by the fibrous vessels of the inner bark to the limbs and leaves. But a little observation shows that this is not entirely the case. The tenacity of life which the oak, elm, linn, and other trees show after being girdled and the bark fairly removed all around the trunk, illustrates this principle. Girdling, as performed in our Western forests, where the settler wishes to destroy the trees, is to cut out the bark and wood from five to six inches in width and twothirds as deep around the trunk. This is the size of the girdle on trees from twenty to thirty inches in diameter; those smaller have a corresponding size cut out. The oaks, wild cherries, and some others will frequently live a whole season after this operation is performed, and we have seen repeated instances of elm and linden entirely outliving a fair girdling. One of the latter, in a field of the writer, was girdled in the usual manner, and in addition the bark was entirely removed to the hight of four feet. The tree, twenty inches in diameter, was hollow, nearly half of the body having rotted away. After the operation it stood in green vigor for two seasons. In April of the third year a fire was built in its hollow trunk, which burned freely for over an hour, and yet the tree continued in vigorous foliage for another Summer, when it was thrown down by a gale. The outer portion where the bark had been removed was apparently as dead and dry as an old rail. The fact that a tree will live after girdling shows that the continuity of the bark is not absolutely necessary to its life. We believe in all cases of girdling in which the tree lived that that part of the trunk called the sap-wood was not entirely cut through. That part of the nourishment which comes from the roots must in this case flow up through the sap-wood. John M. Ives, of Salem, Massachusetts, the author of the New England Fruit Book, has subjected this question to a practical test. He has found by many years of experience that grapes, if girdled in July below the clusters of fruit, grow larger, and mature from two to three weeks earlier than if not so treated. In such a case the bark is removed quite to the wood for an inch in length, and all round the branch. These branches die in the following Winter. If, then, so much of the nourishment of plants is derived through the leaves, and so large a portion is water, the question arises, Of what benefit are the manures and our labors in dressing the soil? The answer must be, that the food derived from the soil, though not large in quantity, must be, nevertheless, very essential to the growth of the plant. We all know how important to vigorous vegetation is finely-pulverized soil. A hard lump of sun-baked earth affords no more aid to vegetation than so much brick or stone. The best soils are those found naturally in the state of fine powder. This is true of such soils as, on analysis, are found to contain a large proportion of such substances-silica, alumina, iron, etc.—as would not appear to enter into the composition of plants. The elements of the poorer soils of New England, and some of the richest soils of Kentucky and Illinois, have been analyzed, and found alike to be essentially composed of silica, the only difference being that the rich lands of the latter States were fine powder without the mixture of even the smallest gravel stones. The fineness of our prairie soil is, doubtless, the great secret of its fertility. The anomaly of a rich soil from a substance which we should suppose was not an element of fertility, is illustrated in the analysis by Dr. Hayes, of Boston, of a sample brought from a fertile tobacco region of Cuba. To the surprise of all it was found to be composed of ninety per cent. of iron ore, a substance which we had never supposed to be an element of fertility. Manures appear to act through the agency of fermentation and decomposition, keeping the earth about the roots in a fine, loose condition, and supplying the minute fibers with delicate particles of matter. Manures do not necessarily enter largely into the composition of the plants they benefit. Ammonia is one of the best fertilizers, and yet it does not enter materially into the composition of vegetation. Its extreme volatility renders it an active agent of ramification in the soil, thus keeping it in a light, pulverized condition. Vegetable matter acts not only in furnishing nutriment to the plants, but by decomposition in forming those gases which act much like ammonia. The whole subject of plant-feeding, to which our farmers owe so much of their prosperity, is yet but imperfectly understood. Should not it be as thoroughly studied as stock-feeding, on which so much has been said and written? In both cases the food of plants or animals is returned in the savory viands which decorate our tables and give a healthy and vigorous growth to our own bodies. A GREAT Woman not imperious, a fair woman not vain, a woman of common talents not jealous, an accomplished woman who scorns to shine, are four wonders just great enough to be divided among the four quarters of the globe. LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. BY MRS. SARAH SMITH. It was the same old banner which had waved since Time began, Whenever Wrong and Righteousness had grappled hand For if upon its purity came the shadow of a stain, clean again. Clear the voices of the watchmen floated down to where I stood, And they bade me search the world through to see if any good And gracious promise of the Lord had failed in any wise, Or the night kept back the morning when he bade the sun arise. And with theirs I heard the voices of the million peopled past Calling on this generation, 'mid the trumpet blare and blast, To drag the chain from Freedom's fane, tear-wet and bloody red, Lest what the fathers reared in pain fall on the children's head. OOK on the bright side of things; it is the right side. The times may be hard, but it will make them no easier by wearing a gloomy, sad countenance. It is the sunshine and not the cloud that makes the flower. Full one-half our ills exist only in imagination. There is always that before or around us that should cheer and fill the heart with warmth. The sky is blue ten times where it is black once. You have troubles, it may be, so do others. None are free from them. Perhaps it is as well that none should be. They give sinew and tone to life, fortitude and courage to man. That would be a dull sea, and the sailor would never get skill, where there was nothing to disturb the surface of the ocean. It is the duty of every one to extract all the happiness and enjoyment he can without and within him, and above all O, the age is full of meaning, and the earth rocks to he should look on the bright side of things. What though appearances do look a little dark? The lane will turn, and the night land in broad day. In the long run, and very often in the short, the great balance of life will right itself. What is ill becomes well; what is wrong, right. Men were not made to hang down either their heads or their hands, and those who do only show that they are departing from the path of true common-sense and right. There is more virtue in one sunbeam than in a whole hemisphere of clouds and gloom. Therefore, we repeat, look on the bright side of things. Cultivate what is warm and genial, not the cold and repulsive, the dark and morose. "VIGILAMUS." BY MRS. E. M. H. GATES. O, WATCHMEN, on the watch-towers, looking out across the sea With your long, expectant vision, pray tell us if there be Any sign of dawning daylight; is there any token fair, Any bow of promise painted on the war-cloud any where? Then the watchmen smiled down on me from their look-out clear and high, And, holding Truth's white banner up between me and the sky, They bade me scan each shining fold to see if I could find Any torn or mildewed places on the glorious old ensign. and fro; Smit by lightnings, rent by earthquakes, and all the WELCOME, the lord of light and lamp of day Gavin Douglas. RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS IN HEAVEN. BY THE EDITOR. "The warmest love on earth is still FEW Imperfect when 't given; But there's a purer clime above, Where perfect hearts in perfect love Unite; and this-is heaven." W themes connected with the great hereafter so deeply concerns the heart, as the question of personal recognition among the redeemed. Dear ones of earth-linked to our hearts by the most tender ties-have departed from us and gone away into the unknown realm. We have carefully and tearfully laid their bodies in the grave to slumber till the great awakening morning. We shall see them no more in the land of the living. And if we are never to know them in the future state, this separation sad as may be the thought-is eternal. The hour that carries them down to the grave is the hour of final separation. If there is no personal recognition in heaven; if we shall neither see nor know our friends there, so far as we are concerned they are annihilated, and heaven has no genuine antidote for the soul's agony in the hour of bereavement. By and by we shall go and lie down by the side of those severed from us by death, and sleep with them the long, unbroken slumber of the grave. In the great awakening morning we shall, side by side, come forth. Will there then be no recognition between us? If not, what will they be to us more than those redeemed in other ages and from other climes? All the precious memories of toil and trial, of conflict and victory, of gracious manifestation and of holy joy, shared with them in the time of our pilgrimage, will have perished forever! or be remembered, perchance, as vague and unreal fancies. We enter heaven as strangers, and such we shall remain forever. The anxiety of the soul with regard to the personal recognitions of the future state is natural. It springs from the holiest sympathies of the human heart. And any inquiry that may solve our doubts or relieve our anxiety is equally rational and commendable. We shall proceed, then, to argue the fact of personal recognition among the redeemed in heaven, and shall present considerations which, in their aggregate force, are absolutely conclusive of the subject. I. REASON DEMANDS IT. What we mean to assert here is, that the doctrine of personal recognition in the future state has a basis in nature and in reason. VOL. XXIV.-6 1. The yearning of the heart for the departed must remain forever unsatisfied without it. Our loved dead are still linked to us, not only by the cords of memory, but the ties of affection. The monuments carved to their memory, the flowers that blossom above their sleeping dust, and the tears that bedew their graves, are so many living testimonials of our undying affection for them, and the yearning of the heart for a reunion with them. "She goeth unto the grave to weep there," is the record, not merely of Mary, but of the heart-yearning of humanity in all ages. This human feeling finds its consummation only in a recognized personal reunion in heaven. The soul craves the assurance of this reunion, and in response to that craving our funeral hymns take up the blessed strain and whisper it to our hope in sweetest melody. In the faith of it the farewells of the dying chamber are touched with a deeper pathos, and made expressive of a sublimer joy. "Good-by, papa, good-by! Mamma has come for me tonight-do n't cry, papa! we'll all meet again in the morning!" Such was the language of a dying child as the night-shade of death closed around him. Yes, thanks be to God, we'll all meet again in the morning! How the thought thrills the heart! Have our brethren in Christ, with whom we have taken sweet counsel in the day of our pilgrimage, left us to finish the journey weary and alone? It cheers us by the way to know that "we 'll all meet again in the morning." Bereaved parent, how often is thy yearning heart filled with a holy calmness as angelic whisperings, wafted from the far-off land, come unto thee, saying, "We'll all meet again in the morning!" "O, wild is the tempest and dark is the night, 'And we'll all meet again in the morning!' " 2. The communion of the saints in heaven is impossible without personal recognition. The communion of the saints of God on earth is one of the richest sources of comfort, as well as one of the most effective means of spiritual nurture in the Church militant. And we are led to look forward to it as one of the grand consummations of the heavenly state. If the mere conception," says Robert Hall, "of the reunion of good men in a future state, infused a momentary rapture into the mind of Tully; if an airy speculation, for there is reason to fear it had little hold on his convictions, could inspire him with such delight, what may we be expected to feel, who are assured of such an event by the true sayings of God! How should we rejoice in the prospect, the certainty rather, of spending a blissful eternity with those whom we loved on earth; of seeing them emerge from the tomb, and the deeper ruins of the fall, not only uninjured, but refined and perfected, with every tear wiped from their eyes, standing before the throne of God and the Lamb in white robes, and palms in their hands, crying with a loud voice, Salvation to God who sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, forever and ever! What delight will it afford to renew the sweet counsel we have taken together, to recount the toils of combat, and to approach not the house but to the throne of God, in company, in order to join in the symphonies of heavenly voices, and lose ourselves among the splendors and fruitions of the beatific vision!" But how would it dampen the ardor of our faith, with what a chilliness would it overspread the otherwise delightful prospect of the communion of saints in heaven if there we are not to recognize them as fellow-pilgrims redeemed from earth! Communion implies personal knowledge of each other. If the glorified spirit shall have communion with the angels of God, it will be with them as beings who have not only a personal existence, but also a personal history that may be remembered and rehearsed. Thus each angel in heaven may run back through all the ages of his personal history-never, at any time, losing, even for one moment, the distinct individuality of his consciousness or his experience. And so must it also be with the saints of God. If their earthly history is lost, how shall we know that there ever was to them any such history? How shall we know that they ever were of the Church militant-redeemed and saved by the blood of Christ? But if their past history is known, how can it be separated from the individual person? If this can not be done, then to know the earthly history of the saint passed into heaven is to obtain personal knowledge of him, so that there must be recognition between him and us. If he has an earthly history, and we have an earthly history, and each is capable of communicating his own history, or of receiving the history of the other, so certain is it that personal recognitions must take place. The Christian can never lose his identity, either on earth or in heaven. have been brought in contact with. Take away all our knowledge connected with and dependent upon the recognition of father and mother, brothers and sisters, teachers and ministers, children and neighbors, and how little would be left to us! Life, and thought, and intellect would become almost a blank; and what little remained of each would lose half its value. How, then, can it enter into our thoughts that the failure of spiritual recognition can possibly be less disastrous to us in the future world? But this shall not be; for not only will the knowledge acquired in this life be retained in its full measure, and distinctness, and particularity, but it shall be indefinitely enlarged. "Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." 1 Cor. xiii, 12. Whatever else may be implied in this passage, no one can doubt but that it looks to an increase of knowledge in the future state; and also that this increase has special relation to our knowledge of each other. "Now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face." 4. Personal recognition in the future life is essential to the unraveling of the mysteries of this. In the history of the purest and best men that have ever lived upon the earth, there are events, conflicts of mind, and even providential dealings that were dark and mysterious, and in many instances the individuals have gone down to the grave with the darkness unrelieved and the mystery unsolved. Our Savior said to his disciples, "What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." John xiii, 7. Thus, in the heavenly state, there is to be an unvailing of the mysteries of this. We shall know why the good man was afflicted and his life clouded with sorrow, and why the wicked were permitted to prosper in his wickedness. The knowledge acquired there will be such as to assure us that the Judge of all the earth has done right. 5. Heart-friendships here have no proper consummation without personal recognition and continued affection in another life. Friendship is not confined to earth. Abraham is no less "the friend of God" in heaven now, than he was when dwelling in tents and walking by faith in the land of Canaan nearly four thousand years ago. So every other spiritual affection survives the ravages of the tomb. "Go where we will," says Dr. Berg, "we find the sentiment that friendship is perpetuated beyond the grave. It is enshrined in the heart of our common humanity. The pure, unsophisticated belief of the vast majority of the followers of Christ is in unison with the yearnings of natural affection, which follows its objects through the por recognition of friends in heaven, we do not mean that it is any where put into the precise formula of a proposition. Some of the most elementary truths of religion are passed by without any such formal statement; but they are constantly recognized in its general teach taught in many of its most striking recorded transactions. So it is with the doctrine of spiritual recognition. It is interwoven in the very texture of revelation and runs through the whole scope of its teachings. 1. The mental basis of recognition, namely, personal identity. consciousness, perception, and memory, are recognized as being retained in the future state. All this is implied in the song heard by St. John sung in heaven, "Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation." Rev. v, 9. No one could sing this song for himself without a remembrance of the redeeming love of the Savior, as it found him a lost and ruined sinner upon the earth, and made him a king and a priest unto God; and all this too from among a certain nation, people, tongue, and kindred. Nor could any one join with others in saying, "Thou hast redeemed us," without some recognition of each one of the great company as having been once, like themselves, possessed of definite place, and language, and kindred upon the earth. tals of the grave into the eternal world. What but this causes the Christian parent, in the dying hour, to charge his beloved children to prepare for a reunion before the throne of the Lamb? He desires to meet them there, and to rejoice with them in the victory over sin and death. The widow bending in bitter bereave-ings, and, by obvious implication at least, ment over the grave of him whom God has taken, meekly puts the cup of sorrow to her lips with the assured confidence that the separation wrought by death is transient, and that they who sleep in Jesus shall together inherit the rest that remaineth for the people of God. Thus the wormwood and the gall are tempered by the sweet balm of hope, and heaven wins the attractions earth has lost. Tell me, ye who have seen the open tomb receive into its bosom the sacred trust committed to its keeping, in hope of the first resurrection-ye who have heard the sullen rumbling of the death-clods as they dropped upon the coffin-lid, and told you that earth had gone back to earth-when the separation from the object of your love was realized in all the desolation of bereavement, next to the thought that you should erelong see Christ as he is and be like him was not that consolation the strongest which assured you that the departed one, whom God has put from you into darkness, will run to meet you when you cross the threshold of immortality, and, with the holy rapture to which the redeemed alone can give utterance, lead you to the exalted Savior, and with you bow at his feet and cast the conqueror's crown before him?" And is this hope vain? Shall we not even know those dear ones in the spirit-world? Was this light of hope that gilded so beautifully the sad, dark hour of human woe, only a mocking ignis fatuus, so soon to go out in everlasting darkness? Is this affection-so deep, so holy-identity, and consciousness, and memory in yearning over its object with undying love-to be nipped in the very bud of its being? Nay, it can not be. There must have been some higher purpose; God could not delight in the bestowal of affections that were to be blighted in their very beginning, and of hopes that were to end only in the mockery of eternal disappointment. "If fate unite the faithful but to part, Why is their memory sacred to the heart?" Then, again, in the narration of his sublime vision St. John tells us, "I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held. And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" Rev. vi, 9, 10. Here certainly were strong and earnest exercise. There was not only a memory of blood that had been shed upon the earth, but a recognition of themselves as the identical persons whose blood had been shed, and superadded to all was a consciousness of unavenged wrong which they had suffered upon the earth. The same is also implied in that declaration of our Lord, "That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." Matt. xii, 36. For unless these deeds be remembered, and remembered too in their connection with our personal identity, how shall we render the account? Or, take, again, the language of St. Paul, "Every one of us shall give account of himself to God." Rom. xiv, 12. Here too it is implied that there In affirming that revelation proclaims the is a memory, or at least a knowledge of the |