In England the custom for many ages has been to thresh the ears of corn with a flail, as you see in the picture. I have often stood at a barn door, and watched the strong man swing his flail round over his head, and bring it down with a heavy stroke on the ears just in the right place. I have often afterwards picked up the ears, thinking he could not have got out all the grains; but he had though; for I seldom found a single grain left in any ear.

"During the last fifty years several machines for threshing and other purposes have been invented, which differ from the more simple methods formerly used in England; but, till that time, the methods of cultivating the ground, and preparing the corn for the mill, and the agricultural implements, were nearly the same as those mentioned in the Bible."

THE HILL OF KNOWLEDGE.

AN ALLEGORY.

I was sitting on a rock overgrown with moss, contemplating the beauties of nature, when the rustling of the leaves, which were then falling, soon lulled me to sleep. Immediately I found myself in an extensive plain, in the centre of which rose a vast mountain, higher than I had ever before conceived of; it was covered with people, chiefly youth, all of whom were endeavouring to gain its summit.

Whilst I was thus musing on the scene before me, a friendly instructor approached, and informed me that the hill which I saw was called the Hill of Knowledge, and that at the top was the temple of Truth. I observed that those who were just beginning to ascend the mountain, supposed that they were not far from the top; but when they had proceeded a little farther, they beheld fresh hills, and

A MOTHER'S FAITH.

perceived that the principal summit was concealed in the clouds.

Among the rest who were commencing to ascend the mountain, I beheld a youth of an engaging countenance, whose name was Genius. He darted up the mountain like an eagle, and left the others gazing after him with wonder and admiration. But his progress was irregular and of short duration; for when Pleasure warbled in the valley, he went to mix with her train; and when Pride beckoned from the edge of the mountain, he followed her to the tottering precipice. But turning my eyes in a different direction, 1 beheld a youth of a very different character, his name was Application. He, unlike his companion Genius, patiently removed every obstacle that presented itself, so that he soon found himself above many who had derided his slow progress.

2

Amongst the seducers, was one of so mild an aspect, and who appeared so little adapted to mislead those who were climbing the mountain, that I should have taken no notice of her, had it not been for the vast numbers which she had imperceptibly laden with her chains. Her name was Indolence; and those whom she could not persuade to relinquish their design, she advised to put it off till another opportunity should present itself. But those who followed her pernicious advice frequently found themselves at the bottom, before they were conscious of having taken a single step downwards.

A MOTHER'S FAITH.

SOME forty years since I was intimately acquainted with a widow woman living in New Jersey, who was the mother of four children, (for whose spiritual benefit she observed days of private fasting and prayer,) the youngest a son, named Ashbel, then

about ten years of age. One day in conversation with her respecting her children, she remarked to me, "Ashbel will be a minister of the gospel."-To the inquiry of what made her think so, she replied, “I firmly believe it;" and she added with emphasis, "you will see, Mr. H., if you live, that Ashbel will be a minister." Soon after this the lad was brought home from school, taken very suddenly and dangerously ill. And when the neighbours came in and they all supposed he could not live, the mother calmly remarked, "I wish to do all in my power to relieve him, but I have not the least fear that he will die." And the reason was her confidence that he should be a minister; but all the symptoms of his disease indicated a speedy dissolution. The son recovered, and the mother's subsequent conduct for a series of years fully evinced that her faith was to her, "the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen."

She carried him through all his preparatory studies; but, as yet, he was not converted. Her faith however, did not fail her.

When a young man, there was a revival of religion in that place, and God remembered this believing woman, and had respect to her faith and confidence. All her children were hopefully converted, this son among the rest. And in due time he went to Princeton Seminary, precisely in accordance with the faith and expectation of his mother. He finished his theological course, entered the ministry, and became an acceptable preacher of the gospel. Some time

after this, while conversing with the mother in relation to the subject, she remarked to me, "Did I not tell you, Mr. H., when Ashbel was ten years old, that he would be a minister ?" And she added, "I as much believed it then as I do now."

A part of the above narrated facts, I personally knew at the time they occurred; and the remainder I had from the mother's own lips after the whole was

MY MOTHER'S VOICE.

accomplished. And she was a person of a strong, well-balanced mind; and a humble, unassuming christian, showing her faith by her works. And it seems

as though God actually said unto her, "O woman! great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt."

MY MOTHER'S VOICE.

My mother's voice! I hear it now,
1 feel her hand upon my brow

As when, in heartfelt joy,

She raised her evening hymn of praise,
And called down blessings on the days
Of her loved boy.

My mother's voice! I hear it now!
Her hand is on my burning brow
As in that early hour,

When fever throbbed through all my veins,
And that kind hand first soothed my pains,
With healing power.

My mother's voice! It sounds as when
She read to me of holy men-

The patriarchs of old;

And gazing downwards in my face,

She seemed each infant thought to trace,
My young eyes told.

It comes-when thoughts unhallowed throng,
Woven in sweet deceptive song-

And whispers round my heart,
As when, at eve, it rose on high;
I hear, and think that she is nigh,
And they depart.

Though round my heart, all, all beside-
The voice of friendship, love, had died-
That voice would linger there,

As when, soft pillow'd on her breast,
Its tones first lull'd my infant rest,

Or rose in prayer.

THERE was a time when I was very small,
When my whole frame was but an ell in height;
Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do fall,

And therefore I recall it with delight.

I sported in my tender mother's arms,
And rode a horse-back on my father's knee;
Alike were sorrows, passions, and alarms,
And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me.
Then seemed to me this world far less in size,
Likewise it seemed to me less wicked far;
Like points in heaven, I saw the stars arise,
And longed for wings that I might catch a star.
I saw the moon behind the islands fade,
And thought, O were I on that island there,
I could find out of what the moon is made,
Find out how large it is-how round, how fair!

Wondering, I saw God's sun, through western skies,
Sink in the ocean's golden lap at night,
And yet upon the morrow early rise,

And paint the eastern heaven with crimson light;

And thought of God, the gracious Heavenly Father,
Who made me, and that lovely sun on high,

And all those pearls of heaven thick-strung together,
Dropped, clustering, from his hand o'er all the sky.
With childish reverence, my young lips did say
The prayer my pious mother taught to me:
"O gentle God! O, let me strive alway
Still to be wise, and good, and follow thee!"

So prayed I for my father and my mother,
And for my sister, and for all the town;
The King I knew not, and the beggar-brother,
Who bent with age, went sighing up and down.

They perished, the blithe days of boyhood perished,
And all the gladness, all the peace I knew!

Now have I but their memory, fondly cherished; Oh may I never, never lose that too!

JENS BAGGESEN-[A DANE.]