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up with a sweet smile as he approached to welcome me. When I handed him my letter of introduction, he looked at it and said in an undertone; Von wem kommt denn das? Ah! von dem Nevin, he exclaimed, placing the accent on the last syllable. As he was engaged with two other young men, I offered to wait. He finished the examination of the first, then bade him adieu. The other was an applicant for aid. The Doctor listened to the young man's account of how he had struggled and denied himself in order to get along, gave him a recommendation to the next Synod and asked him: "How long can you subsist with your present means?" "One week," was the reply. Walking to his desk, he wrote a check, told the young man where he could get it cashed and then addressed himself to me. By a few pertinent questions he found out just what I wanted. He gave me permission to attend his lectures gratis until the close of the summer semester, and advised me to ask the same favor of the other Professors.

In reply to my question about rooms and boarding he said, that a number of private individuals had bought the mission house for the accommodation of students in Theology and Philology. He requested me to make application before the close of July, if I desired a room in that building; as the whole matter would have to be arranged previous to his going to America to attend the Evangelical Alliance. He talks the English better than any other German whom I have met in the Old world. He is remarkably prompt in all business transactions. A vein of kindness runs through every thing which he does. In him we have another exemplification of the law that men are kind and charitable in the same degree in which they are truly great.

Dr. Semisch lives on the floor immediately above Dr. Dorner. I had great difficulty in getting away from Dr. S's. study, he is such a fluent talker. In the lecture room he dictates ten or fifteen minutes. The rest of the hour he allows himself free scope. During the first lecture, I made up my mind that he must be brim full of information and find particular delight in pouring out upon his hearers as much thereof as time will allow.

In the process of matriculation or admission into the University two things struck me as peculiar. In the first place the Rector asked me to give him the right hand, instead of the oath, as a pledge to obey the rules and regulations. In the second place when I asked to have my passport given back, the Secretary answered: "You are now a citizen of the University. If you get into trouble with the police, show the card, which you have received from the dekan (president) of the Faculty under whom you study, and you will be released immediately. You will, then, be summoned to appear before the Universitäts Gericht. Should you have any business

with a minister or consul from the United States, you can get your passport for the time being." This Universitats Gericht has the power to admonish, to suspend, to imprison and to expel from the precincts of the city, unless a student's regular home is in Berlin.

Sunday came and with it wonder and astonishment. Fields without fences; houses with straw roofs; chickens, cattle and people living in the same building; muffled dogs pulling wagons; hotels without soap; every body drinking and nobody getting drunk, -these and many other peculiarities in Germany struck me as very strange: but the observance or rather neglect of the Sabbath in Berlin seemed strangest of all. The streets were just as noisy and business almost as brisk as on other days. At the restaurant, where I took dinner, they were playing billiards. In the afternoon crowds of people were wending their way to the pleasure gardens. In the morning, however, very few could be seen going to Church. Since only two or three church bells could be heard, I inquired: How many churches has Berlin? and was told in reply that there might be fifty, but most of them were small and some not attended by more than a dozen persons. Fifty churches in a city that has a population of nearly a million,-the thought is terrible! Out of curiosity I went to the Dome Church, where the Emperor attends. The young man, who showed me the way, excused himself at the door on the ground that he had to work the rest of the morning. The church was scarcely half full, and most of those present were evidently strangers: because previous to the hymn before the sermon all the pews are locked so that no one can get into them except the owners. The music was truly grand; under its influence the gnawing cares of the week vanished like dew before the morning sun. Profound silence reigned throughout the church while the Creed was repeated; the lips of several aged men were moving in unison with the minister's, although his voice was the only one that could be heard. The whole congregation stood during the reading of the Scripture lessons. The prayers were all read from the Liturgy by a peculiar arrangement at the organ it seemed as if the Lord's Prayer was echoed to and fro in the mansions above. The sermon was preached from the pulpit in the middle of the church; but the rest of the services were conducted at the altar, which is located at the Southern end in front of the organ. The Apostolic benediction was pronounced immediately after the reading of the text, and the Mosaic benediction at the close of the services. If many of our self-styled orthodox American Protestants had seen the minister make the sign of the cross in connection with the last sentence, they would have thrown up their hands in holy horror with the exclamation, Romanism! But it is not safe always to judge from appearances or on the basis of our prejudices. Prus

sia can certainly not be accused of leaning towards Romanism. She is the great bulwark of European Protestantism, the only country that has dared to banish the Jesuits. I would not be willing to form an opinion of the religious character of the people from the little I have seen; there may be more piety in these German hearts than is apparent on the surface. The nation has a pious ruler. The Emperor is the only man of his rank upon the globe, who is regular in his attendance upon divine services. He obliges all the soldiers to go to church; the army is composed of youth, who have had the benefit of several hours religious instruction every week since the days of childhood. In this respect the German Empire is far ahead of the United States. Nevertheless as often as Sunday comes, my heart longs for "the land of the free and the home of the brave," where the Lord's day is characterized by quiet streets, by the music of the church bells, by the enthusiastic activity of innumerable Sunday-school scholars, and by a "Kirchegang," which must cause rejoicing among the angels in heaven.

MR. BEECHER ON LABOR.

Sometime ago the following passages occurred in H. W. Beecher's sermon.

Men do not like labor because the worker ranks below the thinker. That's a Democratic feeling. I say I'm just as good as any other man because all men are equal. I beg your pardon, all men are not equal. They are not equal in size, height, girth ; not equal in virtue but all men are civilly equal before the law. When a man says: "I am just as good as any man," it may be so and it may not be so. With the universal man so, it's a lie. That has been the grand blunder of the Communists and the Internationals. They wanted all men equal with an equal means. The most productive part of man is the animal part. A man shears a sheep, and there are five hundred men in the same township who can do the same thing. Then the wool is sent to the manufactory, but there will not be five hundred men who can weave the fine cloth. The result is that the man who shears gets one dollar a day while the weaver gets three or four dollars a day. This is the result of brains and education.

In Ohio, when I lived there, I knew eminently educated German gentlemen earning a dollar a day breaking stones on a macadamized road. Measured by avocation, they were low; but they were thinkers, ranking high; they were honorable. A man who has

been a hard worker all his life says to himself: "I have a smart boy. I'll give him chances I never had. I'll give him a good education; yes, I'll make a lawyer out of him." [Immoderate laughter.] In the month of June there will be 500,000 blossoms on every apple tree. There will be about 300 apples, and the remainder will drop to the ground. It is the same in all professions. Out of 500,000 candidates there will only be 300 professional men.

The great trouble is that men are more anxious to be rich than to be happy. I never knew a minister who warned his people about being extravagant who refused to receive a good salary. I never derided wealth; never exhorted you about being economical, for I would just as lief walk into my yard and say to my cows, "Oh! Alderneys, be careful of your milk!" [Laughter.] A man may be rich and yet be a fool. Of one hundred who have wealth, but one knows how to use it. The insane notion that if a man only had wealth he wouldn't want anything else, has been the ruin of many young men. Sudden wealth and immense wealth are the dream of many men in cities who have left their farms and workshops to come here. I venture to say that there are 5000 young men here between twenty and thirty years of age who have nothing to do. I do not wish to be disrespectful, but ask one of them if he can do a day's work. He will answer no. Are you good on shipboard? No, I've never been to sea. Can you make a chair? No. Are you a blacksmith? No. Are you a carpenter? No. Is there anything on God's earth that you can do? No, not a thing. [Laughter.] Now, think what can you do? Well, I'm a good book-keeper. [Laughter.] They can do nothing, and can get nothing to do. Not alone is this the case in New York, but in all the large cities of the Union. Thousands of young men would starve to death on a hundred acres of land because they couldn't raise corn. They would be houseless and homeless in a lumber yardbarefooted with all the leather in the Swamp at their command. They have abandoned work, and want something nice and easy. I think that the respectable German in his six by nine attic, pegging away at his last, is much more respectable than the young man who left his father's farm before he learned to work. You ought to go to my house and see the number of applications that are made to me daily. Why, people must think that I own Central Park and Prospect Park, and the post-office and the custom-house, and the navy-yard. [Laughter.] They won't believe that I have no influence at Washington. [Laughter.] But I never turn them away. I sympathize with them, and assist them when I can. I never say, "Young man, go West." [Loud laughter.] I try to encourage

them.

Mr. Beecher next addressed himself to the wealthy members of

his congregation, and said: Even if you are worth a million to-day your son may yet be forced to beg his bread because he can't work. Your daughters cannot be chambermaids, or cooks, or good washerwomen-what's to become of them? [Laughter.] In one thing I would have you Judaized. There is an old and true Jewish proverb which says: "He who brings up his child without a trade, brings him up to steal." The papers tell us of people going to seek their fortunes in America. It should be, work for their fortunes. Tell your children to work. They say it will kill them. Shall they live? No. [Laughter.] Shall they commit suicide? No. What then? Simply this: Eat the bread you earn, or don't eat.

Mr. Beecher closed with a touching peroration, in which, speaking of the rising generation he said: "Let them be men who earn their living by the sweat of their brow, and who can hold up their big, hard hands and say they never took a penny they did not earn."

ST. JOHN, THE AGED.

The following anonymous poem was found, about eight years ago, in a magazine published at Philadelphia. Its beauty of language, fervor of feeling, and exalted religious sentiment, claim for it a wider circulation than it has yet attained:

I'm growing very old. This weary head

That hath so often leaned on Jesus' breast,
In days long past that seem almost a dream,
Is bent and hoary with its weight of years.
These limbs that followed Him-my Master-oft
From Galilee to Judah; yea, that stood
Beneath the cross and trembled with His groans,
Refuse to bear me even through the streets
To preach unto my children. E'en my lips

Refuse to form the words my heart sends forth,
My ears are dull; they scarcely hear the sobs
Of my dear children gathered round my couch:
My eyes so dim, they cannot see their tears.

God lays His hand upon me;-yea, His hand,
And not His rod-the gentle hand that I

Felt, those three years, so often pressed in mine,
In friendship such as passeth woman's love.

I'm old, so old! I cannot recollect

The faces of my friends, and I forget
The words and deeds that make up daily life;
But that dear face, and every word He spoke,
Grow more distinct as others fade away,
So that I live with Him and holy dead
More than with living.

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