feelings, if we are taught in childhood to restrain the natural impulses, to resent injuries, then only can we hope that in moments of aggravation we may be able to keep down the risings of wrath; of our own strength we can do little. God's grace is restraining grace. Those who lead prayerful lives are the safest, they are to used to lay before God everything great or small, whether it be railing letters or the taking away of the promised blessing of life, and the giving of her to another that no sorrow or trial seems to come to them but in the providence of God, and so coming, is endured as coming from Him, not man; mau is but the instrument. But it is not given to every one so to see injuries and injustice, especially our children cannot have attained to With them grace is a such a height of faith. plant of tender growth, and it is our duty to nourish it daily. The necessity of learning to command the passions is specially a need in this country. In some sections of it we know how the bowie-knife and the revolver settle all arguments that are distasteful. This was the spirit that animated Cain, and every murderer since. God said, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed "--and we say, “Oh, we are not likely to do anything so dreadful," but nevertheless we teach our children, "It is manly to resent injuries." We sow dragon's teeth and reap armed men.

I have carefully abstained from illustrating my essay with any instances of the fatal results of giving way to passion which have ocourred in this country. Were I to bring back to remembrance the sad details of tragedies

that have occurred in New York and Boston within the last ten years, I might wound some sad mourners, who are hoping that as time has rolled on, the recollections of the deeds for which their friends suffered have faded from the memories of men. So let it be, but let each reader recall his or her own experience, and bring it to bear profitably on the training of such children or pupils as are within the reach of their influence.

Few people learn from the experience of others; few people can believe that the temptations of others may one day be their own, still less do children learn from the stories of crime and its retribution to check the passions from which crimes spring. We think they do, because their moral sense is so shocked, their tender consciences so pained by hearing the history of crime. They probably go to the height of promising parent or teacher to bear the lesson in mind and to avoid the companionship, and to loathe the example of the sinner. But all the while the criminal appears to their infant imagination some incarnation of the spirit of evil-some being always strong to do evil, not a man who once had been a little child, with feeble tendencies to be good, and who grew in wickedness just as he grew in

stature.

But though I have given an example myself in this paper of the fatal result of a momentary

loss of self-restraint, yet I do not address these observations to children; I speak to parents and teachers. I appeal to them, not for moral deductions, not for bringing home cases to the young mind, but for constant watchfulness over the ebullitions of passion, over the tendencies to revenge that the children under their charge show. It is the patient endurance of having one's "good "evil spoken of that is considered the highest triumph of Christian character, but in a child it is the last thing commonly thought of. To stand up for his rights, to keep his ground, to overpower competitors, is too often the narrow ground on which moral and intellectual education is based. But parents in whom dwells the grace of God, will watch over the beginnings of evil, will check the first outbursts of passion, will train their children from infancy upward, to bring their "unruly wills and affections" into subjection

to the will of God."

E. I. N.

Him now, coming from the sky to meet me, and He has such a dear baby in His arms. Look, mamma-papa, can you not them ?"

see

The sorrow-stricken father, who, until now, had stood speechless with grief by the bedside of his idolized boy, while his gentle wife had soothed the dying one, now murmured, "Mary, it is our angel Winnie that he sees, borne on the Saviour's bosom;" and as he spoke, a look of agony crossed the mother's brow at the memory of her lost treasure, but it quickly faded, and a gleam of joy succeeded, for she knew her dear one was safe in heaven.

The little form was again still, save the panting of the breath and a quiver about the mouth; we thought the dear spirit almost gone, when the lips again moved feebly, and none but the mother's quick, loving ear caught the dying whisper, "They have come for little Allie; good-by, mamma, papa;" and without a sigh our Allie winged his flight to the white-robed band of infant songsters around the throne. Then we laid the little form, all cold and silent, in its casket. Loving fingers folded the lily-white hands upon his bosom, arranged the snowy robe, spotless as the form beneath, in dainty folds, and scattered fragrant buds and blossoms around him. Then we pressed the dear lips, half parted with a smile; but they returned it not, as when, in buoyant health, our little Allie bounded to our side, and raised his innocent face to ours to give his good-night kiss.

With trembling hands, we parted the silken hair from the fair brow, severed a sunny curl from the dear head, then laid it A last look at our Allie's gently to rest. beautiful face, as peaceful and innocent as in slumber, and we slowly, sadly close the lid. We have laid him 'neath the sod. Pale violets droop lovingly amid the green grass which covers the tiny mound; a willow bends protectingly over the tiny block of marble, which bears these simple words:

tall figure and discouraged looks, made friends with him, and kindly urged and aided him until he was, at last, honorably ac cepted in a higher room.

The teacher in the new department was a stranger, and among the scores of unknown faces she did not at once notice, particularly, the largest boy of the class. In a little time, however, she had abundant occasion to ob serve a stout lad, who came always with uncombed hair, and soiled garments, and dehant expression, which plainly said, "If you touch me, you will find your match." When he was not absent by truancy, he annoyed her all the day by his rude, noisy manners, his incessant whispering, and by bad behavior-in all sorts of little things.

The regulations of the school were very strict, and the teacher felt obliged to follow the wise man's rule, in the use of the rod, while she gave him faithful admonition for the future. For a while, severe chastisement bad a good effect, but before many weeks, the whip seemed to have lost its terrors; and then, the boy slighted his studies worse than he had ever done. Sometimes, as the teacher stood at the blackboard wholly engaged in explaining a lesson, he would slip slily and silently out of the room. This new trial vexed the lady exceedingly; at first, she appealed to his parents; they chastised him, but failed to prevent the fault. Next, she tried to stimulate him by rewards and encouragements; a gift would please but a day, and then it was given away or destroyed in her presence. She thought of love, as a last resort; but could she love the repulsive child that led others astray?

The lady was a Christian. She had often thought how the love of Christ had been strong to control her own waywardness, and she believed there was power in love to conquer this rebellious boy. She carried the thought to her closet, and begged, for Jesus' sake, a measure of His love, with skill to use it in subduing Walter's heart. The next morning, she went to the school-room with perfect assurance of success in her new plan, despite his home surroundings, and street associations, and long habits of wrong; she could even love the forlorn, disobedient boy for the worth that love would be to him.

Walter came as usual late to his class, his father bringing him angrily in and saying, "I don't know what ails Wal.; I can't get him broke of his truancy!" "I think this time we shall be able to attract him, so he will wish to remain," was the teacher's reply. "I hope so indeed, ma'am," said the nan, "but I fear not; he is too far gone aleady, but I'll leave him this once, and if he on't behave himself, I'll put him into the op to work." As soon as the father had one away the teacher called Walter to her sk.

"Will you tell me," she asked in a ntle manner, "why you run away? Do a know it grieves me very much, can it be ause you dislike your teacher ?" "No, am," said Walter, "I like you well

"Well," said the lady, "would enough." you not much rather have me love you and be glad to see your bright face every morn ing, than to feel as I now must towards a mean boy whom I cannot respect or trust ?" The boy looked up in his teacher's face and exclaimed, "You can't leve me, nobody ever loved me; I can't be a good boy!" "O, Walter," said the teacher, "if you would only try to be good, I would love you in my heart very soon. If my pupils only try to do as well as they can, I love them for try ing; and it is very pleasant then to help them to be good." The boy's eyes had lost their moody expression, and ceased to open and shut so wilfully; they were full of tears as he turned his face slightly aside, and exclaimed again, "I can't be good, I never was good." Then, in another moment, with a softer tone, he added, "But would you love me a little if I should try and not make out?" "Yes, dear boy, indeed I should," said the teacher, "but if you try in earnest you will not fail. And Walter, I will be a good, true friend to you; and, now, whenever you are tempted to do wrong, I want you should think that it grieves me very much." The poor boy, so hardened in wrong-doing, that he felt no one could love him, dropped his

head on his friend's shoulder and sobbed for several minutes. She let him cry awhile, and then she laid her arm gently round him, dirty and ragged as he was, and left on his sunburnt cheek a kind, warm kiss. This was too much for Walter, he answered back in a shower of tears and kisses on the lady's hand. "Can you love me, teacher?" he timidly asked. The teacher took the brown hand he reached out towards her, and with tears gushing from her own eyes, assured him that she loved him and should always love him if he tried to be good, and noble, and honest. And then she told him of love far beyond her own, a love that could die for such as he; she talked to him of Jesus, of His power to save and keep the worst of sinners, until the boy's tears flowed afresh, and he was glad to go to his desk to weep and sob alone. He was not yet quite satisfied; all through the morning session he came frequently to the teacher's desk to ask if it could be he should be loved. "O, if you love me, I can do anything," he would say, as he went back to his seat and opened care. fully the long-neglected books.

would love him if he was good, he never appeared to wish to disobey. She liked flowers, and all the long summer he searched the fields for miles around to place the rarest he could find upon her desk. Once, late in the season, he brought a large ox-eye daisy, saying,

"It is all I can find, may I put it in your vase?" Above the choice verbenas and geraniums it stood, more precious than her sweetest flowers until their every ray had fallen from the desk.

But not alone to Walter was the reward of love for the good it could be to a wayward, needy heart. The teacher was made happier and better in loving, for Christ's sake, one whom no one else had ever loved. Christ's work is like to this, and they who in their little measure love and work for Him, receive a hundred-fold into their own bosoms. The experiment and the faith of love was to the wayward boy perhaps the highest possible gain; to the teacher it was scarcely less, since faith in love had become experience and truth also, which warmed and gladdened and enlarged her heart.

COVET EARNESTLY THE BEST GIFTS. 1 Cor. 12, 31. "IT is related, that at a feast, given to the chief officers of his army, Cyrus presented to some of them costly gifts-to one, a splendid garment, to another, a golden cup; but Chrysantas, his favor ite friend, he merely drew to himself and kissed.

Is it not thus with Him who ruleth in 'the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth ?” To one man, He gives the royal robe of kingly intelligence; to another, the golden cup of pros perity; but to His chosen friends-oftenest found in the vale of poverty-He vouchsafes a portion of His own Spirit, and the most tender, sweet com

munion with Himself."

Selected.

For the Advocate and Guardian BORROWING TROUBLE.

BY KATE CAMERON.

BORROWING, though often convenient and sometimes necessary, frequently leads those concerned into difficulty, but in nothing is this so universally the case as in "borrowing trouble," for which we always have to pay a heavy per cent. of care and anxiety.

or may not come on the morrow? Are we not commanded to "take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself?" and assured that "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof?"

แ

Of what possible benefit to us can it be to ignore the blessings and enjoyment of the present in order that we may brood over our own or others' forebodings of future ill? Why should we close our eyes to the sunshine of Walter was conquered; from that day he was faithful in study and honorable in deport- to-day, while we deplore the storm which may ment; love was the only discipline that had ever done him good, and all that was ever afterward required. He no longer came to the school-room unwashed and uncombed; his father was so delighted with the change in the boy that he provided for him a nice, new suit, and Walter begun to have the ambition and the self-respect of a man. tween the teacher and himself there grew a warm, kind friendship, very useful to the boy and very pleasant to the lady. His great delight seemed to be in obeying all her wishes; from the morning she told him she

Be

This may be a trite theme, but the evil we deprecate is so wide-spread, that we shall be pardoned for raising our feeble voice once and again in remonstrance. We have no charity for this spirit of doubt and distrust-this continual croaking of those who seem to live by borrow. ing trouble. Why should they forever see in the blooming cheek only the precursor of dis

ease and death? Why is every bright day pronounced the forerunner of a storm, and every joyous heart warned that the time of sorrow and darkness is drawing nigh?,

Granted that there is truth in all these assertions, why need they be continually forced upon our remembrance? Is it showing a proper degree of gratitude to an all-wise and beneficient Father, to take His gifts with a careless hand, and instead of thanking Him for the present good, turn with anxious heart to the possibility of coming evil? We know that life has heavy burdens for us all to bear; but is not every yoke fitted to the neck that must wear it, and would any of us, after sober deliberation, exchange our own lot for that of another? Shall we not accept the sorrow with the joy, as part of our needed discipline, and not as a dreaded calamity which overtakes those whose path hitherto has been smooth and flowery?

There must be some bitterness infused into the cup of life, else it would not prove a health-giving tonic, but merely an effervescing draught. Let us consider our trials in this light and thank God for the drops of sweetness that pervade the whole mixture, instead of tasting only the dregs and lamenting their nauseousness. Preaching is easier than practice, and no hand can be so guiltless of the sin we deplore, as to cast the first stone; but we can all, at least, strive against the tendency to cherish anxious forebodings, which is ploughing so many furrows on brows that ought to be fair and smooth, and rendering many a once free, light heart heavy and care-worn. A reform is surely needed here-who will join the crusade against those enemies of humanity, Doubt and Anxiety? And whatever other debts you may contract, pledge yourselves against "borrowing trouble."

A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW.

THE surging sea of human life forever onward rolls

Why prize so much the world's applause, why dread so much its blame?

A fleeting echo is its voice of censure or of fame; The praise that thrills the heart, the scorn that dyes with shame the brow, Will be as long-forgotten dreams a hundred years from now

Earth's empires rise and fall, O Time! like breakers on thy shore,

They rush upon thy rocks of doom, are seen-and seen no more;

The starry wilderness of worlds that gem night's radiant brow,

Will light the skies for other eyes a hundred years from now.

O Thou, before whose sleepless eyes the past and future stand

An open page, like babes we cling to thy protecting land;

Change, sorrow, death, are naught to us if we may safely bow

Beneath the shadow of Thy throne, a hundred years from now.

Selected.

Advocate and Guardian.

NEW YORK, MARCH 1, 1864.

HOW IS THE HOME SUPPORTED?

"It

AN esteemed correspondent writes: has been asserted by some in this section, that your Institution is supported by the state, to the same extent as any of our Orphan or Juvenile Asylums. The friends of your paper, here, would like to know if such are the facts."

We reply, the above assertion is incorrect, as may be seen by any who will refer to the books of the respective institutions. We know not whether all the Orphan Asylums in the state receive an equal amount of pub. lic aid; but from the annual reports of the Juvenile Asylum, it appears that the sum of seventy-five cents per week, for every child

souls;

But though our bark sails bravely on, pale Death sits at the prow,

And few shall know we ever lived a hundred years from now.

Oh! mighty human brotherhood, why fiercely war and strive,

While God's great world has ample space for everything alive?

Broad fields, uncultured and unclaimed, are waiting for the plow

and the same, we are assured, is true of sundry other asylums, both Protestant and Catholic. This, we think, is eminently just, a far wiser outlay for the child than to expend thrice the amount for the youth, whose street education can only prepare him to be cared for at the public expense, in the prison or penitentiary. But with regard to the

dred years from now.

Why should we toil so earnestly in life's short nar. row span,

On golden stairs to climb so high above our brother man?

Why blindly at an earthly shrine our souls in homage bow?

Our gods will rust, ourselves be dust, a hundred years from now.

such stated provision. It has received aid from the state in erecting and canceling a debt upon one of its buildings, also recently a small annual appropriation of about $1000, in common with other charities, deemed worthy of encouragement by our State Legislature. The Institution was founded by the gifts of the benevolent, and has ever de

rived its support mainly from the same source. Those who have thus aided its work of love, have felt that they were privileged in so doing that the results secured in the rescue, protection and saving benefits it has ever given the young and helpless have been a fourfold reward. Above and beyond all human agencies, it owes its support in the past as it must do in the future to the loving favor of the Father of the fatherless. Should this fail all other resources would be unavailing.

WHERE THIEVES BREAK THROUGH
AND STEAL

Ir was an occasion of surpassing interest. On the brow of Olivet, overlooking the great city, with its marts of trade, splendid palaces and hoarded treasures, Jesus sat with His disciples, and the multitude who had gathered to listen to His precious words. "He opened His mouth and taught them." A Teacher learned in the schools of eternity, wiser than all the sons of men-even when the morning stars first sang together-with a heart full of infinite love, how favored were his audience! How forcibly did He impress the lesson, that not the rich, the proud, the gay, but the meek and lowly, the pure in heart, the persecuted for righteousness' sake, alone possess the blessing that gives peace within, the good that endureth, the treasure that fadeth not away. With what paternal kindness did He utter the wise counsel, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust do corrupt and thieves break through and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt and thieves do not break through and steal."

We may lay aside the costliest earthly by moth and rust. Behold yonder dwelling, possession, and how soon is its value marred stored with treasures, choice and rare-gems of beauty, mementoes of departed worth, rich with cherished associations, so pleasant to the sight that selfish thought too often. whispers, "These are all my own, mine to keep and use at will." Night draws its sable curtain. Sleep closes watchful eyes; danger is all forgotten. Stillness reigns throughout the dwelling, when lo, the stealthy tread approaches, the thief enter unperceived, and nothing is too sacred fo his grasp. Presently the repose of the in mates is broken, and they awake to fir their treasures scattered like the leaves autumn, and as they inquire "Where they?" Echo only answers, "Where?"

Now the words of Jesus come back vi

new force, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where thieves break through and steal."

All along down the ages, from the time that these words were spoken to the listeners on Olivet, no city, no large portion of the habitable globe, has been free from the presence of those who break through and steal. Just at present the spirit of robbery seems rampant all abroad. None are wholly secure. Few feel the sense of security that love and confidence would prompt, were entire communities manifestly under the influence of divine grace.

The thief roams at large, the assassin, the criminal of every grade crosses our daily paths, when we know it not. The demon hate, written in lines of blood upon our city streets when riot ruled the hour, is only chained, not annihilated. Was not the tiger unloosed for a little season, that the Christian

heart might feel more sensibly, "Except the Lord keep the city the watchman waketh, but in vain." And, do not the continued developments of human depravity, known and read of all men, show clearly that interests are imperilled of far more value than earthly treasures? Do not moral claims increase and press with mountain weight upon every lover of truth and righteousness, to do with their might what the hands find to do for a race, that though so lost, has been redeemed by precious blood-a world, that though so marred by sin, is yet to be renovated and filled with holiness as the waters cover the sea. The loving words of Jesus are spoken now to every human ear with the same tender earnestness as to His hearers on Mount Olivet, "Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust doth

corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal."

Secure an offered crown, not "starless," but full of gems.

THE METROPOLITAN FAIR.

THE press, secular and religious, is still calling attention to the great Fair to be held in this city during the third and fourth weeks in March. The place selected-Palace Gardens, 14th St., is central, easy of access, and will doubtless attract unprecedented crowds. The object to which the avails of the Fair are to be devoted has the earnest sympathies of every loyal heart and will doubtless bring large results.

This mode of raising funds for the use of the Sanitary Commission has been widely adopted and eminently successful. We regret that in any instance abuses have been allowed, tending to promote immoralities at

"We understand that, notwithstanding all that has been said and done upon the subject, the ladies in charge of the Metropolitan Fair mean to insist upon having raffles to dispose of the larger articles and oí all such as are not sold during the first week. We exceedingly regret this decision, and we are sure its authors will do the same before the thing is ended. One thing we take to be certain. If, after fair notice is given, the law shall be deliberately violated, the aid of its officers will be invoked, and legal proceedings will put a violent stop to the raffle. Surely this is very undesirable. Far better would it be to retrace the steps already taken. The Christian community of New York cannot with safety be defied. The consciences of many of our best people declare that they can in no way countenance what seems to them very gross and injurious immo

rality. Let the managers yield to these per

sons, and they will sustain no loss. It is always safe to do right. Friends will rise up in unexpected quarters. An auction will produce as much as a series of lotteries; and the entire Fair, instead of being a source of heartburning, mortification, and shame, will be, we doubt not, honest and honorable, and at the same time a mighty success. Surely it would be a great pity, were pride of opinion, or any personal consideration to be allowed to interfere with such a happy consummation."

A strong protest has also been published, signed by the leading clergymen of the city, taking ground that cannot fail to enlighten public sentiment, and exert an abiding and salutary influence. The editor of a leading daily, in referring to this protest, says:

"We do most heartily thank those of our city clergymen whose united protest against every species of gambling at our approaching Great Fair has probably secured their rejection.

We know that raffing might be made productive; but so might many other vicious indulgences. The managers might doubtless sell high the privilege of keeping a faro bank throughout their Fair in a favorable location. A free Concert Saloon, with a liberal supply of pretty waiter girls, would draw. Then, a couple of pugilists could bring in a good deal of money by undertaking to break each other's heads and make a jelly of each other's faces on public exhibition at the Fair, &c., &c. You don't like pugilism, perhaps, but there are thousands who do; and their money is as good as yours—their vices, perhaps, no worse. What right have you to proscribe theirs and extenuate yours? Again we thank the clergymen who have insisted that our Great Fair shall not be rendered a great moral nuisance by the consent and connivance of its managers.

We presume some will stay away whom gambling 'for the love of God' would have attracted; and of course many will be missed that might have been secured. But, on the other hand, tens of thousands will give to and work for a Fair that they may take their children to attend without shame or remorse, who would neither help nor attend a raffling Fair. We don't say so much money will be obtained without as with gambling; but the case is not free from doubt; and we prefer the cleaner aggregate, even though it should at the same time

be smaller.

We know that persons have been so shamed and conscience-smitten on a calin review of their participation in raffling Fairs, that they have shunned all Fairs thenceforth for years. We hope to meet many of these at our approaching Sanitary Fair.

The poor of this City-and especially the colored poor-are largely kept in poverty, ignorance and want by the 'lottery' and 'policy' shops. Some of them have squandered on these a third of their earnings for the last twenty years. Ought those who know better to so act as to encourage and uphold this meanest form of outlawed swindling?"

SITTING IN DARKNESS.

THE darkness of doubt. Many an inquir ing soul has secret struggles with distracting doubts which it does not breathe into another's ear. Pray for such, that God, by His wise discipline, will teach them of His ways, till they delight to walk in His paths. The Son of God Himself was many days tempted of the adversary ere He entered upon His public ministry, and many an heir of salvation has passed through a like fiery ordeal ere his great life-work was placed in his hands.

"Be still and trust!
For His are strokes of love
Thou must for thy profit bear;
He thy filial love would move;
Trust thy Father's loving care,
Be still, and trust!"

"Sitting in the darkness" of bereavement; Cherished ones are gone from the household ⚫ circle; the staff, the solace, the light, the joy, are taken away. The heavens seem shroud ed in gloom, the earth mocks at our pain, music grows dissonant, why should any rejoice?

Yet new joys come, sorrow slowly gives way to gratitude for remaining and new mercies, and up to the home where we trust our loved ones are gone, our thoughts turn oftener, "For where the treasure is, there the heart will be also." And there was hope in their death; thank God for that.

"Sitting in darkness!" Isolated from the busy scenes of life, the invalid in her darkened room, hears only faint echoes of the strife of life without. What would she not give to have the priceless boon of health and strength restored to her. Only those can tell who have been racked by pain, or made helpless through weakness. Do such mourn that they cannot actively serve God? They can never know, how in the esteem of their friends, their patient endurance honors their faith and their God.

"Sitting in the darkness" of poverty, wretchedness, crime. Oh! what a fearful union of sorrows. See that household where the father or mother, or both are drunkards. The children beg their bread from door to door. Their house is no home; there is no comfort there, no rest. Such places are the nurseries of crime; theft, lying, profanity, drunkenness, forgetfulness of God are there; and there Satan finds tools ready made for his service. From the street to the stationhouse, thence to the Tombs, court-room, penitentiary, prison; such are some of the resting-places of the vagrant. Oh! rescue these, and lead them unto wisdom's pleasant ways and peaceful paths.

"Sitting in darkness; " for the husband, for the greed of gain, has, oh! so deliberately, taken the life of a fellow-man; brought keenest sorrows to another's hearth-stone, broken heartedness to his wife, and taken from his child the shield, the honor of a father's unstained name.

"In darkness," for a daughter, young and fair, has bartered away her innocence, her happiness, for shame and sorrow, or worse, grown reckless and shameless, leads a life of infamy. Alas! that such a thing can be.

A few days since we saw "somebody's daughter" leaning heavily on a policeman's arm, as together they came down one of our fashionable avenues. "Is she drunk?" were the words that passed from lip to lip of those who scanned the pair. She was fair, had a

high, open brow, was well dressed; but her gait was unsteady, her hair had fallen down over her shoulders. We would gladly have detected some sign of pain. or grief that could thus affect her; but, no, her head did not droop as it would beneath such a burden, but her uplifted face wore that indescribable, halfconscious, half-vacant air one recognizes but too well. We whispered to each other, "She must be drunk," and watched until we saw them enter the station-house, pityingnot herself alone. God grant, that with returning consciousness, there may come thoughts which shall turn her feet from the downward path they were treading.

A few moments before, we had seen a youth, of seventeen summers perhaps, led into the same place. We wondered if anybody loved and cared for him, and then we thought of one we had seen in prison, who had been there two weary years and had three more to stay. "My mother died too young for "She used to take me my good," he said. to Sunday-school and church, but when she died, I had to look out for myself. My older brother was an apprentice, and he undertook to take care of my younger brother. I was tossed here and there among the rich and the poor, and I learned all manner of 'dodges." I left off going to church and Sunday-school, and here I am; many and many a time I would have killed myself had I dared, but I dared not die. It had seemed as though I should go mad, shut up in my weary cell, all the dreary night long."

Oh! sin, how wretched are thy captives! Oh! Satan, what fearful wages dost thou give thy servants. Arch deceiver, art thou still as thou wert in paradise, and now, as then, dost thou lure thy listeners, by fair promises of good, to a living death.

"Sitting in darkness!" Such there are who have never heard of the everlasting Father, of the sanctifying Spirit, who breathes upon the soul the spirit of adoption; of our Elder Brother, who loved us and gave Him self a ransom for us.

Oh! ye light-bearers of the world, ye disciples of Christ, feed with holy and unfailing oil of divine grace the lamps in your hands. Bear them aloft, that many whose feet are stumbling upon the dark mountains of death, may see and be saved. Freely have ye received of God's mercies, freely give."

ANOTHER chapter on East Tennessee will close the series. The painful experience of the writer concentrates her thoughts upon points where she has witnessed most

Amy Carr. By CAROLINE CHESEBORO. New York: M. W. Dodd. 1864.

A very attractive and useful volume, which the young will read and remember; they may

also find through its teachings one lesson inscribed on the conscience, viz., the value of truth and uprightness, a pure heart and spotless reputation.

Orient Boston: Am. Tract Society. New York: J. G. Broughton.

A beautiful little book, narrating the circumstances of the conversion to Christ of one whose parents did not feel the need of cleansing by His precious blood; her persecution for her new faith and hope, and her rapid pro gress in the divine life during the two remaining years of her earthly stay.

The Two Brothers, and the Two Paths. By the Rev. P. B. POWER, author of "The Last Shilling, &c." New York: Robert Carter & Brothers.

This story traces the courses of two brothers, one of whom was always loved, honored and trusted; the other, lured by a wicked man to sin and shame, at last, through God's abounding mercy, was restored repentant to his brother's home, but only to die brokenhearted.

An exceedingly instructive story completes this volume, entitled, "Mr. Clipstick's Clock: What it made him think about the Old Year,

and what it made him do in the New One."