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“Well, gentlemen, my anecdote will refer to circumstances somewhat similar to those in which we have met to-day. On a certain occasion, when the stage was passing up in the State of New York, there were nine passengers, as there are in this stage. The time passed very merrily as they related a fund of anecdotes that called forth shouts of laughter. This, you know, is the spice of traveling. But there was an aged gentleman in one corner of the stage who had been perfectly silent. Finally they called on him for his anecdote. This was done either because their own stock was nearly exhausted, or because they had the curiosity to hear what the old gentleman would say.
"Gentlemen,' said he, as you call for an anecdote, I am willing to give you one. Perhaps, however, I will rather give you an account of a ride I have lately had from London to Bristol, in England. Very well, said every man raising both hands, let us hear it—let us know what is going on the other side of the water.
“Gentlemen,' said the old man, 'I took a ride from London to Bristol. We were to leave the hotel where I staid in London, at six o'clock in the morning, in the stage. Precisely at six o'clock the stage came up, drawn by four of the most elegant gray horses, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! I ever saw.
No sooner were we seated in the stage than the driver drew up his reins, cracked his whip, and I tell you, gentlemen, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! we went out of London as though we were sent. But just as we left the city we came to a little ascent, and as we were rising I looked out of the stage, and, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! I had a finer view of London than I ever had before. Then we came to the place where we were to take breakfast. And there I drank the most elegant cup of coffee, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes ! that I ever drank. But we had not half finished our breakfast when the driver blew his horn, cracked his whip, and cried, Stage is ready, gentlemen, and we ran and jumped in, and I tell you, gentlemen, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! we left that hotel in a hurry.
“A short distance from this, we came to one of the farming districts of England. We don't know much about farming in the United States. We waste the land, but there every corner and every inch of ground I can assure you, gentlemen, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! is in the highest state of cultivation.
“Soon after we passed this beautiful part of the country, we came to a place where all was life and motion. It was a manufacturing district. Here was something worth seeing. To enter the shops and factories—to see the industry and order, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! that every where prevailed, was very gratifying to any one who likes to sce a place for every thing and every thing in its place.
“There is one thing in this ride that I must not omit to relate.
A few miles distant from this manufacturing district we came to a stream of water. As we were crossing the bridge, I put out my head to look up the stream, and, gentlemen, the scenery, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! was so rich and beautiful that it is impossible for me to describe it. I have seen nothing like it in all England.
“Finally, to make a short account of this ride, I would say that just at twilight we came in sight of Bristol. As we entered the streets, all our past speed was thrown into the shade, and our wheels rattled as though, gentlemen, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes! we had been the express.
Then the hotel where we stopped. Oh, gentlemen, the splendid and costly furniture, pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes ! that adorned the rooms, exceeded any thing I have seen in this country. Thus ended our journey. Gentlemen, what do you think of my anecdote? One of the company said, I like it very well, except the “pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes.
I don't see what under the sun they have to do with the story.
“Gentlemen,' said the aged man, 'in relating your anecdotes I perceive you fill up your sentences with profane oaths. I am not in the habit of using profane oaths, but I sometimes use pipes and tobacco.'
The company to whom I related this, listened with blank silence to the silly repetition of pipes and tobacco, tobacco and pipes, and could not imagine the meaning. They looked upon me either as a fool or crazy, and did not discern the pith of the reproof until the last sentence fell
upon their ears, and then such a roar of laughter those sands never heard before. Then it flashed in every mind, and they could not possibly restrain the vehemence of their laughter. I was favored with their company during the whole day after this, but a profane oath was not heard.
NATURALISTS have philosophically wondered and scientifically discussed the question, Why do birds sing? We will show our opinion. They sing for the very same reasons that human beings sing, because “God hath made so." Hence, they have a particular nature or talent for singing. Some birds sing not at all for the same reason. Those that have a talent for singing, are moved thereto by the same influences which move human beings-gladness of heart, ambition to excel their rivals in the grove, and the sweet movings of love. Take away these inducements to sing, from human beings and birds, and there will be little music in the church, in the parlor, or in the grove.
TRANSLATIONS FOR THE GUARDIAN FROM THE
GERMAN OF HERDER.
THE DYING SWAN. “Must I then alone be mute, and without the power of song?" So sighed the quiet Swan to himself, as he bathed in the golden lustre of the loveliest evening sky. “I almost alone am songless in the whole realm of the feathered hosts. True, I do not envy the chattering goose, the clucking hen, and the croaking peacock their voices; but you, O sweet Philomile! I envy you, when, chained and charmed by your notes, I sweep the little waves more softly, and bask, intoxicated with joy, in the reflected splendor of heaven. Oh, how I would sing of you, golden evening sun !-yes, sing of your lovely light, and my own blessedness; and dive in these waters, which mirror thy rosy light—dive and die!"
Silently enraptured, the Swan sank beneath the surface; and scarcely had he raised himself above the waves again, when a radiant form that stood upon the shore, beckoned him toward itself. It was the god of the evening and morning sun, the lovely Phoebus. “Mild and lovely creature,” said she, “your prayer is answeredthe wish that you have so long nursed in your suppressed bosom, and which could not ere this be fulfilled, is now granted you."
Scarcely had he spoken these words, when he touched the Swan with his lyre, and woke upon it the song of those who are immortal. With ecstasy did the tones thrill through the bosom of the bird of Apollo; enraptured and inspired did he breathe upon the strings to the god of Beauty; gratefully glad, he sung of the beautiful sun, of the rosy and radiant sea, and of his own life of blessed innocence. Lovely as his own form, was the harmonious song. While breathing sweet tones, that died softly away upon the water, the Swan moved on, drawing long waves at each gentle stroke, until he found himself again—in Elysium! at the feet of Apollo, in his true, celestial beauty.
The power of song, which in life had been denied him, became his joy in dying—in the rapture of which he was softly taken up; for he had heard the notes of those that are immortal, and had seen the face of a god! Gratefully he bent at the feet of Apollo, and heard his divine songs. Just at that moment came also his true-hearted companion, who, in sweet songs, had mourned herself after him through death. The goddess of Innocence received both as her favorities; and made them the match-pair to draw her little shell-wagon, when she goes forth in joyful pastime upon the sea of youth!
Be patient, quiet hoping heart! What is denied you in life, because you could not endure it, will be granted you in the moment of death.
NIGHT AND DAY.
ONCE on a time, Night and Day disputed with each other as to. which of them belonged the greatest honor. The bright, fiery youth, Day, began thus:
“Poor, dark mother,” said he, “what have you to show like my sun, like my heaven, like my bright plains, like my busy, ceaseless flow of joyful life? What you have made to die, I awaken to a new sense of being; what you have rocked to sleep, I animate
“Do men always thank you for what you do?” said the modest, veil-covw.ed Night. “Must not I quicken what you'have rendered weary? and how can I do it except by causing a forgetfulness of you? I, on the contrary, the mother of gods and men, take everything that I beget, with its own approbation, back into my bosom. As soon as it touches the hem of my garment it forgets your illusions, and bows its head softly, and sinks to rest. And then, I raise and refresh the soul that has rested with heavenly dew. To the
eye, which beneath your fierce blaze of light never dared to look toward heaven, I show, through my softening veil, a countless host of suns—innumerable realms of beauty-new vista of hope, and new stars of light.'
At this moment the loquacious Day himself touched the hem of the robes of Night and sunk, peacefully and weak, upon her quiet bosom! But she, clothed in her starry mantle, adorned with her starry crown, sat unmoved, while upon her countenance lay the calmness of enternal rest.
A CHILD’S PRAYER.
Sweeter than the songs of thrushes,
When the winds are low :
Reddening out of snow,
Like a white lamb of the meadow,
Beaming through the light;
Of the temple bright,
THE FAMILY.-MARRIAGE. *
MARRIAGE, that universal, fundamental moral relation, the nurBery of the State and the Church is, indeed, as old as humanity itself, and a strictly divine institution. Gen. ii, 18. But under the influence of sin it has degenerated, and Christianity alone restores it to its proper dignity and significance. Our religion places marriage in the most exalted light by representing it as a copy of the relation of Christ to his church, thus giving it a truly holy, we may say, a sacramental character. Eph. v, 22—33.
By this comparison, in the first place, polygamy, which is found more or less not only in all heathen nations (most rarely in the Roman and Germanic,) but even amongst the Old Testament patriarchs and kings, and which has the sanction of law with Mohammedans, is forever condemned, and monogamy made the rule. This form of the conjugal relation was presented in the creation of the first human pair as the normal one—was made the idea of the Mosaic law; and is the only condition of a true and truly happy marriage. Then again, in this analogy is implied the indissoluble nature of the marriage bond; for the union between Christ and his bride, the church, can never be broken. The husband and the wife are one flesh; and what God has joined together, man must not put asunder. Comp. Matt. xix, 3—9; 1 Cor. vii, 10. Increase of immorality always goes hand in hand with the facilitating of divorce.
Again, Christianity alone raises woman to her true dignity. It is well known, that in antiquity, even among the highly cultivated Greeks, woman was generally looked upon as a mere tool of lust, and therefore in the most degraded light. Her education was shamefully neglected; and if she sometimes attained prominence in society, it was wholly, in consequence of bodily attraction and the gift of entertaining wit, not for any moral force or purity of character. Even Plato, with all his exalted ideas, knew nothing of the sacredness of monogamy. In this ideal state he allows promiscuous concubinage. And in the ethical works of Aristotle, among many virtues, chastity and mercy, those pillars of genuine morality, are never mentioned. Sophocles, in his pious, child-like, devoted, self-denying sufferer, Antigone, who followed her blind father into exile, and sought in every way to alleviate his misfortunes, reaches out prophetically beyond the domain of heathenism. Antigone is an ideal creation of poetic fancy, realized only in Christian nations. In reverence for the marriage relation the ancient Germans stood highest. They distinguished themselves above all other pagans by their great regard for the female sex,
* From Schaff's History of the Apostolic Churcb, pp. 443, 444, 445, 446.