object; but as I have been unable to do it, please accept this, (handing me five dollars,) for your treasury." This little incident was the more gratifying, because I did not know that he had become at all interested in this good work. When the storm began to beat so violently against the windows on the first (Thursday) evening of the fair, as it was soon after the doors were opened, while the hall was empty, it looked rather discouraging; but I felt that the thing had been undertaken with much prayer, and there was all our dependence. As I had never before engaged in anything of the kind, I went forward, at first, with much trembling. I could only find rest in endeavoring to commit it into the hands of our Heavenly Father, by faith. But He raised up many helpers, and in the end the storm proved a great benefit, and I presume added much to our receipts; for, by holding it two evenings, we were able to sell out everything, and were saved from such a great crowd as we should probably have had, if the first evening had been pleasant. My last is yet unanswered, but my heart was so full with the success of our enterprise, that I thought I must write at once. A YEAR or two ago, as I sat in front of a farmhouse, one warm summer afternoon, my attention was attracted by numerous feathery objects that kept floating in and out at the open door. At first I thought they were insects, but on examination I found them to be seeds. "Of what?" I asked the farmer's wife, as she passed through the entry. "Thistles," she replied. "There's a bed of them just below here, and the breeze carries them hither and thither as you see." Presently, I took my hat and walked down the lane, until I came to the thistle bed. There it was a large patch of ground covered with the unsightly things, and as the wind swept over them, thousands of the light feathery seeds were borne away, and scattered all over the surrounding country. Next year, thought I, they will spring up in the hay-fields, and in the corn-fields, and among the grain, and the crops will be injured by them; they will spring up in the flower-gardens, and the farmer's little daughter going out to gather flowers, will have her tender fingers wounded by them; they will do no good, but only harm, wherever they find space to grow. So I went back to the house. "Pray, tell me why those thistles are not rooted up?" I asked the farmer's wife. "Oh," she said, "they are not on anybody's ground, and so they are left to themselves." "Not on anybody's ground, and so they are left to themselves." There is a text for a sermon, but I am not the person to do the preaching. I sat down and began to think. I thought of swarming city-streets; of barefooted boys and girls, whose rags scarcely covered their limbs; of vulgar and profane language uttered by almost infant lips; and of crimes committed by little children, no older or larger than the farmer's little daughter. Who are all these? Oh, they are nobody's children-nobody cares for them-they are left to shift for themselves. So they grow up and they become the pests of society. They are the gamblers, the burglars, the incendiaries the robbers, the murderers. They fill our almshouses, our jails, our prisons; they travel on the road to destruction, and they lead thousands and thousands along with them. Why? Oh, they are nobody's charge-nobody is responsible for them; they take care of themselves. Oh, will this excuse stand in the day of judgment? Dare we look in the face of Almighty God as we stand before the "great white throne" and say: They were nothing to us-we could not help them-we had not power or strength to raise them from their deg radation? No-no. We dare not. Christian there is work for you and me in this great vineyard of the Lord. Let us go into these streets and lanes-into these highways and hedges, and carry the news of salvation. Let us seek out these little neglected ones, and bring them into our mission-schools and our churches; let us visit these wretched homes, and tell their parents of the Lord Jesus Christ, who came to seek and to save the lost. Thank God, there are many workers already laboring in the Lord's harvest fields, but there is room for more-there is room for every Christian to share in the toil and the burden and also in the rest and the reward.Methodist. For the Advocate and Guardian. THE ELECTION-WHAT CAN WE DO? I SAW the other day in a paper, some very good directions to all right-minded people, in the present trying and critical times in our country. The rules were very good and right, and we were told what men could do, and what women could do, to secure the triumph of the right side in the coming election. I will not say "triumph,"- -success of the right side. We are all on the right side-I take that for granted. These are times for measures, not men, for principles, the best we can find. We may prefer one man to another, we may not approve of the measures of any one side or party, in all things. But all we can choose, in this imperfect world, is the best we can find. What this paper recommended, of which I speak, was quiet, honest work on the right side, and since women cannot vote, all their influence is in talking and circulating information of the right kind. And how much we can do in this way can only be guessed by those who have studied the influence and power of combined effort. There was one thing this paper did not mention, and it was hardly to be expected, since it was a secular paper; and that was the power of prayer. "The king's heart is in the hands of the Lord, as the rivers of water He turneth it whithersoever He will." We all profess to believe in prayer, we all, (I hope) pray generally for our country and our rulers, but with special reference to this crisis, let us pray for our president and for those in authority and for those in command of our armies, that God would at this time especially guide them. The people are swayed to and fro by events, and successes and reverses move multitudes. The Lord can give wisdom and success, can turn the tide of battle, and that influences the the minds of the people and leads to the best results. And it is wonderful on how small a matter, perhaps the acting of one man's brain, the whole issue of an engagement or of a campaign may turn. And this brain or heart is in the hands of the Lord, He turneth it as He will. What then can we do? Even with specific promises the Lord said, "Yet I will be inquired of by the house of Israel to do these things for them." Believing this, "Let us pray." V. For the Advocate and Guardian. BY DELIA DENNISON. PICK up carefully the tattered cap, for it is needed no longer to shelter the fair locks and noble brow from this burning southern sun. Put away tenderly the faded uniform, for the loved form no longer needs protection from the chilling dews and damp night winds. And the thick, worn, army shoes, touch them softly, for the weary, blistered feet that wore them need never go upon another forced march. "Dead heroes make sacred the trifles they wore." What a world of wealth do I possess in these relics. I will treasure them up fondly for each silent, inanimate trinket has now a thousand tongues which speak to me. This lettered, tattered cap tells how the pitiless storms of mid-winter beat upon my darling's head, and how the more pitiless storms of "iron hail" raged fierce around him. This faded blouse, pierced by a minie-ball, speaks eloquently of the close proximity to danger of the soldier-boy, whose proud heart beat beneath its folds. Oh! why did the unseen Hand that warded off these dangers, permit disease to prey upon his vitals? Would that the same Hand would lead me out of this Egyptian darkness. But no, this dull, aching pain at my heart cannot be removed. By this pile of army clothes at my side I know that 'tis all over with me now, all pleasure, all light, I have nothing more to dread. The language of the Psalmist is the language of my heart, "He is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back again?" Whatever betides, I've known the worst. Now I shall hear the shrill scream of the locomotive without that sudden start of pain lest it bring to me the lifeless form of my soldier-boy. I can wait for the daily mail and no longer feel that anxious longing, half-hoping, half-fearing that tidings will come from the absent one. I can read of the decimating siege, the bloody engagement, the daring raid-ay, more-I can permit my eye to pass over the long, bloody list, the sickening Hospital Report, not feeling the chill of horror which aforetime would creep over my flesh. I can do all this, not because my heart is less tender or my nerves less sensitive than before, but because the heaviest blow that could have fallen, has fallen upon me, and I have borne it. Because that I have nothing left but these garments, sent to me in seeming mockery to make the dread reality more real. Nothing? In the bitterness of my heart I said nothing, but one more memento I have. Ah! I have it-the coverless, finger-worn soldier's Testament. Why did I overlook this doublysacred volume? Surely no glittering wealth could purchase this to-day, for by these fingermarks and tear-stains upon its sacred pages, by the leaf turned here and the passage marked there I know that my darling had a Friend when no mother's ministering hand was near. Blessed consolation! Oh, stricken heart, take courage How can I know that it was not God's plan in mercy laid to draw his heart to Him. My boy fills a Christian soldier's grave. Now ought I to be satisfied. What mother can say more. Oh, thou precious book! I will carefully put away these worn garments, but thee I will keep ever by my side, my bosom companion shalt thou be to guide me to that home where I trust my darling waits for me. THE MOTHERLESS. THEY are motherless! Oh! gently, gently keep back those bitter words. Avert that cold, cruel stare. See you not the tearful eyes? Alas! that sorrow should ever make a child's heart its home! They are motherless! Stranger hands min istering to their daily wants; stranger hearts wearying of the irksome duty. No fond, sweet kisses of warm embrace! No gentle words of comfort and love! No soft folding of little hands in prayer! No mother! Missing the low, sweet cadence of her voice; missing that "good-night!"—seeking, seeking all in vain, that ark for the weary dove-a mother's heart. Draw the little forms near to your heart. Pillow the aching head upon your bosom. Think of your sunny childhood—your mother's earnest love, her gentle care, her patient forbearance, her precious forgiveness. Then only in kindness let your hand rest on each honored little head; only in love reprove that stricken little flock. Oh! let yours be the hand that will lead them in the green, pastures, and by the still waters of the precious Saviour's love! Let yours be the blessed benediction: "Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these, ye have done it unto me." Remember, their angels do always behold the face of our Father in heaven. Then, it may be that a child's hand shall lead you to that heavenly home-a child's hand place the crown upou your head. Speak gently to the motherless! A weight of woe they bear; Speak gently to the motherless, yours shall that rich blessing be- THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE. "They also work, who only stand and wait."-Milton. "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain thee."-Bible. "There is a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them as we will."-Shakespeare. "The heart of man deviseth his way; but the Lord directeth his steps."-Solomon. "Lean not on earth; 'twill pierce thee to the heart; How many sorrowing, sighing ones are there to whom words like the above fall on the ear, carrying balm to a wounded heart-how many who have not yet learned not to chafe and flutter against their prison-bars. And truly this is a lesson difficult to learn-a lesson nevertheless which each sorrowing one must learn for themselves or never know the peace and joy of subed, it enables one to "cast all their care upon mission and resignation. But when truly learnGod," knowing "that He careth for them." Then, and only then, is appreciated the sweet assurance, "As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you." Do I hear any say, "Yes, I know, but my trials are so peculiar, so trifling, that I might blush to let a fellow mortal know they were trials." Ay, you forget that a miracle was once performed to restore a poor man's axe! that the first miracle that Jesus Himself performed, was wrought to spare His entertainer the mortification of an insufficient supply for his guests. Think not that He who has permitted the pen of Inspiration to record, that He can be touched by the feeling of our infirm ities, feels not for us in our little trials. Think not then, that the stinging reproof, the sarcastic rejoinder, the scornful disdain, the pathway hedged up on every side, meets no echoing sympathy from the Captain of our salvation, who was "inade perfect through suffering," yes, inade perfect through suffering, for so the apostle assures us. No truer words were perhaps ever uttered than, "The heart knoweth its own bitterness;" and they are just as true to-day as when first they fell from the lips of the wise man of old. And if the bitter tear will sometimes unbidden start, yet know it can be allayed, for, thanks to our great High Priest, there is a balm in Gilead and a Physician there, and through it the true Christian may learn to lay self upon the altar, and "live henceforth not unto himself." This done, and the key-note of human happiness is struck, a golden highway is found in which to walk, calm and serene within, even amid unwonted outward disturbances; yea, may rejoice in tribulation, if "tribulation worketh patience," so that "it yieldeth the peacable fruits of righteousness." M. W. H. Malone, N. Y. Children's Department. For the Advocate and Guardian. ABOUT LITTLE LULIE. Willow Vale, 8th mo., 23d, 1864. Dear Friends of the Home for the Friendless,-Enclosed please find one dollar, the contents of my darling Lulie's who purse, left us on the 13th of 5th mo., for a home in heaven, aged 8 years, 1 month and 5 days. She was always, after she was old enough to understand it, much interested in the Guar dian and in hearing of the Home children, and often asked me to write and send her money to them, and at one time did without butter a week, that she might earn another dime to send them. On the fifth she was attacked with that dreadful disease, diphtheria, which a month before had in one short week bereft us of her dear papa and two little sisters, Carrie, with her sunny curls and laughing eyes, aged 3 years and 3 months, and little Eva, the joy of our hearts, aged nearly 18 months. And, oh! the anguish of that hour which revealed the fact that she, too, the last of our little flock, must go; and I, who was so lately deprived of him who was dearer than life to me, must be "written childless" and alone in the cold world, to bear the burden of my grief. All that medical skill or kind friends could do, was of no avail, the fiat had been spoken; she, too, was going home. On the afternoon of the 13th I sat beside her, weeping, when she put her arms around my neck three times, saying, "Dear mother, don't cry, maybe I will get well." At last Í told her I thought she could not live long, she looked up at me calmly, saying, "Going to die, am I?" I replied, "I think so.' After a short pause she said, "I want to go to heaven and be an angel with dear papa and little sisters," and said, "read to me in the Bible, read, 'The Lord is my shepherd.' Then, taking each of her friends, who were present, by the hand, bade them an affectionate farewell, and sent messages of love to many absent ones, after which she repeated the following beautifully-appropriate prayer by M. L. Duncan, which she must have previously learned without the knowledge of any one. 66 Jesus, Saviour, pity me, Hear me when I cry to Thee; Full of sin in every part; I can never make it good, Wilt Thou wash me in Thy blood? Jesus, Saviour, pity me, Hear me when I cry to Thee. Short has been my pilgrim way, Far from Thee I've lived too long, Hear me when I cry to Thee. When I try to do Thy will, And I soon do something bad That makes me sorrowful and sad. Hear me when I cry to Thee. Though I cannot cease from guilt, Save me when I cry to Thee." Soon after which, her physician coming in, she gave him her hand saying, "Farewell, doctor." This was all done in a remarkably calm manner, without the slightest excitement. The 23d Psalm had been an especial favorite with her, and, now, when passing through the valley of the shadow of death, the consoling language, "Thy rod and Thy staff shall comfort me," seemed verified with her, for truly she feared no evil. Death had no sting and the grave no victory for her. In the evening she fell into a gentle slumber from which she awoke in the spirit-land, there to join the loved ones, gone before, who "awaited her coming on the shining shore." E. L. K. For the Advocate and Guardian. THE BROKEN LIMB. CHARLIE and Eddie are two little boys, living only a short distance from each other. Charlie is seven years old, and Eddie, a few months older. They attend meeting and Sabbath-school, also the district school, together, and are both in the same classes; they have been learning very fast, the past summer. After school hours, either Eddie would go and play with Charlie, half an hour, or, Charlie play with Eddie a while. Yesterday, they went to school and came home together, as usual. Little did we think it was the last day of their going to school together, for the season. Charlie's father was putting new shingles on his barn, and Charlie climbed up on the roof, little thinking of his danger. The roof was very slippery, and Charlie slipped and fell. They immediately sent for a physician, and he said that Charlie's limb was broken. While he set the bone, Charlie did not cry and scream, as some children would do, but bore the almost excruciating pain with perfect composure, only groaning a few times, while he was conscious all the while of what was going on. Some one standing by, said, Charlie, it is very hard for you to endure so much pain." He replied, "I have beared it as well as any one could;" and I think he did have more patience than many grown people would have had. In the evening, Eddie went to see him. Charlie asked him if he would bring his books home from school. This was too much for Eddie to bear; he began to cry, and the tears came in Charlie's eyes. They both felt very bad; they had always enjoyed going to school very much; but we hope that Charlie will soon get well, so he can go to school, and be able to run and play as he used to. Now, my little friends, from this a warn ing take. Never climb in such dangerous places, for you may get hurt worse than Charlie did, and it is a wonder that he was not killed instantly. H. E. M. GOD BLESS THE LITTLE CHILDREN. We meet them everywhere; We meet them 'neath the gipsy tent, We meet them in the lordly hall, For there they win no father's love, Youth's Temperance Advocate. For the Advocate and Guardian. LITTLE MARGIE'S GREAT WORK. BY JANE BOSWELL MOORE. "AND they came, both men and women, as many as were willing-hearted, and brought bracelets, and ear-rings, and rings, and tablets, all jewels of gold; and every man that offered, offered an offering of gold unto the Lord." "Oh! how beautiful the tabernacle must have looked when it was finished," exclaimed Mary Westbrook, when she had slowly read "Oh, because, ma'am, it always seems as if the Jews had such great things to dosuch a splendid tabernacle and temple to build, and such grand victories to win, that people don't think of now. I should like to feel that I was doing some great thing." "There is no fear but that each one of us has some truly great work to perform, if we only knew it," said Miss Earle earnestly, "let us beware of despising or neglecting it. Thousands of opportunities are given to every child in the land for doing good or evil, and we never come directly in contact with any their minds, and if we are Christians, this one without leaving some impression upon impression is of the greatest importance. You may win victories every hour over sin and every day you are laying the foundations of a temple which shall last, not merely for a few years, as did the Israeltish tabernacle, nor for hundreds of years, as the temple of Solomon, but which shall endure when this world has passed away and remain a monument of your wisdom or folly through all eternity. The temple, my dear children, which you are building and the work which is given you to perform is of far more value even than the magnificent and costly temple of Solomon. Every day you are laying stones, either of love, patience, truth, obedience, gentleness and grace; or of hatred, anger, evil passions and all that is sinful." "We can do what is right ourselves, Miss Earle ?" asked Margie Wilson, a quiet, soberlooking girl of fourteen, "but I don't see how we can do any great work for others; ministers and missionaries do, but how can we?" "But why may not you be ministers and missionaries-you are such-some of you to younger sisters and brothers, and others to schoolmates and acquaintances. If you rightly perform this duty, you will never be at a loss for work, so long as hundreds of millions of human beings, with immortal souls, not only in heathen lands, but in Christian countries, are living without God and without hope, let none of us say we can do nothing. If we never had any intimate fellowship or direct control over others, our own example would be of great weight for, 'Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure and whether it be right.' God's work is always various, though it has the same object in view the whole world is full of it; we find it on every side and of every kind, and there is enough, oh, yes, enough for every one of us-work for the body which most of us are willing to attend to, and still more work for the precious soul-work to do, to bear, and to suffer. Sometimes God sends affliction upon us and those who are dear to us, and this is in order to awaken us to this work, that we may be more earnest and fervent, presenting offerings of pure and tried gold to the Lord. A great feast is prepared in heaven for all who are willing to come; a harvest of souls is to be gathered in, we can first give our hearts to God, and then devote our lives, our all to His holy service. Some of you are inclined to delay, but while you are waiting, your influence for good is being thrown away, and precious souls whom you might have influenced are lost. Will you not come, then, to-day, and dedicate your lives to this great work, asking God to show you where your path lies, and to make you willing and to give you grace and strength to walk in it ?" The little bell of the superintendent gave the signal for the exercises of the school to close, and, with thoughtful faces, the members of the class repaired to their several homes. The good seed, like all sown, fell upon different ground; some heard it seriously for the time, and then thought no more of it. One, in time, was led to devote herself to the service of God, and another who had already done so, was roused to fresh zeal, and constantly looking forward to the coming night in which no man can work, wrought earnestly while it was day. She was an orphan, and there was no home-circle to labor in, but wherever she went she toiled. She went among the poor, she visited them, gave tracts and books; led many a poor, destitute child to the Sabbath-school and to the church; bore patiently her own trials, and sympa thized with those of others; fought against her own sins and weaknesses, and finally entered into the joy of that Saviour for whose glory and kingdom on earth she had so labor ed. Margie Wilson had lent an attentive ear to the lesson of that Sabbath, she was a plain. looking girl, with a face no way striking, broad, Scotch features, light, sandy hair, and gray eyes. She had no great talents, was what is called an ordinary child in every respect; she was poor, and had very few friends outside of her own home. What, then, could her work be? So thought Margie wonderingly, as she wended her way home. Hugh Wilson, Margie's father, was of Scotch parentage, his father had emigrated to this country, and having a large family, Hugh had early been taught to depend upon his own exertions. In the little frame house which he owned, he kept what is known in cities as a second-hand shop-that is, where second-hand furniture, partly-worn utensils, &c., of every kind, are to be found. Often families, induced by different causes, obliged to move to distant states, and in order to avoid the expense of transporting furniture, which would be great, their goods are sold at public auction. Sometimes various members of the family die, and thus the home circle is broken up, and, again, they are sold for debt. These goods are sold to the highest bidder, and as such sales daily take are a place, and people are generally well supplied, many articles are sold so cheap as to induce dealers to buy them to sell again. This was what Hugh Wilson did. The long, low room in front was completely filled except a little passage-way in the centre; bureaus, tables, chairs, desks, sofas, carpets, oil-cloth, &c., were piled up almost to the ceiling, from which lamps, tins, looking-glasses, pitchers, kettles, and sundry articles were suspended. There was no sign in front, as the appearance of the house sufficiently indicated the employment of the proprietor; the pavement being partly covered with things, while shed at the side contained half-worn stoves, boxes of paint, old iron, and all sorts of articles which Hugh denominated "trumpery," though as they often came in demand, he could not do without. Back of the shop were two rooms, and up-stairs three; the lower ones opened on a very small paved yard, with a little square patch of ground and a dimunitive border round the sides. This small square was well filled with grass in the centre; pinks, verbenas, petunias, and gay coreopsis bordered it, purchased at market. Of course the shop was not very clean with so much rubbish, but the rest of the house Hugh had furnished very nicely, and his pretty, gentle wife, with the assistance of Margie, kept it all in the neatest order. Two younger children were Kate, a lively, bright child of five, and Georgie, named for Hugh's father, a boy of ten. The two oldest attend ed the public school, and little Kate was learning to read at home. Both parents were anxious to give their children the best education in their power. All that both possessed in the world would not have amounted to a thousand dollars, and this Hugh well knew would afford a very slender assistance to his delicate wife and children, should he be taken away. Though a sober, industrious man, he was not a Christian, and this to his excellent wife was a source of great sorrow. True he was a kind, devoted husband and father, but Margie dreaded lest unshielded by Christian princlple, he should be led away into temptation. Often when he was absent all day attending sales, did she watch anxiously for his return at night with his purchases, dreading some evil; but he always returned sober and well, so that she felt she had reason to be thankful. Like herself, he had received a good, religious training, and the effect of this was visible in all his conduct. He was careful and watchful of his children, regularly attending church with them, and always ready to have them contribute their little silver pieces to the cause of missions. In this lowly dwelling the scene of Margie's work was laid. it be an offering of pure gold? To be continued. "Do good, do good, there's ever a way, Shall If you've money, you're armed, and can find work enough, In every street, alley and lane; If you've bread, cast it off, and the waters, though rough, wil be sure and return it again." We find in a late number of the Christian Adv. and Journal a very timely and excellent article that we transfer to our columns, assured that it will prove to some a word in season.-ED. UNGODLY CHILDREN. 1. UNGODLY children, disobedient and selfish, are to be met everywhere. In all communities they so far abound that the good are marked as exceptions. That is a rare household whose peace is not destroyed by at least one unmanageable, self-willed child. 2. Farming communities are perhaps freest from this common calamity, for two reasons: one, that employment can more readily be found for children of all ages; and the other, that there is not the power and attraction of organized wickedness which prevails in dense populations. 3. Villages, however, present such opportunities for mischief and wrong-doing, by the power of association chiefly, that even the efforts of discreet and godly parents to train their offspring righteously are rendered fear fully unavailing. The writer has known villages where, whatever may have been the good order of the day, the boys and young men ruled the night. Said a minister of celebrity a short time since, "I dread a village appointment on acount of my children." How often has the expression been heard, "There are so many bad children in our village that it is impossible to govern mine?" 4. But, after all, it is in the cities that the tide of youthful corruption runs freest and strongest. Not only do disobedient and wayward children destroy the peace of families, but they are the principal disturbers of the whole community. Very young children, if not under moral, are at least under sufficient physical restraint (that is, the parent's arm is stronger than theirs) to keep them at home, while mature adults, for the most part, are burdened with the cares of life to an extent that forbids much waste of time in idleness or frolic; consequently upon the class between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five falls the responsibility of riots, broils, fights, desecration of the Sabbath and law-breaking in general, scenes from which no large city is exempt. These young persons molest our congregations, disturb our political assemblies, gather on the street corners to insult decent people, engender strifes in fire companies, patronize shows and theaters, and make night hideous with their revels. Breaking away from the restraint of family, school and church, is it expected that the laws of the country can bind them? Successful in bidding defiance to all other authority, shall they pause before the statutes of the state? Most readers will be surprised to know that the tenants of our prisons are not so much the old and hardened as the young, generally for their first crimes. The writer undertook during the last year to converse with each prisoner in our largest state prison, and found out, to his surprise and grief, that most of the convicts were young men from sixteen to twenty-five. These were the headstrong, giddy boys, who, breaking away from home restraint, bounded upon the path of folly and crime, and were brought to consideration only when face to face with the damp walls of a prison. 5. But besides the class of young men that may be called wicked, there is another and larger who, shunning the grosser vices, are still foolish and ill-mannered, and a source of grief and disappointment to their parents. If they abide under the parental roof, the family derives no pleasure from their presence. Disobedience and fretfulness mark the periods of home life while their best smiles and manners are reserved for company and ball-rooms. Home to them is but a boarding house, where they eat and sleep, and parents are but landlords, and brothers and sisters fellow-boarders. There is, however, this difference: stranger boarders pay, these do not. They still go to church, but not to hear the Gospel. It is a good rendezvous, where new clothes may be shown and companions met. What if the people are annoyed by their whispers and laughs; what if they smoke even to the door of the church in coming, and re-light their cigars at the threshold in going, do they care who is offended? Cigars! how I dislike them! When as superintendent, in former days, of a large school, it was reported to me that such and such a boy was seen smoking on Sunday, my heart was chilled. I felt that all our Sunday-school labor was wasted. The future of that boy was clearly pictured; a few sentences would give the prophecy: a cigar, companion smokers, drinks, Sunday walks in Central Park, engines, theaters, groggeries, politics, a drunkard's grave, or a prison. 6. It is needless to remark that a large portion of the young population of cities come from the country. Restless and under the monotony of country life, they are attracted by the glare of city society, without a knowledge of its corrupt and deceptive features. Like the miller which, drawn to the candle by its beautiful light, knows not the destruction that awaits it. If they come as clerks, or apprentices, or even students, only two things will save them from ungodliness: one, that they have been religiously trained at home and the other that they choose at once Christian associations, otherwise a brief period only will suffice to fix them in the paths of sin. How easy to fall! an idle evening with gay and heedless companions, the first cigar, the first drink, the first step toward the theater, the first word to her whose breath is pollution, whose smile is death. What's to hinder, now that parental watchers are far away? 7. How gladly would the pen pause with this description of ungodly boys and young men, and forget the crimes and follies of the other sex. But truth compels the remark that families and communities are disturbed in their harmony by disobedient and ill-mannered daughters. Let the curtain fall on that class who consort with wicked young men, and lead them to the gates of death. It is enough to awaken sorrow and alarm to look around and see the multitude, who, if not guilty of crime, are by idleness, extravagance, and vanity, disappointing the hopes of mothers and fathers, and rendering probation a waste. When the enfeebled mother early begins the daily toil, her robust daughter still sleeps. Why? On the stand beside the bed, just where the candle has burnt itself out, you will see the love-tale which held her heart enchained till the midnight hour. The duties of the day go on, all the household are at work, but she thumps on the piano or saunters to her neighbors. She is respectable enough to go to church, but what for? Not to hear the word of truth, but to see and be seen. Mark her conduct toward broth ers and sisters: peevish and selfish, she seeks her own pleasure, not theirs. These traits of character are not of sudden growth; she was uncontrolled and selfwilled from the beginning. 8. Family pride and social position may pro tect such persons from gross wrong-doing, but what shall shield the ungodly girls of the poor? Ihave noticed the lads who leave country homes for city pursuits; but what shall be said of the thousands of country girls who seek employment in the city, If boys are so easily allured, what is to save girls from a life of shame who on reaching the city, and entering our large manufacturing establishments, find the enemy upon their track bent upon destruction? Ah! many a poor girl finds that skill with the needle or sewing-machine is not as marketable as youth and beauty? 9. Thus the strifes in families, the disorders in Sunday-schools, the "hazings" in colleges, the riots in cities, and, in fact, the general misery of the race, are so much the results of ungodliness in children that it may be worth the effort of the writer, and the attention of the reader, to trace the causes which send forth these children of wickedness to curse rather than bless society. C. C. NORTH. Advocate and Guardian. NEW YORK, NOV. 1, 1864. Will our friends, in sending on renewals of Clubs always state in whose name they were taken, during 1864. The omission to do so, causes much confusion on our books. OUR THANKSGIVING GATHERING. A FEW weeks hence will come our Annual November gathering, the day of hallowed memories and pleasant greetings. For so many years this season has been a moral oasis to our Institution, that its coming is anticipted with feelings akin to childhood's dream of the holidays. Since the foundation. of the Home was laid, none have had more occasion for gratitude on Thanksgiving than its band of laborers. The records of these days are full of blessings. Shall this, just at hand, prove an exception? We trust not. The Home will have a warm welcome for all its friends. The faces of its children will be as bright and hopeful, and more numerous than ever. Its care-takers will gratefully appreciate the looks and words of cheer that this occasion always brings, and we cordially invite all who will to come. Do we hear the response-What shall we bring? How can we best help? Well, let us see. We need some things that perhaps are becoming very scarce, second-hand clothing for children, both boys and girlsmany of them the destitute children of soldiers also for poor mothers and young women, made homeless and friendless by causes beyond their control. Fruit, vegetables, edibles of any sort never come amiss in feeding so many of the hungry. Still, we would not have any but freewill offerings-not a single article that others need more. Our Heavenly Father has ever dealt so kindly with us that whether He shall incline many or few to feel it a privi lege still to share in the good work, the language of our hearts shall be, "What shall we render unto the Lord for all His benefits." SEND IN THE CLUBS EARLY. To our voluntary helpers all abroad, who have so nobly aided the work by taking charge of the clubs in the various localities where the Advocate is circulated, we are most deeply indebted. Their agency has ever been indispensable to the success of this enterprise. We rely upon their efficient cooperation with unshaken confidence, because it has never failed. Like other departments, no amount of means contributed will supply the place of active effort, of heart and soul enlisted to do the most that can be done. Now this is just the best time for the clubs to be filled up and the list made ready to be forwarded for the coming year. Three numbers more and the volume closes. If, during the present month, the names of those who will renew their subscriptions are obtained, and arrang ments so perfected that they can be forwarded in full to our office previous to December 20th-when we commence sending out the number for January 1st-while the aggregate of labor for the agents will not be thus increased, that of our office will be materially lessened. The necessary changes, if made early, will prevent loss of duplicate parcels, postage, etc., save the writing of scores of letters of inquiry and explanation, and all the suspense and disappointment too often oc casioned by delays. One other item. The advance in the price of paper is so large that the only alternative to which we can resort to avoid a corresponding advance in our stated terms must be a successful effort to increase the list of subscribers to the Advocate. This department has hitherto been self-sustaining, so it must continue to be, or perhaps cease its mission. Should the price of paper go down, the difficulty would be obviated. But taking things as they are, we see no better way than to endeavor at once to surmount the obstacle by enlisting the united efforts of our friends and helpers in doubling our subscription list by adding single subscribers at $1, or club lists at 75c. per copy. This if promptly accomplished would relieve the necessity of farther advance of terms. It would require special exertion in every place, |