The unsubdued, unmortified vanity and love of display, in the mind of the parent, lies at the root of the evil. Were I not deeply convinced of the infidelity of every human heart, and the little practical power those eternal verities which we profess to believe have in the detail of life, I confess I should be stumbled when I behold Christians educating their children for time and directing the progressive opening of their minds towards the eager pursuit of those objects which are only fitted to render them attractive in a drawing-room, or at best get them reputation for talents, manners, &c. ; but it is sowing to the flesh, and must perish in the using. I have seen covetousness and narrow-mindedness effect what grace did not, in restricting the undue attention to external accomplishments, because of the expense thereby entailed; but the motive being defective the effects are so too, and if the child be emulous and persevering she in her turn will covet the superior advantages of her associates, not having learned to estimate the higher object of being enabled to redeem a portion of that time which another is devoting to vanity. Rules for education are but of secondary importance, and, if the principle be right, a judicious mind will easily frame them when necessary. The basis of all instruction should be obedience to the parent for its own sake. This I would inculcate as a principle on the authority of God's word. I am persuaded the result in after life of the early habit of subjection would be most beneficial. This being established, I would endeavour to lead them to the same Master I was myself serving, showing them the scriptural authority for what I required. A child may be early taught to be useful, to make clothes for the poor, to sympathize with the afflicted, and however feeble

the effort she would feel that she had done something. Many opportunities will occur where the habit of self-denial may be judiciously encouraged; in the daily intercourse of the family the desire and will may be taught to yield for the advantage of another, and she may be taught to forego some luxury that she may have to give to those for whom she professes to feel. A parent must watch as well as pray, and she will find abundant opportunities to check and rightly guard against the vanity and love of display so inwrought in our fallen nature. It is desirable to encourage the confidence of children, that they may be of a guileless spirit. Those who proceed prayerfully must proceed lovingly, and blessed be God we do not labour in the fire, but in due season may expect to reap if we faint not; for those that honour God he will honour."

THE PARENT'S HEART MADE GLAD.
"I saw a flood

Of dark corruption. Far and wide it spread,
And many sported on the fatal brink

Who never more to health and hope returned;
For those who plunged did straight forget their God,
And curse themselves and die.

At length a voice

Flowed from those lips that blanched on Golgotha,
Return, ye erring ones,' and back they came
To their bless'd fold with tears. So there was joy
In heaven, as when the prodigal doth turn

First from his sins, and find a pardoning God."

WHO can estimate the anguish of a tender parent when bending over the couch of agony he beholds the pallid features of his child, and witnesses the ravages of a disease which mocks all the mother's

tenderness and the physician's skill! How his heart throbs within him, and the big tear rolls down his manly cheek as he strives to resign his beloved daughter-the child of his hopes-to the hands of death! None but a bereaved parent can enter into his feelings or guess the half his soul must taste. Yet this is nothing less than nothing-compared with the agonizing grief of some parents whose children live, but live the victims of licentiousness, the sport of fiends, the outcasts of society. Those hapless creatures that walk our streets, and become shameless in their iniquity and often utterly insensible of the true horror of their condition, from whom the eye of Modesty and Virtue is instinctively averted, and for whom even the eye of Compassion almost fails to weep, are daughters. How many a broken-hearted parent mourns in solitude and almost in despair while the image of a still beloved child, whose name is a reproach, flits before his mind! Oh! what can gladden the soul of such a parent? What can send the warm blood with new vigour through his heart? The consolations of piety may soothe and calm his feelings, but still-his daughter!-Oh! to see his daughter reclaimed, in her right mind, ministering to him with filial affection, and entering the narrow path that leads to life-this can gladden-this can cheer his soul. Like the forgiving father in the parable he would exclaim, "This my child was dead and is alive again, was lost and is found." There is joy in a parent's heart, for this, emulating the joy of heaven over one sinner that repenteth. To be the instrument of promoting this is something worth living for.

Such, gentle reader, were our reflections as we read the following letter, addressed to the Ladies' Committee of "The London Female Mission," and

which we transcribe, with no other alteration than the suppression of the name and address of the party, that others may share our joy and gratitude.

DEAR LADIES,

With mixed feelings I take this opportunity of addressing you, through the invaluable institution in which you have kindly engaged, on behalf of my daughter. I entirely owe the restoration of her from the paths of profligacy and vice to your most excellent institution; and I trust, through the divine blessing, the kind instruction and admonition she has received from Christian ministers and pious friends in your asylum will be made useful to her sound conversion to God. Through the solemn vows she has made to me and her kind matrons of her determination to follow the paths of virtue, and I trust godliness, with your kind permission I intend next Monday night once again to take her under the paternal roof. I do not know how to express my thankfulness and gratitude to you and the kind matrons, but I trust heaven will repay you, and God will bless you and the institution, for which I shall ever pray.

Yours in the best bonds..

March 30, 1838.

POOR JENNY.

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen

And waste its sweetness in the desert air."

ONE beautiful sunshiny day, as I was strolling along with my old friend Simon, he pointed out to me an individual at the door of one of the way-side cottages

as an illustrious proof of the power of doing good on small means. One day," said he, "when Jenny was sitting at the door spinning, a woman whom she had never before seen came suddenly up to her from the toll-road, saying, 'Do hold that wean a minute, till I lift my kist aff that carrier's cart; and, placing an infant on her knee, she turned the corner of the hut and was out of sight in an instant. The little innocent sat cooing and smiling in her face, and poor Jenny was much flattered by its notice. She thought the woman was long of coming with her chest, but waited patiently, much delighted with the child's good humour. In short, the woman never returned; and you may imagine the consternation and dismay that ensued but this poor creature actually fed, and clothed, and brought up this child with the utmost tenderness and affection. No doubt her richer neighbours did not fail to help her by their contributionsparticularly of clothes; but still the heavy end fell upon Jenny, who, though she accepted presents for the little stranger, never was known to ask assistance from any one.

་་

:

By this time we were quite up to the spot where the old woman was sitting, with a most rueful countenance, spinning at her door. Well, Jenny," said Simon, jovially, "how is a' wi' you, my old friend ?" I daurna compleen" was her reply, as she stopped her wheel. 'I'm sorry that's a' ye say," said Simon, "for I know you have a good contented spirit and are thankful for all your mercies." 'Ay, ye're a gude man, Simon; ye think the best o' every body— but I'm no contented enow, Simon, though some folk thinks it's a mercy that"-here she burst into uncontrollable grief, crying and sobbing—“ they think it's a mercy-a mercy that-that they've stown awa my