woman as a servant, because she was cumbered with a young child. Our first case was thus rendered a most difficult one. A sorrowful woman from New Jersey presented herself with an infant, only three weeks old. Her husband, a steady, industrious man, had left her six months previous, to come to this city in quest of employment, since which time she had never heard tidings from him. After vainly advertising for news of him, for she was sure he had not voluntarily abandoned her, she was obliged to pawn all she possessed to procure money to pay her board during a brief season. Now, penniless, friendless, utterly desolate, save for the little one on her bosom, she sought some means of support. "You can get high wages as wet nurse," said her counselors, but what would become of this tender babe, taken from its mother's breast in summertime? It might be fatal to the little one. "I can't lose my baby,” was the tearful reply, “I must keep that with me." All day long we sought some expedient for her. We could not keep her in the Institution on account of the prevalence of measles, which would endanger the life of her infant. We sent her to the "Nursery and Child's Hospital," with a note begging them to admit her there, but their Matron refused on the plea that they were full. Poor woman! how our hearts ached for her, as she re-appeared weary and sad. We did not know what to do, and after giving her some refreshments and money for traveling expenses, she left us. Very sorrowful at the thought of her, we went to the Committee Room to present a case just committed to us, and unusually revolting in its aspects. After disposing of this case, we noticed a fine-looking woman weeping over her own little child, two years of age, whom she was about to commit to our Society. This, together with a scene occurring in the adjoining room, saddened our hearts still more deeply. Here were two little girls three and four years of age playing together on the carpet, while the mother, with much emotion, was preparing to leave them. The father we did not care to look at a second time; his coarse face was not a pleasant sight, and we were not surprised to learn that he was a bigamist, whose lawful wife was still living in this city, while the mother of these children had been living with him for some years. But now, awakened to remorse and shame, she had wisely consented to do all that such a mother could do-to commit them to tender and virtuous fosterparents, while she should return to England, her native land. One burst of grief at their mother's departure, and then they settled down quietly to the disposal of a tempting dish of strawberries which a thoughtful friend had suggested as a solace for them. Thus closed a most saddening and fatiguing day. Though it be a Christian's sorrow that he hath sin to bewail; yet 'tis his joy that he hath a heart to bewail his sin. CHILDREN'S RESPONSES. Conn.-Little Richard, deceased, Southington... Richard and Charles Atwood 20c each, Milo and WIDOWS' FUND. N. Y.-W. F. Moore, Palmyra.... LIFE MEMBERS. Vt.-Mrs M. C. Turner, Cambridge, to apply on L. M. of Mrs L. M. Bayley, Massena, N. Y 5:00 10 00 N. Y. City.-Mrs Alfred Lockwood, to comp. L. M. N. J.-C. S. Haines, Newark, to apply on Miss Emily H. Anderson's L. M......... Mrs R. Cornish, Mrs P. D. Thompson $1 each, Mrs S. Cornish, Mrs H. Townley, Mrs E. Ritchie, Miss C. Rumson 50c each, Mrs F. Cornish, Mrs A. Moore, Mrs A. E. Rumson, Mrs J. Doty 25c each, Long Hill, to apply on Mrs Thompson's L. M....... Kansas.-Mrs Williams, Leavenworth, to apply on L. M. of her daughter, Lizzie J. Williams... Ohio. Cleveland, basket of clothing per Mrs Elizabeth BE MERRY AND WISE. ALL THE GIRLS AND BOYS Like MERRY'S MUSEUM, their oldest and best Magazine. Vol. XLVII commences July 1st. Filled with Stories, Pictures, History, Instructive Articles. Puzzles by Aunt Sne, &c., &c. PRIZES MONTHLY FOR SOLVING PROBLEMS. Beautiful Gold Merry Badge for Premium. Fine Steel engraved Portrait of Hiram Hatchet in Jan. No. Address $1 a year. Single copies 10 cents. J. N. STEARNS, 111 Fulton St., New York City. FERRIS FEMALE INSTITUTE, 135 MADISON AVENUE, COR. 32d STREÉT, REV. ISAAC FERRIS, D. D., LL. D., President, MRS. M. S. PARKS, MISSES C. BREWSTER & C. E. FERRIS, Principals. A few pupils admitted as boarders. POSTAGE ON THIS PAPER. By the new law, the postage on single copies of the A. & G. is now six cents a quarter, payable in advance, in all parts of the United States. A package of four copies, which weighs 4 ounces, sent to *one address, is subject to no more postage than a single copy, according to Instruction 36, which Postmasters will please see. From 5 to 8 copies, to one address, 12 cents a quarter. From 9 to 12 do do 18 do do and so on, at the rate of 6 cents a quarter for every 4 ounces or fraction thereof. In order to receive the paper at the lowest rate of postage, it is necessary to take them, not singly, but at least 4 copies; and so of clubs, they should be made up, if possible, of 8, 12, 16, 20 and so on. As an inducement to those who now receive it singly, to make up a small club of four or eight, the Ex. Com. propose to put the subscription price for four copies, to one address, at 75 cents a year, and for eight copies, in the same way at 60 cents a year. Twelve copies, and over, will be at the rate of 50c. a year. At offices where there are several single subscribers receiving it to their separate addresses, by their uniting together and having it in one package, to one address, it will materially reduce the postage on each. The postage must be paid in advance, either quarterly or yearly, at the office where received. POSTMASTERS and others, desiring papers to be discontinued, will please send the name of the P. O. as well as of the subscriber. The names cannot be put on papers taken in clubs, without subjecting each paper to full postage of 24c a year, and entailing a large additional expense on the publishers Important Legacies have been lost to the Home through informality. It is therefore earnestly requested of those who design to benefit the Institution by giving it a place in their last Will and Testament, that they would use the following: FORM OF A BEQUEST. I give and bequeath to the American Female Guardian Society, incorporated by the Legislature of New York, in the year 1849, the sum of 3- -, to be applied for the Benefit of the Home for the Friendless. or to other charitable uses of said Society. The Will should be attested by three witnesses, who should write against their names, their place of residence, and state that they signed the instrument at the request of the testator, and in the presence of the testator and each other, and that the testator declared to them that it was his or her last Will and Testament. 5 00 Care 5.00 CLOTHING, PROVISIONS, &c., received from June 10th to June 25th, 1864. Conn.-Lyme, 3 cradle quilts from Mrs Shadrach H. Sill. N. Y.-Sandy Hill, town of Kingsbury, a bbl. of potatoes, dried apples and beans from a few friends, per Miss Laura Chalk. Shelby, package of clothing from Mrs Bird and Mrs Blare. Phelps, package of clothing from Mary and Jennie Cam eron. Sherburne, 2 yds. crochet edging from Elmira L. Buell. Westford, box of clothing and quilts beans and dried fruit from Ladies' Benev. Soc. Monterey, box of clothing, quilts and dried fruit from a few friends, per Mrs Cronch. A cradle quilt, a widow's mite. City.-Package of clothing from Mrs R. M. Buchanan. 1 mahogany cradle from Mrs J. H. Partridge. 1 bonnet from Miss Lydia W. Barnard. 200 baskets of strawberries from Alfred Edwards. Pa.-Lawrenceville, package of clothing from Mrs Lichtenthaler and Mrs Mason, Packages, not letters, should be marked: HOME FOR THE FRIENDLESS, 29 E. 29TH ST., NEW YORK. A. Chapman, [Healey's Express,] Pier 16, N. R. A list of articles, with donors' names and post-office address, should be enclosed in the package, and another similar list sent by mail, stating when and how the package was forwarded. The only safe way of transmitting funds, is by draft, pay able to Mrs. Sarah A. Stone, Treasurer. TO DONORS.-Small Packages, sent to the City by private hand, may be left at either of the following places: North Bro's and Gillett, Com. Merchants, Domestic Cotton Goods, &c., &c., 12 Murray St. Jas. O. Bennett, Commission Merchant, 30 Whitehall St. Will our friends, in sending on renewals of Clubs, always state in whose name they were taken, during 1863 The omission to do so, causes much confusion on our books. NOTICE. THE carrier of this paper, Mr. JOHN E. LINE, is authorized to receive subscriptions to the ADVOCATE AND GUAR DIAN and also donations to the A. F. G. Soc. and Home for the Friendless. * ** * LETTER FROM A FIELD HOSPITAL. Hospital 18th Army Corps, on the Appomattox, Near Petersburg, Va., Sat., May 28th, 1864. My very dear friend,-* What scenes may I not witness ere you receive this! We have now a calm before a storm; if the preparations going on-the strategy displayed, and movements, with which experience has made us familiar, do not deceive us, we are on the eve of a battle. The cannon from our front is booming but two miles off. I have grown familiar with the sound, for we have had some terrific firing, shelling, &c., since we came two weeks since. We have a small room in an old desolate tenement house on the grounds of a rebel slaveholder, in which we have a rude bed just as soft as if made "of ten-penny nails," some 33 barrels and boxes of clothing, delicacies, &c. and no lack of enterprising mice, roaches and ants. Directly under my window are long rows of hospital tents, and a little beyond, the river, and the graveyard, in which some sixty of our brave boys sleep, far away from the green hills of N. H., Conn., N. Y. and Mass. Having performed the day's duties, making some eight gallons of custard and thickened milk and giving it out in cup fulls, refreshing weary men who are unable to march, and being on hand to answer numberless little demands for crackers, tea, butter, wine, egg-nogg, lemonade, clothing, ink, pens, paper and envelopes. The fact that my own stock of the last is fast vanishing warns me to hurry up my correspondence. My orderly, a nice Connecticut soldier of eighteen, has gone out for a wonder, after bringing me in a tin basin of lovely roses, sweet brier, and fragrant honeysuckle. Mother, keen with curiosity, and I suspect fear also, has gone out to see if she can gain any information relative to a falling back or advance. Last night an alarm came about ten o'clock, "It is probable we will abandon the the place before morning." I looked from a sick-bed in dismay on opened boxes, supplies, &c., and a sick mother, but with my faithful Martin, by the aid of nimble fingers, hammer, nails, &c., packed nearly all in expectation of an early departure. I say expectation, for we in the army must live in readiness for almost any event, the arrival of reinforcements to the enemy, or our own change of base may render flight the only safety. May 9th we left Gen. Sigel's headquarters beyond Winchester, in the valley, having distributed barrels of pickles, paper, pencils, envelopes, hymn books and religious reading among the 1st and 12th Va., 122d O., 54th Pa., 34th Mass. regts., batteries, &c., afterwards so terribly "cut up " at Newmarket. I only left because the army had received marching orders and Gen. Sigel would not permit me to go with them as I wished. So the Surg. Gen. advised my coming up the James River to City Point and Bermuda Hundred. The object that first met my sight here, was a young soldier from Brooklyn, severely * * * * * * * * wounded; others were near from N. H., Mass. and many from N. Y. and Conn. Clean clothes, pillows, handkerchiefs, &c., made them much more comfortable, and then until death released them they were the objects of my care. A pillow, some custard, and bathing the burning head of a Connecticut boy, ill from typhoid fever, made him "feel at home," and another from the same state, a noble boy, looked up gratefully and affectionately into my face, saying, "If it had not been for you, Miss Moore, and what you have done for me, I don't think I should have been here." He was a very sick boy, but now his bright face is pleasant to look upon. Ah, me, I believe as firmly as any one, that God is working out His own wise purposes in this war, but, oh! in the light of humanity and of Christ's gospel, all wars are fearfully wrong. Only think of it. * * Well I stepped to say good-by to my patients, for whom a sudden order came to go to Fortress Monroe. My Conn. patients I shall see no more. "Words are feeble," says poor, sick, pious Sergt. Snow, "God reward you. I want to tell you that you have done us more good than doctors or any one here." The grounds are deserteddoes it signify an abandoning of the place? Well, I am in the field of duty, and believe that neither stray ball nor shell can kill me until my work is done. I wish you could catch a glimpse (safely) of this place and its beauty-a little earthly Eden. The poor slaves are here, at least those who are left-the woman, good and nice, has 18 children, not one of whom can read, and her master was a Baptist minister! She believes that she will be saved if she trusts in Christ. The days of the divine institution are numbered. Orders have come to move, so good-by. Sabbath morning: I want to tell you what a delightful meeting we had in our room last Sabbath. The Christian Commission had been holding one at their tent, with a slim attendance of six or eight; knowing that my influence with the men could effect more than that, I asked them to have one here, promising to invite such of my patients as were able to come. They feared a failure, but came, and in five minutes I gathered fifty together, seated some thirty on our boxes, the rest outside. Six pious soldiers spoke, one poor German for whom we had written to his newly-married wife at home, with tears and broken English, told of his going out to his regiment and being told that in the late fight four of the boys in his company had been killed, and, oh, said he, "I can't express my feelings when I heard that; day by day I pray God to spare me to get home." To-day all these men are gone, and we are here waiting the arrival of the 10th Corps Hospital. My friend, Gen. "Baldy " Smith's corps, being about to start on some perilous expedition, the “Rebs.” may attack us, if they think we are diminished in number, and they generally find traitors enough to tell them all they wish to know * * * We feel very desolate this morning, but I think I shall begin to cook for those who are coming in. We keep odd Sabbaths, but I think, justifiable ones. We are likely to become familiar with the geography of Virginia, and that, not in theory, either; of its swamps, fevers, ague, mud, &c., I am tired enough. want you to pray that our lives and health may be spared for the great work before us. Thanks for the paper, which I prize very much. With much love from us both, yours, with sincere affection, JANE B. MOORE. I EXTRACTS FROM CORRESPONDENCE, "To do good and communicate forget not."Dear Madam,-A camp of hundred-day men is gathering directly next to my residence in New Jersey, most of them quite young mena few of them professing to be Christians and striving to be consistent, but many of them utterly wild and thoughtless; yet we find the great majority welcome religious reading, and many of them attend reverently to the preaching we have been able to offer them. Yesterday, while I was distributing the American Messenger and some soldier's tracts, several called loudly for the Advocate, saying, "That's the paper we like." Will you please send me a hundred copies for distribution next Sabbath or before. If you have not so many of the last number to spare, please make up the number in old papers. * * Very respectfully, * ADVOCATE AND GUARDIAN. $1 a year, [in advance] to Single Subscribers. Four copies, to one address, at the rate of 75c a year. Eight do do do 60c do Twelve copies, [and over] to one address, 50c do Letters concerning the Advocate and Guardian, and those containing funds for the Society, should be addressed: MRS. SARAH A. STONE, 29 E. 29th Street, Box 4740. New York. Letters designed for publication, should be addressed to the Editress of the Advocate and Guardian, 29 E. 29th St., New York. Box 4740. Letters designed for the Board or Executive Committee, and Reports of Auxiliaries, address Corresponding Secreta ries, A. F. G. Soc., 29 E. 29th St., New York. Box 4740. Advertisements. Only short ones are received-20c a line. [No. 698. July 16, 1864.] "I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him; EELTER SO the cause that I knew not I searched out."-Job xxix. 12, 16. Published, Semi-monthly, by the Executive Committee of the AMERICAN FEMALE GUARDIAN SOCIETY, at the House of Industry and Home for the Friendless, 29 E. 29th St. EDITED BY MRS. SARAH R. I. BENNETT. For Terms and Notices, see Last Pages. OUR COTTAGE. And oh! they glad this heart of mine, I hear the lark rise to the sky, The fluttering ivy softly dims, And in the garden each pale flower- To me, on earth it seems there's not Hard by, the twittering linnets build I walk the garden, and the birds And then I lose the power of words, I look upon our home, and find PRAYER. When thou prayest for spiritual graces, let the prayer be absolute; when for temporal blessings, add a clause of God's pleasure; in both, with faith and humiliation; so shalt thou undoubtedly receive what thou desirest, or more, or better. Never prayer rightly made was made unheard; or heard ungranted.-Quarles. For the Advocate and Guardian WHOSO RECEIVETH ONE SUCH LITTLE CHILD IN MY NAME, RECEIVETH ME. ON a midsummer day, three little girls were wandering in a crowded, dirty street, opposite the busy piers where boats and steamers were lying to receive their merchandise. It was a day of intense heat; in the open country, cows sought the coolness of pebbly brooks, or stood under the shadow of great trees. In town, stately houses were closed and darkened, while the inmates had every refreshment of iced fruit, and cool linen. In this part of the city, however, nothing could assuage the fierce rays of the sun, no screen of green leaves broke the sunshine, the crowd poured back and forth over the burning stones, the houses swarmed with poor women and children, who had no refuge in their crowded, miserable homes. A poor woman once said, in her bare, comfortless room, where she was suffering from heat, languor, thirst and pain, "I think of this verse, 'They shall hunger no more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat; for the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water.' I can stay myself when very tired and thirsty, on these words, for I shall soon get through now." But these poor, ignorant people had no bright hopes, coming through their wretchedness like the breath of the south wind blowing over gardens of spices, they thought only of present wo and misery. The three children, ragged, forlorn and hungry, had been sent into the street, while their mothers were dying in the wretched tenement house. It was the year of cholera, when many mothers were hurried away from their families. These little ones, unconscious of any change in their lives, crept under an awning, where the two sisters fell asleep in a door-way. The other child moved restlessly about, picking up scraps of food, an orange peel from the pavement, or a piece of pine-apple from a barrel of refuse. Her tangled hair fell over her brow, Whole No. 699. while her face, tear-stained and dirty, was exHer bare posed to the direct heat of the sun. feet would shrink from the scorching pavement as she wandered away to the market, where compassionate apple-women sometimes gave poor children a taste of fruit from their stalls. To-day, however, the excessive heat made every body ill-natured and hard-hearted. An opportunity occurred when a market-woman's attention was called to a customer, for the poor child to seize a basket of raspberries, and carry them to a corner. Here she picked up the crimson berries slowly, and made each one last as long as possible. The angry marketwoman missed the basket, and traced the little thief to the spot in which she crouched in a corner, with the empty pannier as proof of her guilt. At another time the woman might have been more merciful, but the extreme heat increased her rage, a policeman was summoned to carry the child to the station-house. The miserable little girl could only say a few words of German; there was no clue to her home, where her mother's blue eyes were just closed in death, far away from the Fatherland, for which she had pined. In those awful days of terror, no burial service was allowed, a neighbor brushed the light hair under a cap, and folded the thin hands, then she was carried away to an obscure resting-place, her child, the fair-haired little girl straying forever from her mortal sight or touch. The sisters, dark-eyed and swarthy, with rings of brown hair, still slept on their hard pillow during this sad day, when many souls flitted away from earth. They were still forgetful of hunger and want, although the lips of the younger one moved in her sleep pitifully, while their mother also drifted away from her little ones. The sisters awoke frightened in the dusk, and groped their way back to the house. Here a confusion of voices and loud sobbing was heard, on the old stairs men were bringing down a rude cofin, in which their mother was lying already. The terror-stricken children clung together and hastened to their deserted home. A few pieces of broken farni ture remained, a cup by the poor bed, from which the mother had tried to drink a few drops of water; the father had disappeared, they were left alone. At this moment, a priest entered the room, sprinkled holy water on the floor, and took the children by the hand. A sister of charity in the entry received the sisters and led them away. Thus were the three children in one day, orphaned and homeless, driven forth to the care of charity, under the watchful eye of One who suffers even wretched, ragged children like these to come unto Him, and forbids them not. The sister of charity quietly glided through the streets, until she reached a large building, separated by an enclosure from the busy world. They entered the iron gate and stood before the door, waiting for admittance to the Orphan Asylum. Another sister of charity, in her black gown, opens the door and admits the little strangers. Here they are bathed in a large tub, and fed with wholesome food, they are dressed in clean night-gowns and placed in little cot-beds, where they sleep profoundly on the coarse, clean sheets. In spite of the fatigue of the past day, they look ruddy and plump as they lie in the nursery, fast asleep. The sister of charity turns away her lips whispering another prayer as she presses a bead of her rosary. By this self-denial and sacrifice, she hopes to reach heaven, which may be gained "without money and without price." While the sisters were thus taken suddenly from their wretchedness, their companion is sobbing on the floor of a watch-house, with every sorrow that a child is capable of feeling, in her heart. In the morning she is sentenced to go away to an island, where massive buildings restrain those who will not do well-who persist in wickedness and crime. Without a moment's preparation or anticipation, the three children are torn away from their familiar haunts, and plunged into new lives. The sisters are awakened by a bell in the early morning; a still, quiet woman gives them a bath, and combs their brown clusters of curls, then they are dressed in blue frocks, their hair cut short, is tucked under a netthey have coarse stockings and shoes provided. They follow a long row of children to the table, where they eat their breakfast in silence. All is orderly and clean in the wide halls and through the airy rooms; but the children awed into submission, long for the tender tones of their mother's voice, and the freedom of their former life. Their names are entered on the record as Anne and Rhoda, according to the assurance of the elder girl. The children fall at once into the routine of their life, they go with the others into the school-room and pray with them before the image of the Virgin and Child. They go hand in hand to the play-ground, and watch the sports, while they are wondering silently when they shall go back to their old ways, to the Sunday holiday when they went across the ferry to get a glimpse of grass and flowers, wearing little hats trimmed with bits of feathers, when they shall see their mother again, and hear her scold and love them. and lonely, but her life is sad and cheerless, unblessed by any ties of home or love, with cold prayers on her lips, and continual selfdenial in her actions. The third child was not allowed to remain long on the island-by some arrangement she was transferred to the care of a singular peo While they are becoming accustomed to this system, the third child floats down the bay in a small boat, with other criminals, bound for the stone walls of the House of Cor-ple, who gladly take the charge of homeless rection. There she is received by the matron, and questioned, although no satisfactory response can be given, in the foreign tongue, while her blue eyes closed with tears. She is washed, and dressed in coarse garments, her fair hair cropped close, the name of Susan given. Then she is sent into the school-room with hundreds of children like herself. They have food and clothing, comfortable beds and good instruction, but they miss words of love and tenderness-they are nobody's children now. In a few months Rhoda has become a rosy child, with dimpled arms and hands, her large brown eyes are always sunny. She is the pet of the Asylum; working, stern women, dressed in their plain garb, often smile as she clings to their robes and plays with the cross on their rosaries. It happened that visitors were walking through the halls of the Asylum, one day, when Rhoda was taking her morning nap. At the sound of their voices she started, and rubbed her sleepy eyes. They stooped to kiss the pretty child-one lady lingered and played with the merry little one. A gentleman and lady of the party returned in a few days, to beg this child for adoption. The papers were made out, the sisters of charity accepted another sacrifice on their thorny way. Anne was violent in her grief, but they carried away Rhoda, the darling, from the Asylum walls. Anne had always been a grave, demure child, now this new sorrow sunk deep into her heart, making her cheek pale. The first outburst of grief passed away, but the hidden wo entered into her very soul. Little Rhoda was carried into the country, to a real home. There she found a father and mother, and stout, noisy boys who claimed this little girl immediately as their play-thing and treasure. There Rhoda was loved, for the lady took the child to her heart, with a motherfeeling, not as a mere duty. Years passed away, sister Anne still patient and sober, had grown from childhood into a self-possessed, sad woman. She remained in the Asylum, receiving all the knowledge given, learning to care for others more than for herself, invaluable. in times of sickness amongst the children, ready to devote herself to the work of a sister of charity. In this atmosphere Anne had become a rigid believer in all the forms and ceremonies of the Roman Catholic faith; she went through her life with mechanical exactness, having stifled all hopes and desires, in her determination to win heaven. She goes about the streets of her native city helping especially little ones, who are motherless and friendless children. Susan became, therefore, a member of the Shaker settlement, far away from her mother's grave, ín a quiet valley nestling among the mountains. There she lived her monotonous, uneventful life, comfortably clothed and fed, taught the rudiments of knowledge, and the strange belief of that sect, but all her natural longings for love were starved and thwarted, until she gradually became engrossed in her daily round of household duties, without anything "to look forward to," in her aimless existence. Her knowledge of the future is narrow and dark, she has not the simple faith of those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, as He is freely offered in the gospel. Little Rhoda is carefully nartured in a Christian home, where her mind is developed and her conscience enlightened. There she learns the whole mystery of godliness as revealed in the Word of God-here she knows that she is a sinful child, but the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. Rhoda grows up in the gentle nurture of the household, with all the attractions of a graceful, educated woman, caring for the poor and needy, because she knows that she was once a wretched child, without a home. Rhoda became a Christian woman, a happy wife, and the blessed mother of children. Hear what our Lord saith; "Whoso receiveth one such little child in my name, receiveth me." Who will rescue one of these helpless little ones? Make haste to bring them from their miserable homes, for Jesus is mindful of them, and "their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven." For the Advocate and Guardian. THE LITERATURE OF THE DAY. I CERTAINLY Could not hope to add anything to what years have been accumulating from some of the ablest pens in our country, and will say nothing on the subject of the so-called yellow-covered literature that is afloat on every public thoroughfare, and to be found in every nook and corner of the land, but I would ask the attention of young ladies to a fow practical thoughts from one of their number, on a phase of the subject not so often presented. That is, reading the works of fiction from our best writers. Years since, as our parents tell us, or per haps even within the memory of some of us, it was considered a sin to peruse a fictitious work, and novel-reading was a crime which any young lady who wished to retain the respect مونن and esteem of her order-loving friends, would be loth to confess. But gradually a change has taken place. The great and the good, seeing the influence which such reading had upon the youthful mind, have sought to gain access to it through the medium of moral tales, and to divert it with stories of an unexceptionable character. Thus the way has been opened, and now by far the largest portion of our reading is of this description. Doubtless good motives prompted the movement, and I would be slow to condemn it, as undoubtedly it has been the means of some good. Some who had acquired an uncontrollable love for fiction were induced to substitute harmless aliment for poison: but in the mean time thousands of others have contracted a relish for this light reading which, I fear, interferes with their highest improvement. The name of the well-known and respected author and the good "moral" are pleaded as sufficient evidence of the harmless tendency of this and that book, while at the same time the lively imagery employed in depicting the fancifully-wrought tale excites the mind without effort, and renders the close application necessary to grasp more prosy, solid and useful works, extremely irksome. One fact must have attracted the observation of all, that is, that young persons, who have acquired a love for fiction, seldom read anything else. Many persons make it their determination to read only those works which are attracting the attention of the reading world, and an acquaintance with which seems indispensable in polite society. But even this requires an amount of reading that will astonish any one who attempts it; an amount which cannot be otherwise than highly injurious to every mind, and absorbs too much precious time. mind, accustomed to imbibe that which it does not consider necessary to retain, becomes measurably weakened, loses its discipline, and the memory especially, refuses to perform its office. The This being the case, as all must acknowledge on reflection, will not every one who truly values the immortal mind, sacrifice a pleasure purchased at so dear a rate? It requires a strong determination to withstand the attraction of all the entertaining books which are found on every table, and stronger yet to say in the parlor, when Dicken's or Thackeray's last work, or even Mrs. Stowe's new book, is the topic of conversation, "I have not read it; I do not read such works." And the sacrifice does not end even here. The interest and piquancy of many allusions in what we do read is lost to us from our ignorance of works which are supposed to be universally understood. But shall we regret it? As that avenue of pleasure closes, a wider opens. If we cultivate a relish for more solid reading, the whole scientific world opens before us, through such works as Hugh Miller's and Prof. Agassiz's, disclosing beauties we never dreamed of before, and the vast fields of poetry and history It is time we should remember that God permits many things which He would not ordain, except by leaving us free to choose; and we choose the wrong. God never ordained that we should do wrong and not suffer the consequences, suffering follows sins as a natural result, however we may blind ourselves and hope to escape. given up for any slight consideration, such as a command of our Lord! I would not speak lightly, but is not this the truth? There have been cases, where this strong temptation has been resisted, though it was like "cutting off the right hand, or plucking out the right eye," and a blessing has followed the faithful soul, nay, it is possible for God to give manifold more in this life. Therefore, when we see a mother bowed down with sorrow under the influence of an ungodly husband and children, who follow his example, we do not exhort her to resignation and trust. No, her first duty is repentance. Look the sin in the face. You deliberately placed yourself in this position, repent, therefore, deeply, truly, not because you suffer, but because you have sinned, and then pray that if it be possible the Lord will be gracious and show mercy. Our Lord does for us all He can, but it is not in accordance with the principles of eternal right to encourage wrong-doing in His children, by prospering and blessing them in the wrong. Where a woman has herself been converted after marriage the case is different, then she may come with more hope and trust, though she will need strong faith. The Lord help her. But if a Christian woman is determined to marry with the hope of converting her husband after marriage, by her influence, let her know that that probably never is so great as before the irrevocable vow is made and that is the time to try its power. When he knows she has violated her conscience by linking her fate with his, her mere words will have little power after her acts have spoken. We do not respect inconsistency. HELP ONE ANOTHER. IONE. In no case is this more marked than in the consolations offered to the tried and suffering mother, with careless children and an ungodly husband; her children will not listen to her, and her husband counteracts her influence, and yet she is bidden to trust and hope. We should say to her, "repent." Hers is indeed a sad case, but the evil lies very far back. Years ago when she was young, an interest sprang up between her and a young man, amiable and right minded, it may be, and by her imagination invested with all the perfections of humanity, but not a Christian, and, therefore-though she never allowed herself to put that thought in words-an enemy of her Master, whom she had promised to serve through life. She knew the command, "Being wind seemed to penetrate his bones; not unequally yoked together with unbelievers," she knew the risk of difference on the great vital question of life, but she would not think. Why? She loved him, that enough and she could not give him up, God surely could not require that at her hand. was A TRAVELER who was crossing the Alps, was overtaken by a snow-storm at the top of a high mountain. The cold became intense. The air was thick with sleet, and the pierc still the traveler, for a time, struggled on. But at last his limbs were benumbed, a heavy drowsiness began to creep over him, his feet almost refused to move, and he lay down on the snow to give way to that fatal sleep which is the last stage of extreme cold, and from which he would certainly never have waked again in this world. Just at that moment, he saw another poor traveler coming along the road. The unhappy man seemed to be, if possible, even in a worse condition than himself, for he, too, could scarcely move; all his powers were frozen, and he appeared to be just on the point to die. When he saw this poor man, the traveler who was just going to lie down to sleep made a great effort. He roused himself up, and crawled, for he was scarcely able to walk, to his dying fellow-sufferer. He took his hands into his own and tried to warm them. He chafed his temples; he rubbed his feet; he applied friction to his |