object itself, which only gratifies one. This provision is at once wise and beneficent, for it secures to man those things which are essential in a fallen world. Individuals, according to the object of their ambition, have levers of various dimensions; but every lever will be found too short, which does not elevate the soul to God. Every hope of happiness will prove fallacious, but Jesus the Hope of glory. The Christian's hope is the only hope which maketh not ashamed. What a powerful lever is this hope! Archimedes boasted that if he had a lever long enough, and a fulcrum to rest it on, he could raise the world: but this (a far greater achievement) can overcome the world!-'The hope of the world vanishes just when hope is most needed. They who have made gold, pleasure, fame, talent, the object of their affections, have nothing to console them in the hour of affliction and peril. Their hope has perished because it was placed on the things that perish.

Sanctified learning, and that hallowed taste which delights in the works of God, sees him in all, and loves him in all, are great blessings, and will never be undervalued, except by narrow minds, or by those who, not having enjoyed similar advantages, cannot appreciate them. But learning however profound, taste however exquisite, unaccompanied by the knowledge of a Redeemer, and a reliance upon him, will be found miserable comforters in the hour of trial. The Christian, on the contrary, can rejoice in tribulation, and, when suffering deeply, can comfort others with the comfort wherewith he himself is comforted of God: he has a strong consolation; he has fled for refuge and laid hold upon the hope set before him, "which hope is as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast, and which entereth into that within the veil." He can say with assured confidence, " I know that my Redeemer liveth;" " I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day."

The following sweet thoughts of an old poet on the subject of hope, are appropriate verses.

Hope hath a harvest in the spring,
In winter doth of summer sing,
Feeds on the fruits when blossoming,

Yet nips no bloom.

Hope brings me home when I'm abroad;
Soon as the first step homeward's trod,
In hope, to thee, my God! my God!

I come, I come.

A

A. H.

Teate.

TRIALS OVERRULED TO PURIFY THE HEART.

It was, (and perhaps still is,) the custom with manufacturers to adopt a somewhat remarkable process for clearing away the downy fibres of cotton that covered the surface of the cloth. Every part of it was brought into actual contact with a cylinder of red hot iron: but so rapidly, that the fabric itself sustained not the least injury. The alteration effected was merely in the removal of those unsightly films, which took away so much beauty from the piece.

Have we not in this process an emblem of the manner in which our heavenly Father frequently deals with his children? He wishes to make them more conformed to his will, in the removal of sin, and the increase of spirituality. They are therefore submitted to the flame of affliction and sorrow but so gently, and in such beautiful exactness of measure, that they are chastened but not killed, purified but not consumed. They are put into the furnace, to separate them from the dross of some besetting defilement: but the refiner sits over it, with the most tender vigilance; and attempers the flame, that they may be able to bear it. The form of Him who walks with them, is the form of the Son of God. And when, in the fulness of time, he saith, "Ye servants of the most high God, come forth, and come hither," they are found, safe, unharmed, and happy, like those believers of the captivity, upon whose bodies the fire had no power; nor was a hair of their head singed; neither were their coats changed; nor the smell of fire had passed upon them.

MY OWN ROOM.

B.

How precious this little sanctuary is to every Christian cannot be fully set forth. There are no associations more tender, more affecting, than those which we have with our own chamber. With them is interwoven our individual and spiritual history, for no where have we so often communed with our God; no where have we so felt the nothingness of life, the awfulness of judgment, the nearness of death, and the realities of a world to come: no where have we so sweetly experienced the joys of God's salvation, the presence of a Saviour giving songs in the night, and praise in the morning. In seasons, too, of trouble, grief has seemed less, when once the door has closed on our retirement; to weep alone, and to pray alone, unseen by every eye but an eye of mercy, is indeed a blessing, a blessing many feel and acknowledge, but not sufficiently; wealth purchases comforts and luxuries, but not gratitude, and ingratitude springs from inconsiderateness. The poor frequently have no little sanctuary, no sacred privacy to which they can withdraw; they must kneel in a crowded room amidst many witnesses, and cannot even weep unobserved, except on their pillows.

Let us then be thankful that we have, like the prophet, a little chamber on the wall, to which we can retire for meditation, prayer, and praise. And let us remember it as a mercy from our God, and say, as Elisha did to the Shunamite, "Thou hast been careful for us with all this care." What

shall we render unto thee for all thy benefits?

NEVER PROCRASTINATE.

A H.

"YOU WILL please not to forget to ask the place for me, sir," said a pale blue-eyed boy, as he brushed the coat of the man of leisure at his lodgings.

" Certainly not," said Mr. I. "I shall be going that way in a day or two."

"Did you ask for the place for me yesterday?" said the pale boy on the following day, with a quivering lip, as he performed the same office.

"No," was the answer. "I was busy; but I will to-day." "Heaven help my poor mother," murmured the boy, and gazed listlessly on the penny Mr. I- laid in his hand.

The boy went home. He ran to the hungry children with the loaf of bread he had earned by brushing the gentlemen's coats at the inn. They shouted with joy, and his mother held out her emaciated hand for a portion, while a sickly smile flitted across her face.

"Mother, dear," said the boy, "Mr. I thinks he can get me the place, and I shall have three meals a day-only think, mother, three meals! and it won't take me three minutes to run home and share them with you."

The morning came, and the pale boy's voice trembled with earnestness as he asked Mr. I- if he had applied for the place.

"Not yet," said the man of leisure, "but there is time enough."

The penny that morning was wet with tears. Another morning arrived.

" It is very thoughtless in the boy to be so late," said Mr. I-. "Not a soul here to brush my coat."

The child came at length, his face swollen with weeping. "I am sorry to disappoint you," said the man of leisure, " but the place in Mr. C-'s shop was filled yesterday."

The boy stopped brushing, and burst afresh into tears. "I care not now," said he, sobbing; "we may as well starve. Mother is dead."

The man of leisure was shocked, and he gave the boy a

crown.

S. R.

FITNESS FOR MARRIED LIFE. '

To married life all young women are tending, at least in expectation. A fitness to fulfil the peculiar duties of married life should compose a part of your present education. I mention this subject, not to pander to a foolish affectation. I mention it as a minister of God. I find that it is made my duty to do so in the Bible. The institution of marriage is of God. So should it be regarded. All young women, I suppose, expect to be married, and will be very much disappointed if they are not. I regard the solemnization of marriage as one of the most momentous events that can ranspire. Not even the burial of the dead has any greater solemnity or impressiveness to my mind. It involves the fate of many. And it deserves a more calm and serious and thoughtful consideration than it generally receives. You are not to rush into its obligations as a horse rusheth into battle. You are to regard marriage as the great event in your life, and prepare for it accordingly. All other things, and all other events, are lost in this. Hear me, then, I entreat you, upon this matter.

You have already decided in your mind what you would regard as indispensable in a husband: are you what a wife should be? You wish to be happy in married life: are you qualified to make others so? Have you those qualifications and those accomplishments, and that fitness which will adorn your fireside and induce your husband to praise your virtues? In the opinion of many, all that is requisite to enter that state in which so much of the good and evil of life is to be gathered, is to be familiar with some of the lighter and more showy attractions of life. To talk a little French, perform well on the piano, be acquainted with the last novel, know the shade of the silk and the precise width of the ribbon worn at the levee of Queen Victoria, or at the Tuilleries, is the fulness of preparation. I have no controversy with such knowledge and such attractions. But I ask you, as rational beings, will such acquisitions alone make home happy? Will they aid you in the new and strange duties of your household? Those duties at best will try your disposition; and if you know them not, confusion, mortification, regret, and tears will overwhelm, but not relieve you. Secure the more useful, then will the brilliant be a garland of grace about your person. And those showy accomplishments to gain which thousands have been expended, fortunes sacrificed, and years of the most precious portion of life consumed, fade in a day before the real duties of life. And those educated in ignorance of what is before them, are victims to excessive cruelty. Through a mistaken kindness, daughters are doomed to a bondage the most servile. They become a prey to the rapacity of servants, exposed to their impertinence, and dependent upon their caprice. The drudgery of domestic life need not be done. To other hands the absolute toil may be committed: but every young woman should know how to act and what to do. A commodore of a ship-of-war need not load or discharge his guns, but he should know how to direct. In the storm he need not stand at the helm, but he should understand navigation, and be able to take an observation. He need not, in the gale, climb to the topmast, but he ought to know the ropes in the ship, and be able to give the right word and direct others in their toil.

I cannot resist the conclusion that the domestic education of our females is wrong. The evils that flow from the system now prevalent, may be learned from those who suffer the most from it. Your acquaintances who are settled in life can tell you, that they find little time to paint or embroider : the piano is seldom opened; and while many of them are chained down by a despotism they cannot control, such will assure you, that had they, in early life, given more attention to those duties which they are now called upon to perform in domestic life-duties which, in importance, increase year by year-they would have been far happier as wives, and as mothers better qualified. The young woman who would blush to have it known that she is at the head of her household, and has ability to direct all its concerns, mistakes the true dignity of her sex, and throws from her that which will secure to her a commanding influence. Rev. M. H. Smith.