demon with fear and trembling. The widow turned deadly pale, covering her face with her hands, thus betraying her guilt. The good monks were satisfied with their victory and went away full of gratitude bearing the empty frock, never dreaming how sweet a kernel had been enclosed in that rough shell. The widow was conducted to prison, after which Aquilinus, summoning an old confidential servant, proceeded to the city, where he purchased a full outfit of female apparel sending it home by the slave. On his return the consul, softly entering the room where he had left Eugenia, found her sleeping the sleep of a weary child. As he stood by the divan regarding her, he could not help laughing at the sight of her monkish velvety head, and involuntarily passed his hand over its brushy surface. She awoke, opening wide her great eyes. "Will you be my wife at last?" he gently asked. Eugenia covered her blushing face and did not answer. But putting out her little white hand from beneath its purple covering she softly laid it in his. Aquilinus smiled and went out to bring back robes, and ornaments, everything in short which a beautiful and wealthy lady of that period required to apparel herself from hand to foot. Then he left her. That very evening after the sun had set, taking with him the confidential servant, he carried her to one of his villas, situated in a retired and charming neighborhood, and shaded by beautiful trees, where they were married in the most profound secrecy. They had waited long before they were united, but they did not regret the lost time, being penetrated with profound gratitude for the happiness which they mutually enjoyed. Aquilinus devoted the days to business, returning every evening, carried by the swiftest of his horses. On stormy days when the atmosphere was depressing, he returned earlier that he might cheer his beloved Eugenia. The latter, without many words, set herself, with the same ardor which she had formerly given to the study of philosophy and Christian asceticism, to the study of love and conjugal devotion. When her hair had grown to a suitable length, Aquilinus carried his beautiful wife to the home of his astonished parents, where their nuptials were celebrated with great pomp and splendor. Her father, indeed, showed himself a little disappointed, to recover in his daugher, instead of an immortal goddess, a celestial constellation, simply a terrestrial woman who was fond of her husband, whom he saw not without chagrin carry away the divine image from the temple. But at seeing his daughter more charming and more amiable than she had ever been before, he was consoled. Aquilinus placed the marble idol in the choicest apartment of his mansion, but he had no longer a desire to embrace it, having the original. When Eugenia had made sufficient progress in the science of marriage, she turned her attention to other studies, undertaking to convert her husband to Christianity, and never resting until he had publicly embraced her faith. The legend further relates how her family returned to Rome about the time that Valerian, the great enemy of the Christians, ascended the throne; and how in consequence of the persecutions which then commenced, Eugenia became a glorious martyr, and wrought wonderful miracles before she died. The empire which she had acquired over her husband was so absolute, he permitted her to summon the two friars Hyacinth, from Alexandria to Rome, where they also were so happy as to win the crown of martyrdom. In a sarcophagus in the catacombs, their reunited remains still repose: and the traveller may recognize the spot by the two sculptured lambs which rest in one shrine. Caroline M. Sawyer. Lady Anne. It is in the London season Many hundred miles away, In the parks each winter day; Ball and rout the gay crowds gather, Shining silks, and gems, and flowers, From her boudoir Lady Anne Calls her maid to dress her hair, Bridget's hands are cold and trembling, Sure her pain must seek relief; "Half the people there are dying ; There's my sister and her son, "'Tis an awful tale to tell." O'er her rings her bright eyes wander, To the flowers on her bosom, That her rings and shining trinkets All the luxuries gathered round her From her broad and rich estate; Oh, how solemn is the reckoning To be given by the great! Martha Remick. L The Divinity of Man's Natural Affections. ET the reader picture to himself, a quiet cottage home, after the Oriental style, situated on one of the sides of the Mount of Olives, about two miles from the busy and crowded city of Jerusalem. Around this home grew the palm and the figtree, whose spreading branches and thick foliage sheltered it from the curious and idle gaze of the world, while over its door hung in graceful forms the leaves and blossoms of the trailing vine. This secluded and lovely spot was the home of Lazarus and his two sisters, Mary and Martha, the chosen and familiar friends of Christ. Here clustered the warmest sympathies and the holiest affections. And here dwelt in beautiful simplicity the humble virtues, the gentle manners, the kind charities, that always make home attractive and delightful. This scene of social comfort and domestic peace, was the favorite resort of the Saviour. The Gospel historian frequently speaks of his going to the village of Bethany, and to the home of Lazarus; and of the strong and peculiar attachment that existed between Christ, and the members of this humble Jewish household. It was here that he loved to retire from the toils and tumult of the world. Here his wearied body and exhausted spirit found repose and strength in the calm seclusion of country life, and under the sweet influences which flow from kind and congenial hearts. The Great Teacher, as have all other teachers and reformers, before and since his time, found a new and quickening incentive to duty, a fresh inspiration to noble endeavor and an increased power to bear life's trials, in the attachments of friendship, and in the warmth and tenderness of responsive and sympathizing natures. The world will never know how much it is indebted to the affectionate interest, the cordial words, the generous hospitality, experienced by Christ under the roof of this rural home at Bethany It will never know how much a brother's loving spirit and woman's sisterly kindness, aided and encouraged even the Divine Master in the fulfilment of his important mission. No one who has a human heart, and has felt the ennobling influence of kindly sym pathy, can doubt that Christ went forth from that scene of social communion, from the presence and smiles of those he loved, refreshed and strengthened for the great work before him. No one who knows the value and power of human kindness to cheer and encourage, can doubt that he, who was "touched by the spirit of our infirmities," was also cheered in the midst of his weariness and labors by his visits to that cottage home of Lazarus and his sisterss, that the sunshine which was reflected there from happy faces and loving hearts, warmed his own bosom, and that expressions of love and encouragement from others, were a fresh baptism of hope to his own divine soul. Much of the theology of our times glorifies the deity of Christ, and demands for him the admiration and homage of mankind, because he is the second person in the Trinity, and possesses the attributes of the Supreme. But we are ready to confess that it is rather the humanity of Christ that most interests us, and which in our view, imparts the brighter lustre and beauty to his character. There is no fact in his whole history more interesting or instructive than that he had a human heart, which with all its wants, passions, and sympathies, throbbed in harmony with the great pulse of humanity, that every social fibre which God has implanted in the nature of man found a responsive chord in his bosom. Such a view presents him to the human mind in a natural and attractive light. It removes that veil of profound mystery and unspeakable awe which has so long concealed him from the best affections and rational convictions of mankind, and reveals him as having a nature in common with the race, as a being of like feelings, needs, trials, hopes; the son of man, the first and elder brother in God's new moral creation. This whole subject opens a wide field for thoughtful contemplation, but the particular point to which the attention of the reader is called, is the fact that our Saviour was endowed to the fullest extent with what are termed natural affections, and these affections were represented and exercised by him during his ministry on the earth. No In feature of his character stands more conspicuous or illustrious on the pages of the New Testament. In the midst of the gravest responsibilities and the grandest duties, he did not forget that he was a human being, nor smother the emotions of his tender and sympathetic nature. He recognized his kinship with the race. He formed attachments of friendship, he participated in scenes of social intercourse, he attended the feast and the wedding, he mingled his tears with the weeping sisters of Lazarus, he took little children in his arms, he had his beloved disciple, his chosen companions, his favorite places of abode, his circle of loved and cherished ones. the light of these interesting facts, these ties and affections of our common nature, are clothed with a new beauty and a more sacred dignity. Since Christ lived and loved, these social instincts and wants seem no longer merely human, but exalted and divine. Since he wept, a deeper meaning and a holier interest is imparted to every tear that is shed over new made graves, or springs from the fountains of human sorrow. Since he attended the wedding at Cana of Galilee, a diviner joy and a more profound sacredness is given to every marriage scene by the consciousness of his spiritual presence. I need not repeat here the story of his eventful life. I need not recite the record of his benevolent deeds, of his untiring efforts to benefit and bless all classes of humanity; of his sympathizing spirit with all conditions of sorrow and want. These things are familiar to every Christian mind. they show that Christ had a human heart which thrilled to the touch of grief or joy, -that he possessed in a large degree, those feelings commonly denominated natural and social, and sought occasions to employ and exercise them. And Now with these clear and beautiful exhibitions of love and kindness, and ardent social feelings in the life and nature of the Saviour, it is interesting to inquire whether these affections which are termed natural, and which he shared in common with the great mass of mankind, are not to be regarded of some particular account in our estimation of moral and Christian character. And this inquiry assumes an importance when we consider that much of the theology of our day treats them, not only with utter indifference, but with absolute insult and contempt. It is declared, not only that there is no religion nor virtue in the use and outward manifestation of these natural affections, but that they are radically sinful, perverse, and corrupt. It is said that these tender emotions, compassionate yearnings for another's welfare, and kind sympathies that bind heart to heart like links in a golden chain, are unregenerate; stand in direct opposition to the will of God and the spirit of Christ, and that all these labors of love and works of benevolence which are prompted by them, possess no merits nor value as affording the evidence of a Christian spirit, or a religious life. They are simply the promptings of the natural heart, the deeds of the unregenerate and natural man. If we clothe the naked, feed the hungry, visit the sick, restore the lost, lift up the fallen; if we exhibit a brother's kindness, a sister's love, a friend's affection; if we are gentle in our intercourse, generous in our charity, unwearied in our philanthropy; if we are humane as a Howard, self-sacrificing as an Oberlin, tender and loving as the mother of Christ herself, still all this does not receive the favor of God. It is not being religious, it is merely human, or moral, that which we are moved to do by our natural instincts, and can no more enter into an estimate of a truly religious character than the act of eating or drinking, or the supply of any of our natural wants. This is the language and the spirit of what is called evangelical theology. These are the sentiments which it puts forth concerning these noble and tender affections which the Creator has stamped upon the moral and social nature of man, and which the Saviour himself inherited in common with humanity. But we seriously ask, do such declarations accord with the spirit and teachings of Christ? Does he anywhere give us to understand that the doing of good to our fellow-beings and the active manifestations of man's natural affections, have not some claim to virtue and practical Christianity? We think if we have read aright the Christian record, that it recognizes most clearly the value and the Christian character of benevolent and merciful deeds. In the process of that judgment that occurs under the mediatorial reign of Christ, those were accepted who lived in obedience to these instincts of humanity, who fed the hungry, clothed the naked, visited the sick, who acted precisely as we should expect those would act who followed the promptings of their best affections, or their natural sympathies. We can hardly conceive of a theory more antiChristian than that which represents the God-given instincts and impulses of man's social nature as being wholly destitute of any real goodness in the sight of God, the veritable author of them, or which says that there is no religion in the active exercise of them, when the crowning glory in the life of Christ consisted in the fact that he himself went about doing good. If there is any page in the history of human nature which is marked with a brighter lustre than any other, it is that on which is recorded the many beautiful and touching exhibitions of what are termed the natural affections. What acts of noble self-denial and patient endurance has not man performed for those who were objects of his attachment and love! What sacrifices has he not been willing to make, and sufferings to endure, for the sake of his brother in peril and need! And how many and precious are the examples of heroic martyrdom which have been born of changeless devotion and persistent fidelity to the holiest instincts of his heart! The annals of every-day life even as they are written of the humble poor, of the deeds and sacrifices of the lowly, are often filled with instances of such sweet patience and such disinterested and holy love as have power to touch the roughest nature, and move the hardest heart! What, indeed, is it, that makes life attractive, the world beautiful, sweetens toil, and sheds sunshine along the path we are called to tread, if not these ties of social endearment; these golden fibres of the heart that reach out and cling so tenderly to friends, kindred and home. We all know how true this is. What can be more beautiful and holy than a mother's love! Look in upon the countless homes scattered over our globe, in savage or civilized nations; among the Esquimaux that dwell in the frozen rigions of the North, or with the dark-skinned Ethiopian that inhabits the sands of Africa; look in upon these homes wherever they are to be found, and witness that sacred and tender love which the mother feels toward her helpless offspring. What weariness and watching, what anxious days and sleepless nights, what untiring fidelity and absorbing affection, are seen in a mother's life, and pictured upon a mother's face! And yet all this comes from the mother's natural affections, from those holy sympathies and loving emotions that God himself planted within her boso .. So with all these ties of man's social and affectional nature which are so firmly interwoven into the life of the individual and society, the love of brothers and sisters, of husbands and wives, the bonds of friendship, the endearments of home, the magnetism of congenial spirits, these all spring from that nature which the Creator has bestowed upon his children for wise and gracious purposes. It will not be denied that the feelings of man's social nature may become perverted and abused and that they may through ignorance or wickedness be fastened upon unworthy objects and employed for unlawful purposes. But it is not the divine quality of these affections in their abused or perverted state, for which we are contending. We ask only that they may be viewed, simply, just as God made them, in their natural, primitive condition. And no one viewing them in this light, unless blinded by religious error, can regard them as originally vile and corrupt, or feel that there is no religion in the lawful exercise of them. It seems hardly possible to conceive that our Maker could bestow on any class of beings a social constitution more perfect, affections more delicate or fervent, or better adapted to accomplish the purposes for which they were intended, than those which he has placed in the heart of man. And in our view that lite is the noblest, and that spirit the most divine which gives the greatest activity to one's natural powers and sympathies. He will act the nearest right who acts the most in |