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power to save ourselves; but in vain. The prospect is bad enough, indeed; but let us not despair. God has promised he will never leave nor forsake us. Let us, then, look to him who has hitherto been our help in time of trouble.' He then knelt down in the wagon and lifted up his voice to heaven in prayer.

"As he proceeded in supplication his earnestness increased. His soul swelled with unutterable emotion. Kindled with reviving courage, his voice rose to its fullest swell, and its tones of pathos and harmony echoed through the silent shades around. Son of the living God,' he exclaimed,' thou hast hitherto been our refuge; and surely thou wilt provide in this, our affliction, a way for our escape.'

"After prayer Mrs. Gurley was calm; she seemed to feel the efficacy of prayer. The tempest of emotion that had disturbed her soul was hushed, and she sunk into a quiet slumber. Mr. Gurley took his stand as a sentinel, beneath the spreading foliage of a large tree, a few yards from the wagon, and waited with solicitude the coming day. As the day dawned he struck a fire, and made preparation for a morning meal, which his wife and eldest daughter provided. Just as they were sitting down, a neighbor, who had been detained by an accident, came up. It was Dr. Hastings, a respectable physician and intimate acquaintance. Having broken his wagon in crossing the river, he had been obliged to leave it, and, with a large family, mounted on both horses and oxen, they were making their way to a place of security. The tears of both families freely flowed, as they met and embraced in the hour of their misfortunes. The Doctor proposed, that if Mr. Gurley would throw out the household goods which he had brought, so that both families could occupy the wagon, he would hitch his team, and so get through the wilderness. To this Mr. Gurley cheerfully consented; and, prompted by his natural vivacity, he endeavored to throw a ray of pleasantry on the gloom which prevailed. 'Yes, Doctor,' said he, 'Satan spoke the truth for once, when he said, "All that a man hath will he give for his life." The goods were accordingly thrown out at the side of the wagon. Feather-beds, bedding, carpet, table-furniture, etc., were thrown in one promiscuous pile. The children covered them slightly with spice-brush branches. They were picked up, afterward, by returning travelers, and were never recovered." Western Book Concern: Cincinnati. 12mo., 268 pages.

HISTORY OF WESLEYAN METHODISM. By George Smith, F. A. S.-The first volume of this history is now before us. It is confined to the times of John Wesley. After bringing the history down to the death of Wesley, several chapters are devoted to a review of the religious character of Wesley, Wesleyan theology and evangelization, Wesleyan discipline, Wesleyan literature, and Wesleyan Methodism a great reformation. The work gives many interesting facts in the history of the Wesleyan reformation, not found in other works. The author, who is a most indefatigable explorer in the departments of ecclesiastical and historical literature, has turned to good purpose all that could be gleaned from pamphlets, letters, and special minutes of the British conference, not known to previous writers on Methodism. This volume contains a fac simile of a letter of Southey, addressed to James Nichols, in which he promises to get out a revised edition of his Life of Wesley-correcting the errors pointed out by Alexander Knox, and others.

That promise would no doubt have been fulfilled but for the death of Southey. The revised edition of his works was left to his son, a bigoted Churchman, and, to his everlasting dishonor, the promised corrections were suppressed by him. Isaac Taylor is passed through the hands of Mr. Smith in a very summary manner; and comes out in a rather sad plight. The crowded state of our columns, this month, will not admit of the space we would like to devote to this important work. It makes an 8vo. of 750 pages; and is published by Longman, Brown & Co., London.

THE HARMONY OF THE DIVINE DISPENSATION is an 8vo. of 360 pages, by the same author, and from the same publishers. This is a series of nine discourses, de

signed to show the spirituality, efficacy, and harmony of

the Divine revelations made to mankind.

THE WESLEYAN LOCAL PREACHER'S MANUAL comprises a series of lectures, designed especially for the use of lay preachers, Sunday school teachers, and Christian students. After an introductory lecture, defining the local preacher and his work, follow a number on Biblical science, theology, Church history, criticism, and interpretation, and on preaching. The author, George Smith, F. A. S., is a local preacher in the Wesleyan Methodist connection, in England. London: John Mason, at the Wesleyan Book Concern. Svo., 576 pages.

PERIODICALS AND PAMPHLETS. THE NORTH BRITISH REVIEW is ever welcome to our table. Its contents for August are, 1. Bacon's Essays-Whately. 2. Isaac Watts. 3. French Treatment of Criminals. 4. Interior of China-Medhurst and Fortune. 5. Scottish Lunacy Commission. 6. English Metrical Critics. 7. The Marriage and Divorce Bill. 8. Early Christian Songs in the East and West. 9. Inspiration. 10. The Indian Crisis. Published by L. Scott & Co., New York city, at $3 per annum.

THE METHODIST QUARTERLY, for October, contains, 1. The Sunday School in its Relations to the Church-an excellent and useful paper from Dr. M'Clintock. 2. Slavery-a pungent and caustic article, showing up the selfdeceptions of the slaveholder, and the subterfuges of the slavery apologists, in a strong light. 3. Milton as a Reformer from the pen of Rev. F. H. Newhall, A. M.—is ably written. 4. The Doctrine of Assurance, by Rev. John Miley, A. M. The real point at issue is clearly defined, and discussed with a conclusiveness that admits of no appeal. 5. The Natural Revolutions of Languagenot read. 6. Pharmakides and the Ecclesiastical Inde

pendence of Greece, by H. M. Baird, A. M.; 7. Final Destruction of the Earth by Fire, by Prof. Cobleigh; 8. Life and Times of William III, of England, by N. Rounds, D. D.; 9. The Bible and Slavery, by Rev. C. Adams, A. M.-are each valuable and able papers. The latter is a review of Dr. Elliott's late work-" The Bible

and Slavery"- which it not only indorses as to its general sentiments, but pronounces "one of the very best and ablest books that has yet been issued from the press on the relation of the Bible to slavery." The editorial departments are made up with Dr. Whedon's usual skill and ability. It is a fiue number- the last of the present volume. We shall be disappointed if an immensely increased circulation does not await the Quarterly the first of January next.

Mirror of Apothegm, Wit, Repartee, and Anecdote.

How GUIZOT GOT MARRIED.-The wife of Guizot was said to be a woman of remarkable intellect. The circumstances of their marriage were somewhat romantic.

Born of a distinguished family, which had been ruined by the revolution, Mademoiselle Pauline de Meulan had found resources in an education as solid as varied, and to support her family had thrown herself into the trying career of journalism. At the period in question she was editing the Publiciste. A serious malady, brought on by excess of toil, obliged her to desist from her labors.

Her situation was a cruel one; she was almost in despair, when one day she received an anonymous letter, in which, while she was besought to preserve her tranquillity, an offer was made of discharging her task during the continuance of her sickness. The letter was accompanied by an article admirably written, the ideas and the style of which, by a refinement of delicacy, were ex

that it was a skunk, but very imprudently hurled the book at him. The skunk, as might have been expected, opened his battery with a return of fire so well directed that the divine was glad to retreat. When he arrived at home, his friends could scarcely come near him, and his clothes were so infected that he was obliged to bury them.

Some time after this, some one published a pamphlet, speaking very abusively of the worthy Doctor, who was asked, "Why don't you publish a book, and put him down at once?" His reply was prompt and wise: "Sir, I have learnt better. Some years ago I issued a whole quarto volume against a skunk, and I got the worst of it. I never mean to try the experiment again."

BUTLER'S MONUMENT.-The following epigram, on the monument erected to the memory of the author of Hudi

actly modeled upon her own. She accepted the article, bras, is from the pen of the Rev. Samuel Wesley:

published it, and regularly received a similar contribution till her restoration to health.

Profoundly affected by the incident, she related it in the saloon of M. Suard, exhausting her mind in endeavors to discover her unknown friend, and never thinking of a pale, serious young man, with whom she was scarcely acquainted, and who listened to her in silence as she pur

"While Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive,
No generous patron would a dinner give.

See him, when starved to death and turn'd to dust,
Presented with a monumental bust.

The poet's fate is here in emblem shown-
He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone."
AN EPITAPH FROM PUNCH.-A parody on Gray's Elegy,
"written in a railway station" by Punch, closes with an

sued her conjectures. Earnestly supplicating through epitaph not out of season.

the columns of the journal to reveal himself, the generous incognito at last went in person to receive his wellmerited thanks. It was the same young man just alluded to; and five years afterward Mademoiselle de Meulan took the name of Madame Guizot.

SETTING A TUNE TO POLITICS.-Dr. Wise, the musician, being requested to subscribe his name to a petition against an expected prorogation of Parliament in the reign of Charles II, wittily answered, "No, gentlemen, it is not my business to meddle with state affairs; but I'll set a tune to the petition, if you please."

WEBER AT A REHEARSAL.-On one occasion, at a rehearsal, Weber said to the performers, "I am very sorry you take so much trouble." "O, not at all," was the reply. "Yes," he added, "but I say yest-dat is, for why you take de trouble to sing so many notes dat are not in de book."

THE PAPIST'S RETORT.-The walls of Bandon, in Ireland, having been demolished by the Irish then in arms, the Catholics were forbidden to enter the town; and the following words set up in 1689, by the inhabit

ants:

"A Turk, a Jew, or atheist, may enter here, but not a Papist,"

are memorable as an interdict long blazoned on its gates. The Catholics, in derision and humor, added in chalk the following couplet:

"Whoever wrote these words, he wrote them well; The same are written on the gates of hell." ANECDOTE OF LYMAN BEECHER.-The Rev. Dr. Lyman Beecher, some years since, was going home one night with a volume of an encyclopedia under his arm, when he saw a small animal standing in his path. The Doctor knew

"Here lies, the gilt rubbed off his sordid earth,

A man whom fortune made to fashion known;
Though void alike of breeding, parts, or birth,

God mammon early marked him for his own.
Large was his fortune, but he bought it dear;
What he won foully he did freely spend.
He plundered no one knows how much a year,
But chancery o'ertook him in the end.
No further seek his frailties to disclose;

For many of his sins should share the load:
While he kept rising, who asked how he rose?

While we could reap, what cared we how he sowed?" EPIGRAMS FROM THE GERMAN OF LESSING.-We group a few of these:

MENDAX.

See yonder goes old Mendax, telling lies

To that good easy man with whom he 's walking;
How know I that? you ask, with some surprise;
Why, do n't you see, my friend, the fellow 's talking.

THE DEAD MISER.
From the grave where dead Gripeall, the miser, reposes,
What a villainous odor invades all our noses!
It can't be his body alone-in the hole
They have certainly buried the usurer's soul.

ON FELL.

While Fell was reposing himself on the hay,
A reptile conceal'd bit his leg as he lay;
But all venom himself, of the wound he made light,
And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite.

THE BAD ORATOR.

So vile your grimace, and so croaking your speech,
One scarcely can tell if you 're laughing or crying;
Were you fix'd on one's funeral sermon to preach,
The bare apprehension would keep one from dying.

Sideboard for Children.

FROM the communications for the "Sideboard" we glean as many as we can find space for in this number:

IN Mariposa, California, there lived a large-eyed, beautiful little prattler-Mary Cannon. One evening, when all was silent, she looked up anxiously into the face of her backslidden father-who had ceased to pray in his family-and said, "Pa, is God dead?" "No, my child; why did you ask me that?" "Why, pa, you never talk to him now as you used to do."

These words haunted him till he was reclaimed. the incident to me while I was traveling that circuit.

He related

J. P.

ONE of our presiding elders was asking a little boy, about two years old, a few questions, which we will report for your "Sideboard." "Who made you, George?" "God." "He made your hands, did n't he, George? and your eyes?" "Yes," Here the little theologian paused and then asked his interrogator: "Do God smoke?" "No, he do n't smoke." "Has he pipe gone out?" The last question stumped our learned elder.

We subjoin another. As George lay in bed wondering at the moon one night, he asked his father, with no little emphasis: "Pa, who put that moon up there?" "God did, my son." "But, pa, how did God get down again?"

J. P. H.

A NEPHEW of mine, about two and a half years of age, was trying, under the tuition of his mother, to pronounce the word umbrella. He called it umbreller. "Not umbreller," said his mother, "but um-brel-la." "Umbr-el-la," said he; "that's good talk-not dunce talk."

The same lad, standing by the window as he was going to bed and looking at the stars, was taught to repeat:

"Twinkle, twinkle little star," etc.

"Ma," said he, "if I could get hold of that star I would hold it in my hand and look at it; then I would lay it on the floor and look at it; and then I would shut it up in a little box and put it away." F. E. J.

"AUGUSTA," said our little Jesse of less than three years, "I'm going to get up on the top of the house, then I'll reach up and take down a star in my hand and give it to you."

C.

WE have a little daughter of five years, as we think, somewhat precocious. A few evenings since she was watching the gorgeous clouds in the west while they were tinged with the glory of the setting sun. Turning to her mother she pointed to them and said: "Ma, is that where they go into heaven?" She evidently thought the glory of heaven was rushing out the open gateway and bathing the clouds around it.

S. C.

OUR little Alice Cary, only fourteen months old, whose language is not only "lame" but limited, was looking, the other evening, at the moon-whose broad, bright face she views with a great deal of apparent pleasure-which being suddenly obscured by a passing cloud she exclaimed, "By-by!"

M. E. P. LITTLE Lizzie K., of three summers, had been in the habit of admiring the full moon, but lately seeing it in crescent form, just after its new phase, she exclaimed in wonder, "God's broke the moon!"

She was gazing steadily at the stars one evening, and then gave her idea of the manner in which God made them, as follows: "God takes a tin cup and cuts out the stars, and then

lights them." Quite equal that to the philosophy of some men who think themselves wise. W. R. G.

LITTLE Emma B., nearly four years old, was out at play s few evenings since when a violent storm was coming up the sky. Her mother becoming anxious about the little one, went to call her. A violent clap of thunder rent the air, and she met little Emma at the door dreadfully frightened, when she immediately began, "O ma, ma, I so fighty, I so fighty!" "Why are you frightened, my dear? God makes the thunder and he would not hurt you." "Oma, me sink he fighty Leself 'is time!" W. E. T.

LITTLE Annie, my niece, is just on the hither edge of three years. She has a younger sister, Lily, and there was a brother, Charlie, but he has gone on. Annie talked in this wise: "Lily, little brother Charlie's gone to heab'n-he's singin', 'There is a happy land'-you be a good girl and you may go to heab'n some time and set by little Charlie, but you must set still."

J. H. L.

It was a very clear, bright day, and I sat with my sewing near the open door, while little Ada busied herself with her playthings by my side. Presently a loud report of a cannon struck on her ear, and she, looking up with much surprise into the cloudless skies, and thinking it thunder, without the usual accompanying warning clouds, eagerly spoke out, " Ma, won't God have to run real fast to get away from the rain?" H. E. F.

OUR little girl, two and a half years old, is very fond of looking at the rainbow, and, like other children of her age, she asks a great many curious questions about it. The other evening, while sitting in the front door, she saw a bright opening in a very dark cloud that was passing over, and, supposing it to be a rainbow, called out, "Ma! O ma! I see nudder elbow in a sky!" H. S.

AN acquaintance of mine had a little boy of some three summers. Living near by was a man, who was generally known by the name of "Seneca," and who, at times, became quite intoxicated. The little boy at one time, after having closely watched the singular movements of the drunken man, approached his mother, and with great earnestness said, "Ma, does Seneca get drunk?" The mother hesitated giving an answer. In a moment the question was again asked with still greater earnestness, to which the mother replied, "Sometimes, my child." "Well," said the boy, "I wish God would n't make any more Senecas."

The same mother has also a bright little girl. One day as she stood before the mirror clasping a gold pin, the child looked up and exclaimed, "See! ma is putting on her little god!” Are not "little gods" tempting even Methodists to idolatry?

E.

HAVING no smart children of my own-indeed, luckless wight, I have n't as much as a wife-I have "scissored" from memory two little stories I have somewhere read. One is pretty, the other "cute."

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At evening a child stood gazing at a blue, cloudless, starlit sky, evidently absorbed in its own tiny thoughts. What are you thinking of, my child?" asked the parent. 0, ma, how pretty the inside must be!" replied the child. He had evidently been thinking that the sky we mortals gaze upon is the outside of heaven.

A child had made a stool, no two of the legs of which were of a length. While in vain trying to make it stand upon the floor, he looked in his mother's face and asked, "Does God see every thing?" "Yes, my child." "Well," replied the son, "I guess he will laugh when he sees this stool." A. B. C.

Editor's Table.

WE ARE EACH WRITING AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.—“We | pects that he is entertaining a great man unawares; he are closing up and want your notes," fell upon our ear today, and awoke a train of thought which entirely displaced any miscellaneous notes that might have been intended.

"Closing up" is an expressive phrase, stereotyped in the art of the printer. He "closes up" a page, a form, a number, or a volume, as the case may be. Then the types are set; their position is fixed; what they shall express is determined; and the printer's work is done.

So we, dear reader-you and I-are constantly "closing up" successive periods of life. And as each is closed up, it is also stereotyped to be changed no more; and its impression is forever stamped upon that manyleaved book-the memory. We are not only living a life, but we are writing a biography. The simple volume of life-the autobiography which each individual is now writing-can be neither lost nor forgotten; for it is written upon the very texture of the soul. And as the soul moves forward through all the ages of coming eternity, it shall carry along with it the marvelous record of its former life. Other books may become dingy with age, but no lapse of time or of eternity can obscure a single page in this. From other books offensive passages may be stricken-whole pages and chapters may be recast; but from this book nothing can be stricken-no part of it can be annulled-no part changed! O, then, let passages, and pages, and chapters of beauty, and love, and purity, be written upon the memory, that in the ages to come they may be read, and reread with everincreasing delight! Then shall the memories of the past furnish one of the sublimest sources of felicity to the soul as it journeys onward to the consummation of its destiny.

FIRST APPEARANCE OF COLUMBUS IN SPAIN.-The bold features of our engraving of the great discoverer, are beautifully blended with his history, in the preceding pages of this number. But we here add one or two pictures. The first appearance of Columbus in Spain is thus described by Mr. Myers: At the gate of the Franciscan convent of La Rabida, just above Palos, in Andalusia, in the autumn of 1486, stands a stranger-a foreigner-a sailor-begging bread and water for a little boy, whom he is leading in his hand. A noble-looking man is he; of lofty bearing, yet poorly dressed; with small liquid eyes enkindling in speech; not old, but with hair already white. Wayworn and careworn he looks, all dusty and threadbare, his boy hungry and footsore; altogether pitiable and remarkable: this is he who afterward revealed the existence of a new world to the knowledge of civilized man- -Christopher Columbus. That boy was his son, Diego. As he is eating and resting the prior of the convent comes up and enters into conversation with him, and asks news of him; he converses, but seems to know little of any news the prior wants to know. All his talk is of the sea, and of what is beyond it. The prior is struck with the strangeness and fervor of this foreign wayfarer; how much his talk is above his dress, and yet how the bearing and look of the man are so in keeping with his talk. And so he sus

therefore further presses him to be his guest; and his suspicions becoming stronger every hour, he sends for the most intelligent man of the neighborhood-a physician of Palos-to meet him. He comes; they sup. The prior and the physician draw out the stranger into prolonged talk, who gradually unfolds to them the wildest seeming, yet not foolish, project-a project which he has for seeking a new world in the west. Hour after hour wears away while this man talks-talks, did I say? rather reasons, discourses, pleads. They listen delighted and amazed; for the rough mariner blends his enthusiasm most uncommonly with science, and with learning, and with piety. His earnestness is intense, and withal his intellect is clear; and so every hour he talks they think him less and less of an enthusiast and more and more of

a seer.

The prior becomes his faithful, and, in the end, not unsuccessful ally in urging the suit of Columbus at the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella.

DEATH-BED SCENE OF THE GREAT DISCOVERER.— We draw this picture from the same source as the above: While Luther was in the monastery of Erfurth there was dying at Valladolid, in Spain, a most notable old man. He was a veteran admiral of Spain-not long returned from the last voyage he ever was to make, broken equally in health and in spirits. And the day before he died, having just signed his last will and testament, he was talking, as intervals of ease permitted, of the story of his life to his sons, and a few others who had gathered around his chair. Propped up and sadly suffering from complicated infirmities-looking much older than he was, but apparently much vigor in him yet-he was uttering words, which, to one who should have heard him only for the first time then, would have seemed strange indeed. For he spoke of little else but another world-not a world in the invisible whither he was soon to go---but of a new world on this earth of ours, where he had been-a world which he had been the first to see a world which should be associated forever with his name, and which should be for all coming ages an inexhaustible field for enterprise, benevolence, and wealth. It was a strange scene altogether; the very room he was in looked like none other; it was hung round with the strangest things. Besides pictures of places and of ships, old charts, maps innumerable, and all ordinary naval things, there were the strangest-looking ornaments and weapons of all kinds-dried plants, and skins of animals, such as no one had ever seen before; live birds, and lumps of gold; a tattered flag of Spain; and most unaccountable of all, you might see a withered branch of thorn with berries on it, a small board decayed, a rudely-carved stick, and right over his chair, chains.

THE EMIGRANT LEAVING HOME.-Here is a study. There are few passions so deep and strong as the love of liberty. We demand it for ourselves; we desire it for our children. From the place of oppression, and tyranny, and bondage-though it be a land of fertility, and beauty, and civilization-we flee as from a Sahara. In

comparison with it, the land where Liberty makes her home, however bleak and mountainous, is a very paradise. Look upon that picture. How stern in high resolve and in heroic purpose the countenance of that father, as he bids his first-born son go forth and seek a home in the land where freedom may be enjoyed! That mother's countenance is eloquent in expression; what blessings she craves for her departing boy! That sister too-what sympathies are gushing from her heart! She realizes all the bitterness of parting. The group in the background bashfully express their sympathy, and even the face of the honest house-dog indicates a participation in the common feeling. In the mean time the loud shout of the driver to "hurry up," breaks upon the ear. The little brother, whose very soul is too full of emigration to tarry much longer in the "father-land," re-echoes the cry. Blessings and farewells are hastily uttered. The wagon whirls rapidly away, and the scene closes.

We can not look upon that group without trying to divine its future history. What shall be the fate of that young man? Will he succeed in making a home in the new world? Will the family rejoin him there? We will not be too precise or too definite; but we imagine we have seen that young man on this side of the ocean. It was at least the picture of him. Two or three years had matured his manly growth. He was bronzed by the sun, and his hand had been hardened by labor. He joined our party near Oshkosh, in Wisconsin. Stating the object of his journey eastward, he told us he had purchased a farm, erected a house, brought several acres under cultivation, and now he was on his way to New York, to give a welcome to his widowed mother, his three sisters, and two brothers, and conduct them to the home he had provided for them. Some years have passed since then, but the delightful picture of that young man is fresh as ever in our memory. The group, we trust, are still happy in their western home.

ARTICLES DECLINED.-We must decline "The Polar Seas" "Ornithology;" "A Day of Peril ;" and "Prairie Scenes." The "Empire of Reason" has more of prose than of poetry; "The Sword" does not evince the true poetic fire; "The Willow" has something sweet in it, but its muse limps; "Little Dolly" breathes the same spirit; "Washington at Prayer" is a fine theme, but the poetry is hardly equal to the subject. Let the young lady who wrote "My Garden," etc., use her pen; let her write prose as well as poetry. By and by, no doubt, she will appear in the Repository.

SUGGESTIONS TO THE EDITOR are always gladly received. They are often of material service to him, even when he does not adopt them pro forma. But it is often amusing to notice how contradictory these suggestions are one earnestly recommending an author, a style of composition, a class of subjects or of pictures, which the other as earnestly condemns. We are not writing to rebut complaints; for while we have received hundreds of complimentary letters, we have scarcely received a complaining one during our whole editorial career. Our object is simply to indicate what must be the rule of every editor, who would command success; namely, to get all the light he can, and then follow the dictates of his own judgment. If he has sound judgment, independence of character, and editorial capacity, he will be likely to suit his readers; if he has not these qualifications, his awkward attempts to carry out the suggestions of others

will only render him ridiculous, and make his failure more palpable.

THE INADEQUATE SUPPORT OF THE MINISTRY.-We regret that, in consequence of our necessary absence while it was passing through the press, our article on this subject was blemished by a few errors. But they were not such as impair its facts or arguments. These are beyond cavil. We are glad to see evidence that the design of the article is in some measure likely to be realized. Attention is awakened to the subject. The remedy is being sought. We are in the reception of additional facts, the publication of which would stir the public still more upon the subject.

But we refer to the matter, just now, in order to notice a communication from a lay brother, who is also a personal friend, and a friend of the Church. This brother admits the facts we stated, and the full force of the arguments we used. But the responsibility of the evil he would lodge, first, in what he calls "the stultifying influence of the Disciplinary rule on the subject of quarterage;" and, secondly, in the lack of a lay delegation in the annual and General conferences. As to the rule, we have no disposition to defend it; we believe one better adapted to the present state of things could be devised, and regret the failure to accomplish that object at the last General conference. The time has fully come when a more liberal support for the ministry should, at least,

be indicated in the Discipline. Yet it does appear to us that the present rule interposes no obstacle to the most liberal support, when there is the ability to give it.

Nor are we disposed to question that the freer participation of the laity in the financial business of our conferences would be productive of good results in this respect. This is already beginning to be realized in many of our benevolent operations. But that it would cure the evil we doubt. Other denominations who have had this element in their organization from the beginning, complain as loudly as we ourselves of this evil. True, some of their popular preachers in the large cities and rich Churches have enormous salaries-salaries almost, if not quite equal to those of our national secretaries. But many of their preachers in poor societies, and in by-places, are subjected to the most pinching poverty. With us there is more equality; but our general average is probably much below that of the Presbyterian and Baptist Churches.

ENGRAVINGS FOr our next VoLUME.-We have a suggestion to make to our friends in refation to our engravings for the next volume. We would like to secure a large number of original views of American scenery. But the expense of sending an artist to visit different sections of the country, renders that method impracticable. In almost every locality, however, where there are bold or beautiful views, or scenes of historical interest, there may be found private drawings, daguerreotype views, or lithographs. Will our friends, who have a taste for the beautiful in art, aid us in this matter? Any such views sent to us we will return, if they are not used. Those who have had no experience in this matter, are unable to appreciate the difficulty of obtaining such views, or the labor and time it has cost us hitherto. We are making out a programme of portraits for the next volume; and if we can succeed in this other matter, we feel quite confident of giving great satisfaction to the friends and patrons of the Repository.

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