entirely lost its crimson vest; and on the sturdy oak we may even trace a shading of summer-green mingling with deeper hues. How beautifully does this varied colouring contrast with the light blue of the sky and the dark haze of the distance! We are now writing in the early part of the month, and in a few days the remaining beauty of the woodland must be lost; the frost will hasten to destroy it, or the often rains sweep it low; but we will treasure the remembrance of its fading loveliness till Spring clothe it afresh with verdure. We must now expect that unfavourable weather will frequently prevent the enjoyment of our accustomed rambles; and we would for a moment pause to suggest the enquiry, How will the additional hours gained for in-door employment be occupied? With many of our readers time-precious time is nearly at their own disposal; this most valuable talent is in their own keeping; they need not to labour for their daily bread, and their household duties are few and light: it is to such I now address a passing word. Will you, as many do, listlessly pass away your hours, doing little and thinking less? Every station in life has its appointed duties, which forbid the waste of a single minute, and in the right performance of which we evidence obedience to God's will: to these devote yourselves with energy, remembering the description of the virtuous woman in the book of Proverbs, "She eateth not the bread of idleness," the precept in Ecclesiastes, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might," and that in the Epistle to the Romans, "Not slothful in spirit, serving the Lord." Indolence is one of the besetting sins of the higher and middling classes, where it is apt to be considered as becoming; but it will not, as we have seen, bear the searching test of scripture. We pass now to the lesson we propose to draw from that page of Nature's book which is presented for our instruction. Rain is one of the characteristics of November, and it is a subject replete with interest; let us muse thereon for a space. One of the duties which it most obviously teaches is gratitude to "him that giveth rain, both the former and the latter, in his season;"" for the earth which drinketh in the rain that cometh oft upon it, and bringeth forth herbs meet for those by whom it is dressed, receiveth blessing from God." We will then obey the call of Israel's sweet psalmist, to " sing unto the Lord with thanksgiving, to sing praise unto our God, who corereth the heaven with clouds, who prepareth rain for the earth, who maketh grass to grow.' The rain likewise inculcates the duty of a widely extended benevolence; for we see that God "maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.' In accordance with this St. Paul tells us "not to be weary in welldoing," but " to do good unto all men.' We are also led by it to admire the infinite power of him who made a decree for the rain and a way for the lightning of the thunder." Lastly, we will consider rain as the emblem of God's word, for so scripture instructs us to regard it ; 'My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb and as the showers upon the earth." And how often has the lowly Christian been comforted and the drooping spirit refreshed by his saving word! Again we read, "Thou, O God! didst send a precious rain, whereby thou didst confirm thy inheritance when it was weary." And have not the people of the Lord many times, when waxing faint in well-doing or when grieved with the wickedness of the world, been abundantly strengthened by his promises? Once again, we read, "For as the rain cometh down from heaven and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth; it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I send it." Thus may the ambassadors of Christ be consoled; oftentimes they labour long and painfully, perceiving no fruit of their labours; but some seed has fallen on good ground: "the word of the Lord shall not return void." They shall find it after many days." 66 Then, as the quick pattering of the genial showers, the soft dropping of the gentle rain, or the burst of the tempest-cloud meets our ear, let us not fail to meditate in turn on the beneficence, love, and power of the great Creator of all things. L. N. A SPOILED CHILD. Ir the affliction that so frequently befals parents in the form of rebellious and wicked children could be traced to its source, we should probably be amazed to find in how large a proportion of instances it has been the natural result of the injudicious treatment which such children received in their early years. Every one knows that there is a process aptly enough called" spoiling children," and that this is a widely spread evil. We have however seldom met with a parent, even in the most flagrant cases, that seemed to have any idea that she was guilty of committing it. Many we have seen who imagined themselves models of perfection as mothers, and would have felt the utmost indignation at any one who ventured to hint that their children were in danger of being ruined for want of proper training. The slightest whisper on such a subject would be set down as the effect of malice, and would often be sufficient to break up the most intimate friendships; and hence the immense difficulty of doing any thing to promote a reformation. How often do we hear it said of an individual, "She is an amiable woman, an excellent wife, and a very intelligent companion, but she spoils her children!" What a drawback is this upon the character of a mo ther! What cruelty can equal that of training children to ruin! "O but," says some fond mother, “I am sure I cannot be charged with cruelty to mineno mother can love her children more." All this we do not mean to deny. We know that such parents. do not intend to be cruel: nay, they think it is the strength of parental love that leads them to give way to their children's wishes, because they have not heart to deny them and thus to make them unhappy. All this however is neither more nor less than a delusion which they practise upon themselves. "For kind and wise the parent that reproves A looker-on cannot fail to observe that the process of spoiling children commonly arises from a want of the necessary firmness and decision of mind, mixed too with much of the veriest selfishness-a selfishness which yields to unreasonable demands because it is thought to be too much trouble to oppose them. But let us attempt an illustration. "Mamma," says little George, one day after dinner," will you give me some plums?" No, my dear; plums are not good for little boys." "But do give me one, only one, mamma." "Well, here's one? but don't ask again." Presently the demand is repeated, and the applicant is again and again successful. Real love would have consulted the welfare rather than the wishes of the child; the mother says, "I can't bear to see him crying, and a few plums will not do him much harm." Perhaps not: but the circumstance does not stand alone; it is one of an habitual series of indulgences, which together will do immense mischief. Let us go on with our picture. A friend happens to call. While the mother is engaged in conversation George becomes só noisy as to occasion considerable annoyance. George, be quiet, my dear," says the kind mother, at the same time receiving about as much attention as if she had spoken to the winds. Presently his noise becomes so intolerable that a stronger effort is made to check it. "George, why don't you be quiet? Naughty boy, go away up-stairs." George pouts his lip and goes to a distant corner of the room, and the mother not being for a few moments annoyed by his turbulence forgets that she ordered him up-stairs, and thus he is trained to disobedience. Next day the scene after dinner is repeated. “Mamma, I wan't some plums," says the boy. No, my love; you must not have them; they are bad things for you." "But you gave me some yesterday; why not now ?" This question is unanswerable, but mamma, being more determined to-day, replies "I have none for you, George; but run into the nursery and see what Jane has for you." Away he runs, and, though the mother knows Jane has got nothing for him, she is quite pleased with her |