handed. Like the Arab farmer, who, never safe from the attack of robbers, ploughs and sows his land, with a long gun slung at his back, and a short sword dangling at his side, so bears the Christian his armor daily with him, ever ready to resist the devil.

To one unaccustomed to the use of an armor, its weight and pressure produces friction and irritation. A recruit needs many a patient lesson e'er he becomes used to its hardships. The limbs have hitherto been unhampered, the step has been untrammelled. In harness, the body is at first held in awkward confinings. Every movement is an attack on some earlier bodily habit. It becomes painful. At length the chafed frame hurls the encumbrance to a side.

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Christ's army constantly receives recruits from the world. Their manner of life has been according to the standard of the impenitent. They have indulged unbridled passions. Their habits have become fixed. They are a part of their being. The will is changed. But that is not always suf ficient. Paul had the same difficulty. To will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good, I find not." His habits had the better of him. And our Christian profession comes in direct conflict with these. To some it is a painful and perilous conflict. It becomes a burden and a cross. Cannot the battle be won without the harness; cannot heaven be gained without taking up the cross, without dragging this heavy steel up the hill Difficulty?

Ben-hadad had good harness, but a bad heart. While his army was put in battle array, he was "drinking himself drunk in the pavilions, he and the thirty-two kings that helped him." What avails the best harness for such a heart! Ahab's army, "232 young men of the princess," with 7000 men, slew the Syrians, scattered them in all directions, and their drunken king escaped on a horse with the horsemen.

It was a panic-stricken army. And this boastful reliance upon an armor without the disposition or skill to use it, is such stuff as panics are made of. Have we not all a horrid recollection of the defeat at Bull Run? Our army moved boastfully southward. It was chiefly composed of recruits. Many expected to meet a foe that would run away at their first approach. But few had been drilled to the work. Many of the officers were politicians, would-be statesmen, better skilled at a game of cards than in the art of war. Taking their liquors with them, and converting their march into a scene of revelry. Thousands of civilians hung around our army to witness the sport of blood. These cowardly sporting gentry became frightened, and alarmed the teamsters. And these dashed off with their wagon trains, and thereby frightened the undrilled soldiers. And the scene that followed has never been adequately described. Teamsters running their wagons over one another, cutting their horses loose from the wagons, and dashing off; whole divisions scampering in all directions, throwing away their knapsacks, rifles, cartridge boxes, canteens-their harness. Some were run over by the wagons, others tramped to death by the terrified fugitive army. Here and there a brave officer vainly tried to stem the torrent. A panic is beyond the reach of reason. They fled when no Confederate Army was near them; yet their terror-stricken fancy saw them at their hee's like so many devouring fiends. Over many miles were the implements of war and broken wagons scattered, enough to supply a large army. Dead men and dead horses strewed the ground, the wreck of our own making.

Similar scenes, in another form, are often enacted in the Church of Christ. In every flock are those whose Christianity is nothing but a profession long past. Their conversion or confirmation was the beginning and the end of all they ever did for Christ. They put on the armor, but never drilled or fought in it. And yet in every time of serious trial, they attempt to use it for convenience or comfort. Otherwise they are content with having joined the Church-without ever seriously making use of her ordinances, or engaging in her solemn work. In the providence of God, the congregation is called upon to move on the enemy's works-to advance in the face of opposition. Many true and earnest souls buckle on their armor for the contest. But along with these are many unskilled in this holy warfare, well-meaning people, who wish things to go right, but who have not the necessary nerve or strength of faith for the battle. Many, too, who are simply spectators-curiously watching the movement of affairs. A battle ensues, and with that the boasting "civilians" begin to scream. A few here and there in the ranks fling away their arms. Others follow. For panics are contagious. The result is often a chaotic, uncontrollable defeat, and a rough-and-tumble flight "when no man pursueth."

Gideon was a wise man. Thirty-two thousand men offered to follow him into battle against the Midianites. The Spirit of God showed him the character of the men. The bulk of them would have fled at the first attack. Well meaning enough were these men, to be sure, but not safe to take into a serious battle. Only three hundred of this large army would he take with him. And every gospel Gideon can achieve far greater victory with the three hundred, than the thirty-two thousand.

Boast not of your harness. Wear it meekly, and learn to use it to advantage. Seek, by prayer and patience, and labor, and, above all, a regular use of the means of grace, to become expert in its employment. If your Christian profession is uncomfortable to you at first, bear it as a cross-as a yoke which our Saviour can make easy, and a burden which he can make light. Let it be your fixed impression, that you have enlisted for life. If that be so, your safest and most comfortable method is to fight the enemy of your souls. If you don't, he will fight you.

An old warrior, with furrowed brow and silvery locks, put his army in battle array. In that awful hush, just preceding the deadly crashing together of two armies, he drew up his war steed before the lines, and pointing with his bony, wrinkled hand to the enemy, exclaimed, "There are your foes; if you do not kill them, they will kill you." And then they dashed with wreckless desperation upon the enemy. 'Tis the case with us all. Unless we kill Satan, he will kill us. You must pray to kill sin, or sin will kill your prayer. You must commune to crush Satan-bruise his head-or he will kill all spiritual life in you. You must search, believe and live the truth to kill the father of lies, or he will kill the truth in you.

The roots of old habits cleave to us to you. Sparks of infernal flames are these the last dying embers, they may be. A little fuel; the smallest match, a grain of powder, will set it all ablaze again. Your old habits are fed and nourished by indulgence. If they were unchaste, the least indulgence will arouse the brute in you, and rally all his forces. If you have been intemperate, a few glasses will chain you to your cups, perhaps to your everlasting ruin. Be ye separate from sinners. You are a soldier in Christ's army Have nothing to do with His enemies.

VOL. XVIII.-12

The late Duke of York had ruined his health by his wicked and debauched life. He called on Dr. Abernethy for a cure. The Dr. stood before the proud nobleman with his hands in his pockets, and coolly whistling. "I suppose you know who I am," said the Duke. "Suppose I do; what of that?" quoth the blunt surgeon. "If your Highness of York wishes to be well, let me tell you, you must do as the Duke of Wellington often did in his campaigns: cut off the supplies, and the enemy will quickly leave the citadel."

A harnessed Christian must improve, advance, grow. He is to be a conqueror. And "a conqueror, like a cannon ball, must go on. If be rebound, his career is soon over." Arago, the celebrated French naturalist, was so much puzzled and discouraged in his early studies, that he was almost ready to abandon them. Using a text book with a paper cover, he discovered a few words between the leaves of the binding. Impelled by a strange curiosity, he damped the cover of the book, separated the paper, and found the following short letter of D'Alembert, as counsel to one of his discouraged students: "Go on, sir, go on. The difficulties you meet will resolve themselves as you advance. Proceed, and light will dawn and shine with increasing clearness on your path." Arago says: "This maxim became my greatest master in mathematics."

Go on, in Christ's name, go on. To begin well is already doing much. To end well, is doing more. To put on the harness is praiseworthy. To use it well, and gain the victory, is a crown-rewarded glory.

"Ne'er think the victory won,

Nor once at ease sit down;

Thy arduous work will not be done
Till thou hast got thy crown."

THE DYING MOTHER.

BY ALICE CAREY.

We were weeping round her pillow,
For we knew that she must die;
It was night within our bosoms—
It was night upon the sky.

There were seven of us children,
I the oldest one of all;

So I tried to whisper comfort,

But the blinding tears would fall.

On my knees my little brother

Leaned his aching brow and wept;

And my sister's long black tresses
O'er my heaving bosom swept.

The shadow of an awful fear
Came o'er me as I trod,
To lay the burden of our grief
Before the throne of God.

"Oh! be kind to one another,"
Was my mother's pleading prayer,
As her hand lay like a snow-flake
On the baby's golden hair.

Then a glory bound her forehead,
Like the glory of a crown,
And in the silent sea of death

The star of life went down.

Her latest breath was borne away
Upon that loving prayer,

And the hand grew heavier, paler,
On the baby's golden hair.

GEN. FISK AND THE THEATRE.

We find the following excellent item in the N. Y. Christian Advocate. Gen. Fisk is an honor to the station he fills:

A lady friend of Mrs. Fisk called on them the other evening at their rooms in the St. Nicholas Hotel, and requested them to go with her to the theatre and hear Mr. Booth in Romeo and Juliet.

"I cannot go," said the general, "I have an engagement."

"Ah, but you can get released from that engagement," she insisted. "What is it, if I may be so impertinent?"

"It is the evening for my prayer-meeting," he replied, "and I make it a point always to be present when possible."

The lady seized his hand, and tears filled her eyes as she exclaimed, "General, you have preached me the best sermon I have heard for many a month. I, too, am a member of the church, and ought to be as punctual and faithful in my duties as you are, but I am not."

"But do you really think it is wrong to attend the theatre?" she added, after a slight pause.

to

"It would probably do me no harm," he replied: "But suppose I were go for this reason, mindful only of my own pleasure, or of its influence upon myself. I take my seat. Yonder is a young man who has been enticed to the place, not without some misgivings of conscience; he casts

his eye up, and says to himself with much satisfaction, 'Ah, there is Gen

eral Fisk. He is a good Christian man. I heard him deliver an address to a Sabbath-school the other Sunday; surely I must be all right in Christian company,' No," said the noble Christian man, "I cannot lend my influence to that which is corrupting the youth of our land and debasing society."

THE FISHERMAN'S STORY.

ABOVE HIGH-WATER MARK.

A party of amateur voyagers-two gentlemen and three ladies—were suddenly overtaken by a gale on the coast along which they were sailing. The inexperienced oarsmen drew in the canvass, and pulled toward the sandy beach. A semi circular cove-hidden till then behind an abrupt rise of rock covered with scrub-pines and red runners-opened before them, and seemed to beckon them into its shelter. They had fixed their eyes on a rock at which to land, and were discussing the probability of finding a dweling near by, when the keel of the boat dragged upon the sand, and in a moment was immovably imbedded there. They were many feet from the shore, with no means of reaching it but by wading-a most undesirable mode for gentlemen in patent leathers, and ladies in holiday attire. Soon comprehending their situation, they looked at each other in blank amazement, when a sudden burst of childish laughter struck merrily on their ears, and told them they were within call of help.

High on the rocks at whose base they had struck just as they were turning into the little cove, stood a rough-loooking man in his shirt sleeves, with his pants rolled up and his feet bare, spreading out nets to dry; while a child, four or five years old, in a pink sun-bonnet, prattled sweetly to him, as with mimic care she swept the top of the rock with a tiny broom. "Do you think my floor is clean now, uncle?" she asked, and then added, "It must be very clean before I set my table and spread out my china, and-"

Here a loud "halloo" from the boat stopped both the net spreading and the sweeping; and in a kind tone the fisherman called back from his high place, "I see your trouble, friends, and will put you all right in half a minute." And down he came over the rugged rock with the child following him, as swiftly as a kitten could have run over the velvet grass. The oars-poor gang planks as they would have been-were by far too short to reach from the boat to the shore, and the good fisherman, seeing the difficulty, ran to his cottage behind the cliff for a board. This reached to within a few feet of the dry sand; and wading far into the water, he led the gentlemen to the end of it, and then, taking a hand of each, assisted them to spring on shore.

"Now," he said, "I'll get the ladies off, and shelter them till the shower blows over;" and taking the hand of the matron of the party, he led her to the end of the plank, when he unceremoniously lifted her in his arms and carried her to a dry rock. Returning to the boat he remarked, "I'm good at lifting old ladies and little children, for I've served my apprenticeship at that; but these two,"-pointing to the young ladies," are more delicate wares than I'm used to handling. But I guess I can get them above high-water mark without breaking them." This good natured jest, uttered in a respectful tone, brought a peal of laughter from those on