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No. 12.


DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS: If we could look into the first causes of all the disagreements and quarrels that arise between relatives, friends, acquaintances or nations, we should probably find that suspicion more often than any other was the beginning of the trouble. Suspicion of God's love and truth led Adam and Eve to fall into the sin that turned them out of Eden, and brought death into the world, and it is suspicion of God's love and truth that will keep multitudes from entering the better paradise, the paradise of heaven.

Some of us are naturally more suspicious than others, but the boy or girl who is so is not half as happy as the one who has a trustful nature. The one is constantly thinking his friends do not love him, or if they are whispering to each other, that they are speaking evil of him or laying some plot against him; then when he speaks to them with this feeling lurking in his heart, he looks coldly at them, and they are hurt at his unkind manners;-while the other will trust his companions even when they seem going against him, and his very trustfulness makes him loved.

I will tell you two true stories, one of suspicion, the other of trustfulness.

About three thousand years ago there lived a king whose name was David. Some years before the time I am telling you of he had suffered very much from the suspicion of his fatherin-law, and had been obliged to run away and hide himself from him. During this time the king of another nation had been very kind to David and had given him a home. The name of the king was Nahash.


But now Nahash was dead, and his son Hanun reigned in his stead; so David said, "I will shew kindness unto Hanun, the son of Nahash, as his father shewed kindness unto me," and he sent his servants with a message of comfort. Hanun and his princes were suspicious, and they thought David's servants were only come to spy out the land so as to be able to fight against them, and instead of treating them courteously they were very rude and cruel to them, for they cut off half their beards, and half their clothes, and sent them back in this miserable plight. After this David and Hanun were at enmity instead of friendship, and they had a terrible battle in which about 50,000 men on Hanun's side were killed. Think of all that misery coming from nothing but an unjust suspicion!

My story of trustfulness happened four hundred and twelve years ago, and though we cannot be as certain of its truth as we may be of the first story, still it is told in the books of English history, and I think we may take it as true.

A king and queen had been defeated in a battle, and were obliged to fly. They got separated, and the poor queen with her young son found themselves alone in a forest. She had met with robbers who had taken her jewels, and very much frightened her, and she was feeling tired and unhappy when she saw a robber, with a drawn sword in his hand, coming forward to meet her. If ever there was a reason for fear and suspicion surely there was one here; but Queen Margaret determined to be trustful, and instead of trying to hide herself behind the trees, she went forward to meet him, saying, Here, my friend, I commit to your care the safety of your King's son." The robber was so touched by her confidence in him that he did all he could for them both, and helped them to escape into another land.


Now comes the moral, but as it is only one moral to two stories perhaps you will not mind the trouble of reading it.

Be loving and trustful, and "Treat every man as a friend till you find him an enemy. If you think people love you, you will generally find that they do, while if you suspect them of unkindness you will probably find they dislike you. There is an old saying, "Tis love that makes the world go round," but there cannot be love without trust. Oh! how unkind it is when people love us to treat them with suspicion! and how much more cruel and ungrateful it is in us if we do not trust ourselves, soul and body, to the great God who has so loved us and given us such great proof of His love.

Dear children, let us "Love one another."
I am your English friend,



Tom Caldwell threw a stone at Deacon Ulster's horse as the old deacon was riding by the other day. The stone struck the horse. The horse kicked. The deacon's hat and wig were knocked off into the mud, and the deacon himself came very near being thrown. Tom didn't exactly mean to do it, although he did cast the stone, and did jcin with the rough boys in laughing heartily at the sad plight into which the deacon was put by his recklessness.

"Good for you, Tom!" said a red-vested and red-nosed horse-jockey, who stood by the livery stable door, and saw the catastrophe to Deacon Ulster. "Here's a dollar, Tom. It's worth that to see pious pride put into pickle." And the jockey reached out a gold dollar and offered it to Tom. Tom was surprised. He hesitated a moment, but could not resist the prize, and so, pocketing the dollar, joined in the jockey's jolly laugh at the deacon's expense, and then walked on, feeling a little ashamed of himself, and yet covering his conviction with the thought of how many nice things a gold dollar would buy. Tom had gone but a few steps when he heard a voice on the other side of the street calling to him. He raised his eyes, and saw Doctor Maybin, an old Quaker, standing in his office, and beckoning to Tom to come over. "What did the fool pay thee for thy folly, Thomas?" asked the old man.

"I despise myself," said Tom, flinging the gold piece to the pavement, and bursting into a flood of tears.

"Then pick up that geld; go to the giver; place it again in his hand, and say, I blush that I dared to touch it,' go then to Deacon Ulster's, and and confess thy wrong." "All this will I do," said Tom, as he picked up the coin and hurriedly left the doctor's presence.

And Tom did as the doctor advised and as he had promised. And on his way from Deacon Ulster's house to his own home Tom said to himself, "The reproofs of the wise are sweeter than the rewards of the wicked."



There's plenty to do in this world of ours:
There are weeds to pluck from among its flowers;
There are fields to sow; there are fields to reap,
And vineyards to set on the mountain steep;
There are forests to plant, and forests to fell,
And homes to be builded on hill-side and dell.
There are fountains of sin and of sorrow to seal;
There are fountains to open, the nations to heal;
There are brave words to speak, and songs to be sung;
There are doors to be opened, and bells to be rung;
There's a conflict to wage with the armies of sin;
There's a fortress to hold, and a fortress to win.

There's plenty to do all over the land-
Work, crowding the brain, the heart, and the hand;
There are millions to teed in the world's busy hive;
There are railroads to build, and engines to drive;
There are pathways to mark over mountain and lea;
There are harps to be hung in the depths of the sea.
There's plenty to do; there are children to teach;
An evangel of love and of mercy to preach;
The fallen to lift, the proud to abase,

To bring right and wrong to their own fitting place ;
There's an ensign to plant on the heights by the sea;
There's work for the million-for you and for me.


I had the following anecdote from a gentleman of veracity, A little boy in Connecticut, of remarkably serious mind and habits, was ordinarily employed about a mechanic's shop, where nearly all the hands were addicted to the common use of intoxicating liquors. The lad had imbibed temperance principles and though often invited could never be induced to partake with any of the shop's crew. Three or four of the harder drinkers in the shop resolved to force a dram of rum down his throat by some means. Seizing an opportunity when he was left alone in the shop with themselves, they invited him to drink. He refused. They then told him they should compel him. He remained calm and unmoved. They threatened him with violence. Still he neither seemed angry nor attempted to escape, nor evinced the least disposition to yield; but insisted that it was wicked, and he could not do it. They then laid hold of him, a man at each arm, while a third held the bottle ready to force it into his mouth. Still their victim remained meek and firm, declaring that he had never injured them, and never should, but that God would be his friend and protector, however they might abuse him. The man who held the fatal bottle, up to that moment resolute in his evil purpose, was so struck by the non-resisting dignity and innocence of the lad, that, as he afterwards confessed almost with tears, he actually Thoughtlessly, thou didst do a foolish thing. Mischiev- felt unable to raise his hand. Twice he essayed to lift the ously, thou didst laugh with fools at thine own wrong. Cow-bottle, as he placed the nose of it in the child's mouth, but his ardly, thou didst shrink from confessing thy wrong. Covet- arm refused to serve him. Not the least resistance was made eously, thou didst accept a bit of gold for a bad and contempt-in this stage of the proceeding otherwise than by a meek, proible deed; and canst thou now rejoice in gold thus ill-gotten testing look; yet the ringleader himself was overcome in his from base hands?" feelings, and gave over the attempt, declaring that he could not, would not, injure such an innocent, conscientious, goodhearted boy. Such is moral power. Such is the strength by which evil may, sometimes at least, be overcome with good.Adin Ballou.

Tom blushed. His fingers fumbled in his pockets, and the gold dollar seemed to burn them more than the hot blushes burned his cheeks and brow. He answered nothing. What

could he answer?

"Didst thou sell thyself, Thomas ?" asked the old doctor. Still the condemned boy was speechless.


The scarlet face was turned upward, and Tom's blue eyes, brimful of tears, gazed into the white face of the indignant old


"I am ashamed of thee !" said the doctor.

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It was a few days after the news of the battle-the very day when the mail brought the long official list of killed and wounded-that we were seated in the office, reading over the names, with a sad curiosity seeking out those with which we were of old familiar.

We were sorrowfully enough engaged by these thoughts, when a young woman entered the office. When we say young, we mean under thirty. She held a small child by the handa beautiful little creature about three years old. They were mother and child-for such no one could doubt to be their relationship who observed their features.

We just looked over the top of the paper, to note these particulars, when, having been directed to us by the clerk, she came forward to our desk..

We handed her a chair, and while we endeavored as well as we could to soothe her very apparent agitation, we were somewhat at a loss to account for its existence.

After a few minutes' conversation, we discovered the reason in the fact that she was a relative of a soldier in one of the corps that had been engaged in battle and had suffered very severely. She had been informed that the "list of the killed and wounded" had arrived, and she had travelled many miles to hear some intelligence of his fate.

She wished us to read over the names.

We again took up our paper, and proceeded to comply with her request. We shall never forget the expression of the woman's features as we read. Her agony was terrible. She was not unhandsome; but her face became ghastly pale, and her eyes looked unutterable despair, as she fixed them upon the child, who was playing with a newspaper, and laughing joyously in its heedless innocence. Her lips were colorless, the perspiration started on her forehead, and as she lifted her hand to wipe the large drops away, we could see it trembling as though palsied.

The presentiment of evil had already almost broken her heart, and we knew that the relative must be a very near one. She had avoided giving us her name, and so soon as we

found the list, appallingly long, which comprised the causalties of the designated corps, we began to read. We did not know when we should reach the fatal name, if at all, and at each interval we looked inquiringly in the woman's face. She said nothing, however, for some time, and we began to hope his name was not down, when we read

"John Wilson, sergeant, KILLED."

Such a scream! It was the wail of a broken heart. Only one-and then still as death. That cry was ringing in our ears for a month. We immediately ran toward her, but she arose from her chair, motioned us her thanks, and without a word, left the office.

We had read to her the announcement of her husband's death. We did not do much service in the office that day.

The next morning, happening to be down on the wharf, we saw the woman and her little girl going on board the packet. She recognized us, and we spoke to her. She was crushed completely. She had grown twenty years older in as many hours.

We bade her good-bye. She continued her route back to her girlhood's village home, now desolate, and we to our daily business, a sadder man indeed.

The touching incident recorded above was recalled to our mind a short time afterwards, by reading in a paper the notice of the death of Mrs. Sarah Wilson, widow of John Wilson, a soldier, killed in the late battle, Buena Vista.'"

It was our accquaintance-there could be no mistake. Poor creature! She had grieved herself to death for her husband. Ah, cruel war! what terrible wages dost thou exact from thy votaries!



The angels sang in the silent night,

While the shepherds watched, the heavens were bright, And though years like a river have flowed along,

Yet we are singing the angels song:

Peace upon earth and to men good-will,
And glory to God we are singing still.

They heralded in the joyful morn

When the Prince of Peace as a child was born,
And we look back through the ages dim,
And come like the shepherds to worship Him-
Saviour, Redeemer and Priest and King,
Our hearts are the gift that to Thee we bring.
Fir-tree and pine and the myrtle bough
Are woven in garlands to greet Thee now;
And the frosty sunshine of Christmas-day
Is fairer to us than the light of May.
O Jesus, Lord of the worlds above,
Thine be the glory and ours the love.

So shall we welcome Thee year by year,
So shalt Thou grow to our hearts more dear,
So shall no taint of the world's alloy
Shadow the light of our Christmas joy-
Peace upon earth and to men good-will
And glory to God we are singing still.

A SMALL TALENT WELL USED. We have so often been called to do honor to great men, both living and dead, that it is refreshing to be able to turn aside from the glare and glitter which usually surrounds the world's heroes and devote a moment to the consideration of the claims for regard of a very humble and very obscure mortal who, having finished the little work he had to do, in a faithful manner, has gone to give an account of his stewardship where his claims will be clearly understood and his labors fairly rewarded.

Our subject was a negro, and an idiot. Small work for him to do, and little glory to be achieved, the world would say. Let us see what he did, and then determine if the world is correct in its conclusions.

This obscure man who died the other day in Harrisburg, Pa., was known as " Crazy Black Dick." How he lived no

body seemed to know. "His wants were few and easily supplied." He had no trade, profession or calling, for he was an idiot and it was supposed could learn nothing. One thing and only one, he could understand, and that was that railroad cars when running, were dangerous to life and limb. From this simple fact poor Crazy Dick discovered his true mission. And so he became a watcher on the railroad at Harrisburg, to warn people to look out for the engine. He worked without pay, except such as the consciousness of duty well performed always confers. Dick knew exactly when every train, passenger or freight, was to come in and go out. No conductor's gold repeater was truer to time than he was. No train arrived or started that did not find Dick at the depot, and his watchful eyes in every direction to warn careless men, women and children from impending danger. Above the hissing of the steam or the shriek of the whistle might be heard the voice of this faithful watcher-" Look out here Missis-de cars are coming," "Git away little boy from de engine," git off de track old gempleman, fore de railroad comes in." And thus he watched and warned by day and night for years, and no one was injured during his time at or near the Harrisburg depot.


But one day a conductor offered Dick a free ride to Pittsburg, and he accepted it. During his absence a child was run over and killed, and when he returned and heard of it, his tender heart nearly broke with grief, and his soul was wrung with a sorrow deeper than that which Waterloo inflicted upon Na poleon. No allurement could afterwards coax Dick from his self-imposed duties, either by day or night, until he was relieved by death; and then passed away from earth a simple spirit to hear-let us hope-that blessed greeting that kings have listened for in vain-" Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Thou hast been faithful over a few things-I will henceforth make thee master over many things."



It is not because I have forgotten the little children who read the beautiful Angel of Peace, why I have been silent so long. but it is because I have been unable to labor either with hand or brain. I have often attempted, in the bright summer days that have just slipped away from us, to write something for the children. to tell them of my "Vine-Cottage" home surrounded with trees, shrubs and flowers, but failing health has rendered it impossible for me to write. But now that the sweet, sad autumn days have come again, a new hope springs up in the soul, and a new inspiration impels me to labor for the blessed cause of peace.

think of you, and shall hope to write again little stories for the
Angel of Peace, if the good Father permits me to remain upon
the earth.
Hopedale, Vine Cottage, Mass.


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Along a rough, muddy country lane, a man drives a pair of
oxen yoked to a heavily loaded wagon. A little girl is seated
upon the bank, playing with the beautiful spring flowers.
the noise made by the creaking wagon, she looks up, and her
eyes chance to light on something else besides the team. A
poor little birdling has fallen out of its nest in the bushes right
into one of the deep ruts. It will surely be crushed, for it can-
not help itself. But little May hastily springs forward, drop-
ping her flowers. and crying, O, man, please stop till I take
this poor little bird out of your way! It has fallen out
of its nest, and I will try to find the nest, and put the little
thing back." The farmer good-naturedly pauses while
May tenderly rescues the poor little bird from its peril,
then starts on, and leaves her searching for the bird's
nest. But he has received a lesson which he will never forget.
He says aloud, "There's that tender-hearted little child mak-
ing such an ado about that miserable bird. Her heart would
have been broken had I run over it. What would she say if
she could see the way I treat the cattle sometimes! I don't
believe I'll ever kick a horse or beat a dog, or stick a pitch-
fork into the oxen again. Sure as I do I shall see that pretty
littte girl and the bird right before my eyes."

"What! going father? Why don't you wait and go up to tea with me?"


No, I guess I'll go on. I want to stop awhile at Lizzie's." "Well. Be careful about the crossings.'

"Yes, daughter, and I'll be home in time to have the house warm, and the kettle boiling for you."

"Is that old gentleman your father, Mrs. Conklin? I thought he was dead."

"Oh, no! He has always lived with me since mother and my husband died," replied the lady, looking tenderly after her father, as he passed slowly down the street.

This dialogue took place in a store. The incident struck home to the heart of a young girl who was standing a little apart, waiting her turn to be served. She thought, "How kindly she spoke to the old man, and how lovingly she looked at him, as one would at a little child. I wish I could always remember to be kind and patient with my father. I so often forget that he is old, and what a tender, loving father he has always been to me. But by God's grace I will try to remember and do better in the future."

Oh, this unconscious ministering! How much good it does! If we only knew. It behooves us to be careful of our words, our actions, and even our looks."- Christian Banner.

Dear children, I have thought much, in the hours that have past in the retirement of home, of the beautiful doctrine taught by the gentle Saviour, of overcoming evil with good, of being kindly affectioned one to another, of seeking to do good to those who have been unfortunate, and that kind words and deeds of love can never die. Our dear friends, parents, brothers, sisters and schoolmates may leave us for the "Better Land,' but the memory of their gentle words and loving smiles remain PUBLICATIONS OF THE AM. PEACE SOCIETY. with us forever. We are never sorry for the good we do, for the kind words uttered, but we do mourn over our evil deeds, for the hasty words angrily spoken, and we would often give all we possessed could we but recall them.

ANGEL OF PEACE, four pages monthly.

Single copies, per annum,
51 50 66

50 or more "

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64 to one address, The Advocate of Peace, 16 pages monthly.

15 cents.



6 66


Little children, if we would shed a fragrance around us sweeter than the autumn flowers that are just bidding us "good-beautiful paper, at the rate of 50 cents a hundred. by," we must create an atmosphere of peace and love, and become more and more imbued with the spirit of the good apostle who said, out of his loving heart, “My little children love one another, for love is of God," etc.

We will send for gratuitous distribution copies of the Ange', a fresh and

There are opportunities every day to do little acts of kindness to your brothers, and sisters, and playmates. Do not, dear children, indulge in "slang phrases," avoid expressions which belong to the bar-room and street, and you will grow wiser and better as you advance in years, and you will be glad that you formed the habit of using good language in your younger days.

There are many things, my young friends, that I would like to say to you now, but the tired brain and the trembling hand admonish me to cease writing for this time. But I shall often

Letters in relation to publications, donations, agencies, etc., from the
Eastern States, should be directed to Rev. J. B. Miles, Secretary; or Rev.
H. C. Dunham, Office Agent, at No. 1 Somerset St., Boston
POSTAGE. Postage always paid at the office of delivery - twelve cents pe
year per single copy; for Clubs, one cent for every four ounces.


HON. EDWARD S. TOBEY, of Boston, President.
PROF. ALPHEUS CROSBY, Chairman of Executive Committee.
REV. JAMES B. MILES, Cor. Secretary and Assistant Treasurer.
REV. H. C. DUNHAM, Recording Secretary and Office Agent.
REV. DAVID PATTEN, D. D., Treasurer.
REV. D. C. HAYNES, Financial Secretary.

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C. D. Gordon.
E. W. Taft...
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E. P. Burgess, M. D.
C. C. Churchil
J. H. Cobb...

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James Downing.......

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The London Peace Society alleges a different cause for the Ashantee war than wounded honor on the part of Great Britain. DEDHAM. It has issued a circular which states that the Ashantees are an inland tribe having certain immemorial rights of way and access to the sea; that in consideration of annual payments of money by the Dutch, who claimed the territory, subject to these Last year, rights of way, the Ashantees had waived them. however, the Dutch sold the territory in question to the English, who refused to keep up the payments and also refused to permit the Ashantees to resume their right of way. The story of the English Government is briefly that the Ashantees have attacked the Fantees-the coast natives and British allies-and that the war is one of resistance on its part, not of aggression. Whatever may be the truth of the matter, it is probable that the great value of the gold mines in the Ashantee country is not without great influence in the matter.

Joseph Poor.:.

New Bedford.

D. R. Green..

Benjamin Pitman.........




Thomas Stimpson.........................

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E D. Mandell.

A Friend..............


Coll. in Cong. Ch., by Rev.
Mr. Ide.....


W. S. Green..
L. K. Joslin..

Joseph Atwater........
Benjamin White.....
J. G. Parkhurst.... .......
William Chase.....
Avis L. Harris..

A foreign diplomatist at Washington has expressed the opinion that Spain will probably be shrewd enough to reply to PROVIDENCE. the demand for reparation that our Government will make, by a proposition to leave the whole affair of the Virginius to a court of arbitration for settlement. It will be thought by Spain that, inasmuch as our Government has taken considerable credit to itself on account of the Geneva arbitration, as inaugurating a method of peacefully settling disputes between nations and thus putting an end to the reign of war, such a proposition could not be very well rejected.-Boston Journal.


The Angel of Peace of which a specimen may be seen in the Advocate will be sent postage paid to any who desire to do good and help inould a generation of peace-makers, at the rate of 50 cents per hundred copies by addressing Rev. H. C. Dunham, 1 Somerset St., Boston.

THE APOSTLE OF PEACE.-Memoir of William Ladd.-By John Hemmenway.-A most remarkable book of one of the greatest and best men that ever lived, well spiced with anecdotes, will be read with lively interest by the old and the young, and should be in every family and Sunday school in the land. This contains about 300 pages, with a fine likeness of Mr. Ladd. Substantially bound in muslin, $1.00. Will be sent by mail, postage paid, on reception of the price. Dunham, No. 1 Somerset St., Boston.

Address Rev. H. C.

For the better accommodation of his numerous patrons, our friend, T. H. Johnston, has opened a new Tea Store in a central location, and will serve all who give him a call in the most satisfactory manner. See Advertisement.

R. I. Peace society, by D. R.


M. A. McSparren..........

A. R. Metcalf.

Mrs. G. H. Johnson.........
William M. Wallace, M. D..

Wm. F. Root....

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NOTE. Our receipts show the effects of the late panic and are quite inadequate for the noble work we have in hand. December is the month for liberal responses. Many of our friends are isolated, consequently cannot be reached by an agent without too much expense. We are running this office on the most rigid economy, and now most earnestly invite all who love peace better than war to promptly remit to us offerings to the cause of the Prince of Peace. An angel would covet the privilege of flying from heaven to lay a gift on the altar inscribed "Peace on earth." A word to the wise and peace.. loving is sufficient. H. C. DUNIAM, Office Agent A. P. S

BOSTON, Dec. 1, 1873.


The payment of any sum between $2.00 and $20.00 constitutes a person a member of the American Peace Society $100.00 an honorary member. for one year, $20.00 a life member, $50.00 a life director, and

The Advocate of Peace is sent free to annual members for one year, and to life members and directors during life.

If one is not able to give the full amount of a membership, or directorship at once, he can apply whatever he does give on it, with the understanding that the remainder is to be paid at one or more times in the future.

The Advocate is sent gratuitously to the reading rooms of Colleges and Theological Seminaries-to Young Men's Christian Associations-to every pastor who preaches on the Cause of Peace and takes a collection for it. Also, to prominent individuals, both ministers and laymen, with the hope that they will become subscribers or donors, and induce others to become such. To subscribers it is sent until a request to discontinue is eceived with the payment of all arrearages.

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