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obliged to return the letters, with the hopeless inscription-"No such person known at Weldon."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, were hearts waiting wearily for "good news from home." But, alas! none came; and it required the utmost of Jessie's gentle skill to prevent her husband thinking he was both uncared-for and unforgiven. "Your father may have left the place," she would say; "and foreign letters have, sometimes, never reached their destination; perhaps this has been the case with ours." And so they waited

on.

Oh, my lad! my lad!" Then he walked close up to the old clock as it chimed six, to be sure that that was really the very time; and though the station was only a few minutes' walk from the cottage, he began to prepare for going.

"It's only six, Griffith; I wouldn't go yet. You'll have to wait so long at the station," I interposed, as Mary bustled about, hardly knowing what she did, in her hurry to get herself ready. "I would wait, at least, half an hour."

66

Why, you see, Miss Smith, it's a fine night; I think we'd better be going. Mary, you must get me my Sunday hat." I saw it was useless urging anything further; and, I doubt not, he would wait better there than in his own cottage. "Well, good-bye, Griffith; I must go. I hope you will find them all well." And I hastened away.

A year or two passed. George was tolerably successful in the gold-fields; he had as comfortable a cottage as could be found in that country, a loving wife, and, lately, their lowly hearth had been gladdened by the arrival of a little son. But suspense is hard to bear; and, sometimes, Soon after old Griffith and Mary passed; not even Jessie's hopefulness, nor little both looking, I thought, as if they would Douglas's merry prattle, could raise him have much preferred running. The almost from his despondency. At last he re-bounding manner in which they were solved to come to England. He had proceeding on their way was most touchsaved sufficient to enable him to enter ing. I knew they were not aware of it, some respectable business; and he deter- nor, indeed, of anything beyond the allmined, should he find his father still absorbing fact, that "George was coming living, to make him all the reparation back!" in his power, by rendering his remaining The hour slipped slowly away, even days easy and comfortable. They came. Then the shrill whistle of the On their arrival, they at once proceeded approaching train caught my ear. to Weldon; and though he met many old Griffith! I wonder how he bore it! with whom he had been acquainted in his A few minutes after a little party passed. earlier years, he could find no one who First came old Griffith and his long-lost was able to give him the slighest informa- son, bearing little Douglas in his arms. tion respecting his father. He was told Then followed Jessie and Mary. The that the old man and his daughter had tears started to my eyes as they passed; removed many years ago, but no one and I fancied I could hear the old man knew whither. At last some person sug-exclaiming, in the words of that exquigested that he should advertise in the principal papers in the county.

The success of this plan the reader already knows. And now came the climax of the news. The letter was written

on Wednesday, and they intended to leave Weldon on Thursday, and be at Sanbridge in the evening, arriving by the last

train!

to me.

Poor

sitely-beautiful story of old, "Let us eat, and be merry; for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found!"

But now I must close this little sketch. George Green invested his savings in the purchase of a neat little cottage, with a few acres of land; and there they all at present reside. He has a thoughtful, inAn exclamation of joyful surprise burst telligent appearance, and I doubt not, from both father and daughter at once. in his younger years, might justly claim Thursday? why, to-day's Thursday, Miss Smith!" the old man cried. "The last train? why, that's seven o'clock.

the distinction of being "the flower of the flock," for his features, although bearing the impress of sorrow, are still unmis

takably handsome. Jessie, his wife, is one of the kindest and gentlest of women I have ever seen. Old Griffith and I often have a talk over old times when we meet in the mornings. He leads a very comfortable life now, and seems, as I tell him, to be growing younger, instead of older. Mary Green is about to enter a

home of her own. Little Douglas and I are firm friends. Sometimes, as an especial treat, I allow him to accempany us in our morning walk, for which I am rewarded by a hearty kiss, and a promise that he will" always love Miss Smith,"a promise evidently, in his eyes, of incal culable worth. LUCINDA B.

NEW MUSIC.

SIX pieces of music have come to hand 6. "They shall Hunger no More:" sacred during the past month from Messrs. Robert Cocks & Co., Music Publishers, New Burlington-street:

1. "Bid Me Discourse," composed by Sir Henry Bishop, and arranged by Brinley Richards.

2. "Robinson Crusoe

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Stephen Glover, on popular melodies, Quadrille," by including "Poor Old Crusoe,' Robinson "The Dear Little Island,' "The Old Folks at Home," &c., &c. 3. "The Little Prince Quadrille;" Stephen Glover, consisting of popular patriotic airs.

4. "Shylie Bawn," an Irish ballad. The words by Mrs. Crawford, and the music by W. T. Wrighton.

5. "In Search of the Primrose;" a ballad. Words by J. Streaks, and the music by W. T. Wrighton.

song. Words from Scripture, and the music by Miss Lindsay.

Music is at all times acceptable, more especially so just now, when the world, instead of being delighted by the soft pleasings of a lute," is frighted by "grimfrom floods and other frightful calamities. bomb, and the awful wailings of sufferers visaged war," the din of the death-dealing It gives us pleasure to speak favourably of all these pieces, and we hardly know to praise-the composers whom is indebted the highest meed of Shylie Bawn" is a very pleasing ballad, so or the writers. also is "In Search of the Primrose;" while known melodies, cannot fail to please and the two quadrilles, containing such wellbecome popular. The sacred piece, “They deep sentiment and pure religious feeling, shall Hunger no More," is imbued with and is a piece of music we can recommend to our lady-readers for Sunday playing.

BIRTHDAY LINES TO A. M. A.

ANNIE, if

you still remember
One you have not seen so long,
I will try my best to send you
Something like a birthday song;
For the fancy came across me-
That, suppose you like to try,
You may be the fairest flower
On this fifteenth of July.

Flowers, you know, are open carly,

Smiling through the long, bright days, And when evening dims their faces, Turning still towards heaven their gaze; So may you, with smiles far brighter,

Gild your home and friends with light, Say at even your sweet "Our Father," Sleep, and dream of heaven all night.

Basking in the summer sunshine,
Often wet with passing showers,
Out in every sort of weather,

Nothing ever grieves the flowers;
So may you, when joys and sorrows
Set your smiles and tears at work,
Show that all your little troubles

Are but clouds where rainbows lurk.

So I wish, on this your birthday,

That your life, as bright and pure
As the flowers, in bloom and fragrance,
May long happy years endure;
Till, when all earth's flowers are faded,
You, an angel in the skies,
May put on the immortal beauty
Of the saints in paradise.

E. W. H.

FAMILY COUNCIL.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE COUNCIL.

HIS month your contributions to the Friend have afforded me great gratification. You improve. It will also be seen that while the old members of the Council are constant and regular in their attendance, new candidates come forward and assert their claims. There is room for all; for in our literary parliament all stand on an equal footing of desert, though for tried adherents there are special seats reserved.

I think there are still some certificates undelivered. Please write, all Councillors who have not received the reward of their labours.

The Definitions this month are very good. Criticism has proved useful, though we must be careful not to allow criticism to degenerate into satire, or to indulge too frequently in a spirit of fault-finding. A word to the wise, &c. Those Councillors who are entitled to volumes for bringing new subscribers during the past half-year-the Editor's Testimonial-are requested to write, and make selection of books to their several tastes.

Dear Friends and Councillors, it gives me infinite pleasure to again congratulate you on the successful termination of another month's labours; and allow me to say that I anticipate a renewal of our pleasant intercourse for many years to come. Believe me, ladies and gentlemen of the Council, to remain, Your affectionate Friend,

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AN OLD WOMAN'S REMON-
STRANCE.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE COUNCIL,-Will you permit an old lady to express her thoughts about your excellent little magazine? I have taken it in for many years, and if I really had a seat at your monthly board, I could not feel more interest in all the concerns appertaining thereto; indeed, I may as well own that, at one time, I had serious thoughts of offering myself as a candidate, and, to this end, laid in a good stock of writing materials, and

began to study a book called "Hints on Composition," wherein I found the following sentence: "Time writing is the effect of spontaneous thought and laboured style." This rather staggered me, because, however ready I might be to expend my labour on the garbing, how, thought I, is the thought to be entrapped? I might "hang my cage at the window" constantly, and "yet never catch a bird." Now, if spontaneous thought could be brought forth as readily as the water of a shower-bath follows the jerk of the string, why then I should never have

been obliged to confess that my intentions of real life? Of course, young people think were frustrated, my patience exhausted, a good deal about such things, as Dr. Watts and my desire to write for print consider- says, "it is their nature to;" but, to my ably cooled. This experiment has, how old-fashioned notions, the frequent parade ever, given me a greater appreciation of the of the subject in print detracts somewhat talents of those who (like Mr. Gillott's from its sacredness. But, dear me ! what steel pens) do write. And I often amuse a rambling epistle this is! I can fancy the myself by imagining the "cudgelling of horror it will excite in Caractacus, and how brains" going on in so many Councillors' his fingers will tingle to write a fitting homes just before the 14th of each month. reprimand; but ye'll hae nae chance this It seems to me the writers are divided into time, most revered and respected sir, as three classes-the edifiers, the amusers, and I believe courtesy to strangers is always the instructors; and they keep regularly to observed. Of course, among yourselves, it their own departments, which is well, as is part of the mutual improvement system every mind naturally falls into its own par- to try to rub off each other's angles, and ticular groove, and the harmony of the polish, by honey or gall, as the case may whole is very pleasing to behold. But be, each stone of this temple of learning; sometimes, you know, outsiders see more and here, I must say, that it is gratifying than those engaged in the play. Will you to see the good spirit in which criticism is stop a minute, and listen to an old woman's given and received. But there is one more gossip? Some of you are much given to thing I wish to mention, and that is, that writing short tales, very pretty, and so occasionally the articles are rather personal. forth; but is it quite impossible to make a It is not to be denied that people have story interesting unless love be the main an extraordinary amount of license wher topic? Young damsels are represented as in masquerade; and extravagant compligoing about in a melancholy state of mind, ments may be unwittingly showered upon a with drooping eyelashes, and far-away middle-aged woman with a snub nose; but thoughts; much given to twilight, also to I am inclined to think-pshaw! no doubt staring in the fire; till suddenly some hero you, my dears, are inclined to think my crosses the sweet girl's pathway, wins her letter is already long enough; so I will for his wife, and floods all the rest of her conclude, and subscribe myself, life with sunshine! Is this a usual picture

G.

OFFERINGS FROM OUR COUNCIL.

PROSPECT AND RETROSPECT.

shade to our meditations, because of the consciousness that we have not realised from them all that was possible, and all that was intended. Duties ill-performed or neglected, and moments and hours_let idly slip will haunt our retrospect; and as our self-complacency is very unwilling to be disturbed by such reminders, there is great danger of our shirking the task altogether; but if we are really alive to the deep importance of the present, in reference to the future, we shall avoid the danger and give heed to the admonition which bids us consider our ways."

existence the review of a past series of WHEN a traveller attains the height of opportunities must always give a pensive some commanding eminence, he naturally pauses, and not only surveys the prospect that meets his gaze, but turns himself round and measures with his eye the path he has traversed. Now we are all travellers; we are all wending our way through the pathway of life, and, therefore, in a far higher and nobler sense does it become us to imitate the traveller's example, and, as each successive eminence is reached, pause and ponder the path of our feet, or, in other words, from the threshold of new time, muse on the past, the present, and the future, and ask ourselves what we have performed, what we are, and what we purpose. If we regard the present life as a season of improvement a school of preparation for a higher and an enduring state of

"Let the dead past bury its dead," says the poet; but I demur to this, for if the past is to be all buried and forgotten, where are we to look for the teachings of expe

rience? Rather let its errors, and slips, and shortcomings be ever present to our view, that we may be warned by them to shun the like in time to come. I allow that, taken in the sense in which an apostle describes the Christian's progress-namely, forgetting the things that are behind, and reaching forward to those that are before this obliviousness of the past may be wise and proper, for it is evident that the meaning of this must be restricted to past attainments. Now the high standard of Christian perfection, and the boundless fields of undiscovered truth that invite the Christian onward and still onward, may well make all former achievements dwindle into insignificance; indeed, it may be taken as a sign fatal to all true progress when we can be satisfied with what we have already attained; but I maintain that the past, considered in respect to its misdeeds and neglects, should not be forgotten by us now, as it certainly will be impossible to blot out its remembrance in that solemn day that is coming, when it shall be opened as one of the books out of which the great impartial Judge shall decide upon our characters, and pronounce our doom.

But as the departure of the old year, bringing forcibly to mind, as it does, the rapidity with which our thread of life is winding off, suggests the necessity of serious review, so does the dawn of its successor inspire us with mingled curiosity and hope. Curiosity? Ah yes! fain would we lift the veil, and cast a glance into the future unknown; fain would we turn the leaves of the unopened book, and learn what for us is yet to be! But this is not permitted. We must be content to take our days, and hours, and moments, with all the pleasures, and trials, and duties they bring, as they are dealt out to us, one by one; and it is better so; we recall the vain and impious wish, for we are so weak and frail that the burden would be greater than we could bear. Happier, far, will it be for us, with childlike dependence, to leave our future in the hands of our Father above, and subject all our plans and resolves as to what we will be and do to His sovereign will and pleasure. But surely this need not make us relax our efforts, nor slacken our pace, nor look despondingly on the pathway before us; the very fact that the issue of all things is known and determined by infinite wisdom may rather inspire a vigour and a courage before which our failing energies shall revive, and our prospects assume a glow of cheery light.

I fancy I hear some one say-"Well, I

like not your grave view of things; besides, no such substitutions are needed to brighten up my prospects; they already glow with colours so vivid, and present pictures so enchanting that they allure me to come on, and possess, and enjoy." But what warrant, I reply, have you that the fair and glowing scene that enchants you shall not prove like the image of the desert, which dissolves and fades, and continually recedes as the hapless traveller advances? At any rate, you must allow that from the contingent tenure by which all sublunary good is held, you can derive no license for the blind idolatry of your dreams of bliss, nor even the slightest assurance that those dreams will be realised. But if, unconvinced, you yet determine to dream on still, then pass this by; my pensive musings are rather intended for those who possess faculties, and own to responsibilities of which you seem to be altogether unconscious. Yes, I speak to those who, like myself, are enamoured of an earnest active life-a life with a purpose, and that will bear review; and who, knowing the deep and important interests that are to be secured, if secured at all, in its brief span, feel indeed that

Life is no trifle, howsoever short it seem; And howsoever shadowy, no dream. You, my friends, may look hopefully forward; yes, even though the shadows bound your view, and your prospects seem shrouded in gloom, for it is your privilege, in reference to what is to come, to be careful for nothing. Only let it be your anxiety, as it certainly is your duty, to concentrate your energies on the "living present," to act up to the best of your ability in the great important now, and you may certainly leave the future with Him in whose hands it most safely rests. It is certain that the cloud that is over you hides not your path from His view; and it is also certain that He can cause the cloud to become a pillar to guide your footsteps in His own right way. LILY H.

THE FANCY BALL.

I HAVE just now returned from our fancy dress ball, and if 'twill amuse you I'll tell it you all. For some days beforehand 'twas all in a rout, with carpet took up and the windows took out; and, to add to the space, they "took in" the verandah, with seats for the wearied to rest upon, and a nice corner it was for a wee bit of chat, for quizzing and flirting, you know, and all that. Then the ladies worked hard, with

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