early childhood, and the innocent pleasures of our old homestead. And so it is with thousands, whose thoughts recur to their early days, and their hearts are still moved most tenderly at the mere mention of "home, sweet home."

Wherever we wander over the landscape of earth, no place seems so dear, or attracts us like that of home. "No flowers are so fair as those that bloom around our home-no streams that meet the eye are so bright as those on whose banks we played in childhood, and no birds sing so sweetly as those whose notes we listened to beneath the trees that grew around our home. Yes, truly, be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.""

Though time may change, and all earthly things fade away, let us so live that we may live forever-that when we quit this earthly house, we may have "a house eternal in the heavens." "Home, home! sweet, sweet home!

How blest the thoughts of heaven our home !”

Happy, rich, and glorious, he who makes heaven his home! Christian pilgrim, thy race is run-thy course finished-thy life ended below-enter thou into the palace of angels and God. Heaven is now thy home, and God thy exceeding great reward! Thy Saviour is thy eternal portion, angels thy company, and the immortal climes of bliss thy happy, exalted, and glorious home! I. N. K.

Original.

TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS.

We

FLOWERS are beautiful, because God hath created them. take pleasure in them, because they are the creatures of his beneficent hand. We love to admire their beauty, and taste their fragrancy, because they are the objects of his continual care. The same hand that feeds the ravens when they cry, and that ministers to the wants of every living thing, causes also the tender flower to put forth the green leaf and expand into perfect bloom. That same, same eye that sees the sparrow fall, beholds

the fading of the humblest flower, and decorates the earth's landscape. Yea,

"Thou that madest that floweret gay

To glitter in the dawn;

The hand that fixed the lamp of day,

The blazing comet launched away—

Painted the velvet lawn."

Man is a frail, blooming, fading flower. To-day he is-tomorrow he is gone. "All flesh is as grass, and as the flowers of the field so he flourisheth." How beautiful and fair to look upon! The very object of loveliness. The object of many blessings-the almoner of unnumbered mercies and gifts from above. Although he now bears the image of the earthy, he has the promise and prospect of ere long bearing the image of the heavenly— the impress of the divine nature—the fashion of the glorious body of Christ amid the seraphims of glory!

How many of the good and great, my dear reader, have been already transplanted there, where flowers never fade. How many of our early associates and youthful acquaintances have gone to flourish in that immortal soil. Here they shall know no withering, nor feel any more pain, nor ever again be nipped by some untimely blast, nor be subject to mortality.

"No chilling winds, nor poisonous breath,
Can reach that healthful shore;

Sickness, sorrow, pain, and death,
Are felt and feared no more."

Death removes the flower to confer a jewel-takes the tender bud to impart the ripened fruit of paradise-receives the thorny ills of mortality in exchange for an immortal crown. Even here, the fairest flower that blooms on earth is piety to God. This will introduce us to the skies, where we shall never die; where we shall live and flourish as a rose, amid the fair bowers of a heavenly Canaan. This flower spreads a fragrancy through the church of God below, and it fills with heavenly odor the temple above, as the sacred and acceptable incense rises to God through eternity. I. N. K.

NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

GABRIEL, A STORY OF WICHNOR WOOD. By Mary Howitt. From the Author's manuscript. New York: Collins & Brother. Price, 37 cents.

WE were beguiled into reading this little volume by the charming descriptions which introduce the scene and actors of the story. Miss Howitt gives a picture of "pleasant Wichnor Wood," which grows life-like under her graceful touches, until we seem to see its green haunts, and can almost greet the merry bands of children that come trooping through the forest to the village school, with berry-stained lips and fingers, and trailing flowers in their hands. Not less faithful, but quite different is her description of the dark pits of Grublow, with its grimmed colliers, and black, unsightly desolation every where. The moral that virtue is its own reward, is agreeably illustrated in the experience of the young hero, Gabriel, who, at the age of twelve years, is endowed with manifold manly 1 virtues. We think our young friends will find a pure and pleasant entertainment in the reading of this work. The volume is not less attractive from the beautiful white doe and the benign, motherly-looking cow which appear in the frontispiece. For ourselves, we made one juvenile happy by bestowing it as a New Year's gift.

THE USE OF THE BODY IN RELATION TO THE MIND. By George Moore, M. D., Member of the Royal College of Physicians, etc. New York: Harper & Brothers. Pp. 356.

This work is one of a series of three, from the pen of an eminent physician of England, which it is our purpose to review more critically at a future time.

The subject is one of the highest importance to all, and by no one should be studied with more profound attention and interest than by those who have the education of the minds and bodies of the young, whose habits are to be formed, and who must suffer evils untold, if they are not rightly directed.

No one, we think, could have presented the subject in a more attractive and interesting manner than our author. His practice as a physician has furnished him with facts which are the ground-work of his theories; he is philosophical and fruitful in beautiful illustration, and his heart has been kindled with love to the good, the spiritual, the godlike. He is not, as is too often the case at the present day, with his class of thinkers, a materialist.

He has clear and profound ideas, a rich fancy, delicate taste, noble sentiments, in fact, the right mind for the subject.

Original.

UNDYING MEMORIES.

THERE is a touch of nature, which would be recognized the world over, in the remark of Naaman's servant, when his master refused to bathe in Jordan for the healing of his leprosy, "If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it?" The servant hit the difficulty accurately. Naaman scorned the trivial means suggested for his cure. But had the prophet required some stately and striking thing, he would have proceeded with confidence to its performance.

So it happens now, that the very simplicity and ease of the duties required at our hands, constitute a stumbling-block and an objection. Is it not often the case with parents, that many of the duties which they owe their children, and upon which their salvation depends, are performed carelessly and without confidence in the result, because those duties seem trivial in their nature?

And yet these very trivial things are precisely those which oft-times are attended with the most lasting results. The hymntune which the young mother hums when putting her babe to sleep; the few words of prayer which she teaches her little one to repeat at her knee; the mere passing smile of love and pleasure which flits over her countenance when her child does some good deed-these and such like trifles are precisely the things that fasten on the child's mind, and follow him to the world's end, and a dying hour. That flitting smile comes floating like an angel of light into the field of vision, and that evening hymn seems to be uttered by an unseen harp, when long years have passed away, and the grave has received to its embrace the loving being who smiled and sung. Precisely such things as these never die out of the memory. They live in all their richness and power, when striking things are forgotten.

We cannot too earnestly press this thought upon the hearts of mothers, that often they are making impressions that last longest and sink deepest at the very moment when they are neither trying nor expecting to make any impression at all. This thought, while it enforces the importance of watchfulness at all VOL. I.-NO. II.-3

times, encourages also the hope of good results from the least word or whisper that falls upon the ear of childhood.

If the pious mother could follow her children through life to the grave, and know the thoughts and memories that will most frequently and deeply affect their hearts, she would find, that, in many instances, special and extraordinary measures, upon which she placed great reliance, had been forgotten, while casual words or expressions of countenance took fast hold of the memory, and have never left it.

The truth is, we know not which will prosper, this or that; we know not what may be the effect of our slightest words or actions; but if we would fill our children's hearts with undying memories, which shall attend and bless them when we are dead, we shall endeavor to live, think, speak, and act at all times in such a manner as that our whole example shall make a harmonious impression in favor of truth and godliness. We should wish to live in our children's memories, long after our form and features have mouldered to dust, as the ardent lovers of their souls, and the anxious seekers of their eternal salvation.

If we could leave our children our daguerreotype, and could make all our deep affection beam forth from the eye and countenance, we should expect, even after death, to inspire their love and veneration. But we shall leave, drawn upon their memories, a daguerreotype of our mind and heart, and as often as memory opens it to their future view, let them never fail to see the expression of a heart and soul overflowing with devout concern for their everlasting good.

Original.

A GREAT SIGHT.

I SPEAK of an object which, however familiar to numbers of persons who live amid its wonders, or whose home is on the seashore, and to whom, therefore, it may seem indifferent, is, nevertheless, a great sight in itself, and especially so to a child reared in the country, and whose vision, for the first time, reposes on