s Mary.

Now, if the rich man, who had not yet made up his mind what to think of
the Bible, should visit this poor woman, and ask her on what she
grounded her belief of its truth, what could she answer? Could she give
the arguments from miracles and prophecy? Could she account for all the
changes which might have taken place in it through translators and
copyists, and prove that we have a genuine and uncorrupted version? Not
she! But how, then, does she know that it is true? How, say you? How
does she know that she has warm life blood in her heart? How does she
know that there is such a thing as air and sunshine? She does not
_believe_ these things--she _knows_ them; and in like manner, with a
deep heart consciousness, she is certain that the words of her Bible are
truth and life. Is it by reasoning that the frightened child, bewildered
in the dark, knows its mother's voice? No! Nor is it only by reasoning
that the forlorn and distressed human heart knows the voice of its
Savior, and is still.

WHICH IS THE LIBERAL MAN?

It was a beaming and beautiful summer morning, and the little town of V.
was alive with all the hurry and motion of a college commencement. Rows
of carriages lined the rural streets, and groups of well-dressed
auditors were thronging to the hall of exhibition. All was gayety and
animation.

And among them all what heart beat higher with hope and gratified
ambition than that of James Stanton? Young, buoyant, prepossessing in
person and manners, he was this day, in the presence of all the world,
to carry off the highest palm of scholarship in his institution, and to
receive, on the threshold of the great world, the utmost that youthful
ambition can ask before it enters the arena of actual life. Did not his
pulse flutter, and his heart beat thick, when he heard himself announced
in the crowded house as the valedictorian of the day? when he saw aged
men, and fair, youthful faces, ruddy childhood, and sober, calculating
manhood alike bending in hushed and eager curiosity, to listen to his
words? Nay, did not his heart rise in his throat as he caught the gleam
of his father's eye, while, bending forward on his staff, with white,
reverend locks falling about his face, he listened to the voice of his
pride--his first born? And did he not see the glistening tears in his
mother's eye, as with rapt ear she hung upon his every word? Ah, the
young man's first triumph! When, full of confidence and hope, h