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Full FaetTandlKiilosophy. Enocil;j the father of Methnsaleh, was translated, so that he did not see death; therefore the oldest man that ever lived died before his "father. An Irishman being asked why he -wore his stockings "wrong side out, replied, "Bekase there* s a hole in th' ither side uv em." Some dogs are kept about houses sim? ply to give the alarm at tho approach of burglars. - Like certain spice trees, they ?are valued only for their bark. A Yankee bos invented a machine for extracting the lies from quack advertise? ments. Some of them arc never seen af? ter entering the machine, as only the truth comes, out. The "Japanese, if they have been walled in for centuries, have got sensible notions. They have got no old maids there; when the girls don't g;et married voluntarily, tho authorities hunt up a husband and make -them many willing or not willing. Every girl who intends to qualify for marriage, should go through a course of cookery. "Unfortunately, few wives are able to dress anything but themselves, and some are not capable of even doing that. '. . j A Japanese nobleman, upon being shown a fashionable plate in an American magazine, was very "much startled and exclaimed: "How very fat your women are!" Byron was disenchanted when he saw his inamorata eating. In other words, he faltered when youth and beauty were at steak. "Whats in a dress ?" asks a popular writer. Sometimes a good deal, and sometimes precious little. The poor fellow who couldn't hold his own, has. been arrested for talcing some? body else's. "Paddy, how do you like the Ameri? cans?" "Fajth, I like them so well that I've a mind to become a native." A man was convicted in Kentucky of ? stealing his; neighbor's cows and hiding them in his cellar. It was a cowardly mode of cow-hiding. " The only liberty-cap," says a clever and witty author, "is-the night-cap. In - it men visit, one-third of their lives, the land of sleep?tho only land where they are always free and equal." ;: The-, least said the soonest mended," does n?trei'er to one's shirt when it wants repairing: for if one says ever so little about it, you will not find it any tho soon? er mended for all that. The violet grows low and covers itself ?with its own tears, and of all flowers yields the sweetest fragrance. Such is humility. "Who's afraid?" said a young man to himself, in order to screw his courage.to the sticking place. "Why, you are," said "t?e object of his affection, "or you would have taken courage six months ago." Yice and folly may dull tho edge of wit, but virtue is invulnerable; aquafortis dissolves the baso metals, but has no power to dissolve or corrodo gold. A correspondent wants to know wheth? er, considering tho great utility of the ocean, poets are not wrong to call it "a great waste of water?" Success rides on every hour; grapple it, jou may win; but without a grapple it ^^w^jteyer-gp-'With you. To keep eggs ' from spoiling, eat -them while, they aro fresh. We have tried all kinds of methods, but this, we think, is the only one to be relied on in any cli? mate. Misery makes strange bedfellows. A handsome young fellow recently married a rich old lady of seventy. lie was mis? erable for the want of money, and she for the want of a husband. -* A Huckster Outgone.?Away down in the smart village of Cincinnati, there vegetates a certain hotel keeper, who for cuteness is "some" you may depend. Having* frequently been imposed upon, while supplying his bountiful larder, with, articles of geese by the wide awake, buckeye hucksters, he>'deemed it high time to try if cheating was net a game ?tmrt4wo could play at. So one morning bright 8.nd early, ho presented himself before one of the numerous farmers' wag? ons surrounding the 'market square with a? "I s-S"-say, friend, g-got any g-geese?" (tho poor fellow has got Charles Lamb's defect of speech.) "Yes, fine lot?" l'W-well, I've g-got up at my ho-house the all firdest set of b-b-boys for g-geese you ever did see, and I want to h-h-head 'em ofE a few w-with some tough ones? can't you pick me out some old h-ho fol? lows ?" " Well, I don't know but I might find one or two;" and so, turning over his pile of poultry, h? collected some eight or ten geese, whose claims to the title of "old * he-fellows" needed no corroborative fact, but might be pronounced clear and un? questionable. "Mine host" eyed tho progress of sepa? ration with evident satisfaction. "Are those all the tough ones you've got?" "Yes, I vow I did not know I had so many." "Well," was the reply, "I g-guess I'll take the o-other lot." { Devices of the Fox. A fox, on whoso track the houndf \*d been very often laid, used always to baffle them at one point, the crest of a steep hill. Up to this spot the scent was perfectly good; but at that particular spot the scent vanished, and so the fox was lost. One of the disappointed hun? ters was so indignant at his repeated fail? ures that he determined to lay aside the chase for a day, and to devote himself to tho discovery of tho means by which the J creature could so invariably escape from the hounds and men. He therefore concealed himself noarthc charmed spot, and watched with interest the proceedings of the hunted ariimal. The fox. after being driven from his cover, led the hounds a long chase through woods, ponds, and thickets, and at last came at full speed toward the crest of the hill. As soon as he had reached tbe spot he laid himself down, and pressed himself as closely as possible to the ground. Presently the hounds came along in full cry, and with a blazing scent, darting over the hill in hot pursuit, and never stopping till they reached the bottom of tho hill. As soon as tho last hound had passed, the fox resumed his legs, crept quietly over the brow of the hill, and re? turned to his cover at leisure. Another of these creatures made use of a very cunning device for the same pur? pose. In this instance ho always led his pursuers to the edge of a cliff that rose perpendicular for seven hundred feet, and then disappeared. The hunters had of? ten examined the spot unsuccessfully; for it seemed that no wingless animal could venture to take such a fearful leap. The secret was, however, at discovered by a concealed spy. The crafty fox was seen coming quite at his leisure to the edge of the clilF, and then to look down. Some ten feet below the edge there was a kind of break in the strata of stone, form? ing a kind of step about a foot in width. By means of his claws the fox let himself down upon this step, and thon disappear? ed in a hollow, which was invisible from above. A man was lowered by ropes to the spot, and found that there was a wide fissure in tho rock, to which the stone step formed an entrance. On searching the cavern it was found to have another and easy outlet upon the levclj ground above. Tho fox, however, never used this entrance when the hounds were on his trail, but cut olF the scent by scram? bling over the cliff", and then emerged at the other outlet. -4> TnE Gain of Advertising.?The in-. Creasing demand for newspapers, and. in connection with it, the extension of ad? vertising is working a great advantage in business, especially among retailers.? Thirty years ago, a store, once established was sure to keep its custom, unless its pro? prietor recklessly and blindly neglected his affairs; but now no establishment, however popular, can retain its patronage unless it advertises, and advertises exten? sively. This is as it should be. People, instead of running up and down to hunt an article the)' may happen to desire, have now only to glance over the columns of the paper and learn at once where their wants can be supplied. Profits, too. arc less, in consequence of the competition; and hence the public is supplied cheaper than formerly. A retailer who wishes to make a fortuno now, must expec c to sell a hundred thousand dollars worth of goods where he used to sell twenty-five thousand, and to make but one quarter the profit he did IJeuJTc.'" He-canuot continue the old prices without losing his custom. His only chance to outstrip his neigh bors is to advertiso; to advertise extensively and continually. It is useless for him to com? plain of this, as some do, who cannot un? derstand tho times. He must, adapt him? self to circumstances or he will sooner or later be insolvent. He has, indeed, but one thing to do, and that vigorously per? sisted in, will make him rich?it is to ad? vertise, to advertise, and again to adver? tise. -o The Potato.?This plant, whoso edi? ble tubers, in almost all the countries of the civilized world, have become an arti? cle of either luxury or prime necessity, is indiginous to Peru, and perhaps tho neighboring countries and Mexico. It | may still be seen growing wild in its na j tive habitat, where it seems to prefer' rocky cliffs near the coast, or overhang? ing the sea. It bcar3 a pure white blos? som ; and the best variety is considered the one with yellow tubers. There is some discrepancy in the ac? counts that speak of the introduction of the Potato into Europe, owing to its hav? ing been confounded with tho Potatus, or Sweet Potato; but its introduction is pretty generally imputed to Sir Walter Ealeigh. Girardo, an old English botan? ist, in his Herbal, which was published in 1597; speaks of having raised potatoes in his garden at London, in 1590. Potatoes are now very largely cultiva? ted over the continent of Europe. In France, Italy and Germany, they are an important article of diet; and in Switzer? land, next to Ireland, are found their greatest consumers. About seventy yeai*3 ago they were introduced into the East Indies, China, and the Philhppino Is; . But the potato can never become a staple article of produce in those countries; for it does not thrive in a tropical climate, unless at an elevation of about four thou? sand feet. i tTse ?f the Peacock's Tail. The beauty of the peacock's plumage was a thems of admiration in tho remo? test times; and the bird was sought after as capable of adding splendor to the mag? nificence of Solomon. The chief display of this beauty arises from that arrange? ment of long and gorgeous feathers, which spring from the space between the region behind the wings and the origin of the tail; but the use of this to the bird itself has been a subject of doubt. At first sight it seems to be no better than a luxuriance of nature, and an encum? brance rather than a benefit. The action hy which its splendor is outspread has al? so been deemed an absurd manifestation of pride. But men taro imperfect inter? preters of the actions of animals; and a closer examination of the habits of this bird will afford a different explanation. The tail of the peacock is of a plain and humble description, and seems to bo no other use besides aiding in the erection of the long feathers of the loins; while tho latter are supplied at their insertion with an arrangement of voluntary mucles, which contribute to their elevation, and to the other motions of which they are ca? pable. If surprised by a foe, the peacock presently erects its gorgeous feathers ; and the enemy at once beholds starting up before him a creature which his terror cannot fail to magnify into the bulk im? plied by the circumstance of a glittering circle of the most dazzling hues?his at? tention at the same time distracted by a hundred glaring eyes meeting his gaze in every direction. A hiss from the head in the centre, is attended by an advance of the most conspicuous portion of this bulk; v. h ich is, in itself, an action of retreat, being caused by a receding motion of the bird. That must be a bold animal which does not pause at the sight of such an ob? ject : and a short interval is sufficient to secure the safety of the bird; but if, after all, the enemy should be bold enough to risk an assault, it is most likely that its eagerness or rage would be spent on the glittering appendages, in which case the creature is divested only of that which a little time will again supply. A like ex? planation may be offered of the use of the long and curious appendages of the head and neck of various kinds of humming birds, which however feeble, are a pugna? cious race. -o Fiuno Newspapers.?One of the many things which I have to regret when I review my past life is, that 1 did not from my earliest yonlh. at l**:i*t as so? as E \va9 able to do it. take and preserve - ? 3 be. | lieve the technical word is :- file*"? some good newspaper. How interesting would it be now to a Bc-\.ag iharian to 1-. into the paper which lie had read when he was twelve or sixteen, or twenty years old! How many events would this call to mind which he has entirely forgotten ! How many interesting associations and feel? ings would it revive ! What a view it would give one of past years ! What knowledge it would preserve by assisting the memory! And how many valuable purposes of a literary kind, even, might it he subservient to ! How much do I wish I could look into such a record while com? posing this short article! But newspa? pers arc quite different things to what they wore sixty or seventy years ago.? They are unspeakably more interesting and valuable; in that respect, at least (I believe in many others,) these times are better than the. former. Formerly the editors of newspapers were obliged to strain their wits and exhaust their means in order to obtain matter to fill their | pages. Now, the great difficulty is, to insert all the valuable interesting materi? als that arc poured upon them from every part of the world, and from every grade and placo of society. Now, newspapers contain many of the best thoughts of tho most highly gifted men on the most momentous subjects, and their reports and statements are far more accurate than they formerly were or could be. They have repudiated the character for lying they once had, and have become records of truth. -* Beauty and Virtue.?Beauty will pale, but virtue is lasting. Where are the splendid forms, and bright eyes, and 1 looming checks of the past age ? In the du ;:. But the virtue of tho years gone by still lives. The beauty that captivated and destroyed kings and princes, perished; but the virtue that burned in the Chris? tian bosom has exerted an influence that will never die. What did not Bunyan ac? complish ??and Baxter ??and Knox ?? and scores of virtuous men? The beauty of to-day in a few years will have been forgotten, but the virtues of the heart will not be lost. Why should we be fascinated with one while we trample upon the other? Where arc the flowers so beauti? ful that charmed us a year ago? With? ered?dead. But the rough trees remain, and will continue to delight us and our children for years to come. The flames and trees arc fit emblems of beauty and virtue in man?the former dazzle and pass away, whilst the latter remain a perma? nent blessing.?Olive Branch. - I Napot.kc*- IIL?Louis Napoleon is said j tpbe by r;u;c; an I aiian, by birth a Dutch? man^ by school saucauon.a German ,"T>y military education i S iss, by practical education an American, by political stud? ies an Englishman, and by his crown a Frenchman. Napoleon and Josephine. Napoleon's acquaintance with Joseph? ine aroue from an impression made on him by her son, Eugene Beauharnais, then a little boy. He came to request that his father'*; sword, which had been delivered up might be restored to him. The boy's appearance, the earnestness with which he urgod his request, and the tears which could not be stayed when he beheld the sword, interested Napoleon so much in his favor, that not only the sword was given :o him, but he determined to be? come acquainted with the mother of the boy. He visited her, and soon his visits became frequent. He delighted to hear tho details which she gave of the Court of Louis. "Come," he would say, as he sat by her side of an evening, "now let us talk of the old court?let us make a tour to Ver? sailles." It was in these frequent and familtar interviews that the fascinations of Josephine won the heart of Napoleon.? ?'She is," said he, "grace personified, everything she does is with a grace and delicacy peculiar to herself." The admiration and love of such a man could not fail to make an impression on a womt.n like J oscphinc. It has been said that it was impossible to bo in Napoleon's company without being struck by his per? sonal appearance, not so much by the ex? quisite symmetry of his features, and the noble head and forehead which have fur? nished the painter and the sculptor with one of their finest models; nor by the medhativc look, so indicative of intellect? ual power; but the magic charm was the varying expression of countenance which changed with every passing thought, and glowed with every feeling. His smile, it is said always inspired confidence. "It is difficult, if not impossible," so the Duchess of Aabrantes writes, "to de? scribe the charm of his countenance when ho smiled?his soul was upon his lips and eyes." The magic power of that Empe? ror cf Russia expressed it when he said. "I never loved any one more than that man." He possessed, too, the greatest of all charms, an harmonious voice, whose tone? like his countenance changing from emphatic imipressiveness to caressing soft? ness found their way to every heart. It may not have been these personal and mental gifts alone which won Josephine's heart; the ready sympathy with which Napoleon entered into her feelings may have been the greatest charm to an affec? tionate nature like hers. Iii was in the course of one of these confidential evenings that as they sat I together, one re?cl to him the last tetter i she had rcccix'ed from her husband) it j was ? most touching urev.vl!.' tf?pol'?on was deeply affected; and it 1 lj > n said thai; that lettor, and Jo; cphine s emotion as she read it, had ;?. powerful effect upon his feelings, already excited by admira? tion. -o An Eloquent Passage.?Rev. Dr. Spring of New York preached his fiftieth anniversary sermon-on Sunday. He clos? ed his discourse as follows: "The half century is gone; gone like some small star that has been twinkling in the curtain of the night; gone, like the dying cadence of distant minstrelsy, as it vanishes into the air; gone like the word just spoken, for good or for evil, never to be recalled; gone like the clouds which disappear after they have exhausted their treasures upon tho earth; gone like the leaves of autumn, that are scattered to the winds as they wither; gone like the phan? tom, which, in pursuit, had a semblance of reality, but which, in the retrospect ismelt ed away, gone as yesterday has gone. Why do I say here, gone? Nothing is gone whose influcnco remains. ' The man, tho woman, the Sabbaths, the prayers, the weeks, the months, the the years, that some of us have beheld vanish, one by one, in the mysterious past, liv 5.still in God's universe. Past! What is past? What is past? What is the mo? mentous present??this now, this accepted tine? What is the never-ending future?? They are but parts that make up the ground unit of eternity? eternity that was, and is and ever will be. All time is a unit, where the angel at heaven's high court records as well the responsibilities of hearers as the responsibility of preach? ers, and where tho great Witness and Judge will render to every man according to his works." Intermarriage of Blood Relations. ?Hear what the editor of the Fredericks burg News says about that matter: " In the country in which we are raised, for twenty generations back, a certain family of wealth and respectability have inter? married until there can not be found in three of them a sound man or woman.? One has sore eyes, another scrofula, a third is idiotic, a fourth blind, a fifth ban? dylegged, a sixth with a head about the size of a turnip, with not one out of the number exempt from physical or mental defects of some kind. Yet this family perseveres to intermarry with each other with these living monuments constantly before them. -*-1 Some men arc like .tea?the real .strength an 1 goednes? are not drawn ouc of them Some persons are above our a ngi r, others below it; to contend with our superiors is indiscretion, and with our inferiors an in? dignity. Fly Time. - Readers, were yoa ever on a hot, sticky day driven " clam " by a pestiferous, re? lentless fly, whom neither groans, tears, entreaties nor slaps could move, or at least for moro than a minute; sitting on your nose, haunting your ears, tickling the back of vom* neck, biting your arms, dancing a jig on your temples, and skulk? ing in the curls of your hair ? At length, with one eye on tho wretch, you steal carefully to the door, closing it quickly behind you, and retreat to another and a darker room, sink exhausted into the lux? urious recesses of a friendly arm-chair, ejaculating "now then," as yon open your book for a dreamy revel. Buzz, buzz, buzz! Powere of misery ! there is your persecutor again. In vain you phi? losophically try to despise the midget.? One virorous tickle of your nostril sends you to your feet with a howl of rage and disgust. You rush into the entry, only to meet another half-crazed member of tl'ie family with hair on end, who has tried every room in the house, cellar included, and now silently comforts yon, a misera? ble, blear-eyed, despairing wretch. Some philanthropist present suggests "a saucer of molasses." Good! You get it, and locate yourself as near as posr-ible to the treacle. The fly " puts his foot in it," and forthwith transfers the contents to your unhappy nose. Howl for the second ! in which you demand the instant whereabouts of that philanthropist, the disinterestedness of whose proposal you now consider open to debate. Meantime you throw open the windows to the blaz? ing sun, in the vain hope that its bright? ness may lure your persecutor to an out? door voyage. He doggedly settles on the window-sill, with a no-you-don't expres? sion, quite demoniac in one so young. You throw }'our slipper at him; you grab at him with a spread handkerchief; you flap at him with a towel; you throw a mug of water at him; ho has more lives than a cat, and lights on his feet fresh as ever, after ail your frantic assaults. Humbled and dispirited you sit down to think over your past misdemeanors, won? dering for which of them you are under? going this purgatorial penance. Was it for bartering, unbeknown to him, your husband's moat cherished walking-stick on board the-boat the other day for a country lad's most magnificent bunch of posies ? Perhaps so. Was it for writing stupid things? There arc plenty moro who have done the same and keep doing it. When one ear was boxed was the other angelically turned for a re j] iii of the compliment? "No?and wl more it nevor will b-.-. because the !. : persons to profit by such magna? nimity were long ago gathered to their fathers. Well, then, that point is settled, you arc as good as your neighbors, and considerably better than some of them. Now, what I want to know is, if I don't choose to keep a carriage why I should be compelled to keep a fly??Fanny Fern. -.-* Keep the Birthdays.?Keep the birth? days religiously. They belong exclusively to and uro treasured among tho sweetest memories of home. Do not let anything prevent some token, be it ever so slight, that it is remembered. Birthdays are great events to children. For one day they feel they are heroes. The special pudding is made expressly for them; a new jacket, or trowsers with pockets, or the first pair of boots are donned; and the big brothers and sisters sink into insig? nificance beside " little Charley," who is six " to-day," and is soon '; going to be a man." Fathers who have half a dozen lit? tle ones to care for, arc apt to neglect birthdays; they come too often ; some? times when they arc busy, and sometimes when they "arc nervous;" but if they only knew how much such souvenirs are cherished by their pet Susy or Harry, years afterwards, when away from the hearthstone, that have none to remind them that they have added one more year to perhaps the weary round of life, or to wish them in the old fashioned ?? phrase, " many happy returns of their birthday," they would never permit any cause to step between them and a parent's priv? ilege. -* Genealogy of Queen Victoria.? Who is Victoria ? Victoria is the daugh? ter of the Duke of Kent, who was son of George the Third, who was grandson of George the Second, who was the son of Princess Sophia, who was the cousin of Annie, who was the sister of William and Mary. Then William and Mary were brother and sister, were they ? Mary was the daughter and William the son-in-law of James the Second, who was the son of Charles the First, who was the son of James the First, who was the son of Mary, who was the grand-daughter of Margaret, who was the sister of Henry tho Eighth, who was tho son of Henry the Seventh, who was the son of the Earl of Richmond, who was the son of Cath? arine, the widow of Henry the Fifth, who was. the son of Henry the Fourth, who was the cousin of Richard tho Second, who was the grandson of Edward the Third, who was the son of Edward the i. who was the son of Henry the i who was the son of Matilda, who . .. daughter of Henry tho First,-who the brother of William Rufus, who was the son of William the Conqueror, j who was the bastard son of the Duke of Normandy, by a tanner's daughter of Falaise. A Journey Under Paris. A correspondent of a '.Swedish journal furnishes an interesting account of a sub? terranean voyage lhade through one of the admirably constructed sewers of Paris. The boat which conveyed *;;ho party was reached by descending a flight of steps to the depth of about forty-hvo feet. The boat, a flat boitomed affair, was lighted by four lamps. The sewer is an archway, fifteen feet high, and of equal breadth, with a ditch or canal about ten feet wide, wherein all the dirt and filth of Paris is earned away. On the sides are sidewalks, which, together, are about four feet wide. Tho whole is built of whito'-^ sandstone, and is kept remarkably neat and clean. No stench or bad smell was perceptible. The denser portion of. the filth is carried away through large drains - beneath the sidewalks. The sidewalks are excellent and exhibit no signs of damp-; ness, while the walls of the archway artf kept v. hi tewashed, and are at all times as wbite as the driven snow. The stnicture possesses the ^properties of an immense speaking tube, the workmen being ablo to converse at the distance of two miles from each other. The echo is very lasting and' strong. The fabric is said to be built. after a model of the catacombs of Pome, . aided by all the latest improvements. On . both sides at about two hundred, yards distance from one another, are openings through which the workmen can ascend by means of permanent iron ladders, in case a sudden rain storm should cause the water to rise over the sidewalks, which is, however, of rare occurrence. ? The contents of the sewer flow into the river Seine, and the current i3 sufficient to carry the boats used; along with* con? siderable velocity. Large reservoirs are constructed at intervals, into which tho water can be turned for a short time in case it should be necessary to have the canal dry for a little while. The whole work was completed in two years. Be? sides tho main canal there are many mi? nor ones constructed under the principal streets. All of which can be made to communicate with one another. . These admirable underground works arc acces? sible from the Louvre, the Tulleries, and from all the barracks, and should the Pa? risians take a notion to barricade tho streets in any part of the city, the impe? rial government, might, at short notice, and without any person being aware of it, transport troops, and if there is time ? to make use of the reservoii-s. so can artil? lery be transported in the same way'?. There is an end to s'iooting on the sol? diers from the windows, and a revolution in Paris will soon only be remembered among the things that have been, never to occur again. Through these under? ground passages a prisondr can easily bo taken from the Louvre to the Seine with? out attracting attention, and thence' sent off by railway, which is near at hand.? The splendid system of sewerage was oiw of the pet Scherns? of the first Napoleon. -? Recent Erected Houses.?The London Medical Times directs attention to the cir? cumstance of many diseases occuring^ in * consequence of newly built houses being too quickly inhabited. He says, that in various parts of the outskirts of London, a large number of now dwellings are con? stantly being erected, and scarcely are completed before they are oecupiod.? Five cases of cholera which proved fatal to persons who had recently taken newly built houses came under his superinten? dence, which he considered were produced by the exhalations from the damp walls and floors and the fresh paint. "We believe that newly-built houses, whon tooquickly occupied, exert a very baneful influenc -? on the health of the occupants. From the fresh materials which compose the dwell? ings, deleterious exhalations arise, contam? inating the air. Houses ought not to bo inhabited for a certain period after their ? completion; and our medical brethren should caution those within their influence of the dangers to which families are ex? posed by fixing in houses recently erected. -*-? Hold On.?Hold on to your tongue when you arc just ready to swear, lie, or speak harshly, or use any improper word. Hold on to your hand when you are about ready to strike, pinch, scratch, steal <. or do any improper act. Hold on to your foot when you are on the point of kicking, running away from study or pursuing the path of error, shame or crime. Hold on to your temper when you v*> angry, excited or imposed upon, or others are angry about }*ou. Hold on to your heart when evil asso? ciates seek your company and invite you to join in their games, mirth and reveiiy. Hold on to your good name at all times, for it is more valuable to you than gold, high places or fashionable attire. Hold on to tho truth, for it will servo well and do you good throughout etex* nity. Hold on to your virtue, it is above, a'l prico to you, in all times and places. Hrld on to your good character, for it is and ever will be your best wealth. -* The earlier the new birth, the weighfx.-. ier will be the glory in the kingdom of fl God. Young ones regenerated and ena' fl bled to bear head against tho temptations; fl of their violent natures, shall have crowni| fl set with more jewels; they shall have aa fl abundant entrance. ^