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the sons of Korah; and in the title of one of these "Heman, the Ezrahite," is mentioned.

But whether we are correct or not in this, we are sure that Heman held very high rank in the temple choir. He was "over the instruments of music," (possibly the Mahalath Leannoth also,) and was especially to have charge of the cymbals of brass. With "musical instruments of God" (1 Chron. xvi., 42) he assisted Zadok, the high priest. And we read again, (1 Chron. xxv.,) that he had fourteen sons and three daughters, all of whom he instructed in sacred music. Thirteen of the sons were subleaders in the great choir, and in this distribution of honors the sons of Korah received more than half of the offices. Through the impartial casting of the lot, God showed the "whole disposal" of his mercy to the descendants of the rebel priest.

It remains for me only to remark incidentally, that we discover "Shallum, the son of Kore," a descendant of Abiasaph, one of the sons of Korah, as one

of the porters in the tabernacle. And in Ezra's time, we find his children still among the porters, and in that record of return we wonder a little if Bani was not a son of Korah, too.

These, however, are mainly conjectures, which may or may not be true. The last positive statement which we have is 2 Chron. xx. 19. There, in Jehoshaphat's time, they are at their old employment, and we leave them, with the hope that as "where sin abounded, grace did much more abound," so their voices may be heard hereafter among those who are redeemed.

I have placed the results of this curious and instructive Bible study in tabular shape, in order to assist the mind by its greater clearness. Of course, in all the other genealogies, save that of Korah, there are frequent omissions. These are indicated by stars in the line of descent. Asaph, Heman, Ethan, and Zadok being contemporaneous, it is not hard to show how completely the result proves the integrity of the scriptural account.

A REGRET.

BY ANNETTA DARR.

A MODEST flower in my path

Upraised its brow of whiteness,

So fair and pure, that everywhere
The land seemed full of brightness.

It lifted from its lowly place.
A glance of earnest pleading;
But, occupied with sordid things,
I passed it by unheeding.

Too late I call to mind its worth,

And vainly search the meadows;

For some one else has plucked my flower, And the land is dark with shadows.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A VILLAGE DOCTOR.

BY STEPHEN W. NEWELL.

NOT

(CONCLUDED.)

[OT long after Mr. Buckingham | the humbling, sickening consciousness of became domiciled among us, the her spiritual importance. Her difficulmarriage of Edward and Catharine took ties increased; for her mind, unable to place. I felt, as I witnessed the cere- repose upon any sure foundation of faith, mony, that however amiable a Christian's was driven hither and thither by an inlife companion may be, if natural amia- fluence which she could neither underbility be all that is possessed, the two stand nor control. Wearied and despondare unequally yoked together. A bird can- ing, she would, had it been possible to do not easily and joyously soar above the so, have withdrawn from the struggle earth with one wounded wing. altogether, and found rest in her former state of happy indifference. But she was under influences too strong to put aside; and the mental contest went on, concealed, it is true, but none the less real and less desperate because it was carried on within the secrecy of her own bosom. To hide her feelings she assumed a mask of lightness and gayety, and this was worn so naturally, that she deceived many even of those who knew her best. But she could not deceive herself, and the poor wretched heart became more wretched still.

About the period of which I am writing, a "season of interest" occurred in our village church. Our old pastor discerned evidences throughout the bounds of his charge, that the inquiry he had so long and so earnestly made, "who hath believed our report?" he would soon have occasion to make no more; and that the reward of his faithfulness would be given to him in a large gathering into his church.

Madge became interested. The things of eternity, which before had occupied but a secondary place in her thoughts, suddenly loomed up before her mind in their vast proportions, and she resolved to give herself to their consideration. But in the attempt to do so, there was revealed to her a phenomena of mind of which before she knew nothing, and which surprised and distressed her beyond measure. She found herself skeptical regarding the truth of Christianity itself. Whether this was a revelation to her own mind of the natural unbelief of the heart, the existence of which she had never before suspected, or whether it was a suggestion of the evil one, it was real to her own imagination. There was something horrid in the thought of being an infidel; and she strove to throw her skepticism away. The endeavor revealed to her the fact that she had no power over her own convictions, and no ability, by a voluntary effort, to change her mental condition. A perseverance in her endeavors led to

As already said, Mr. Buckingham's first estimate of Madge was in accordance with that which appeared upon the surface, but further developments rendered her an unintelligible riddle to him. Now the very perturbancy of her spirit gave a piquancy and pointedness to her sallies and retorts, which compelled his admiration of her talents, while he was pained at her exhibition of lightness amid the seriousness which pervaded the community around.

But a time came when the enigma was solved. Upon his return to our village, after an absence of a few days, when he entered the common reception-room in Mrs. Cumming's boarding house, he found Madge sitting there alone, reading, and so absorbed in the contents of her book, that she seemed unconscious of his entrance. He stepped lightly up to her, and saw, to his extreme surprise, that the

soul."

work which had so enchained her atten- and I have obtained rest unto my tion was Soame Jenyns on the Internal Evidences of Christianity.

"Why, Miss Madge!" exclaimed he, "what can have so interested you in that book, which, by nine out of ten of all the girls I ever knew, would be voted the dullest of all the dull books ever written, -a weariness to the flesh ?"

Madge locked up, and he saw that in her appearance which showed that the time for badinage had passed away, there was a look of sweet seriousness, combined with one of calm serenity, and even an expression of exultation in her face, which he had never seen there before, and which at once arrested his attention.

"Mr. Buckingham," said she, "I wonder not, after my manifestation of all want of interest in anything proper to occupy the thoughts of a rational being, that you were surprised to find me engaged as I was when you entered the house."

She narrated to him the manner in which her mind had been exercised, and then went on to say:

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My soul has been in agony; but I have endured all in silence, and have striven to hide my wretchedness from others by an affectation of emptiness and folly. But I have, in secret, read every thing I could obtain, in order to reestablish my faith-Paley, Watson, Alexander, Campbell, Bonnet, Leslie-I have literally devoured them all. But my skepticism seemed invincible. Even my fear of rejecting the truth has acted as a barrier to its reception. But now," she continued, raising the book which still was open before her, and looking upon it with an expression of almost reverence, "my difficulties have vanished, and my mind is at rest. The line of argument pursued by the writer of this little book, is the instrument used by the Divine Spirit for my establishment in the truth. My reason tells me that the Bible is true, and my heart rejoices in its consolations. I have applied to its Author to relieve me of my burden. He has taken that burden upon himself, and in return has laid his own yoke upon my shoulders

my

"Miss Madge," said he, "I congratulate you with whole heart. No one can do so more sincerely or more intelligently than myself; for your experience has been almost a repetition of my own."

He said no more, but went immediately to his room. And now a struggle commenced in his own bosom―a struggle between inclination and honor. He had found the beau ideal of his fancy-one possessed of beauty, cheerfulness, talent and piety. But she was the pledged of another man. Inclination urged him to contend for the prize; but honor forbade the attempt to win her for himself. Honer prevailed, and he nerved himself in the way in which a good man prepares himself to pursue the course of rectitude, even when to walk in that path is apparently "to his own hurt." He conquered himself, and the endeavor to do so energized him; for "he that ruleth his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city."

When Charley called upon Madge the first time after she had come to the light, he knew not of the change which had taken place in her feelings and sentiments. He was received with the same manifestations of tender regard with which he had long been treated. But he soon found that while she was the same girl she had always been, still she was a changed creature-with new views and tastes and aspirations. A change had taken place, and one with which he was unable to sympathize. The more he was in her presence, the more manifest this change appeared. There was no less of amiability, and every womanish trait shone out more winningly beautiful than they had appeared before. The exquisite finish of holiness added new loveliness to every natural charm. But this loveliness is seldom seen by those from whose eyes the scales have never been taken; and Charley was yet in the blindness of nature.

Gradually as her changed character and purposes of life developed themselves, his interest in her diminished. And as she saw, with her enlightened eyes, the worldliness of his character, and his want of sympathy in those views which

had become to her of superlative impor- tally resolving, that Charley himself was tance, she feared that without a change gradually drifting away from her, and upon his part so radical as to constitute that the time would come when he him a new man, there would fail to would be careless to conceal his growing be between them that union of soul indifference. Notwithstanding her purwithout which the design of marriage pose of faithfulness, she could not concould not be attained. Such were their ceal from herself the fact, although the sentiments and feelings, scarce acknow- conviction caused a feeling of half crimiledged to themselves, much less commu- nality, that the affection of a man of nicated to each other. He felt bound to Buckingham's mental force, brilliant acher by the principles of gentlemanly complishments and noble soul, would honor, and she to him by those of moral have been anything but displeasing to obligation. And such was the strength her, had she not already been pledged to of that principle in Madge's bosom, that, another. had the union been consummated, she would have discharged sacredly the duties of a wife, in letter and in spirit too, as truly so as she had resolved to do in the moment when, following the impulses of her undisciplined inclinations, she had plighted her troth to him. Whether that feeling of gentlemanly honor by which he felt bound to fulfil his engagement to her would continue to act with a force sufficiently strong to bind him to her so long as they both should live, I cannot affirm, for its strength was never tested; but that it would have done so may well be doubted, for the only kind of honor which will bear unscathed every trial, is that which comes from above.

Mr. Buckingham left our village. He felt that he could no longer safely continue in the society of Madge; and he bade us adieu, with the determination, that, although his course through the world should be a lonely one, and he be forced to walk it uncheered by the voice of affection, his life should not be useless. He would do work for the Master and for humanity in that department for which the providence of God had fitted him; and his influence should be felt for good as widely as it would be felt at all. Madge parted from him with a pleasant

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good-by," and gave no sign of any other than a feeling of sisterly regard. But she felt-whether that feeling was right or wrong-that had they met at an earlier period of their lives, her prospects for the future might have been different from what they were. However, she was glad that he had gone; and now she would turn herself resolutely to the performance of every duty, and choke down any sigh which might arise for that which might have been.

Edward Cummings' business capacities, and his unimpeached fidelity, commanded the respect of the whole com

Although Mr. Buckingham suppressed as much as possible the expression of his sentiments for Madge, yet she could not fail to see that she was not indifferent to him. What woman of ordinary discernment was ever thrown much into the society of a man who admired her, and failed to detect that interest, however warily the secret may have been attempted to be guarded! Madge received the enviction with feelings of unmitigated pain. She would be faithful to Charley. Never by word, or look, or act, would it be dis-munity. covered that the ardor of her love for him had cooled; or, rather, that she had given her faith to one who had dazed her imagination, and that she had mistaken this for the devotion of her heart, and that now she was awakened from the pleasing delusion. She would make atonement to him for any aberration of feeling by a doubly devoted attention. Little did she think, while thus men-pleasant to tread.

A business connection was sought with him by a wealthy gentleman, who had a large monied capital unemployed. Edward accepted the proposition of this gentleman. Then, without the necessity of long years of close economy and hard work, he had attained to position and prosperity, and the path of life opened up before him and his young wife strewed with flowers and

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