and pains, of diligence and devotion, would have an ample reward.

An early habit of prompt obedience by the children, is universally admitted to be one of the most important in family government; and yet it is comparatively rare. Perhaps the parent lays down a law unnecessarily strict, and has not the heart to enforce it; or he issues a threat as a mere bugbear, and then fails to inflict it; or he acts capriciously, and is indulgent or severe, not according as the child has acted, but according to his own temper or inclination at the time; or he scolds and corrects his children while out of temper himself, and without considering to what extent the children deserve correction. It cannot be too forcibly impressed on parents, that the value or efficacy of correction depends mainly on the spirit in which it is administered. If you scold or chastise your children while out of temper, you cannot but lead them to think that it is a mere piece of revenge for a personal injury. Your furious blows, in that case, will either break their spirit or produce a thirst for revenge-they cannot nourish affecionate obedience. Human nature rebels against selfish despotism, whether exercised by a royal or a domestic tyrant. It is essential to the success of parental as of kingly authority, that it be, not selfish, but benevolent. In families, as elsewhere, selfishness defeats its own end. The way to hit the mark of happiness, is to aim above it. The head of a family, who regulates his domestic affairs with a selfish regard to his own comfort only, will miserably miss his aim; while he who aims at the good of all his household, will make sure of his own happiness besides. "He that saveth his life shall lose it; he that loseth his life shall save it."

To these hints let us add the importance of parents showing themselves on all occasions deeply impressed by whatever they try to press on their children. No child can be expected to become a lover of truth who sees truth violated by the parents. No child can be expected to grow up with a deep sense of the importance of religion who sees no family altar, no domestic devotion, at home. It is emphatically true of parents, "If they know these things, happy are they if they do them."

We take for grauted that, in a well-ordered family, the father will make a point, on ordinary occasions, of spending the evening at home, and that after a portion of it is spent in instructing his children, helping them with their lessons, and guiding the family devotions, he may have a little space left for his own improvement. If that time is spent in reading, let healthful and profitable books be sought after. It might be of vast importance for him to try to master one or more of those sciences which are kindred to his occupation: a knowledge of mechanics, architecture, geology, or chemistry, might help very materially to advance him in his profession. Let him beware of closing the day or exhausting his strength without a draught from the fountain of sacred truth. Let him remember that

personally he has to do with God. Happy will he be, if his last act at night, and first in the morning, be to wash by faith in that fountain from which each sinner comes forth a pardoned and a purified

man!

"PAY HERE!"

As I passed the entrance to a theatre, a splendid placard in capital letters struck my eye, with the above inscription. Another and another theatre, as I passed them in my rambles, had the same words, inviting the attention of all beholders.

Those two words struck my eye; but they went

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further they went into my heart. They set many thoughts in motion. I must record some of them, so as to pay here, and in this way, for the instruction these words afforded me.

What's to pay here? This is a house so large and so costly, and visited by so many people, surely there must be something to pay here. And I was the more convinced of that when, soon after, I saw in a newspaper notice of the theatre, that police-officers were in attendance. Something must be going on when such officials are kept ready on hand. And I had read, moreover, that the trustees of a splendid theatre publicly protested against an order of the City Council forbidding liquors to be sold on the premises, on the ground that it was impossible to support the theatre without it. The miserable loafers that crowd the PIT-no farce in so emphatic a name—and the wantons that swarm in the gallery, and the throngs of all this assures me there must be something to pay more refined lovers of pleasure who fill the boxes

in such a house.

"Pay Here!" Pay for what? You pay for the opportunity of misspending precious time. Those hours-and how many of them are sacrificed in a year by the patrons of the theatre-those precious hours, to what advantage they might have been turned in reference to fitting one for the great duties and responsibilities of immortal beings!

You pay for the opportunity of having the base

passions of the heart set on fire. If, in repulse of flat"Take care of tery, the godly Whitefield could say, your fire, I have got powder about me," ordinary men may emphatically say so in reference to other passions in addition to pride. But it is the work of the theatre to provide sparks for these combustibles. How many, as they have found the unquenchable fire beginning to glare upon them on their dying bed, have cursed the places that said "Pay Here," for a share in the work of fitting them for eternal burnings!

You pay for searing the conscience. There is little enough of conscience in our world at best-little enough where every wise and energetic agency is But here is an employed to give it life and power. agency most admirably adapted to rob it of power. It has been abundantly tried, and has never been known to fail. A few shillings expended here will aid you most powerfully in the work of deadening your moral sensibilities. The whole apparatus of the theatrical system works most successfully in this direction. The imagination is inflamed-the passions are set on fire-the mind's moral discernment is

blinded, and, as a certain consequence, conscience is

benumbed.

So, ye flaming capitals, ye must blaze more brightly ere ye make me a victim.

bones and heads besides.

One has only to think of the matchless effrontery and defiance of all historical credibility involved in such lists of relics, to understand the close connexion that usually subsists between Popery and infidelity. It is, in the nature of things, impossible that any really enlightened and cultivated mind-a mind in any measure acquainted with the course of events in the past, and accustomed to weigh the probabilities | of things can believe in the reality of many of these

ROMANISM AS IT EXISTS IN ROME.

(Concluded from p. 78.)

WE must pass, however, from this topic to another, which is also fruitful of inscriptions-the sacred reliques. Papists in this country have usually shown a disposition to throw a veil over the subject of reliques; some have prudently omitted it altogether in giving an account of the Catholic faith; and others have endeavoured to misrepresent its real nature. But there can be no doubt, that, according to the doctrine of the Church, the reliques of the saints are entitled to receive religious honour and respect, and that God has wrought, and still works many miracles by them. For satisfactory proof of this we need go no further than the inscriptions at Rome. One, for example, on the pedestal of a column in St Peter's in the chapel of The Pieta, thus speaks: "This is that column against which our Lord Jesus Christ leant while he preached to the people, and poured forth prayers to God in the temple, and stood leaning against it with others standing around. From the temple of Solomon (the temple of Solomon indeed when did our Lord appear there?) to the temple of this Basilica, here it was placed. It expels demons, and liberates those vexed by unclean spirits, and performs many miracles daily. By the very reverend prince and lord, the Lord Cardinal Orsini, A. d. 1438."

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But the most remarkable things under this head, are the kinds of reliques which the inscriptions assert to belong to particular Churches. To say nothing of the more common sort, which almost every Church seems to possess, such as a part of the cross, a thorn of Christ's crown, and other things connected with the crucifixion, one boasts of having "the finger of St Thomas the apostle, with which he touched the most holy side of our Lord Jesus Christ after his resurrection ;" one bottle of the most precious blood of our Lord Jesus Christ;""the stone on which stood the angel when he announced the great mystery of the incarnation;" with bits of a great many other sacred stones; "of the manna with which God fed the Hebrew people in the desert;" "a portion of the rod of Aaron," &c. Another possesses "the great toe of the foot of St Mary Magdalen; of the milk of the blessed Virgin Mary; of the thorns, and the sponge," &c. Another is rich in garments:-" Of the garment without a seam of our Lord Jesus Christ (alas! for the holy coat of Treves, so often, and so lately, proclaimed to be the veritable seamless garment); of the napkin with which our Lord wiped the feet of his disciples; of the clothes in which the Lord Jesus was wrapped at the nativity." Another, again, is rich in pieces of sacred flesh; for, among other valuable possessions, the list of relics over the high altar in St John Lateran, contains the following:-" Part of the arm of St Helen, mother of Constantine;""a finger of St Catharine of Sienna, virgin;" part of the brain of St Vincent of Paul;" "of the blood and interior of St Philip Neri;" "part

sider them to be of any inherent value, if possessed. And when the heads of the Romish Church are thus found, publicly and authoritatively, accrediting such gross and impudent fabrications, what is more natural than for the cultivated classes to extend their distrust | to the very substance of religion, and to regard the whole as a cunningly devised fable?

But there are many other things of a collateral kind, well fitted to deepen the impression which the consideration now mentioned must inevitably raise; and we are confident, that if a person were shut up to the inscriptions of Rome as the source from which he was to receive his religious impressions, he would' be reduced to one of two alternatives: he must either abjure the use of reason, and sink into the condition of a devout idiot, or, living still in the possession and exercise of reason, he must take up, in regard to Popery, the position of a sceptic. There is a set of paintings hung up in some of the churches of Rome with public inscriptions attached, bearing the stamp of pontifical authority, which ascribe them to St Luke the Evangelist; while these pictures, in the style of art, are so palpably at variance with that of the earlier ages, that Lanzi, in his famous work on painting, does not hesitate to declare then the productions of other times and other hands, and even says that the old opinion has now "its followers only among the vulgar." But what, then, becomes of the veracity of Mother Church and papal infallibility? The inscriptions on some of the images equally belong to the incredible. One, for example, in the Lateran Basilica, declares that "in the chapel of St Lawrence, at Sancta Sanctorum, is preserved the true image of the most blessed Saviour, not made by hands." (In a wooden tablet hung over the left hand grating through which one looks into this chapel, with its sacred treasure, there is also this prayer:-" Excite, we beseech thee, O Lord! our hearts to thy love and the fervour of faith, that through the most holy image of the Saviour of the world, which we piously venerate upon earth, and through the merits of the saints, whose bodies and relics are in the most sacred chapel, we may deserve to serve thee with purified minds, through the same Christ our Lord. Amen." Does this look as if "an idol were nothing" at Rome?) Of the same description is a great deal that is said of the statues of the Virgin, which seem to exist in marvellous profusion. So late even as 9th July 1846, there is the following entry in the Diario at Rome:-"The patronage of the most holy Virgin. In memory of the wonderful movement of the eyes observed in many of her images in the year 1796." Nor should the singular picture be omitted, which contains, according to the inscription, "the true measure of the foot of the blessed Mother of God, taken from her real shoe," and with which is connected 300 years of indulgence to every one "that shall kiss this measure, and at the same time recite three Ave Marias."

As for the worship paid to Mary at these images, we might defy the votaries of Rome to produce any thing from the annals of the heathen city more palpably and flagrantly idolatrous. Thus, at the

corner of the convent of St Sylvestro in Capite, under her image is written, "Lady, save thy people," precisely as ancient Rome would have written under an image of Mars, or Athens under that of Minerva. A prayer is attached to the rails of the chapel of St Maria, as consoler of the afflicted, which contains the following:-"I salute you, O most holy Virgin Mary! mother of God, queen of heaven, gate of paradise, mistress of the world. Deliver me from all evils and afflictions of the soul and body. Make me to acquire the merits of the works of mercy. Receive me after my death into heaven, and make me to enjoy with you, for ever, the glory of paradise." Mr Percy also tells us, that small tracts are constantly circulated at Rome, containing prayers to the Virgin, of which the following are specimens:-O Maria! give you my eyes, my tongue, my hands, all myself. Guard me, O dear Mother! this night, and protect me as a thing of your own." "Mother, behold the extreme danger of thy children. Mother, who can effect all, have pity on us."

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The inscriptions connected with holy water are also of a very marvellous and instructive nature. Its uses are declared at length in a framed printed paper, "which was hung up over the holy water-pots in the churches of S. Carlo at Corso, and S. S. Apostoli.' These uses are both spiritual and corporeal. Of the former, there are no fewer than eight. "It expels demons from places and creatures; it gives great aid against fears and diabolic fantasms; it cancels venial sins; it gives force to resist temptations and occasions of sinning; it places in security from the internal and external snares which the devil devises against us; it calls down fervour, and the presence of the holy Spirit; it prepares the human mind so that it may better employ itself in the divine services, and more worthily receive the holy sacraments." Its corporeal uses are, that "it affords a remedy to the sterility of man and beast; it preserves from diseases; it heals the infirmities of the mind and the body; it purges infected air, drives away pestilence and contagion.' It is with this holy water that horses used to be blest at the church of St Antonio with a prayer, that they "might be preserved in body, and be freed from all evil through the intercession of the blessed Anthony." But we cannot enlarge further. Enough surely has been produced to convict Rome, out of her own mouth, of some of the worst things that her adversaries have alleged of her superstition and idolatry. Enough also to prove, that as her creed and practices were the offspring of the dark ages, when a blind faith was in the ascendant, Scripture little known, and reason but rarely exercised; so they can only retain their place in the veneration of men while the human mind exists in a state of infancy or dotage. What may be the ultimate effect of the present commotions in the " Eternal City," it would be rash at present to conjecture; but we have no doubt, if the light of reason and of Scripture continues for any length of time to be let in upon its dwellings, Mr Percy, or some future investigator, will erelong find not a few of the inscriptions removed, and others obliterated, as no longer suited to the age.

ON TAKING A FLY FROM A SPIDER'S
NEST.

Poor little giddy, fluttering thing!
Keep still thy light transparent wing;
Thy fluttering drives thee further in
Th' entangling knot;
Alas! thou feel'st the bitte ting
By folly got.

Ah! see from out his silken shed
The spider darts with eager speed,
Whilst thou with fear art almost dead,
And still dost lie;

Ah! now he fastens 'neath thine head,
And must thou die?

There:-take again thy liberty,

But still to pleasures thou wilt flee, And soon again, I fear, 'twill be

Thy overthrow:

A grateful buz thou givest me,
And warning too.

Thus youth rush on in pleasure's round,
And in its sunshine frisk and bound,
Nor heed the cobwebs hung around
With mischief fraught,

Nor till too late the truth is found,
So often taught.

Time's Telescope.

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THE DOCTRINE OF CONSEQUENCES. WE find it as a fact, under the government of God, that enormous and irremediable consequences flow from momentary and apparently trivial deeds. The pottage is eaten the birthright irretrievably gone. This vast reach of consequences is a fact which we see and know, and cannot deny. A person's whole earthly destiny, so far as destroying himself is concerned, turns often on a very small thing. It takes time to build up a character; you can pull it down in a moment. One has got to earn it with the sweat of long and weary years; he can blast it with a single short breath-an act is committed, and there is suffering for it to the end. This law does not stop with this world; according to the dictates of reason, and the teachings of scripture, it extends to all worlds and all states.

Wherever God reigns, this law of pregnant and mighty consequences reigns, and works out its joyous or its terrible issues.

There is a man who runs his short career of utter selfishness-lives to himself-seeks his own: he does

it lawfully, does it reputably, so far as human law and usage is concerned. But it is all contrary to the law of God-the great statute of heaven. Here, it is a little life-a brief pursuit of that forbidden kind; there, the consequences swell and roll on disastrously, immeasurably, eternally. Take another man who lives a life of pleasure-a lover of pleasure rather than of God, Though he pleases himself, gratifies his passions, he does it lawfully—is guilty of no vio-|| lation of social proprieties, no encroachment upon the rights or interests of others. But that law of his Maker-his whole course was against that. He gratified himself; he rebelled against God. But it was a short career; it did not amount to much-looks paltry and worthless in the retrospect: the weight, however, in the other scale, there is no reckoning it -the reach and vastness of the disaster in the future. state, there is no compassing it. Try and think of the disproportion: a microscopic speck here-an absolute infinity there. So it is. So the divine word declares. The light shed by this word reveals the

THE BACKSLIDER RECLAIMED BY FAITHFUL REPROOF.

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urged on with his present haste. As soon as he had overtaken me he checked his horse, and immediately, from the abundance of his heart, accosted me upon that great subject which I so much dreaded to hear announced. I felt very uneasy, manifested disgust, and endeavoured to change the topic of conversation. He noticed my aversion to the subject, but still persisted in his appeals to my conscience. More than once did I resolve to restrain my exasperated feel

"At the time of my supposed conversion, I had great religious enjoyments. Duty was a pleasure. Light and joy accompanied all my movements. I wondered at the stupidity and the unfaithfulness of others. I felt as though temptation would never overcome me, or difficulties obstruct my onward career. I thought I should constantly grow in grace, overcome with ease every opposing obstacle, convince sinners in multitudes of their danger, and sail over an unbroken sea of success to heaven. Soon, however, God taught me the folly of my calculations. Trials came; opportunities of gain were presented. The necessities of my family made their appeal; fashion, pride, selfishness, all put in their claims. I suffered my attention to be distracted, and my affections became insensibly enlisted in unholy pursuits. I became less watchful. The Scriptures, in which I had taken so great delight, were occasionally neglected. My cares became so numerous and press ing that I sometimes omitted the duty of secret devotion. Family worship at length was substituted in its room, and the closet neglected; even this duty was sometimes omitted, and almost always most superficially and shamefully discharged. The light of God's countenance forsook me; the sun of my religious enjoyment went down; a long and dreadful night succeeded. The world imparted no pleasure; conscience upbraided and the neglected Bible reproached me. Every day reminded me of my declension; the Sabbath overawed and distressed me; the ministers whom I occasionally heard seemed to direct against me all their warnings and all their exhortations, with a painful personality; my Christian companions, I thought, viewed me with suspicion; my business did not prosper. The company of the wicked I could not relish, the conversation of the righteous I could not endure. In society I was wretched, in solitude I was tormented by my own reflections. Every thing conspired to render my condition almost intolerable; even my own wife, and the children whom I loved, looked at me strangely. Dreadful suggestions were occasionally urged upon my tortured mind; temptations to renounce God for ever were frequently presented, until I shivered all over with horror.

"One afternoon, while in this state of mind, I was riding alone to the little village in which I resided, hating myself, loathing the world, murmuring against God-understanding my duty, and yet unwilling to reform. I discovered, at some distance behind me, a gentleman of my acquaintance, from a neighbouring town. Knowing him as a very active Christian, I feared, if he overtook me, he would attempt a conversation upon the subject of religion. This purpose I was determined to defeat. My first suggestion was, to hasten on with all possible speed to the place of my destination, and thus distance my pursuer. Upon a second thought, I concluded this would appear very indecorous; I therefore determined to move along slowly, hoping the gentleman might be

pany was not desired, and that his conversation was by no means agreeable; but he seemed intent upon his undertaking. I respected the man; I was myself a member of the Church, and therefore I was constrained to listen and acknowledge: and I revered my companion the more for the contrast which I now observed between his feelings and my own. We now were approaching near the village. At this time there was no church nor stated preaching in the place, and only a few Christian people resided in the vicinity. My companion proposed to remain with me during the night, and, in the evening, to collect the people for purposes of prayer and religious improvement. To me no proposition would have been more unacceptable. I made all the objections I could devise. It was now late in the day-the people had not been accustomed to assemble for such purposes it would be difficult to circulate the noticebut few would assemble; all these, and many other objections of a similar character, were raised. Still he insisted upon the meeting. I yielded a reluctant consent, still hating the importunity of my friend. We went to my dwelling, sent out notice of the meeting, took some refreshment, and prepared for the place of worship. During all this time my devoted companion, from the fulness of his soul, continued the language of Canaan. My own feelings, as he proceeded, began gradually to soften; I listened with more attention, and relented a little; I began to regret the unholy aversions I had manifested; the faithfulness of my friend became less distressing; my sensibilities were awakened; till at length reproof was received with pleasure-self-abhorrence became a joy-repentance was a luxury. I confessed, submitted, and rejoiced. I felt that the righteous had smitten me, and it was a kindness-an excellent oil, which did not break my head. I consecrated myself afresh and for ever to the service of God. The light of his countenance returned-joy was restored. We went in tears to the place of worship; found it crowded with waiting and anxious hearers; and sung, prayed, confessed, and exhorted, until propriety required us to dismiss the congregation; but the people were unwilling to depart-the Holy Ghost was there, sinners were anxiously inquiring what they should do for salvation, and the hearts of God's people were powerfully affected. A revival of religion commenced at this meeting, which resulted in the hopeful conversion of many souls, the organization of a Church, and the establishment of the gospel ministry."

Many years had now intervened, but Deacon Dstill felt most sensibly the impulse he received from the faithfulness of his importunate companion during that interview, which had so remarkably broken up his slumbers, and restored to him the light of God's countenance. He exhorted us most feelingly, in view of this history of his own backsliding, to put no trust in ourselves-to take heed lest we fall when we think ourselves secure; and in view of the blessing of God on the faithfulness of his friend, he urged us to persevere in our efforts to awaken our brethren, however far they might have declined, or however repulsive might be their deportment.-The Home Missionary.