lowed the draught, he opened his eyes and cast a quick glance towards the fire, then groaning deeply, closed them again. "All gone," he murmured between his bloodless lips" all gone with my hopes. They have broken the staff on which I leaned. Let me die-let me die." "God is our trust, my father!" exclaimed Irene, impressing a fervent kiss upon his clammy brow. "Speak to me-tell me that you are not injured." He opened his eyes again and beheld the eager, pale, but still exquisitely beautiful countenance of his child suspended over his own. The sight inspired him with { a better feeling. He arose with her assistance and stood upon his feet. "Did I dream, my daughter?" he asked with a confused expression, as his eye wandered to the scene at his feet; "did I dream that I had wrought out the secret?" "Come with me, father," she replied, taking his hand and gently leading him to the curtain by which she had entered "come with me and I will explain all." (him with admiring gratitude, and feel "how excellent a thing and precious" is well-directed knowledge. Is he the patriotic statesman, a man divorced from the degradation of self and chicanery and narrow minded policy-whose labors embrace posterity and eternity, who acts as God's vicegerent and holds himself responsible to the Throne above, both in the occupation of his office and the exercise of his knowledge? He too has our hearty suffrages. There is a stamp of divinity upon him, nor can the malignant abuse of party wipe it out, nor persecution, nor defamation; for it is the outward mien of an approving conscience. And were it to our purpose, we might allude to other men, engaged in other spheres, .whose knowledge in its daily accumulation is designed to glorify God and benefit the world. We do not see them, perhaps, for the knowledge of which we speak is a peaceable, unobtrusive quality. It does not court the pomp and circumstance of show, nor crave the "wonderment of stupid starers." It is satisfied to sit at some fountainhead of truth in quiet meditation, or to guide its salutary currents down from their mountain source to the lowly vales and common walks of life. Its purpose is to do good, not so much before men, as in behalf of them; and to find its reward, not so much in their The old man leaned his head upon her shoulder and wept. The first gray light of the early summer morn stole in at the lattice, as they left the laboratory to-wordy applause, as in the consciousness of well-doing gether. [TO BE CONTINUED.] and the smile of God. And we believe that in our day there are many such men, almost unknown and unheard of in the busy hum of empirics and talkative pretenders, who by noiseless, patient, persevering toils are working out for their kind, substantial and enduring advantages; and, behold! their witness is in Heaven-their record is on high. We wish, however, to speak a few plain words upon the degradation of knowledge, when it becomes the venal slave of a morbid, sensual, and ever-shifting taste. We wish to speak of it, as it exists among us to an extent most "NEVER let the man of knowledge deal out the trea-alarming, a superficial, prostituted thing, unworthy the For the Evergreen. POPULAR LITERATURE OF THE DAY. "Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." name of knowledge or literature. sures of his mind, at the bidding of a purchaser," was the remark of one who, long dead, yet speaketh. The The multiplication of unprofitable books and other sentiment is a lofty one. It recognizes the true dig- forms of reading matter is beyond all precedent. They nity and the true design of intellectual elevation. It deluge every avenue of life, and are cheating millions claims for knowledge its grand prerogative, that of out of that treasure which gold cannot re-purchase. lifting the standard of public taste upward to itself, re- Nor is this evil barely negative, consisting in the mere forming its defects, clearing its obliquities, giving it consumption of time which might be better appliedthe tone of health, the bent of Heaven. Nor upon the it is positive-palpable in the injuries which it conveys face of the earth is a nobler spectacle to be found, to the heart and the head. It is not only a waste, than that of the man whose faculties are thus em- but the worst possible desecration of time. Look at ployed; who with his eye fixed on eternity and his the current and ephemeral literature which is spreading heart swelling with impulses of love to man, goeth with such fleetness through the length and breadth of forth to "let his light shine" over the surface of a cor- the land. To what does it amount? To the finerupt and darkened world. It matters not what de- spun vagaries of sceptical eccentricity, and although partment of labor he claims as his own; he has our the "Past and Present" be the theme, loaded to the reverential homage. Is he a man of science, toiling in full with poison. It amounts to the periodical manuhis laboratory or treading the recesses of nature, or facture of a thousand contemptible fictions, neither too counting the stars, as he brings the fruit of his re-long to prejudice, nor too passionless to clog a hungry search to vindicate the character of God, to illustrate perusal, but condensed and garnished according to His dealings and His doings? We yearn towards the best rules of sentimental and tragic effect. It knowledge from the wells of Salvation, and believe us the time will be well spent. Quiet evenings and healthful mornings follow in the train of such employment, conscience wears her most approving smile, the intellect exults in grateful trophies, and the spirit plumes itself for an upward flight. Herein did our them in every species of secular enterprise, they were before us in whatever relates to the chief business of amounts to the parcelling out of romance and pathos bound to do it. We are bound to sequester ourselves and high-wrought description in weekly quantities, and our children from these "evil communications," kindling a depraved appetite by anticipation, and ta- and, if with no other view, with this—their dreadful king an indefinite lease of the future. It amounts to havoc upon time. If we are busily engaged in workthe dissemination of secular and sectarian controver-ing out our own salvation, if we would train our chilsies, wherein the expounders of politics and religion dren in the same course of celestial preparation, we have labor "to transmute every thing into the metal of no time for such dissipation. There is knowledge their own peculiar currency;" and whereby the pub-all around us which profiteth. True knowledge, lic mind is bewildered, and truth enveloped in a per- wheresoever found, is the handmaid of religion, and petual disguise. Such, in the main, is the stamp of every sound treatise on morals, or literature, or science, our popular literature. We would not be misunder- or art, may be made serviceable, in some degree, to stood. We are not quarreling with the printing-press. the improvement of the soul. But chiefly would we It is the greatest blessing of modern times. We own recommend that knowledge and that wisdom which its power. We reverence its legitimate authority. cometh down from above; the knowledge of God and We contend for its freedom. We should be insane things divine, the knowledge of our own spiritual desnot to award it the votives of a heart-felt gratitude. { titution and the means of its supply. Draw waters of No! We have no animadversions for a well-directed press, whose issues are solid and aimed at public morals or public intelligence. Nor would we reflect upon the diurnal sheets which bring to our door the movements and the mischiefs at hand or afar. With some gross and glaring exceptions, the moral power of the news-press is well controlled, by men who feel the dig-fathers exercise themselves, and while we are before nity and responsibility of their office. Our remarks are designed to bear upon the prolific editions of works which only repay a perusal with intellectual and spirit-life. If tradition is to be relied upon, they, more than ual damage; works which gloss over life with a false we, were "keepers at home." They were closer stucoloring, and trick out every species of vice, and every dents of the Bible, better informed in matters of docphase of infidelity in the most seductive attire; works trine and theology and Church polity, more devoted to written with the dripping pen of partisan malice or the catechetical instruction of their children, and, in a religious intolerance. Against these, we, know of no multitude of respects, more wise unto salvation. Shall language sufficiently strong to convey a merited conwe not emulate them? Shall we not catch their spirit, demnation. And whence do they spring? Who are and although "set in the midst of so many and great their authors? For the most part, men whose pro-dangers" unknown to them, shall we not strive with fession it is to live by their wits, and bring their su- ten-fold earnestness "to redeem the time, because the perficial or prurient knowledge to the most advanta-days are evil?" geous account ;* men who watch the fluctuating tastes and foibles of the public mind only to make merchandise of them, and who will write for "hire and salary" in any cause, on any subject, no matter how despicable or damning. Oh, it is the basest of all callings, setting up for sale conscience, integrity, truth, religion, in order to gratify humors and fan prejudices, which shall peril the eternal hopes, not of one, but of thousands. We ask, then, shall we encourage such a literature? Christians! shall we not "redeem the time," which the pamphleteering spirit of the age would steal from us and pervert? We are Eugene Sue, the author of the "Mysteries of Paris," Is thus alluded to by N. P. Willis, in one of his recent letters to the National Intelligencer:-"Eugene Sue, the author of the 'Mysteries of Paris,' is a connoisseur of pleasure; and when I saw him ten years ago, was an elegant voluptuary of the first water. He was just then creeping through the crust of the Chausse d' Antin, into the more exclusive sphere of the Faubourg St. Germain-fat, good looking, and thirty-two. He is by this time sloped' from his meridian, and apparently turning his experiences into commodity." NEW HAVEN, December, 1843. For the Evergreen. M. F. W. AN Though we are now encompassed here II. Yet while these sects of mushroom growth H. D. For the Evergreen. GLIMPSES OF CHILDHOOD, A SONG OF THE SUMMER-TIME. BY THE AUTHOR OF "CHRISTMAS BELLS," "MICHAEL AGO- COME to my side, my daughter!-thou hast been Where the tall corn is springing, and the play II. The flow'rs are thy companions, happy child!— Thou lovest with affection deep and strong, Around thee, and whose presence halloweth Thy waking hours:—with whom, in childish numbers, Thy heart discourseth still in midnight slumbers. III. Nay, wonder not, my child! that I have read Of sunny innocence and cloudless mirth, IV. See'st thou, my daughter! where the setting sun Thy mirth this day began:-ere long his rays Will all have vanished,—and the silver horn Of the new moon on which thy wond'ring gaze Was fix'd last night, shall peep o'er yonder hill, And earth, beneath the stars, lay bright and still. V. Thus day by day he rises;-through the sky Open in bloom and balm; the glittering streams And o'er the boundless firmament on high VI. God made all these, my daughter! earth and sky And the whole boundless universe are his :Though all invisible to human eye In nature's changes and bright mysteries He works unceasingly; the solemn night, The glorious day, the sun, the moon, the stars, And every thing that liveth, fair or bright, Came from His hand, uninjured by the scars Of sin, or blight of sorrow, care, or death, Pure as the soul which felt his quick'ning breath. VII. The God of nature is the God of grace: Bright are the aspects under which he veils From mortal sight his radiant dwelling place; But in his CHURCH a holier light prevails, In solemn rite and holy ordinance He brings us to his nearest presence there, And faith, whose aids are these, with upward glance Pierces the clouds of sense, or, nerv'd by pray'r Soars from the symbol, and with fervent tone Utters its hymn before the eternal throne. VIII. At every altar-side a fountain springs, Whose mystic waters, like the dews which fall Through the still hours, from ev'ning's balmy wings, Renew the soul and make it holy all; And o'er that altar, like the cloud which shone The Eucharistic Presence, which alone Hallows the shrine where faith true word 's enroll'd Opens its mystic glories to the soul, Calming the heart with love's most sweet control. IX. By all the avenues which nature opes 'Midst her bright wonders, through whose radiant aisles The trusting spirit, heralded by hopes Which glow with rapture, lit by kindling smiles The meed of praise for all that crowns life's cup X. Then to that altar bring thy soul's best gifts, The heart from earth's poor toys, to where display'd His cross and throne appear, beyond the cloud Of sense unpurg'd,-where faith beholds the crowd For the Evergreen. SKETCHES FROM A CLERGYMAN'S DIARY. NO. 1. THE BUSY-BODY IN OTHER PEOPLE'S MATTERS. ham, had not now arrived." (I afterwards learned that she had been there six times before, making the same inquiry.) "Yes," replied my hostess, "he just came here, and is now in his room, up stairs." "I guess I will just step up and see him," said the other. "I think it would be better not to interrupt him yet," rejoined my more considerate hostess," for he has not been here more than an hour, and to-morrow being Sunday, he will need all the time which he can command, to prepare himself for its duties. Suppose you call on Monday, Miss Prudence." "No, I must see him now," answered the importunate lady, and making good her words, she ran up stairs, and hurried into my room without even knocking or giving any other premonition of her approach than the conversation to which I had been an unavoidable listener. "This is our pastor, the Rev. Mr. Bingham, I suppose; very happy to see you, sir;-my name is Miss Prudence Bacon," (offering me her hand;)" I was afraid you would not come this week ;-hope I shall hear a gospel sermon to-morrow ;-tired of this layEVERY village has its gossips and "busy-bodies in reading;-don't get any benefit from it ;—rather go to other men's matters." Indeed, it has sometimes been Methodist meeting and hear Mr. Thumper, or stay at a question in my mind whether a village could exist home and read Pilgrim's Progress ;—thought some of without them ;—in other words, if the little community joining the Methodists, if the vestry did not soon get a should banish every tattler and gossip from their midst, minister;-heard that they had employed you, sir;— whether the place would not thereby, ipso facto, forfeit been sitting at my window for three days, expecting all claims to the title of a village. In my own profes-to see you pass;-every strange gentleman in black sional career, I have never been the rector of a parish that came along, I hoped was you ;-ran down here which could not enumerate among its goodly inhabit-several times to see if you had come ;-glad to see you ants some two or three at least of these officious wor- at last;-guess we shall be good friends;-shall althies. I have sometimes thought that my lot was pc-ways be willing to help you along in the parish ;—well culiarly replete with difficulties, in having the unwished-acquainted with every body here, sir;-don't think the for assistance of so many busy-bodies, and I was re- vestry have provided you with a very good boardingcently giving vent to some heartfelt expressions of house ;-plenty of room in my house ;-been very glad regret and sorrow, on this very subject, in the presence to have accommodated you;-very pretty portrait that of a brother clergyman, when he interrupted me by in-in your trunk ;-likeness of your sweetheart, perhaps," quiring how many such gossips and intermeddlers belonged to my parish. I replied, "Four, at the least, sir." "Oh, if that is all," rejoined he, "you have but trifling cause for such doleful complaints, for I have no less than eleven in my parish." Since that time I have endeavored to bear my own trials, arising from this source, with more becoming resignation. But to the subject of my story. (stooping to take it up ;)—" think it best for young ministers to become settled before they think of getting married;-hope I don't offend, sir;-merely my own opinion;-all persons you" How much longer Miss Prudence Bacon would have continued pouring forth such disjointed sentences, I know not, but just as she uttered the last words, and had laid her hand upon the miniature, her foot became entangled in her cloak, and she fell, her head and both hands coming with full weight into my trunk. Soon after my ordination, at the request of my Bishop, I took the pastoral charge of the little parish of Sin one of the New England States. It was late one Having assisted her in regaining her feet, she began Saturday afternoon when I first arrived in the village, to apologize for having, as she said, “rumpled my and having found the family in which the church-clothes so much," and even offered to take them all wardens had engaged lodgings for me, I called for my room, and commenced unpacking the contents of my trunk and boxes. I had hardly arranged a dozen books on the shelves, when I heard a female voice at the door, inquiring whether "our new rector, Mr. Bing out of my trunk and "smooth them" for me, (with a view, I suppose, of seeing what the trunk contained ;) but I requested her to be seated, and not give herself any trouble about them. I also took care to inform her that the miniature was the portrait of my sister. Miss Prudence Bacon was probably somewhere in (shuddering run through my frame. This, I found, did the neighborhood of forty or forty-five years of age. not escape the notice of my visitor, for before I had She was a tall, lean woman, not very agreeable in ap- time to say a word, she continuedpearance, or particularly neat in her dress. Still she seemed to show her regard towards her "new rector" by her early visit to me; and I confess that I did not read her true character, as I ought to have done, from the above specimen of her garrulity. I was young, and inexperienced in the ways of the world: my life had been spent amid "academic shades and written lore," and, like most novices in the ministry, I was about to preach to man ere I knew what man was. "I am glad, Mr. Bingham, to see you so shocked at the course which the warden wished her to take. Just as if it made any difference whether a child is baptized in a church or in a private house. For that matter, I don't think as much of infant baptism as I formerly did. I have heard some Baptists preach lately, and I don't know but that they are right, after all." "Pardon me, Miss Bacon," said I, "it was not the advice of the junior warden to your sister, that excited Miss Prudence had scarcely seated herself, before{ she began to explain to me the principal objects of her the painful emotions which you noticed, but it was her visit. wicked reply, that she would permit her child to go unbaptized sooner than have this holy ordinance performed openly in the church. Do you not know that the rubric requires the minister to warn the people that without great cause and necessity, they procure not their children to be baptized at home in their houses.' And if there were no rubrics to direct us, I do not see how any one can refuse to acknowledge the propriety of always (except in the extreme "I thought I would just step in, Mr. Bingham," said she," and pay you this early visit, and give you some desirable information concerning the parish. You are an entire stranger here, and would, I suppose, be glad to know something about the state of the parish." I replied, that I should make it my duty, as soon as possible, to learn something of the character and situation of those to whom I was to minister in holy things; and that I intended to call upon the church-cases which the rubric contemplates) having the ordiwardens that very evening for this purpose. nance administered publicly in the church, which is a building consecrated to the honor of God, separated from all unhallowed, ordinary, and common uses, and dedicated to His service, for reading His holy word, for celebrating His holy sacraments, for offering to His glorious majesty the sacrifices of prayer and thanksgiving, for blessing His people in His name, and for the performance of all other holy offices.'* I am sure your sister has never thought of the sin (for I can call it by no more gentle name) of which she is guilty by cannot be unwilling to have her infant made a member of Christ, the child of God, and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.” Miss Prudence manifested considerable impatience while I was speaking, and once or twice was on the point of interrupting me. As soon as I had finished my last sentence, she began in quite an animated (not to say angry) tone, "The very worst place to go, sir," answered Miss Prudence, "the very worst place to go for information. Why, Mr. Bingham, the senior warden knows nothing about the parish. He is wholly occupied in his business of a mechanic, and never troubles himself about the welfare of the Church. I pity him, poor man," continued Miss Prudence, in a tone of affected sorrow, "for he thinks a great deal more of the Church than he does of religion; he don't care whether people are religious or not, so that they are good Churchmen.keeping her babe from the baptismal font. She certainly Why, sir, he is almost as bad as a Catholic: he fasts every Friday; uses the whole litany every Wednesday and Friday at his family prayers; never tries to pray without a form; always stays at home and keeps his family there Sunday nights, (though we have three meeting-houses here, and one of them is always open for preaching, or else a prayer-mecting is held in some private house ;) and I have heard him say things that ought to make any Protestant shudder; yes, I have heard him say, that he hoped the day would come when the church would be open for prayers, at least, every feast and fast day, and when the sacrament of the Lord's Supper would be administered every Sunday. And the junior warden, why he is worse still. Would you believe it, sir, he told my sister that she ought by all means to bring her infant to church and have it baptized, and not have the ceremony performed in a private house; and that it was heathenish to keep it from baptism. My sister answered him as he deserved that she knew her own business, and would have her child christened in her own house, or else let it go unbaptized.'" 66 Really, Mr. Bingham, you remind me of our late minister, Mr. Lindley. He was always talking about rubrics, and canons, and standards, and such things. For my part, I thank God I have no rubric, or canon, or standard, but my Bible. I care nothing for your rubrics, forms, and ceremonies. I try to be a Bible Christian, as the Methodist preacher said the other day. Poor Mr. Lindley! he is dead and buried, and I hope he has gone to heaven; but he was so bigoted. I went to him once to ask him to let a Baptist minister have the church to preach in, but he positively refused. I do believe he would have been just as *See Prayer to be used at the "Consecration of a Church or At this last impious expression, I felt an involuntary Chapel." |