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some time since. It gave me at the time a most impressive view of the fearful responsibility of a mother. Mrs. W. with her little son of three years by her side, was making us a morning call. She held in her hand a beautiful rose, with which the boy seemed very much delighted. But suddenly looking up in her face, he said, “Mother, where did you get this rose?The blood mounted to the mother's cheek, and she hesitated. " Where did you get it, mother ? " said the boy, earnestly. At length she said, “I plucked it, my son, as we passed Mr. E.'s garden.”

The boy opened his large black eyes, and fixed them upon his mother's face with an expression of wonder. I was sorry for her, for I felt that she had lowered herself in the esteem of her child. She saw it also, and immediately said, “My son, mother did very wrong to pluck the rose without asking leave.”

. you did !said the boy, quickly and emphatically.

But he spoke in a mournful tone of voice, at the same time heaving a deep sigh, as though his little heart was at that moment oppressed by a weight unfelt before.

It is probable that he then ascertained for the first time in his life, that his mother could do wrong. And is it wonderful that he should regard her with astonishment, and that his confidence in her should be shaken? He had been taught, and that, too, from her own lips, that the act of which she acknowledged herself guilty, was a great sin — that it was theft, the transgression of the law of God. O! how must that woman have felt, to be thus degraded in the eyes of her pure-minded son!

After he had left the room, she said with much emotion, “I have had a severe lesson to-day. I think I shall be careful where I pick roses again.”

She also remarked that she little thought of doing wrong. The act was a thoughtless one, she was passing the garden and saw a branch of roses hanging over the fence and carelessly plucking one, passed on. The boy's attention was engaged at the moment, and he did not observe the act, nor did she realise the impropriety of it, until his innocent questions caused her to blush for her own thoughtlessness.

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Erzerum is the principal city of Turkish Armenia. It lies nearly south from the eastern extremity of the Black Sea, and is situated on a plain, at the foot of the Tcheldir mountains, near the sources of the north-arm of the Euphrates, in latitude 31, north. It is on the route principally chosen by travellers and traders. Its inhabitants, about twenty-five years since, previously to the ravages of the plague, were estimated at 100,000; but in 1835, according to Brant, there were not above 15,000. In addition to the losses by the plague, most of the Armenian families, amounting to 23,000 souls, abandoned the city, previously to the invasion of the Turks.

The streets are narrow, crooked and filthy. The houses are mostly constructed of mud, wood, or sun-dried bricks, and generally only one story high. The environs are entirely destitute of trees. There are two Armenian Churches, a Greek Church, and about forty Mosques.

The American Board commenced a mission in this city in 1839, by Rev. W. C. Jackson, then a missionary at Trebizond, not far distant. He states the number of inhabitants at that time to have been 30,000.

The missionaries at this place have encountered many obstacles, and the immediate fruits of their labors are not so apparent as in many places.

Mr. Jackson was succeeded by Rev. Mr. Peabody, who is still there. In 1851, Mr. Peabody states, that among the converts were two Russian subjects, who, when their interest in evangelical religion became known, were much persecuted, and even threatened with banishment. In a subsequent letter, one of these converts is spoken of as a most lovely and interesting youth, and though constantly expecting banishment, he has united with the Church.

In June, 1852, Mr. Peabody writes that this interesting young man had determined to repair to the United States, and prepare for the work of the ministry, from a conviction that he cannot enjoy the rights of conscience in rmenia.

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Rev. Mr. Peabody maintains three services on the Sabbath. Although the average attendance, in January, 1852, was only about ten, it was larger than it had been. In June following, it had greatly increased, there having been on two Sabbaths, between sixty and seventy present, though some of these were from a neighboring village.



A few months since a scene of sadness, the deep gloom cf which only the Gospel of Christ could illumine, was passing in a family dear to many hearts. The young wife and mother, wasted by disease, lay waiting in faith and hope for the time of her release. Day after day, hour after hour, friends had expected would be her last, but still she lived. Just then her eldest child, her darling Alice, one of the sweet lambs of the Saviour's fold, sickened ; and, in a few hours it was evident the seal of death was upon her brow. From the first she had said she should die; that she and her mother were going home to heaven. For her stricken father and her little sister she continued instant in prayer;" for herself and her mother she seemed to feel that all was over, and all was well.

The mother, ignorant of this new and fearful stroke which had fallen upon the companion of her hopes and prayers, was fast passing away. All the last night of her life, she was unconscious, but called incessantly for her darling Alice, -the dying child, wishing her "to go home with her."

She died, and in a few hours, every breath to the last being an utterance of prayer and praise; the daughter followed. Her few short years were ended, but life's great work was done. There was joy in the sorrow, when, on the next Sabbath, those bodies were laid together in the grave.

The lines, on the next page, written when the intelligence of this double bereavement went forth to sorrowing friends, and sent. to the stricken father, may, perhaps, meet the eye and the heart of some who have tasted the same bitter cup.

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Hark! the mother's fail-ing breath Calls her Al-ice; “ Alice, come !"
Hus-band, par-ents, brothers wept, But she thought of her a - lone;

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Fainter still, till lost in death, " Al-ice, Al-ice, fol - low home."
And her babe un - con-scious slept, On-ly “ Alice" called she home.

Was it light beyond our days

Broke upon her darkening mind!
Entering on the shining ways,

Heard she footsteps close behind ?
Heard she to her Alice said,

« Suffer such to come to me" ?
Father, weeping by thy dead,

Wouldst thou keep the child with thee?
Weep not, as she hastens on,

Breathing love and prayer for all ;
Weep not, for the Eternal Sun

Gilds the double funeral pall.
There, beyond life's shadows dim,

There, before the burning throne,
Joining in their rapturous hymn,

With the ransomed is their home.
Weep not ! 'twas a mother's hand

Beckoned to that bliss above;
Leads her to that infant band,

Hymning forth redeeming love.
Alice, ay a faith like thine,

Child believer, loving one,
Round us, living, dying, shine,

Light our pathway to the throne.



Boston: Jewett & Co. 1853.

God has, in great mercy thrown around the human family, motives adapted to every variety of character, for the benevolent purpose of drawing them to himself. Among these, stands prominent, the reward promised to the righteous, which is held in too slight estimation by many christians. Moses had respect unto this recompense of reward, and the fair inference from the Apostle's argument is, that he was sustained in esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt, by the expectation of this reward.

The object of the author is, to “stimulate all believers to press forward toward the mark, for the prize of their high calling, and to meditate, ere their departure thither, upon the vast and splendid inheritance, and the felicities and glories to which they are heirs.”

The mechanical execution of the work is, in every respect, in the best style, and it is embellished with five engravings, exceedingly beautiful and impressive. POEMs. By Mrs. Adaliza C. Phelps. Boston: Jewett & Co. 1853.

Mrs. Phelps died in Jaffrey, N. H., in June last, at the age of 29 years. She is better known, perhaps, to the readers of this publication, as Miss Cutter. She made her first appearance in public, as a writer, in the Assistant, some six or eight years since, in the poem commencing

“I saw him in the coffin lay,” and which may be found on the 200th page of the volume, and she has since been a constant and valuable contributor.

The principal poem in the volume is entitled “ The Life of Christ,” in the Spenserian measure.

The poems of Mrs. Phelps are characterized by a loving, sweet, and gentle spirit, rather than by originality of thought, or vigor of expression. MEMOIR OF JOTHAM SEWALL. By his son, Rev. Jotham Sewall. Bos

ton: Tappan & Whittemore. 1853.

“ Father Sewall,” as he was familiarly called, was an extraordinary man. We see but few such, in the lapse of three generations, beyond which, his natural life extended, he having died in 1850, at the great age of 90 years and 9 months.

Mr. Sewall was licensed to preach in 1798, and continued to exercise his functions as a minister, up to within a month or two of the close of his life. His time was principally spent in itinerating in answer to ir vitations from different places. He preached during his life, twelve thousand five hundred ' and ninety-three times, in four hundred and thirteen different places, and everywhere exemplified and enforced the doctrines he taught, by his consistent, godly life.

Mr. Sewall accomplished much good during his career, and it will be readily seen, by an examination of his character, that the foundation for this, was his deep, earnest, and consistent piety, and his irrepressible desire to be useful.

The publication of such a book is a blessing to the community, for its perusal cannot fail to stimulate others to imitate his example.



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