continued to the times of the Reformation, with secret societies and orders flourishing in our days, this only difference, that Church and state had which are joined by more than half of their memchanged positions, the Church having become the bers as charitable societies, because they do not mistress, and the state the servant. The Reforma- wish to become, should a disaster overtake them, tion, in restoring, to a great extent, the primitive inmates of the poor-house, or to go "on the townstate of things, laid the ax at the root of this evil ship." And why is this so? Are there not and abuse also, but only for a time; and with means enough to satisfy the wants of all? but few exceptions, we are constrained to say of Whatever is annually spent in gluttony, drunkenour times, "The Church has, as such, nothing ness, gorgeousness, expensive but useless furniture, to do with the care of the poor." Pauperism would suffice to feed all the hungry of the land then this is the confession of the Church-is a with wholesome food, and to clothe them defoe that is stronger than the Church. In Ger- cently. This suffering is, consequently, not the many, both Protestant and Catholic, Catholic will of God. But this is not all. The poor-taxes France and Protestant England and America, the might relieve more human misery than they do care of the poor is in the hands of the state, if they were properly applied; but their collectwhich, as such, has neither the calling nor the ing and disbursing eat up the greater portion of means or ability to untie this Gordian knot. It them; there are high-salaried officers, who, with is impossible to go, in this article, into details; and no concern but to take care of themselves, have we shall, therefore, confine ourselves to the proof, to manage the funds for the relief of the poor; that while the state, as such, is unfit to discharge not to speak of the sums that abscond by embeza duty which is usurped, both the state and the zlement. The good things in our alms-houses poor, but above all things the Christian Church, are eaten by the stewards, their families, and suffer an incalculable loss. That the state, as friends, by the directors, and such dignitaries, such, is not equal to this task, is evident. The | while "the poor," whatever the poor-taxes may prelatarians have overturned, in France, more be, get black coffee and dry bread. The reason is than one dynasty; how long the present will obvious; the world, as such, is cold and indifferremain in power, God alone knows with certainty. In Germany the poor-taxes are rising every year, and the paupers are still suffering want, and complain bitterly of their lot; in England the Chartists are the dreaded enemies of the Government, and the sufferings of a large portion of the population are represented as being incredible; in Ireland the famine of 1846 and '47 took its victims by millions; and in America the comparatively thinner population and the greater extent of territory have thus far prevented a similar state of things from coming to pass. Whoever can not support himself and family any longer on his farm can go "west," where he gets good land at one dollar and twenty-five cents per acre. But even here the evil is enormous already; the reports of our police officers from time to time disclose a depth of degradation and moral rottenness, but at the same time of suffering, at which humanity shudders. All, as a matter of course, can not go "west," that is, they have not the calling, and even if they had the will, they have not the means to go. Crimes, horrible crimes-larceny, burglary, murder, infanticidehave but by their frequent occurrences lost part of their heinousness, and they are traced, and perhaps not unjustly, to a great extent at least, to "an empty stomach." That the public itself has no faith whatever in the existing laws making provisions for the poor, is evident from the many

ent, and the Church is an idle, if not indifferent, spectator. But this is not the worst yet. The tax-payers complain of heavy taxes, and are filled with feelings of bitterness against the poor, as idlers, loafers, vagabonds, that might take care of themselves; the poor act not better; the world, they take for granted, owes them a living everywhere, and theirs is poor enough, at all events; thus no feeling of gratitude to those whom they ought to consider their benefactors, is called forth in their hearts; their better feelings are not aroused, and thus they sink, generally, from one degree of moral degradation to another, till they are out of the reach of reform. Yes, with the present system of managing the affairs of the poor, the more worthy of the poor are too often overlooked, having too much delicacy of feeling and self-respect to apply for help, or to push themselves forward, while the impudent, those who have no vestige of modesty left, are generally the recipients of the gifts of the public. And still the Church looks on indifferently; and in what light do her ministers appear to suffering humanity? As a set of selfish aristocrats, parasites, or fanatics, who preach to the people about a future heaven, while they have no feeling of compassion with their present misery, at least do nothing to relieve it. Thus the ministry is prostrated-all preaching and other efforts of the Church are paralyzed to a great extent. But how is this enormous evil to be rem

difficulties and sacrifices. The members of the Church are taxed, like other citizens, for the maintenance of the poor; shall they, notwithstanding this, support their own poor? We say, unhesitatingly, yes. But unworthy persons may abuse her confidence, by creeping into the Church in order to share in her munificence. May be; but let such persons be dealt with in the spirit of her Master, and they will either be converted, or soon be induced to leave the Church voluntarily, or make themselves liable to expulsion. Let all the different branches of the Church follow this example, and the inmates of our alms-houses, and such like institutions, will soon be thinnedthe immoral will be reformed, the drunkard will be converted into a sober, the idler into an active,

edied? Many a European monarch and statesman has, undoubtedly, often propounded this question to himself-they all feel that the state, as such, is powerless; that the prelatarians undermine the ground, and that erelong an explosion will follow, such as the world has never witnessed, is apprehended by many a king or patriot. Yet with the immensity of the task before us, we return to our question unhesitatingly the answer: The Church of Jesus Christ alone can do the work, and she must do it if it is to be done at all." Let no one tell us that the Church has made the attempt and failed; we know this, but we also know that the Church failed because she had apostatized from the truth as it is in Jesus first; let her return to her original simplicity; let her be filled again with the spirit of her first members, and she is ade-industrious, the vagabond into a steady citizen. quate to the task. There is no fear, or no need of fear, of centralization; in this direction, it is true, was the first false step taken by the Church; let the present Church learn by this example; let all the management of the funds and their disbursing remain in the hands of the Christian congregation, and the worthy poor will soon become the recipients of the bounty of the Church. Christ accomplished as much by his conduct, by his deeds, as by his teaching and preaching, if not more; "Christ went about," says the inspired penman, describing the life of the God-man, "to do good." By his acts of kindness to suffering humanity he opened the hearts of his hearers for T is the time of the harvest; with earliest morn, his heavenly teaching. All suffering is in the While the shadows lie thick on the long-leaved corn, And the cool-fingered breeze of the night-tide born, last instance the consequence of sin; Christ came Yet walks the green meadows through, to destroy sin, consequently also suffering. The Go the glad-hearted reapers, with sickle and singing, Church is the body of Christ; through the instru-Out into the wheat-fields, so gracefully swinging mentality of the Church he wants to carry forward and complete what he commenced on earth; his Church is the depository of his world-overcoming love. Let the Church, then, be roused to a sense, to the full consciousness of this her divine mission, and the means will not long be wanting to carry out her purposes and designs.

We would remind here of H. A. Franke, a Lutheran divine of Germany, who, with less than $5 in his pocket, commenced the building of an orphan-house in Halle, the buildings of which form a row of eight hundred, in which, toward the close of the founder's life, one hundred and twenty-four orphans were entirely provided for, twice that number gratis boarded, and over two thousand scholars are annually instructed. The Church, by returning to her original mission, will reawaken the confidence of the world, will silence infidelity, and assume that position of exalted usefulness to which it is her prerogative to be called. We are aware that such a return is connected with great

Those members, in conclusion, that would not like to give any thing toward this divine object, may do as they please; the gifts, in order to realize their end, and to be pleasing to God, must be voluntary; and if they still do not like it, let them leave the Church as fast as they can; for they are only nominal members at best, and the sooner they go out the better it is for themselves and the Church.

HARVEST TIME.

BY LUELLA CLARK,

Their pendulous heads, which the stars have been stringing
With the beads of the glittering dew.

Toiling on till the sunshine, e'er blessed from old,
The sunshine that quickened the seed in the mold,
That guarded the young grain from mildew and cold,
And now crowns its rare ripeness with glorious gold,

Slopes down through the long afternoon;
And, far into the evening, the willing swains
Heap the shining sheaves on the lumbering wains,
Which the oxen drag slow up the long, green lanes,
By the light of the harvest moon.

So is garnered the wealth of the golden grain,
Whose seeds sown in hope that seemed mocking and vain,
Had a long time dead in the darkness lain,
But which, warmed by the sunshine, enriched by the rain,
Crowned with gladness and glory, at last, the broad
plain,

And with plenty the harvester's home.
O! thus by the waters, all waters, sow seed,
In the morning, at noon, or at eve, nor heed
How the uncertain "signs of the time" shall lead ;
And so shalt thou win thee a glovious meed,
In the sheaves thou shalt bind of each well-done deed,
When the harvest of life shall come.

I

A PAGE FROM MEMORY.

BY MRS. L. A. HOLDICH.

WAS arranging some old letters when a yellow paper dropped from among them. Dingy and faded as it looked, it was the transcript of a brilliant day. I read it over in a city home, and it brought me the beauty and the music of the country, and transformed brick walls to waving woods, and flinty pavements to turfy glades. Perhaps the record may have a similar effect upon other minds, although there is danger that the picture sketched by love and fancy may look pale and insipid in the staring sunlight. To make my simple story intelligible, I will commence it as the tales of our childhood were apt to begin.

Saratoga? To fashionable places of resort our friends never thought of going, although they did feel at times that a trip to Niagara, or the White Mountains, would be very delightful. But it was only a passing fancy. Such expensive pleasures were not to be seriously thought of. They were happy if the butcher's and baker's bills were paid without difficulty, and thought themselves favored if all came out fair and square at the close of the year.

A long and severe winter was followed by a spring and summer of unusual beauty, when a strong migratory impulse moved those good ladies. They felt that they needed a holiday; but as the seaside was too expensive, and the mountains too distant, they determined to have a picnic in the neighboring woods. But their thoughts were more for the children than themselves, and it was a happy circumstance that they retained enough of the freshness of youth in their hearts to allow them to participate with zest in the pure joys of childhood, so as fully to realize the sweet sentiment of Elizabeth Barrett

"A child's kiss

Once upon a time a circle of friends lived in close proximity in a picturesque country town in New England. They were simple in their tastes, frugal in their habits, and affectionate in their natures. They were not rich; but I know of few enjoyments which wealth can give that they did not possess. They could not send abroad for pictures to adorn their dwellings, but every window and door framed landscapes of living beauty. They could not employ hired musicians, but their trees were full of music; wine they did not drink, but water was pure, and milk rich and abundant, and Queen Victoria drinks not tea and coffee more fragrant and lucid than theirs. Their little ones were not penned in nurseries like our city elves, but all day long, undisturbed by teasing nurses, they played beneath the trees, and made baby-houses, which they filled with buttercups and daisies, or they rolled upon the checkered grass, in sunshine and in shade. Their mothers, in the mean time, carefully attended to their households, made friendly visits to their neigh-au fait to every thing, who could cut bread and bors and to the poor, and in the intervals read books that gilded the drudgery of this work-day world, and cast sunshine over material things. So that if Wordsworth be correct when he tells us that all nature

"Is the property of those Who have beheld it, noted it with care,

And in their minds recorded it with love,"

these friends of ours were, after all, the truly rich. Which are the happiest persons, those to whom every glimpse of nature is beautiful, and every blade of grass a marvel, or they who, with abundant means and opportunities, hurry through the length and breadth of the land with eyes sealed to its wondrous scenery, and return to describe the pattern of a dress seen at the White Mountains, or to dwell upon Valenciennes lace worn at

Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad.” There was important business to be done when the picnic was decided on. They met in conclave, and the flux de bouche was upon them. They made various mistakes, and inadvertently gave wrong parts to their actors. For instance, it was proposed, because Mrs. Z. was delicate, and had a baby to take care of, that she should only cut the sandwiches. "Sandwiches for fifty people!"-there were so many, children and all— exclaimed a more thoughtful one; "that will never do, it will wear her out." But then some one remembered that she had a friend who was

butter as readily as solve a mathematical problem, make a pudding as quickly as scan a Latin sentence, and read Plato while he rocked the cradle. So it was decided to let that stand. Kind Mrs. F., with her motherly heart, thought of the children.

"It is a weather-breeder," said one, in the spirit of the water-nymphs, for whom diadems had of Job's comforters.

"O, no," said a more hopeful one, "mists pre- thickly wooded; and soon our goal was reached. cede fair weather."