It

soul. The sisters looked at each other, and the deep sigh revealed their anguish. The aged father observed these movements with a tearful eye, but said nothing. Soon the servant came in with several publications and letters, which he had just taken from the postoffice. The young furioso immediately caught one of them, and hastily removed the wrapper. It was a number of the Mother's Assistant (July, 1849). She opened it, and her eye fell upon these words: "You resolve and re-resolve, but fragments of broken resolutions strew your daily path." It was truly a word in season. was a picture of her own experience, and she turned to the commencement of the article, entitled "Temper."* She cast her eye over the pages, and the starting tear betrayed the emotions awakened in her hitherto obdurate bosom. Hastily she rose from her chair, and retired to her chamber, which she did not leave again until the next morning. The sisters also retired to their respective rooms, and again the prayer of faith went up to Heaven for that erring one. Nor did they pray in vain. Alone, in her chamber, she spent the day in communion with her own spirit. And O, what a day was that! During its brief hours what an important revolution is effected! The destiny of an immortal spirit is' changed forever! The feet, which so long have been treading with rapid strides the road to ruin, are now diverted from their downward course. That reckless one pauses upon the slippery steep. She perceives the danger to which her steps are tending, and her anxious eye wanders in search of a safer path. And then, far away in the distance, it catches a glimpse of the still waters and the green pastures of righteousness. Shining ones are walking there, and their faces radiant with the glory which streams forth from the throne of the Eternal. But how is that blessed region to be reached? Between that and the anxious soul there yawns a gulf, which no mortal power can pass unaided. And O, what pencil can paint the agony of that soul, as it looks into the pit upon the very verge of which it stands, and then, casting a backward glance upon the path which leads to such fearful peril, exclaims, in bitterness of spirit, "What shall I do to be saved? Who will show me any good?" But a voice comes from the page of inspiration, saying, "Fear not, I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. Hope thou in God. He is nigh unto them that are

* By Mrs. Fliza W. Clark.

of a broken heart, and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit. His grace is sufficient for thee in the hour of trial, and through him shalt thou gain the victory over every sin."

Such was the substance of that young lady's experience while she held converse with her own spirit, and sought strength from on high. No one was aware of the mighty struggle which was passing there. Little did the family suspect that the soul of that loved one was even then standing on the boundary between life and death; that the influence of that day's decision would extend through eternal ages, and fix the destiny of an immortal soul for weal or woe. But the change which that decision wrought in her character and movements, was soon observed by all. It seemed as though the lion was transformed to the lamb. Peace reigned where wild contention had formerly held her throne, and joy and gladness pervaded the dwelling which had been turned into a house of mourning by the spirit of discord.

Good reason had that family to prize the periodical which had been the instrument in the hand of God by which this change was brought about. Good reason had they to be grateful to the individual who wrote that short article, which had been so richly blessed. Good reason, also, had that writer to praise God for the inspiration which enabled her to exert an influence of such vast magnitude and extent. I would rather be the author of that story, than to have "shared with Napoleon the triumphs of his blood-bought throne."

What encouragement does this fact impart to those who are seeking to promote the welfare of the young. To such I would say, in the language of another, "Toil on, ye warm-hearted and persevering souls, in your arduous and self-denying task. Ye shall not labor in vain. In some unexpected moment the reward of your toil shall be given you. It may be that, in this world, ye will never know the result of your patient endeavor. Do not tarry to gather fruit. The harvest is not yet, and this is not the time to reap; but go forth and scatter the good seed of the word in this sinful world. Water it with tears of earnest faith and love, and when a few more days of faithful service and patient watching have passed, when a few more rolling suns have ripened the precious sheaves, then shalt thou approach the throne of thy Father and thy God, bringing, with songs of joy and gladness on thy lips, the souls which have been given thee, as the reward of thy labors on earth."

THE aboved named book is one of the publications of the Mass. S. S. Society. It is intended especially for boys between the ages of ten and sixteen years, as a guide to good principles, habits and manners. We rejoice at the publication of this book, and hope it will in some degree compensate for the neglect of parents and teachers of youth, by whom these matters, namely, good principles, habits and manners, are greatly neglected. All parents who have boys would do well to purchase a copy for them, and read it in connection with them, making, as they proceed, such comments as the subject may naturally suggest.

[CONCLUDED.]

JULIA LITCHFIELD AND HELEN MAY.

EDITORIAL.

A WEEK passed away. Julia had come with the intention of playing the fine lady among her cousins. She did not intend to be familiar with them. She thought that a lady-like reserve and exclusiveness would preserve the distinction which it was proper should exist between them on account of their difference of position; but, somehow, she found things estimated in this family by a standard very different from that to which she had been accustomed. Her vanity was sorely wounded, and she felt deeply mortified; but she would not let it appear. She fell back upon her wealth, and seemed determined in some way to make her cousins feel her superiority. But Helen would not be offended. When Julia put on airs, she would appear not to notice them. She was perseveringly kind and frank, and made her conversation so interesting and agreeable, that it was impossible to resist its charm. By degrees Julia's pride, having nothing to feed it or to oppose it, gave way, and a sincere and honest admiration of her cousin, and desire for her own improvement, took its place. She followed Helen everywhere she went. She watched her modes of instructing and managing the younger ones. She listened and thought, but said very little.

Miss Litchfield busied herself among the children, and was as active and as happy as any of them; but she made no pointed remarks to Julia. She had intended this visit as a practical lesson. She had observed the workings of Julia's mind, and she was willing, for the present, to leave it to circumstances to make their full impression upon her, without any lecturing of her own. Instead of disturbing her feelings or wounding her pride, she wisely left her to make her own reflections and comparisons.

One morning, after the children had left the school-room, Julia entered and closed the door. "Helen," said she, "I want to ask you some questions. Will you answer them?"

"I will if I can," said Helen, who looked up in some surprise.

Julia. How have you made yourself so good and so intelligent?

Where have you acquired such information and such clearness of ideas? How did you learn such good manners?

Helen. O, stop! stop! One thing at a time, cousin Julia; and, above all things, do not flatter me in this way. I shall not know what to say to you.

Julia. Helen, I came here a proud, vain, ignorant girl. I am so now; but I am ashamed of myself. I want to know how you have made yourself what you are. But first tell me if you are really as poor as I heard you were?

Julia.

Helen. We are poor, When my father failed he gave up all, and his health has never permitted him to engage in active business since. He has an office in the town, which yields him a little income, but it is a very small one.

Julia. Yet you can afford to keep a servant, and you have time for study, and reading and amusement of various kinds. I thought poor people had to work all the time.

Helen. We are obliged to make nice calculations, Julia. We have to choose between many things. What we gain in one way we sacrifice in another. We aim at the greatest good, which, next to love and piety, seems to me to be a good education, health and leisure. I believe that many persons in our situation would think it most important to dress handsomely, and would devote their money and their time to this purpose. We make no embroidery, we do no worsted work, beyond a few mats and a pair of slippers at Christmas for father. A shilling calico and a cambric collar is, as you see, our ordinary dress, though we have each a white, or a pretty colored muslin for a best. And here pride and economy go together, to a certain extent; for I cannot help thinking that a clean, fresh, smoothly-ironed calico, or muslin, is more truly genteel than a tarnished silk or tissue., I have learned dress-making, and can fit and make a dress very nicely.

Julia. Yes, and I observe that you do it for your neighbor's children, the poor family at the corner. Are you paid for it? Helen. No. I should feel poor, indeed, not to have it in my power to do a kindness to a neighbor. But you see that our saving in this way enables us to hire a servant, and I take pains to employ

one who can sew neatly. I and my sisters do a

active work of the family. It is not unpleasant.

great part of the

We do not feel it

a hardship to help our father and each other. And it is healthy.