eeble, lifted up for truth, ever dies amidst the confused noises of
time. Through discords of sin and sorrow, pain and wrong, it rises a
deathless melody, whose notes of wailing are hereafter to be changed to
those of triumph as they blend with the great harmony of a reconciled
universe. The language of a transatlantic reformer to his friends is
then as true as it is hopeful and cheering: "Triumph is certain. We have
espoused no losing cause. In the body we may not join our shout with the
victors; but in spirit we may even now. There is but an interval of time
between us and the success at which we aim. In all other respects the
links of the chain are complete. Identifying ourselves with immortal and
immutable principles, we share both their immortality and immutability.
The vow which unites us with truth makes futurity present with us. Our
being resolves itself into an everlasting now. It is not so correct to
say that we shall be victorious as that we are so. When we will in
unison with the supreme Mind, the characteristics of His will become, in
some sort, those of ours. What He has willed is virtually done. It may
take ages to unfold itself; but the germ of its whole history is wrapped
up in His determination. When we make His will ours, which we do when we
aim at truth, that upon which we are resolved is done, decided, born.
Life is in it. It is; and the future is but the development of its
being. Ours, therefore, is a perpetual triumph. Our deeds are, all of
them, component elements of success." (Miall's Essays; Nonconformist,
Vol. iv.)

THE PILGRIMS OF PLYMOUTH.

From a letter on the celebration of the 250th anniversary of the landing
of the Pilgrims at Plymouth, December 22, 1870.

No one can appreciate more highly than myself the noble qualities of the
men and women of the Mayflower. It is not of them that I, a descendant
of the "sect called Quakers," have reason to complain in the matter of
persecution. A generation which came after them, with less piety and
more bigotry, is especially responsible for the little unpleasantness
referred to; and the sufferers from it scarcely need any present
championship. They certainly did not wait altogether for the revenges of
posterity. If they lost their ears, it is satisfactory to remember that
they made those of their mutilators tingle with a rhetoric more sharp
than polite.

A worthy New England deacon once described a brother in the church a