Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1859-09-23

tleman from Boston, travelling OF the
West, CHANGED to stop over the Sabbath
at little town, scarce year old, on
the banks Of the Mississippi river.
You may be sure no bell called him to
church but wishing to see if there was
such thing, be strolled ont, and pres
emily came upon low log house, in
which there appeared to be q congre-
cation of some sort. Entering, he
found Sabbath School. ~ 4
The superintendent, he found, was
former friend of his, Who, on seeing.
him, invited him to speak to the school.
Now since he had lived in Boston,
where no one is supposed to be igno-
rant or simple, he heard much Of the
rude untaught state of the settlers of
the Western States. 10 s, q
81 will see what they know" said
he to himself, and accordingly he be-
gan to talk to the children, and to ask
them questions. o.
"What is the eleventh commandment,
children?'' asked he.
A bright little girl, though brown,
and roughly dressed, Instantly rose and
answered: hSa satgs .8 81 =. p
"a new commandment give I unto
you, that We love one another"
The gentleman was little surprised
at this, but before he got through he
heard and saw enough enough to con-
vince him that the school was as we'll
taught and intelligent as any he had
ever visited.
He returned to Boston. On going
to call on a friend, he met, near the
house, boy playing on the sidewalk,
whom he recognized as his friends son.
"Ah my boy, how do you do? Is
your mother at home 20
"No, sir; she has gone to the Cir
cle." E aa
"The circle! What circle?''
"Why, the circle, sir, where they
sew for the heather out west"
"Ah!" said the gentleman, and he
smiled as he thought Of the Sunday
school in the Lighthouse.
Next day being Sunday, he walked
into the large and we'll dressed Sunday
school belonging to DR.. T.'s church,
in-street. After recitations were
closed, having been invited to speak, he
rose and asked as before: ,a
Children, who can tell me what i,
the eleventh commandment ?"
No one answered; and as some
scholars were seen bending to ask their
teachers, the visitor interrupted them
by telling the story of the Western Sab
bath school, and then he added:
I see boy here who told me yes
terday that his mother had gone to a
circle to sew for the heather out Vest!
I would advise him and the rest of you
to keep a sharp look out after your BIZ
bles and your Sunday school lessons,
or these Western heather will soon be
sending missionaries to Boston,
SMILEs.-Nothing on earth can smile
but a man! Gems may flash reflected
light, but what is diamond fash COM
pared with an eye fash and mirth fash
Flowers cannot smile. This is a charm
which even they cannot claim. Bird.
cannot smile, nor living things. It is
the prerogative of man. 1t is the col.
or which love wears, and cheerfulness
and Joy these three. 1t is the lighl
in the window Of the face, by which the
heart signifies to father, husband, Q,
friend, that it is at home and waiting
A face that cannot smile is like a bud
that cannot blossom and dries upon the
stalk. Laughter is day, and sobriety
is night, and smile is the twilight
that hovers gently between both, more
bewitchtng than either. But all smiles
are not alike. The cheerfulness Of
vanity is not like the cheerfulness OF
love. The smile of gratiied pride is
not like the radiance Of goodness and
truth. The rains Of summer fall alike
upon all trees and shrubs. But when
the storm passes, and every leaf hangs
a-drip, each gentle puff Of wind brings
with it something Of the nature of the
leaf or blossom on which it hung, the
roadside leaf yields dust; the walnut
leaf, bitterness ; some flowers poison ;
while the grape blossom, the rose and
the sweet briar lend their aroma to the
twinkling drops, and send them down
in perfumed drops. And so it is with
smiles which every heart perfumes ac-
cording to its Observation-Disclosures is
acrid, pride bitter, good will sweet and
fragrant.-H. ". Beecher.
AMERICAN L1TERATURE.-Dr. Mack
ay in his Book on America thus speaks
Of Literature in the New World:
"For the last quarter of century
the United States have produced as
many eminent poets, historians, philos-
ophers, and essayists as Great Britain
herself. In every department of liter
allure Americans have entered the lists
of fame, and competed for the prizes,
and no one can say that they have COM
peted in vain, or failed to pay back to
England a portion of the delight and
instruction which our modern as well
as our ancient literature, like bene-
fcent fountain on the wayside, has af-
forded to al. who chose to drink of her
gushing waters. In their poetry, which
was formerly but little more than a
faint echo Of the poetry Of the old land,
the Americans have imbued themselves
with color and with the spirit Of their
own cline, and, in growing more ma
tional, have become more original.