Southern Christian Advocate

SPIRIT.

Did you never witness how the spirit will triumph over matter? Flashing out in lovely scintillations? See the child, who is tossing upon the bed of sickness—racked with the fever's drought, or the ague's chill. How different in speech and accent, from the same child when, robust with health, he is 'roughing' it about the door with his companions. He loves you then to be sure—and, if you put the question to him, he will frankly avow it. But his passion is, for the gratification of his appetites—his love for food and play. This is the triumph of matter.

But let him be taken sick. How tender of his brothers and sisters—how full of love to his father and mother! Then, it seems as if he cannot express it all, as he would wish. The embrace, the kiss, the pathetic language of childhood! how it breaks up the long seal'd fountains of the heart! You are surprised at the precocity of the child. You never thought he knew such language, or felt so deeply as he does. "Father, if I get well, will you not take me into the country, where the pretty flowers are? It is so dark staying here in this room"— said a little boy, who was dying with a fever—to his poor father, who stood by, who had not the means even to summon a physician, or procure a cooling draught for his lips, save cold water.

And then, as he rallied, he threw his arms about his father's neck, exclaiming, "What a dear father you are—how I do love you." This was the glorious outbeamings and triumph of the spirit, over the mass of sick and decaying matter. A bright precursor of its loveliness, when freed from its weight of clay. That night the little boy died!-Maine Jour.