Jones sought counsel of God, and his special blessing on a measure which had for its object the obedient spirit of children, whom these parents still loved with the fondest affection.

It was now near three o'clock, of a fine, mild day in June. No sooner had Mr. Jones retired, than the needful preliminary steps were taken. A small room, adjoining the sleeping apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Mather, was dismantled of its furniture. The windows were shut and fastened down. A small mattrass, with appropriate clothes, was laid upon the floor. A table, with a chair, was placed in a corner of the room. On the table was a pitcher of water, and a wheaten loaf, and a small table-bell.

These preparations having been made, which were without the privity of the children, the latter were summoned to the parlor. "Here," said Mr. Mather, as they appeared, "here is the top which has occasioned such angry and violent dispute. The top belongs to Charles."

"It is not his," interrupted Henry, in an emphatic and sour tone, "any more than it is mine.” "It is mine," said Charles, in a similar tone and spirit, "and you had no right to snatch it as you did."

"Stop, my sons," said Mr. Mather. "The top belongs to Charles; and now, Henry, do you take it, and give it to your brother, and ask his forgiveness.'

"I can't ask his forgiveness. I don't want his forgiveness." "Follow me, my son," said Mr. Mather, leading the way up stairs to the chamber we have described; "enter that; and here you stay, till you are willing to do as I have required. There is your bed; there your bread and water; and there a bell. When you are ready to do as I have commanded, you may ring the bell, and either your mother or myself will come and witness your submission."

66

"Am I to stay here all night?"

"You are to stay here till you submit."

"Am I to have nothing but bread and water?"

"Nothing," said Mr. Mather, closing the door, and turning the lock on the rebellious boy, and, at the same time, giving vent, as he descended, to a flood of tears.

We have not yet reached the result, but must claim the indulgence of the editor, of a few pages more in the succeeding number.

AMONG the bright-robed host of heaven, two cherubs were filled with new rapture. Gladness that mortal eye hath never seen, beamed from their brows, as with tuneful voices they exclaimed,

"Joy! joy! He cometh! Welcome, welcome, dear brother! Babe redeemed from earth!" And they clasped in their radiant arms a new immortal.

Then, to their golden harps, they chanted, "Thou shalt weep no more, our brother, neither shall sickness smite thee. For here is no death, neither sorrow nor sighing."

At the Saviour's feet they knelt together, with their warbled strain, "Praise be unto Thee! who didst say, 'Suffer little children to come unto me.'

"Thou didst take them to thy bosom on the earth; and through thy love, they enter into the kingdom of heaven. Endless praise and glory be Thine, O Lord! Most High!"

They led the little one to amaranthine bowers, and wreathed around his temples the flowers that never fade. They gave him of the fruit of the tree of life, and of the water that gusheth clear as crystal, from before the throne of God and of the Lamb.

And they said, "Beautiful one, who wert too young to lisp the dialect of earth, sweet to thee will be the pure language of heaven. Bringest thou to us no token from the world that was once our home?"

Then answered the babe-cherub: "Here is our mother's last kiss, with a tear upon it, and the prayer with which our father gave me back to God."

And they said, "Their gifts are sweet to us. We remember her smile, who lulled us on her breast; whose eye was open through the long night, when sickness smote us; and his voice who taught us the name of Jesus.

"Oft-times do we hover about them. We are near them, though they see us not. While they mourn, we drop into their

hearts a balm-drop, and a thought of heaven, and fly back hither swifter than the wing of morning.

"We keep watch at the shining gates for them, and for the white-haired parents whom they honor, and for our fair sister, that we may be the first to welcome them. Lo! when all are here, our joy shall be full."

Long they talked together, folding their rainbow-wings. They talked long with their music-tones, yet the darkness came not. For there is no night there.

Then there burst forth a great song; choirs of angels saying, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty. Just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints." And the lyres of the cherub-brothers joined the chorus, swelling the melody of heaven.

Original.

A WORD TO FATHERS.

A MOTHER'S cares, you know, are constant, and her responsibilities are almost oppressive. Were it not for that self-forgeting and undying affection which Providence gives with the object on which it fastens, her burdens would be insupportable. But even with that affection in her heart, deep, joyous, and perennial, like a well-spring that never fails, and never loses its melody or its sunbeam as it flows, even with this to sweeten her cares, she needs your aid and efficient co-operation. You can, in several ways, contribute to the success of her efforts. But now I will mention only one, viz.: you can see that she has time to devote to your children. Not to their food and wardrobe only, but to their discipline and their mental and religious instruction; to their minds and souls, as well as to their bodies. Now is it not true, that many mothers, especially in the country, have but little time and strength for such duties (the most important of all), because they are entirely occupied and worn down with the drudgery of household affairs. Do not think me as advocating for the mother an easy life in the parlor, or an exemption from the practical knowledge of any cares or duties relating to domes

tic life. Whether she have servants or not, she should know how to do, and what to do, in every department of household affairs, and be willing to put her hand to any part of the household machinery. But are not many mothers so tied and riveted to that machinery, that it becomes incompatible with the duties of instruction; a kind of tread-mill from which they cannot step out, even for a moment, and in which they must neglect some of their most important responsibilities. The writer knows many a mother of whom it may be said, that every moment of her waking hours brings round, in addition to cooking, washing, mending, baking, etc., some "chore," or something to be done "about the house," which leaves no time for the instruction or training, or even amusement, of her children. They have a thousand wants; and some of them appeal to her with such vociferous clamor, that they must be heard, while those of the mind and heart, not addressing the senses like the cries of hun ger and pain, or like unseemly rents and soiled garments, are overlooked in the pressure of other cares.

Now, should not the mother have stated times each day, when she may withdraw from other cares, and attend to the intellectual and moral wants of her children? to the formation of their tastes, their habits of thought and feeling; to their reading, or to some verbal account of what they have last read; or to some. means of fixing valuable impressions and correct principles; and of cultivating the power of attention, and strengthening the memory, and cherishing right feelings? Ought other cares to occupy the whole time, and exhaust the entire strength of the mother? Every one replies, No!

This, then, is the problem for thousands of families, particularly in the country, to solve. With limited means and strength, but with unlimited, ceaseless cares in household matters, how can the mother get time for the proper instruction and training of her children? Shall it be by a more simple way of living; by less cooking; less time and expense given to dress, etc.? or can any labor-saving machine be applied so as to diminish the amount of her present drudgery? or, with less ambition to save money, can she be afforded more living, muscular "help?"

To thousands of families, particularly in the country, the solution of this problem would be a blessing.

Fathers, this is a problem for some of you to solve. You are most of the time from home, during the day. Your occupation, as you think, leaves little time to be devoted to your children. Will you see to it, that the wife and mother who remains at home, can be so relieved from other cares, for one hour each day, to give that time, if no more, sacredly, to the mental and moral wants of your children? Does not their temporal and eternal welfare require it? How shall this change be effected?

Original.

THE END IN VIEW.

Ir is an important thought. For what object are we training our children? The Christian, in his meditative moods, often inquires of himself, "For what end was I made? and whither am I going?" He asks, too, "Why these anxious cares and midnight watchings? why do I labor to feed and clothe and cherish these little ones committed to my care? have I an end in view?" Some parents may, with great truth, reply that they have no object in the "bringing up" of their children; time and chance are to determine their destiny, and they leave care to the future. But not so with him who, in the spirit of self-consecration, has subjected his spirit entirely to the will of God. With him the sole inquiry of life is, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" And as God has most graciously granted him dear and lovely offspring, he adds, "What wilt thou have me to do with these!" He finds in the sacred word, that he is commanded to train his children. How much is implied in this word "train," those who have prepared for the combat and the race, well understand. Every muscle is to be enlarged and strengthened; every joint made supple; the spirits light, and the digestion vigorous. Our children have a race to run, a combat to sustain.

The race, the combat, is life; and for this we are to train them. We must teach them " so to run, that they may obtain; so to fight, that they may come off conquerors." I would here speak of a few things which are held in vast estimation by many