of gold, and found nothing so remarkable as his burial-place." 'Twas a green forest of the West, Fast by a deep, broad stream, Where lay the wanderer, sad, depressed, In fever's burning dream; While sunset o'er the earth and sky Flashed in rich hues of witchery. He had passed o'er the ocean foam, And throbbing bosoms thronged around, No voice was heard, no nurmured sound, "Mid all that agony Save from each woe-struck sorrowing breast The groan that might not be suppressed. They were sad exiles: 'mid that air, Was it a breath from orange bowers A home- thought of the citron flowers- I hear it murmuring through the trees; Stand by! it hasteth now: It whispereth of the gushing stream That mingled with my boyhood's dream. "And list, my chiefs! my race is run, My conqueror's race of might; And lofty victories have I won, And wreathed my name in light: Now, as a conqueror be my death, Nor care disturb my parting breath. "And not with mourning, wail or wo, Ye bear me to my rest; Nor childish tears, nor sorrow flow, Nor weak and anguished breast; Not so! I am a conqueror hereNo shadow mark the warrior-bier! But thus: with anthems loud and long, The stormy drum, the battle-song, In mail arrayed, with sword and spear, "Yet more! in that broad river's tide, He ceased the mortal strife was o'er, Where life may never die : ADELINE. A VOICE FROM THE PAST. LAST evening, as we were walking leisurely along Clark street, the music of the choirs in three churches came floating out into the darkness around us, and they were all new tunes and strange tunes, but one. And that oneit was not sung as we have heard it, but it awakened a train of long-buried memories, that rose to us even as they were, ere the cemetery of the soul had a tomb in it. It was sweet old Corinth they were singing-strains we have seldom heard, since the rose color of life was blanched-and in a moment we were back again to the old village church, and it was a summer afternoon, and the yellow sunbeams were streaming through the west windows, and the silver hair of the old deacon who sat near the pulpit was turned to gold in its light, and the minister, who, we used to think, could never die, so good was he, had concluded "application" and "exhortation," and the village choir were singing the last hymn, and the tune was Corinth. more, for what could the choir do without them?[Chicago Journal. MINISTERIAL TACTICS. THE late Dr. John H. Rice was a man of great practical wisdom. A late eminent Judge of Virginia once told a friend that the most cutting reproof he had ever received for profaneness was from this distinguished minister, and without words. They were crossing a ferry together; and on account of shallows the boat could not be brought to land, so that they were compelled to be carried to the shore by the colored ferrymen. One of these was so careless as to suffer Judge H.'s clothes to become wetted, and the Judge expressed his anger by an imprecation. Dr. Rice, without saying a word, turned to him his large, speaking eye, with a sorrowful expression. "I never so felt a reproof," said the Judge, in my life; "and instantly I begged his pardon." "Ask pardon of God," said Dr. R. "I shall never forget it." At this time the Judge was entirely ignorant who his reprover was. When the late Rev. Dr. Staughton resided at Bordentown, he was one day sitting at his door, when the infidel Thomas Paine, who also resided there, addressed him, and said, It was years we dare not think how many -since then, and "The prayers of David, the son of Jesse, are ended," and the choir is scattered and gone. The girl with blue eyes that sang alto, and the girl with black eyes that sang air; the eyes of the one were like a clear June heaven at night, and the eyes of the other" Mr. Staughton, what a pity it is that man like the same heaven at noon. They both became wives, and both became mothers, and they both died. Who shall say they are not singing Corinth still, where Sabbaths never wane, and congregations never break up! There they sat Sabbath after Sabbath, by the square column at the right of the "leader," and to our young eyes they were passing beautiful, and to our young ears their tones were the very "soul of music." That column bears still their pencilled names, as they wrote them in those days in life's June, 183—, ere dreams of change had o'ercome their spirit like a summer's cloud. Alas! that with the old singers most of the sweet old tunes have died upon the air, but they linger in memory, and they shall yet be sung again in sweet re-union of song that shall take place, by and by, in a hall whose columns are beams of morning light, whose ceiling is pure pearl, whose floors are all gold, and where hair never turns silvery, and hearts never grow old. Then she that sang alto, and she that sang air, will be in their places once has not some comprehensive and perfect rule A fine specimen of ministerial tact is related by Dr. Beecher, of the late Dr. J. M. Mason, in connection with the formation of the American Bible Society. He says: "When the vote was put that it was expedient at that time to form an American Bible Society, there was a moment of exulting, grateful, prayerful silence. There was but one short moment in our proceedings, when things seemed to tangle, and some feelings began to rise. At that moment, Dr. Mason rose hastily and said—" Mr. President, the Lord Jesus never built a church but that the Devil built a chapel close to it; and he is here |