A MELTING

STORY.

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got a story to tell you, too; sit down, now;" and Seth was again pushed into his seat by his cunning tormentor.

"Oh, it's darn'd hot here," said the petty thief, again attempting to rise.

"Set down; do n't be in such a plaguy hurry," retorted the grocer, pushing him back in his chair.

"But I've got the cows to fodder, and some wood to split, and I must be a-goin'," continued the persecuted chap. "But you must n't tear yourself away, Seth, in this manSet down; let the cows take care of themselves, and keep yourself cool: you appear to be fidgetty," said the roguish grocer with a wicked leer.

ner.

The next thing was the production of two smoking glasses of hot rum-toddy, the very sight of which, in Seth's present situation, would have made the hair stand erect upon his head had it not been well oiled and kept down by the butter.

"Seth, I'll give you a toast now, and you can butter it yourself," said the grocer, yet with an air of such consummate simplicity that poor Seth still believed himself unsuspected. "" Seth, here's here's a Christmas goose-(it was about Christmas time) — here's a Christmas goose well roasted and basted, eh? I tell you, Seth, it's the greatest eating in creation. And, Seth, do n't you never use hog's fat or common cooking butter to baste with. Fresh pound butter, just the same as you see on that shelf yonder, is the only proper thing in natur' to baste a goose with. Come, take your butter—I mean, Seth, take your toddy."

Poor Seth now began to smoke as well as to melt, and his mouth was as hermetically sealed up as though he had been born dumb. Streak after streak of the butter came pouring from under his hat, and his handkerchief was already soaked with the greasy overflow. Talking away as if nothing was the matter, the grocer kept stuffing the wood into the stove, while poor Seth sat bolt upright, with his back against the counter, and his knees almost touching the red hot furnace before him.

"Darnation cold night this," said the grocer. "Why,

Seth, you seem to perspire as if you was warm!
do n't you take your hat off?
away."

Why
Here, let me put your hat

"No!" exclaimed poor Seth at last, with a spasmodic effort to get his tongue loose, and clapping both hands upon his hat; "no! I must go let me out; I aint well, let me go!" A greasy cataract was now pouring down the poor fellow's face and neck, and soaking into his clothes, and trickling down his body into his very boots, so that he was literally in a perfect bath of oil.

"Well, good night, Seth," said the humorous Vermonter, "if you will go:" adding, as Seth got into the road, "neighbor, I reckon the fun I've had out of you is worth a ninepence, so I shan't charge for that pound of butter !"

THE WHITE MOUNTAINS

BY WILLIAM B. TAPPAN.

I GAZED upon the mountain's top,
That pierced in twain the passing cloud,
And wondered at its giant form,

So dark, magnificent, and proud.

Can this strong mountain from its base
Be shaken by the tempest's shock?
Can all the gathered thunders stir
This everlasting, solid rock,

And scatter forth its dust like hail?
And fling its fragments on the air?
Can aught created wield such strength?
Exists such power? — Oh, tell me where?

They may remove; these mountains may
Tremble, and hence for ever pass;
These hills, that pillar up the skies,
Perish, as doth the new-mown grass.

Yea, saith the Lord, they shall depart,
The hills, and all the solid land;
But my sure word of truth remains,
My promise shall for ever stand.

CHARACTER OF THE REV. DR. PARKER,

OF PORTSMOUTH.

BY SAMUEL E. COUES.

THE mind of Dr. Parker was characterized by vigor of conception and distinctness of thought. His course ever appeared to be regulated and directed by his practical good sense. This was exhibited in his whole life, and gave a decided practical tendency to all his efforts in his profession. It was seen in all his sermons. There was not found in them any attempt merely to please the taste of the day, or to gratify the imagination by the charms of rhetoric. In their style they were plain, simple and direct; with a strong and manly eloquence they were addressed to the conscience. The end of preaching, reformation of life, appeared never to be forgotten. The most frequent topics were the practical truths of revelation, the plain and universally admitted doctrines; for he believed, in these consisted the power of religion over the heart. He sought not originality of ideas, but strength of illustration. He did not exert his mental strength by boldness of speculation, by treading as it were on the confines of error, in advancing new and dazzling ideas, but he used his power, directed his search, and applied his knowledge of character to enforce the great truths which are the very corner-stones and foundations of the christian's hopes. His manner was solemn and impressive. There was no attempt to set himself off, or to draw the attention to the preacher. He appeared to forget self in his interest for others, to look for the effects of his sermons on the character of his hearers, not on his own repu

CHARACTER OF REV. DR. PARKER.

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tation. He stood before his people as the ambassador of Christ, and his manner, expression, and whole appearance were such as to enforce the belief that he spoke from the heart, and was himself personally interested in the truths he illustrated, personally imbued with the spirit of the religion he preached. There was a sanctity of manner, an appearance of heart-felt reverence in his devotions. His mind seemed intently fixed in his adoration. His petitions flowed upward from the heart; the very tones of his voice, the richness and purity of his devotional language carried the mind upward from the changes of earth, from the weakness of man, to the peace and permanence of the heavens, to Him in whom is no variableness or shadow of turning.

The warmth of his feelings and his intimate knowledge of character peculiarly fitted Dr. Parker for the discharge of his parochial duties. To the mourner he was indeed the son of consolation, the guide of the wounded spirit. In whatever family he visited in times of trouble to its members, he was ever after the friend of their hearts. He came not coldly to discharge the duty of a pastor, to offer the formal words of consolation. He entered the house of mourning as the christian friend, calm and self-possessed, yet exhibiting a heart-felt commiseration. He appeared as one who personally suffered, and his deep sympathy with the afflicted enabled him to pour the balm of consolation into the wounded heart; he could thus hush the tumult of grief, and soothe the excited mind by directing it to the Star of Bethlehem, shining with mild and steady beams beyond the clouds which rested over their earthly hopes. How many tears now flow when the memory of his people carries them back to the times of their bereavements, when their dying friends reposed on his bosom, when his christian friendship, his devoted benevolence comforted and sustained them, and so often made the afflictions of life to minister to their permanent good!

He did indeed faithfully discharge the duties of a pastor. He identified himself with the sorrows of others. He came