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EXTRACTS FROM CORRESPONDENCE. From a Soldier in Alabama. -This lonely Sunday evening, I am seated to write a few lines to you. We have not the opportunity of listening to the sound of the gospel at present, our chaplain being in very poor health. several weeks past, a few of us in the reginent, united together in brotherly love, have kept up a very interesting prayer-meeting; holding it out in the open air, and seated upon some logs probably felled by the enemies of our once peaceful and happy nation. Yet even in such a place God has been with us, and strengthened our poor hearts, and encouraged us to press on in the good cause.

I wish to do something for the Home. I do not, like many of my brother soldiers, have to lay out any of my wages for tobacco, &c., and not knowing a better way of spending a little of my earnings, I send you two dollars for the benefit of the friendless. J. B. B.

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"We must help others live."-Enclosed you will find three dollars, which is your yearly allowance of money for the use of my charity cow, which I hire out for the benefit of the poor. One dollar of the pay I get for her, I have reserved to give to the Sanitary Commission. My heart is divided between the suffering soldiers and the Home, so my money must be too. Please use this for the benefit of widows. I hope to be able to become a Lifemember next fall. I am a soldier's widow, and if I get a pension, I want to help others with it, and by being economical shall have a

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Dear Madam,-If all the children who are readers of the Advocate would remember the Home children with a dime on every successive birth-day, would it not entirely support the little ones sheltered by your kind care? Can the matter be brought before them in such a way as to secure a hearty response? I wish it might, and that the "Dime Birth-day Offering" may greatly swell the amount of your receipts, is the earnest wish and prayer of a sincere friend of the Home.

MRS. J. W. HOUGH.

Dear Madam,-Enclosed please find fifty cents, a birth-day offering from a child five years old-a dime for each year. The idea was suggested by a notice of a similar offering in one of your recent papers. It struck me quite pleasantly, and on thinking of it, it occurred to me, that by our custom of giving birth-day presents to our children, we are not giving them the greater good. We are told, "it is more blessed to give than to receive;" why not, then, on these days which are intended to be days of blessings, let them share in the blessedness of giving. They understand quite well enough what it is to receive, but are they sufficiently educated in the grace of giving? If we, as parents, would reflect more on the exalting, ennobling influence of a habit of benevolence on the character, I am sure we should strive to cultivate it more in our children.

"Give, give! be always giving,
Who gives nothing is not living;
The more we give,
The more we live."

A friend in Kansas, writes:

RASAH.

Our state has been deeply afflicted, and is threatened with yet greater sorrow; but we will still trust in that God who will make the wrath of man to praise Him. Many of our young men, the past year, have laid down their lives for their country. O, what sorrow and distress fill our land! When, oh, when will this unholy war cease, and peace be restored to our distracted and bleeding country! Will our God have compassion, forgive and save!

Our hearts are still with you in the labor of love in which you are engaged. Our prayer is that God would still turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, that all the friendless, homeless children of want and sorrow may find Christian homes, and a place in the hearts of those who desire to do good and to labor for their blessed Master. MRS. E. B. F.

From B. L.

Partly for the purpose of practicing selfdenial, but principally for the sake of contributing something for the relief of poor little children under your care, I have done without butter for one hundred days, for which I got one dollar. Please find it enclosed.

Dear Mrs. Stone,-Please find enclosed $3 50, a small offering from the children of Durant, Iowa, whose hearts have been stirred and warmed for the Home children by reading your excellent paper, and learning of the good example of others. The good wishes and prayers of warm hearts attend the small gift, and may the blessing of our Heavenly Father be with you in your labors of love, is the prayer of your friend. A. E. K.

Mrs. Stone,-I send you this dollar to be given to some family whose father has died in the army. It is the money that I wished to spend to celebrate the fourth of July; but mother thought it would be more patriotic to give it to some one who had suffered for our country; so I concluded to send it to the Home. I have three brothers in the army, and I think it would be better to send my money as an offering, because none of them have been killed, wounded, or very sick.

A. H. H.

DIED March 23d, of Consumption, Mrs. PHEBE DRAKE, wife of Mr. Geo. DRAKE, of Jelloway, aged 43 years.

She was remarkably retiring, so much so that few knew her real excellence. Hers was a tender heart, a sympathetic nature, and a religion eminently practical. Her kind disposition, her marked humility and pious life won the confidence and affection of all who knew her. We knew her well. We do her simple justice when we say she was a woman of rare Christian worth. Quietly she livedquietly, calmly she died. She bore the trials of life without a murmur-the pains of death without a struggle or a groan. She leaves a Christian husband, now thrice bereaved, and many friends to mourn her loss.

R. R. S.

WHY haltest thou, deluded heart?
Why waverest longer in thy choice?
Is it so hard to choose the part
Offered by Heaven's entreating voice?
Oh, look with clearer eyes again,
Nor strive to enter in in vain.
Press on!

ADVOCATE AND GUARDIAN. TERMS.

do

Lehr.

$1 a year, [in advance] to Single Subscribers. Four copies, to one address, at the rate of 75c a year. Eight 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. 700. August 16, 1864.]

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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

THE LOST LAMB.

THE marsh and meadow lay in fog,
The night was chill with drizzly rains,
The gude-wife turned the smoldering log,
And spread the snowy counterpaoes.

The child within its downy bed

She tucked with more than wonted care, Then laid her ow a thrift-weary head,

And into dreans slipped half her prayer. Past midnight, and the dame awoke. A cry of anguish filled the room! She listened: no, a murmur broke The silence of the household gloom. Again and yet again she stirred

In startled slumber through the night,
And oft her fevered fancy heard

Some wild, strange summons of affrigh
Toward dawn it sounded yet again,
Plaintive and lone, and faint and far;
'Twas like a childish cry of pain,

Or utterance, as "Mamma, mamma!"
She sprang from bed, and sought her child:
Soft nestled in its crib it lay,
And on each sleeping feature smiled
The first faint promise of the day.

Back to her bed the gude-wife crept,

Her eyes half blind with tender tears:
In God's own hand my darling's kept-
How foolish are a woman's fears!

"Some lamb, most like, has strayed the fold, The poor lone thing was bleating 'ba,' Which borne upon the fog and cold,

Seemed to my mother ears, Ma, Ma.'"
Next day a piteous tale went round
The village street was all agog;
A child's dead body had been found
Stiff standing in the meadow bog!

The little feet had strayed away;

The clinging mire had held them fast Till death slow dawning with the day, Brought her its best release at last. And there, throughout that live-long night, A helpless child of tender years, Fainter and fainter with affright, Had called "Ma, aa," to sleeping ears!

I knew her not-I only found

In printed page this tale of fear; But when I cease to hear that sound,

I shall have ceased all sounds to hear.

Harper's Magazine.

For the Advocate and Guardian. WHAT CAN A YOUNG GIRL DO FOR HER SAVIOUR! NO. II.

"OH, you don't know how glad I am to see you, Mrs. S.," said Louisa M., as the two friends met after a separation of several months. "Do you know, dear Mrs. S., I feel a sort of leaning upon you, as though you were so much stronger and wiser than I. Is it possible you ever feel like resting upon anybody?" "Possible, child !" said Mrs. S., with a kind, motherly sort of langh; "do you suppose any of us get so strong as to stand up straight and alone against temptation, and sorrow and ignorance? Don't we all want sympathy and help in a thousand ways? I heard a man, strong in soul and body, once say, in view of the great evils he could not cure and the great good he could not accomplish, that he felt many times the wish to sink back into his mother's arms. If he, whose life-work it is to instruct and sustain others from the fullness of his own being, has a miserable sense of weakness, we need hardly chide ourselves for wanting to lean."

"How that does comfort me, Mrs. S.," said Louisa; "I have such a good-for-nothing sort of feeling, that I long for something to rest heart and soul upon; something I can take hold of, and talk to, and be stronger for it myself. May I say so, Mrs. S., I wanted you should come home, so I could lay my difficulties down at your feet and be helped and comforted as I was before. You said you loved to do good, and I have come to bring you a little missionary work."

"That is a very simple, natural feeling on your part, Louisa, but I feel weaker than a bruised reed myself. However if we talk over our difficulties in the right spirit, we may find aid and comfort from each other. But there is

Whole No. 701,

One, you know, dear, strong enough for your need and mine; we must rest our hearts on Him."

"Yes, I know, Mrs. S., Christ is more than all else He is everything; but somehow I want something tangible sometimes; I want to lay my hand in somebody's and feel the clasp, and be sure I am being led."

Mrs. S. turned very tenderly to the young girl, and thought it would be a pleasant task to lead one so gentle and teachable as the pupil at her feet.

"Louisa," she inquired, "does Christ seem far off to you ?"

"O, not exactly," said Louisa; "sometimes He is very near-near as my own thoughts, and so precious and sweet, I want nothing more then. But I get into other moods very often, and then I long for something not so high up-something I can hear speak and see smile-that is not all spirit. I feel just so today. I can't tell anybody precisely how it is, but I want a great good and a great beauty in some way. My mind is hungry, and my heart is hungry, and I want to know more than I can possibly learn; and then I want to pour out the love and the joy I feel in learning something good and true, and there's no one just right to talk it to; no one seems to think of things just as I do, or have quite such an enjoyment as mine is."

"But you can tell all this to your Saviour, child."

"That is what I always do, Mrs. S., I tell God how I feel and what I want, because there is nothing else to tell, and sometimes I am satisfied with that, it is the sweetest kind of praying. But then I want something nearer my own level almost always."

"That is a very human want, Louisa," said Mrs. S., 66 we expect to feel many desires and cravings a great deal of soul-hunger for knowledge and heart-thirst for love, and at times a great outreaching for the spiritual and the true. It is not easy at all times to analyze or define one's feelings; many mean only the,

natural restlessness of unemployed faculties of intellect or capacities of affection, and some of these longings are the cry of the soul for its God; they come from those higher faculties of one's being which communicate directly with God. A true and right attachment will satisfy the yearning for love at one's own level, while that other want is never satisfied except by the peace of God which makes rest with Him. God likes to have us feel many longings for truth and beauty and then not be satisfied only as we cry out to Him; that is one way souls grow richer and sweeter, one in which by reaching they find Him; it often makes close and precious communion with God, and then it strengthens us to help, by influence and example, other lives that feel a great want and longing too. Do you ever think, Louisa, how we should endeavor to aid and sustain others just as we feel the need of clasping a hand or resting on a strength? None of us are so weak but that something weaker looks to us for aid."

"Yes, indeed, I do, Mrs. S.; when I am restless and unsatisfied I commonly want to do something for another; when God seems all I want and enough for me, I always long to help some one or be a comfort to somebody."

66

Always cherish such feelings, dear child; God is honored by them, your soul is made purer, and the savor of your presence and influence must sweeten and purify wherever they fall. No one who longs for God and reaches out in this communion to Him and in love to others for His sake, need feel that life is useless, though it seem to produce but little fruit, and that is consolation indeed. But oh! let those who do not go towards God in the cravings of their being, fear and tremble, for of no faculty abused or slighted has He more strongly spoken, 'Take the talent from him.'

"I remember my young days, Louisa, when the dream of love was added to such yearnings for knowledge and for beauty; but I did not seek to live up to the knowledge of truth and beauty I already had; I did not seek to pour out the joy and the love I felt in a Christly way, and the precious talent lay hidden and dishonored by the rubbish of earthly coveting for many years. It is a marvel of God's mercy that it was not wholly taken away."

“I have thought of these things a great deal since I talked with you before, Mrs. S.," said Louisa, “and it seems to me that the more I try to do my whole duty as a Christian woman the straiter the way grows."

"But does not the effort to live rightly in spite of its self-denials, and crosses and perplexities, bring its own reward?"

"Oh, yes, I know that I love God more, and that of itself is joy, and I love every beautiful thing more, and want to be like the beauty, and I believe I feel a different and a better sort of love for everybody- -a love that wants to do for them as far as I can." "And when you spread your troubles before the Saviour, or whisper to Him your closest

heart-thoughts, or confide to Him your purest aspirations, are not the presence and sympathy of Christ, the sweet, holy and solemn sense of the spiritual, sufficient for happiness and peace?"

"Yes, but then it makes me want everything to be sweet and beautiful, and I feel a sort of disappointment that it is not so. I want all the truth I hear to be spoken in the best manner; I feel dainty generally. And the more I try to be good and live near to Christ the more I want only good and true people round me, I am pained and repelled where once I did not think of such a thing. I get so tired of a good many persons who call themselves friends, that I am almost disposed to be silent towards them. I would not grieve or appear to slight any person for the world, and it is no such feeling that I have, but I don't want their company."

"And you are not required, dear," said Mrs. S., "to cherish any personal intimacies uncongenial with a Christian's truest feelings; for the rest, the law of kindness, of Christly charity, of tenderness and friendship, would not allow you to be too exclusive. "Ye are not your own," says Christ, and we must learn to forget self, to lay aside many dainty, personal feelings to win the love and confidence of others that we may the better win them to love Christ. One can be pleasant, companionable and loving and so do much good that way without taking upon one's self any personal intimacies."

"I know it, Mrs. S., but there are Julia N., and Phebe L., and several others we meet in the prayer-meeting, and I like to talk with them there; but they hang upon me in other places for a kind of companionship I don't wish to give them. They are good girls, but their piety is all they have to make them attractive. I like to do good, I am sure. I wish to be a home missionary, but there is a strange contradiction about it in my feelings."

"You must look out, dear, that you do not let the ideal outgrow the practical in your piety; they should walk hand in hand, each a balance to the other. I do not think you will allow a refined taste to hinder a practical piety, as much as some young Christians. I had better say, perhaps, that refinement and ideality do not so much hinder as the lack of ardent love to Christ does. I will illustrate the point by drawing two characters from actual life."

To be continued.

PRAYER.

"LORD what a change within us, one short hour
Spent in thy presence, will prevail to make;
What heavy burdens from our bosoms take!
What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower!
We kneel, and all around us seems to lower;
We rise, and all-the distant and the near
Stands forth in sunny outlines brave and clear:
We kneel, how weak-we rise, how full of power.
Why, therefore, should we do ourselves the wrong
Or others, that we are not always strong:
That we are ever overborne with care,
That we should ever weak or heartless Be,
Anxious or troubled, when, with us is prayer,
And joy, and strength, and courage are with Thee?"

THE BUILDING OF THE FAMILY.

BY REV. JOHN NELSON, D. D. To secure the well-being of a family there must be another and higher element, a real vital religion; that which the Son of God brought down to earth for the very purpose of forming families, whose chambers shall be filled with all precious and pleasant riches. This is of indispensable importance, not only because its existence is the condition on which God promises His blessing, but because it subdues those evil tempers and passions and resists those hurtful habits which are fatal to the family; and because it calls into exercise those principles of action, those dispositions of heart, and those virtues of life which lie at the foundation of all true domestic felicity. It is a defense against whatever is destructive of this and a source of whatever can contribute to it. Amidst trials, such as must and will come, it brings a comforting recognition of God's wisdom and goodness, and awakens the cheering hope of another and better life. It imparts to the family, the children as well as to the adults, that fear of the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom. It brings them to the Mercy-seat for the divine forgiveness and blessing, and awakens thanksgiving for the daily favors received. It leads to the Bible, the source of all light and truth and good impression, and it carries them, old and young, parents and children, to the sanctuary when the day of God returns, that all may be enlightened, quickened and brought under sanctifying influences.

It has also within the home enclosure a pious nursery and an altar for the morning and evening sacrifice.

Religion operates also as a bond of union, as a cement of interests and affections. By taking a part in the same devotions, following the same guide, co-operating in the same work, traveling the same road to heaven as fellow-pilgrims, the hearts of all become bound together by closer ties than those of consanguinity. They feel themselves to be not only loving members of the same earthly family, but of the great family which includes God and Christ, and angels and all the redeemed from off the earth.

While religion restrains from these things which are so apt to mar, if not destroy the peace of families, while it calls forth the lovely affections and virtues that lie at the foundation of their happiness, it is especially important in ministering its consolations in those seasons of afflictions which in this vale of tears are sure to come. It will then afford what riches, honors and all the advantages of the world cannot afford, that is, consolation. Boston Recorder.

THAT is always best for us which is best for our souls.Philip Henry.

WERE we m the mount with God, our faces would shine mowlad De maion.

For the Advoca en Guardian. EDUCATION OF WOMEN.

LATIN AND GREEK.

SOME years ago there lived, in a northern town, a learned man, and his wife, who was also

learned. They had laid out for themselves a great work in life, and determined to devote themselves to study; and to this end they shut themselves up in the two rooms most favorable to this purpose. The one was a library with its walls lined with the needful and valuable volumes, and lighted by a skylight, with a sitting-room communicating with it, in which they might take their meals, and to which they might resort now and then, by way of change. And in these two rooms they remained for days, weeks, months, hardly allowing themselves air, exercise or change of occupation.

It seemed a very nice place, and doubtless they might have accomplished a vast amount of study, and done great good in the world, if they had not gone contrary to every law of health and life. Very learned they might be, but wise they were not, with all their learning. The result of this experiment was, that they both lost their health, and one at least, the use of the eyes, with threatenings of total blindSo they were obliged to betake themselves to other pursuits, while they bore the penalty of the violation of good and wholesome laws.

ness.

We have spoken of the necessity of rest and change of occupation; we know also that mental labor is most exhausting, and uses up the nerve power faster than any other-indeed all observation and experience go to prove that from three to five hours a day, are as much time as can be profitably spent in any one kind of mental effort. So our friends erred in trying to get more than that out of their lives.

EXERCISE.

So far as I can learn, also, they neglected exercise. So long as we have bodies, and are in one sense animals, we can no more live without motion and out-of-door life, than any other animals. Our limbs cannot retain their powers, our lungs cannot act freely without motion in fresh air. Sunlight is essential; see how those shut up in prison or in rooms away from the sun-light become blanched and unhealthy, like plants under a board. This is one reason why it is not well to have too many trees about our houses, we have not only the dampness, which is unwholesome, but the pleasant, life-giving light and heat of the sun, are shut out. Plants and shrubs will not thrive under such dense shade, and where they will not, human plants equally suffer. The dark, prison-like rooms of cities are nearly as bad, one might almost as well live in a tomb, as in many of those apartments where the one object of life is to preserve the carpets and curtains, with very little regard to the well-being of those for whom the rooms were supposed to have been built.

there is plenty of nonsense, both in theory and practice. Perhaps as much harm is done by too much exercise, as too little. No doubt out-of-door life is very good, but all of us can not have it constantly, and if we keep our dwellings light and airy, we may get plenty of very good exercise from the work we are obliged to do in them. It is a great mistake to work at home till you are thoroughly fatigued, and then go and take a long, exhausting walk, because somebody says open-air life is a good thing. Women were not made for so much walking, and often are injured rather than benefitted. If a man has occupations which are sedentary or monotonous, a long, rough walk over hill and dale is just the thing he needs; and if a woman's occupations are of the same character she may have the same kind of walks. But we are better for those kinds of work that occupy chiefly the upper part of the body, the arms and the chest. What we call house-work, the care of rooms, washing, ironing, scrubbing, dusting, cleaning, these exercise the arms and chest, and develop many parts of cooking, the care of children, all their strength. Many girls are unwise and their mothers also, who allow it, when they elide out of all this wholesome home occupation, perhaps leaving it to those who are already overburdened, and then go wandering off on long, and exhausting, and purposeless walks, merely for exercise.

And here, if it were not out of place, we are reminded of multitudes of mothers who, out of mistaken kindness for Mary or Sarah Jane, allow her to grow up without taking her part in the light work of the household, to cultivate fine ladyism, while her mother is over-worked, so learning to despise labor, when the probability is, that she will have to come to it a little later, and all the more hardly from having served no apprenticeship.

"But," says the tender mother, "she feels so weak, she really has not strength to work as I do."

Doubtless, and the more she indulges herself, the weaker she will grow, especially with her waist squeezed into that small compass. Give her room to breathe and her arms free motion, put on a good stout calico, short enough to let her walk without holding it up or stumbling over it at every step, and she will gain her strength by degrees, if not at once. It is cruel to let her grow up such a weakling.

A fair division of the work, of the sewing, and of the leisure, in almost any family, would promote the happiness of all; instead of which, one often works too hard, another is too much confined with sewing, and some have not enough to keep them out of mischief.

"Oh, but Sarah Jane is so fond of reading, I hate to call her from her book."

The reading—yes, I looked over her shoulder as she sat curled up in a corner, bent over, with careless hair and dress, while her poor mother was doing all she could, and the house We spoke, too, of exercise, and on this point looked as if it needed another hand. Such

reading-a flashy, exciting story, very much in its effects like the dram of the drunkard, creating a diseased craving for more. Call you that reading? Some one has said there is perhaps never a time when we think less, than in reading certain books, and in this view the exercise can hardly be called reading. Some of this sort of trash is immoral, much of it is unwholesome, and the relish for it, like many another diseased appetite, grows with that it feeds on. It were better restrained by a kind and judicious parent, and even if resorted to now and then, by way of recreation, the appetite will be in a more healthful state, if the life be taken up with good, wholesome regular employment.

Mother and friend, you and I have to educate our children for the life that is before them. Most of them will have to work-we can not help it-and we ought not if we could. Occupation is a blessing, only excessive toil is the curse; and often the reason why our sons and daughters find life so hard, is that they have not been educated for their work. What we do well is not laborious to us, except when we are taxed to excess in the labor. It is our positive duty to fit and train them to the best of our ability, for their place in life, and we cannot be far out of the way in determining what that shall be. The greatest blessing they can have will be a life of work without toiland for this we are to educate them.

We spoke just now of "fine ladyism,” but it is a great mistake to suppose that ladies are idle. Some poor creatures may be, and the greater shame to them, and misery to their families. But some of the busiest and most hard-working women I know, are those who have large houses, many servants, and a full purse at command.

A conscientious woman feels that the care of these souls is given to her-she has their training and guidance, and her eye and supervision are always needed in all parts of such a household. She is expected to care for the poor and needy, to do much public business, to give her time to her friends and acquaintances, while she must never neglect her husband and children.

The position may be considered very enviable, but her couch is not always one of roses, and she often lies down with an aching head and heavy heart, unknown to one whose duties are more simple and in narrower bounds. "To whom much is given, of him will much be required."

There is a strong temptation to feel and to say that in different circumstances we could be very exemplary, but precisely what is required of us is this, to be content, and to do our duty in the station to which God has called us, and to do this faithfully will require all our pow

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SEEKING OUT THE AFFLICTED.

Two mites, that make a farthing,
Insured the widow's fame;
A single cup of water

Can bring a deathless name.
The humblest work for Jesus,
The gentle word or look;

The soothing sigh, the cheering smile,
Is written in his book.

MANY young persons (either from religious teaching or a natural kindness of disposition,) like to indulge in the precious luxury of doing good, and can truly declare, from the experience of their own hearts, that it is "more blessed to give than to receive." Yet they do not always take advantage of that plan by which charity does the most real good, and the greatest amount of pure and unselfish satisfaction is obtained by the giver. This plan, according to the Apostle's recommendation, is to "seek out" the afflicted; for, though objects deserving of our charity meet us face to face every day, and appeal for our assistance, yet we may be sure that the cases which, if known, would most deeply excite our sympathy and afford us the most pleasure in relieving them, are those which it requires some search to find out. In the words of the poet:

"Ner, till invoked,

Can restless goodness wait; your active search Leave no cold, wintry corner unexploredLike silent-working leaven-surprising oft The lonely heart with unexpected good" As a general thing, there are only two classes of persons whose pursuits in life naturally bring them in contact with the timid and shrinking victims of misfortune, and these classes are those of ministers and physicians. Every faithful minister has a store of such little histories to relate, and the doctor of medicine never fails to have the nature of his heart and head tested by them. Various striking cases of this sort have recently been related to us by an esteemed medical friend of Brooklyn, whose great benevolence of disposition qualifies him as eminently for the great responsibilities of his profession as does the skill acquired by his long and extensive practice. Mrs. Hall, the authoress, in her sketches of Ireland, gives a startling account of a particular case of silent misery which excited her attention while her carriage was being besieged by a noisy troop of beggars, who, in turn, flattered, argued. with, or entreated the lady, and disparaged or railed at each other's claims. But Mrs. Hall's attention was drawn from these boisterous individuals to a woman with a child in her arms, seated by a door-way at some distance, in an attitude of extreme feebleness and dejection; and on going up to this poor creature, it was discovered that she and the child were actually dying of starvation-perishing in silence, while so many less worthy objects of charity were clamoring loudly for assistance near by!

We do not mean to discourage giving to beggars where there are any reasons for supposing them to be really deserving of assistance; but you may depend upon it, that, by applying the largest part of what you have to give in charity

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You are a sinner. sinner can be saved? There is a Saviour. that He may save you? There is an awful hell. to escape it? There is a glorious heaven. the way to it?

You must soon die. for the solemn change?

Are you seeking
Are you seeking

Are you in

Are you prepared

You must appear at the judgment-seat of Christ. What will then be your lot?

There is an eternal state after death. Is your's likely to be an eternity of bliss, or an eternity of wo?

You must he pardoned through the blood of Christ, and sanctified by the Spirit of God, or you cannot be saved. Are you daily seeking these blessings?

"Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." Are you living a holy life?

There is a book able to inform you on these subjects, and to make you wise unto salvation. Do you search the Scriptures?

Think of these questions, dear children, every day, and especially when you lie down at night; and may God give you grace to answer them truly.-Protestant Churchman.

A RECIPE FOR HAPPINESS -It is simply, when you rise in the morning, to form a resolution to make the day a happy one to a fellow creature. It is easily done-a leftoff garment to the man who needs it; a kind word to the sorrowful; an encouraging expression to the striving-trifles in themselves, as light as air-will do it, at least for the twenty-four hours; and if you are young, depend upon it, it will tell when you are old; and if you are old, rest assured it will send you gently and happily down the stream of time to eternity. Look at the result:-You send one person-only one, happily through the day; that is, three hundred and sixty-five in the course of the year-and supposing you live forty years only, after you commence this course, you have made fourteen thousand six hundred human beings happy, at all events, for a time. Now, wor. thy reader, is this not simple? and is it not worth accomplishing?

""TIS a little thing

To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips.
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame,
More exquisite than when nectarian juice
Renews the life of joy in happier hours.
It is a little thing to speak a phrase

Of common comfort, which by daily use
Has almost lost its sense; yet on the ear

Of him who thought to die unmourned, 'twill fall
Like choicest music."

For the advocate and Guardian, THE DRUNKEN HOUSE.

CHAPTER II

I HAVE described my first visit to the Drunken House, and now I shall tell you something more about the mothers' meeting, for I think you would like to have a sort of picture of it, and to see whether Mrs. Shelley came with her feet bare, and wore that old gown with the waist all unpinned.

I told her to wear the same clothes she had on, if she could get nothing better; but we will see how she came. There was a nice brick house in a quiet street, and it had a large parlor in it, furnished with quite a number of benches, a melodeon, and a bookcase; and it was a pleasant, cheerful-looking room, where the Mission School met on Sundays. Just before dusk on Thursday evening, there was a good hot fire made in the grate, and six or eight ladies came, and brought their lamps and candles, to light up the room. One brought a box of thimbles, another some thread and needles, and others white muslin, calico and flannel.

After a while the visitors began to arrive, and each lady looked with great interest for those whom she had invited. There were the lame, the halt, and the blind; the drunken, the lying, and profane, the women with babies, and the women without babies, and some good, kind, respectable poor women, and among the rest my humble friend, Mrs. Shelley, who had given herself such a bad Her face was bright, and there were plenty of pins in her gown, and no rags at all. She tried to make herself decent, and God helped her; so Mary Rynder lent her a dress, and Sarah Cooley a shawl, and Mrs. Conner a hood. Then she had a pair of good boots on her feet; and altogether she looked so well that I hardly knew her.

name.

Pretty soon the work commenced, and the ladies cut and fitted garments, and passed around the thimbles, and needles, and thread, and the women sewed and talked, and had a very sociable, pleasant time.

After they had worked, and talked, and tended their babies for an hour, each woman's name was written on a slip of paper, and pinned upon her work, and it was packed away in a basket for next time. Then we sang and had some nice prayers, and a chap ter in the Bible read and explained by one of the ladies; and then we said what we could to cheer and encourage these poor women, and each one went to her own home.

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