worked at a distance, and only returned on Saturday night, bringing home the scanty subsistence for his family for the week; terrified by the fate of the neighbouring family, moved by the fondest love for her children, and determined not to communicate the disease to them, she formed the heroic resolution of leaving her home and going elsewhere to die. Having locked them into a room, and sacrificed to their safety even the last sad comfort of a parting embrace, she ran down the stairs, carrying with her the sheet and coverlid, that she might leave no means of infection; she then closed the outer door, and hastened away. The eldest child, hearing the door shut, went to the window, and seeing her running from the house, cried out: "Good-bye, mother," in a voice so tender, that she involuntarily stopped; "Good-bye, mother," repeated the younger child, stretching its little head out of the window; thus was the afflicted poor mother compelled, for a time, to endure the dreadful conflict between the yearnings which called her back, and the pity and solicitude which urged her on. At length the latter conquered, and, amidst a flood of tears and the farewell of her children, who knew not the fatal cause and import of her sorrow, she reached the house of those who were to bury her. She commended her husband and children to them, and in two days she was no more. And he came one summer evening, with his ringlets o'er his eyes, And his hat was torn to pieces, chasing bees and butterflies. "Now I'll go to bed, dear mother, for I'm very tired of play," And he said his "Now I lay me," in a kind of careless way, And he drank the cooling water from his little silver cup, And said, gaily," When it's morning will the angels take me up?" There he lies, how sweet and placid! and his breathing comes and goes, Like a zephyr moving softly, and his cheek is like a rose. But his mother leaned to listen if his breathing could be heard; "O!" she murmured, "if the angels took my darling at his word!" Night, within its folding mantle, hath the sleepers both beguiled, And within its soft embracings rest the mother and the child; Up she starteth from her dreaming, for a sound hath struck her ear And it comes from little Willie, lying on his trundle near. Up she springeth, for it strikes upon her troubled ear again, And his breath in louder fetches travels from his lungs in pain, And his eyes are fixing upward on some face beyond the room, And the blackness of the spoiler from his cheek hath chased the bloom. Nevermore his "Now I lay me," will be said from mother's knee, Nevermore among the clover will he chase the humble bee; Through the night she watched her darlingnow despairing, now in hope, And about the break of morning did the angels take him up. Rev. E. H. S. OUR OWN HOME. H home courtesies, cannot be too care OME enjoyments, home affections, fully or steadily cultivated. They form the sunshine of the heart. They bless and sanctify our private circle. They become a source of calm delight to the man of business after a day of toil; they teach the merchant, the trader, the working-man, that there is something purer, more precious even than the gains of industry. They twine themselves around the heart, call forth its best and purest emotions and resources, enable us to be more virtuous, more upright, more Christian in all the relations of life. We see in the little beings around us elements of gentleness and truth, and the beauty of fidelity and religion. A day of toil is eased of many of its cares by the thought that in the evening we may return home and mingle with the family household. There, at least, our experience teaches us we may find confiding and loving bosoms, those who look up to and lean upon us, and those to whom we may look for counsel and encouragement. We say to our friends, one and all, cultivate the home virtues, the household beauties of existence. Endeavour to make the little circle of domestic life a cheerful, an intelligent, a kindly, and a happy one. Whatever may go wrong in the world of trade, however arduous may be the struggle for existence, let nothing mar the purity of domestic love or throw into its harmonious existence the apple of discord. The evenings especially afford many hours for reading, for conversation, the communion of heart and of spirit, and such hours should be devoted as much as possible not only to mental and moral improvement, but to the cultivation of what may emphatically be termed the home virtues! Fragments for Spare Moments. TIME to me this truth has taught, 'Tis a truth that's worth revealing There's a time we should convey it; If we've but a word to say, There's a time in which to say it. No name written in the Book of Life can be effaced, and an immortality of bliss belongs to those who are thus inscribed. All names written on the scroll of earthly fame, however brightly they may shine for a season, will not long endure; but the name of the most obscure disciple of Christ recorded there will abide the fire of the great day, and summon its owner to a seat at the right hand of God, where are pleasures for evermore. It is a solemn thing to be a mother! To have souls given into our charge on earth; to have happy spirits belonging to us in heaven. Mother! is it of small moment that you have in solemn charge the disposal of intelligence and immortality, on which hangs the issue of eternity? Watch, as if all depended on watching; pray, as if all depended on prayer. Your best position in wrestling with care is on your knees. A life full of broken resolves is a wasted life. Temper is tested more by small crosses than by great losses. Notices of Books. Hymns for Quiet Hours. London: Partridge and Co., Paternoster Row. An unpretending little volume, containing simple thoughts in a simple form, founded upon passages of Scripture. The Mother's Text Book. London: The Book Society, Paternoster Row. Texts, verses, and mottoes, each affording matter for thoughts to busy mothers who have little time for reading. Geographical Fun, being Humorous Outlines of Various Countries. By Aleph. London: Hodder and Stoughton. These maps are the production of a young lady, and are designed to impress upon the youthful mind the forms of the various countries of the world, by associating them with grotesque figures. Old Jonathan. London: Collingridge. Notice to Correspondents. We present our thanks to "L.St.C.," "A.R. de V.," "E.J.L.," "J.R.S.C." We beg to tender our best thanks to "M.E.R.," Lambeth. TENDER mother had three healthy, blooming daughters; having married early, she might still be called young, while her dear girls were almost of an age to be her friends and companions. They lived in one of those favoured countries in which the Creator seems to have placed His special delight and all His most beautiful gifts; and the profession of Mr. F leaving him some time of leisure and enjoyment with his familiy, it would seem that Mrs. F's lot was, indeed, a fair one, and left her little to wish for; but still she was not contented. She pined ardently for a son; her husband belonged to an eminently intellectual family and bore a good name, and the fond wife deplored that after him, all this should be buried and forgotten. At last, God saw her tears and granted her inmost wish, and little Arthur's entrance into this poor world of ours, brought hardly less joy and rapture than that of many princes of royal birth. His first steps in life were made as smooth and easy as possible, and his early years guarded, as far as lay in his friends' power, from every blast which might have shaken the young plant. As Arthur grew up, he showed that he possessed, in a high degree, the talents which had distinguished so many of his ancestors, and he passed most successfully through the classes of the grammar-school of his native town. His father intended him to be a barrister, and as Arthur's wishes and endeavours lay in the same direction, he seemed a youth blessed with the brightest prospects. His first law examination was drawing near; Arthur had worked hard, and was anxiously intent upon fulfilling his parents' highest expectations, when very suddenly he was attacked with nervous fever. It proved a slight attack, but the recovery, even in light cases of that malady, is slow, and so it happened, that poor Arthur, bent upon passing his examination, though he had neither time nor strength for sufficient preparation, was "plucked." should have been mentioned that Mr. F, though an affectionate husband and father, was a stern and severe man; he belonged to a race who could not unsay nor undo a thing when once decided; and now, disappointed by the unexpected failure, the infatuated, angry parent declared that all hopes and intentions of a professional It A career must be given up. To describe the effect of this sudden blow upon Arthur is beyond the power of my pen. He at once felt that the severe sentence was beyond appeal, and the frail hot-house plant gave way under this first and terrible blast. return of his illness was the immediate result, and after a few days the affection took the character of brain fever. Arthur's good physical constitution at last prevailed, but as bodily health returned, it was discovered that the mind had lost every particle of its former elasticity; indeed every bright intellectual faculty was entirely extinguished, and the once brilliant and promising youth was almost an imbecile. Now that many years have been added to Arthur's weary existence, he still treads the face of the earth the picture of misery and woe. His stern father, whose living and bitter reproach he is, lets him go in and out of his home without ever addressing him; his sisters seldom mention him; and the brother, who was to have been their gem and pride, is to-day little more to them than a wretched alien! His brotherin-law ill-treats him, and he is the laughing stock of his nephew. His mother, she who never taught her little one to bear disappointment, who forgot that he, like every mortal, was born to trouble, that she could not always stand before him to shelter him from the storms of life, she, who even in his present forlorn state, would have loved and pitied him, whose heart would have still been his refuge, where is she now? God has had mercy on her, and has taken her away from the sad spectacle of her mistaken training. Two years after the first symptoms of Arthur's derangement of mind, Mrs. F. gave way, under a long and painful illness, caused by her grief. She had been enabled to take up her burden and cast it at the foot of the cross, and died, trusting in the merits of her Saviour for the atonement of her sins. Arthur remembers her with evident regret, and even sometimes refers to the career of the law which he has missed; but ever since his mother's death, his mind has gradually become more and more darkened. Though in his speech and features one can trace lingering marks of his good birth and early education, yet, I do not think I have anywhere witnessed a more deplorable exhibition of thorough wretchedness; and the last time I saw him, the wretched man told me, that nothing remained for him to do but to find an obscure corner to die in! Let all parents who read this strictly-true narrative, look to Him who "correcteth us with judgment, not in anger, lest he bring us to nothing ;" and mothers! never think that you are to remove every stone out of the path of your little ones, but rather encourage them to meet bravely the little disappointments proportioned to their tender years, that when the real trials of life fall upon them they may not be crushed under them, as was poor Arthur. Teach them to seek strength in Him who has shown us how to take up our crosses. A. R. de V. HINTS ON HEALTH FOR HUMBLE HOMES. THO NO. II.-FRESH AIR. THOUGH some of our wants are very pressing, they are but few in number. We need a certain quantity of food and drink, of sleep, of clothing; we need a dwelling, to afford us occasional shelter at least; but we need most of all fresh air. The absence of the others, or a diminution of them, may be endured for a time, but deprive a human being of air, and what is the result? If it is withdrawn entirely, though only for a few minutes, the life departs. A partial deprivation of air, or the pollution of it, has evil influences, in proportion to the extent to which it reaches. The air may be rendered unwholesome in many ways, some of which no skill of man can prevent; nor is it always possible to know whether or not the air is impure. The most marked effects of air which is not fit for breathing, are headaches, a feeling of weakness, or an inclination to be sick; these symptoms must have often been observed by those in the habit of attending large assemblies, or sitting in close rooms. The use of stimulants, to which some resort in such cases, will sometimes give a slight relief for a time, but the only true remedy is to get into a purer atmosphere, where the lungs can act freely. Much has been done for us of late years, for which we should be thankful. Many burying-grounds in our cities and towns have been closed, manufactories removed to a greater distance from dwelling-houses, and furnaces have been contrived which consume their own smoke. All the plans of man, however, can do but little were not the Divine power incessantly at work in the purification of the air. Plants and trees have a great influence, the ocean and lakes also have a purifying action upon it, the currents or winds, as we call them, dispel impurities, and the sun also plays its part. The air affects the health of our minds and bodies in many ways. Warm air enfeebles the body, and makes the circulation of the blood more rapid. Cold air hardens and strengthens the muscles, increases the appetite, and enables the stomach to digest food more quickly; hence, to those in the enjoyment of tolerably good health, sharp weather is beneficial, provided they have the necessaries of life. Damp air is relaxing, making the blood to flow slowly, the limbs to feel weak, and a general heaviness to affect the frame. Taking all the care we can, it is not possible to avoid all the sources of disease and death, and we must commit ourselves continually to the protection of that God whose power and goodness have no limit, to provide for the various wants of the body; and to leave out of sight the fact Few A that everything will go more or less wrong if the lungs have not a supply of pure air, is a fault still too common. The choice of a house or of lodgings is often made without any reference to this matter. Though many are, by the nature of their employments, compelled to choose a dwelling-place within a certain district, yet, even there, some streets, some courts, must be far more unwholesome than others. The mother of a household has, in the selection of an abode, much influence, if it be rightly exerted; a very little common sense will show what place is or is not likely to afford a fair quantity of that valuable article, fresh air. are ignorant of the fact, that this is not easily obtained in narrow streets, or in courts which are closed at one end; houses which lie low, and are surrounded by higher houses at a little distance, are, of course, unhealthy. Nor is it salutary to live constantly amongst a number of trees, or very near a river. visit to a neighbourhood early in the morning will afford a good test as to the character of the air, for if it is at all offensive, then it will be plain that impurities do not pass off as they should. It is important to know whether a house or rooms are damp or not; if they are, we shall observe that the paper on the walls feels cold when the hand is laid upon it; bread speedily turns mouldy, sponges and cloths will not dry, iron and brass speedily become rusty, and if furniture has stood there long, it will have begun to moulder or crumble in some parts. With regard to the choice of floors, underground rooms must be avoided, if possible, for in such it is impossible to have the air properly changed; a first or second story is, perhaps, even better than a ground-floor, both for sitting-rooms and bed-rooms; but again, in lofty houses, it has been observed, that the highest floors, at least in towns, are not so healthful. The ordinary way of purifying the air in rooms is by opening the doors and windows-and this answers very well in a general way; the state of the air |