state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved."

From this it will be seen that substantially twelve of the American Colonies declared themselves independent from England on July 2d, 1776. The members then seemed to regard this, and not the 4th, as the birthday of our national independence. John Adams

wrote:

A committee was appointed, with Thomas Jefferson as Chairman, "to set forth the reason for this act (of independence), and the principles which the new people would own as their guides." The paper which Jefferson prepared is the Declaration of Independence. On the evening of July 4th, 1776, the Declaration was adopted by a vote of the representatives of twelve Colonies; New York still refusing to vote. Later, however, this state too voted in its favor, and this made the action unanimous. The adoption of the Declaration gave to the action of the Colonies a definite and decisive shape, and forever crowned July 4th as the birth-day of American Independence. The resolution of Independence, therefore, was passed on the second, and the Declaration on the fourth. Usually an action passed by Congress simply needs the signatures of the President and Secretary, as in this case toc. Later, every member affixed his name, making himself not only of ficially but individually responsible to England for his action. As one after the other wrote his name on the paper, John Hancock, President of Congress, admonished the members to stand by one another in the solemn work which they had begun. "Yes," said Franklin, "either we must hang together, or each one will hang by himself.”

The different names of these signers are an interesting study. Stephen Hopkins, an aged, nervous gentleman wrote his with a trembling hand, not having a straight line in it. No man assumed greater risks in this transaction than

clime to visit.

There were then a number of prominent American citizens of the name of Charles Carroll. Lest, in the event of a failure of the cause of Independence the wrong Charles Carroll might be hung, the brave siguer of the Declaration wrote his name: "Charles Carroll, of Carrollton;" the only signer who wrote down his place of residence.

Jefferson reports a singular incident in connection with the adoption of the Declaration. All manner of outside influences were brought to bear upon the undecided and tory members. For days those for and against the measure were pretty equally balanced. Each party tenaciously held to its views, and feared to let the House come to a final vote, not knowing on which side the result might be. It was in the heat of summer. The members, as was then the fashion, wore short breeches reaching only to the knees, and long, thin, silk stockings. There happened to be a livery stable near by, whither great swarms of flies were attracted by the horses. The windows of the Hall of Congress were open, through which the flies freely entered, and tried to feed on the limbs of the dignified patriots through their silk stockings, to their infinite annoyance. Day after day the discussion became more heated, and the flies more impertinent. We can imagine with what a provoked feeling the members tried to brush off their persecutors with their handkerchiefs. În order to escape from them, it is supposed that many pressed the question to a vote. Thus flies have had an influence in the founding of a great Republic, as

the gabbling of geese is said to have decided a great battle before the walls of Rome.

There is a tradition which says that when the vote on the Declaration was being taken, the bell-ringer or janitor of Independence Hall, Philadelphia, took his place in the belfry, and requested a little boy to stand in the middle of the street in front of the Hall, and report to him the moment it was carried, so that he could at once announce the glad tidings to the city and the world. But the moment the crowd in Chestnut Street heard the result of the vote, it filled the air with such vociferous shouts that the little watchman's voice could not be heard by the janitor. He could, however, see him swinging his cap, and knowing what that meant, he began lustily to ring the news of liberty to an emancipated nation. The old bell bears the inscription of its first national message to this day; long may it proclaim it on every returning fourth of July "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof." Le

viticus 25: 10.

Hints for the Hopeful.

Who are not hopeful? What heart so cold or mind so dead as to be void of some longing for a better and nobler estate? How drearily dull is that nature which feels no pulse of ambition, and makes no attempt to get up and get along in the world, despite all rivalries and hindrances! As a matter of fact, life, of whatever sort, is a force. And the measure of its force will invariably be determined by the character and magnitude of the obstacles it surmounts or the difficulties it may conquer. But of this great and immutable law of success very many refuse to take any account. They seem to think luck to be more than law, fortune greater than providence, and the lottery of human existence more to be preferred than earnest battle with its hardships and hindrances. In this their ignorance, lie the seeds of their dreadful failures. Could they know in season what masterful and more than herculean prowess there is in steady work in the right direction, they would buckle themselves well in

the harness, and sweat and toil cheerfully and hopefully as others have done before them to secure the better prizes attainable.

The story of Robert Bruce and his indomitable spider is old. But true or false as a story, it can never lose its moral. Even the wisdom of the Bible does not disdain the example of the industrious ant, but commends it to the sluggard, to the tide waiter on chance, to the heirs of delusion and beggary, and to brokenhearted, despairing indolence, that wants the rewards but will not undertake the tasks of earnest diligence.

Yet there is doubtless a discouraging aspect on the side of every really great and successful career. The very eminence to which it has come seems to reprove all thought of attempting to match it. Young people look up, as toward the clouds, when they contemplate the heights to which men in literature, in science, art, commerce, or the various departments of professional labor, have arrived, and literally despair of making trial of the paths marked by their footprints. And herein is the point of danger for ingenuous minds. Here roars the lion in the way, and with sound and fury affrights the inexperienced and over-prudent soul. Fears arise where courage is challenged to its noblest tasks. Goliaths go down where there are Davids to confront them.

After all, this despair, which is borrowed from the high achievements of illustrious men or women, assumes a falsehood and fondles a fallacy. Read the biographies of those who have climbed, the high hills, and you shall find quickly enough that they all began with tottering, faltering footsteps; heavily burdened; often faint, yet ever pursuing. Having started with the calf, they got strength by persistence to carry the bullock. They did not ask for the bullock first, as so many miscalculating people now do, but proportioned their undertakings to their abilities.

It is said that when Mr. William Cullen Bryant entered upon his poetical career, he often threw his work aside, declaring he never could succeed. He had a high ideal, and felt at times the bitterness of failure in his efforts to reach it. But he went on, and is now

Christian Work.

Some time ago a New York pastor startled his people by announcing that he would soon go on a mission to the heathen. After the congregation was dismissed he was besieged for further information. "My good friends," said he, "don't be alarmed; I am not going out of the city."

It is not necessary to traverse the ocean to find the heathen. Multitudes of them are perishing at our very doors, and a simple neglect on the part of Christians to seek and save these neglected souls involves fearful consequences, both for time and eternity.

A daughter of Dr. Chalmers has relinquished Christian society, and is now living in one of the worst localities of Edinburgh, spending her life in efforts to elevate and save the abandoned; and a consecrated lady of St. Louis has, for eighteen years, spent nearly all of her time in voluntary Christian labors among the neglected poor.

Dr. Morrison, the celebrated missionary to China, as is well known, was "picked up" and reclaimed in early childhood, by a humble worker among neglected children; and some of our most useful Sabbath-school workers were formerly street Arabs.

Christian reader, are you doing any thing to promote the spiritual interests of the neglected masses around you? Could you not conveniently arrange to spend at least one hour weekly in such efforts?

Those who give this work a trial will find as Bunyan's Pilgrim did, that the imaginary lions," which they have presumed would impede their progress, are chained. In fact, it seems that the Spirit of God is impressing this class of persons as never before, and, in many cases, they are not only ready but anxious to welcome those who visit them for religious purposes.

However, there is no possible escape from individual responsibility, and should we evade the prompt discharge of duties which are so obviously incumbent upon us, these lost souls will rise up in judgment against us. Jesus, when on earth, passed not by the outcast and the lowly, and it is certainly inexplicable that such should be the al

At a fire in London, a little child was in danger of being burned. All had been saved, when it was found that the child was forgotten. No one dared to go back, for the flames shot out from every window. But a noble fireman went up the ladder; a sudden gust of hot smoke made him pause. They saw it from below. "Let us give him a cheer," said some one. A great hurrah went up. The man heard, he rushed into the burning house, and brought forth the child in his arms, and delivered it to the mother, who pressed it to her bosom. That fireman would not have had the courage, doubtless, for so heroic and daring a deed, had he not been cheered on by the crowd. So, I say, give a cheer to your minister.

Simplicity in Preaching.

Arthur Helps tells a story of an illiterate soldier at the chapel of Lord Morpeth's castle in Ireland. Whenever Archbishop Whateley came to preach, it was observed that this rough private was always in his place, mouth open, as if in sympathy with his ears. Some of the gentlemen playfully took him to task for it, supposing it was due to the usual vulgar admiration of a celebrity. But the man had a better reason, and was able to give it. He said, "That isn't it at all. The Archbishop is easy to understand. There are no fine words in him. A fellow like me, now, can follow along and take every bit of it in."