with some difficulty obtained an interview; and, by kindness and sympathy, won upon her confidence, and induced her to return to the arms of her injured, but forgiving parent. "Dearest Priscilla," said the mother, writing to my aunt, in reference to this affair, "you have indeed acted as a disciple of Him who came to seek and to save that which was lost. You already, in some degree, enter into the joy of your Lord, in the degree of success which has attended your benevolent effort; and I trust—yes, I believe you will have lasting, increasing evidence that you may rejoice over your poor sister as a sinner who truly repents."

These pleasing anticipations were happily confirmed: the proud spirit was subdued, the world was forsaken, the long neglected and despised ways of religion were tried, and found, even in the midst of worldly trials and privations, to be ways of pleasantness and paths of peace. Yes, even the bitter tears of repentance are sweeter than all the honied pleasures of the world and sin. Such was the happy experience of the returning Helen, as it has been of all who have tried the experiment. Helen G-became a humble, consistent, and devoted Christian. Her peculiar circumstances led her to adopt a life of comparative seclusion; but she was a comfort to the closing days of her aged mother, she maintained a warm and grateful friendship with my aunt Priscilla, and her society was highly valued by the very few select friends whom she could be induced occasionally to meet.

It was not till after her death that even my aunt was aware of the full extent of the wretchedness and danger from which she had been the honoured instrument of rescuing her. Had my dear aunt suffered the delay of a few hours in carrying out her benevolent impulse, the object of her solicitude would have been past the reach of human effort. She was on the very brink of suicide, when providentially rescued by a relative against whom she had always indulged the most bitter prejudice and dislike.

Together with this affecting communication, there was found a paper in the handwriting of Helen G

It was

probably an extract which she had copied, as parts of it were distinguished by inverted commas. It was headed

thus:

"The power of love, the secret of success, exemplified in dear P. M.

"Another means of conversion is, a kind, affectionate spirit, a spirit of love. By this such wonders are wrought and such mighty efforts produced as justly astonish the universe. When God would rescue miserable sinners from ruin, he transformed himself into love. He "so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son," John iii. 16. When Christ would redeem us from eternal death, love brought him down from heaven to earth, and love nailed him to the cross. When the apostles were sent to convert the world, the means to be employed was the display of the infinite love of God to man. Would we be instrumental in the conversion of sinners, love to them must be abundant in our hearts, and be poured forth in every look and word and action. It is a maxim, by which all our efforts should be animated and regulated, that every thing valuable that is to be gained in this world, bad as it is, is to be gained by love; that every thing which is to be done, is to be done by love; and that nothing can be procured for the eternal happiness of men, but what can be procured by love. The largest proportion of love which can be compassed within the human heart, need be employed to pour forth the salutary streams of kindness and affection, to drown the prejudice of those who oppose the truth, to extinguish their hatred, and to engage them to listen with candour and good will,"

I need scarcely say, in reference to my aunt's pious and benevolent efforts, that both the subject and instrument of deliverance concurred in extolling the riches of sovereign mercy and saving power. "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake," Psa. cxv. 1.

There were a few others with whom my aunt maintained a cherished intimacy, and whose visits I recollect with interest. Some of the conversations to which it was my privilege to listen in the days of my childhood and youth, recur to my mind with pleasing freshness, and afford me hints of instruction, admonition, or encouragement, under the cares and perplexities and trials of riper years. Oh, it is much to be desired that Christian friends, when they meet, should more frequently direct their conversation to that which is good to the use of edify

ing. They know not to how great an extent it may minister grace to those who hear it, Eph. iv. 29; not merely those to whom it is designedly addressed, but perhaps to some child or servant, on whose ears it may accidentally fall. I do not know the precise nature of the trial alluded to; but I can never forget the tone and manner of a good woman, when, grasping the hand of my aunt, she said, "Yes, my dear friend, it is trying. I never dare suffer myself to think of it without first getting my mind settled on some great first principle, such as, Truly God is good to Israel.' When this is done, I can calmly look at my circumstances, and say, They are just what God appoints. Could I see the whole as he sees it, I should wish it ordered just as he orders it. But I am ignorant; therefore I must trust. What I know not now, I shall know hereafter, and the developement of his plans will issue in perfect satisfaction and praise. Yes; he leads the blind by a way that they know not; but the light of glory will show that it has been by a right way.'

These sentiments have often soothed and tranquillized my own mind, long since the lips that uttered them in my presence have been locked in the silence of the grave. It is true, I might have found them in the Bible, and I might have discerned their appropriateness and value; but they seem to come home with fresh force and sweetness from the recollection of the support and comfort they afforded to a Christian in the time of trouble, when I knew not what trouble meant. The experience of former pilgrims is greatly encouraging to those who come after. On these promises, they rested their hopes and confidence, and were sustained. Surely the same promises are firm enough for me. I, too, will venture, for there is no excluding clause. Whosoever believeth shall not be ashamed, Rom. ix. 33.

But I have wandered from my kind aunt and her friends. One of these, in whose society she most delighted, had been her school-fellow. The friendship which, perhaps, originated in similarity of pursuits, and was not as ardent in its early professions, nor as ephemeral in its existence as the friendships of school girls usually are. The young ladies at school discovered a decided preference for each other's society, and had the good sense to render intercourse subservient to improvement. They really wished to

improve their advantages, and strove to assist each other in so doing. Hence, their school recollections were not of that kind which often render those who have been companions in youth, ashamed to meet each other in riper years, from the consciousness of the scenes of folly and levity in which they have been partners. It was always with feelings of satisfaction and mutual respect that the young friends met or corresponded with each other. During the interval between leaving school and being settled in life, the interviews were not very frequent, as my grandfather had a decided objection to his daughters leaving home; and almost equally so to their receiving visitors. Either the one or the other seemed to spoil the completeness of his domestic circle. However, a friendly regard was kept alive, which received a fresh impulse when, about the same time, the young friends were brought to know "the grace of God in truth." Then, indeed, they took sweet counsel together, and strengthened each other's hands in God. Subsequent connexions in life rendered them more accessible to each other, and they became identified in each other's interests and circumstances. With lively pleasure, each participated in the enjoyments of her friend; and the ready tribute of warm-hearted sympathy was ever present to soothe under the greater and lesser sorrows of life. The course of my aunt was more uniform-that of her friend, more diversified; she experienced greater alternations of joy and sorrow, prosperity and adversity, but she was enabled to exemplify the Christian under all. She was the daughter of one professional man, and became the wife of another. She had been, in every sense of the word, well educated; that is, not only had she been initiated in the various branches of knowledge usually imparted to young ladies of her station in life, but her mind was stored with correct principles for the regulation of her feelings and her conduct. She was trained to an aptitude for accommodating herself to the varied circumstances of life, and for the diligent and intelligent discharge of the duties arising out of those circumstances. Like the friend of her youth, she shone in the humble sphere of domestic life; and yet possessed spirit and energy for more extensive enterprize when thrown upon her own resources. The small portion which her father was

able to give her on her marriage, was not more than sufficient to meet the expenses of a moderately respectable outfit; and the father of her husband, though able, was not inclined to assist him. He had been guilty of the too common injustice of bringing up his son to a profession which requires respectability of appearance, yet which, under the most favourable circumstances, cannot be expected for many years to afford the means of supporting it; and then turning him adrift, without any assistance for meeting the exigencies of the initiatory period. The young man was talented and assiduous, and gained an extensive practice in a country town. But, in addition to the struggles at the outset of his professional career, fresh difficulties arose from frequent visitations of sickness in the family. For many years, the dwelling seemed to be the constant abode of affliction. Of a numerous family, more than half died in childhood. The health of the mother often gave way under the pressure of grief and fatigue; and the father had several long and dangerous illnesses, which entailed heavy expenses, as well as operated injuriously on his practice. Little were the struggles of this deserving family suspected by casual observers. Little was it known what toilsome efforts of self-denying economy were practised, that they might be enabled to give their children a suitable education; or the anxieties under which they continually laboured, to provide things honest in the sight of all men. After persevering against difficulties for more than twenty years, and meekly submitting to the trying dispensations of Providence, brighter days began to dawn. The surviving children were growing up in life, and discovered dispositions to requite the exertions and fulfil the wishes of their parents. The eldest son, who followed his father's profession, gave early promise of eminence in it; and the period was anticipated, with satisfaction, when, having completed his preparatory studies and exercises, he should return home to share and alleviate the fatigues of his father. A space of about two years yet intervened before the accomplishment of these anticipations could take place. During that period, the aged head of the family died. The disposition of his property was partial and unjust, and devolved little more to the friends of my aunt than sufficed to equip the family in mourning,

and assisted in apprenticing two younger sons. What a pity it is, that parents, on whom God has conferred the ability to make all their family comfortable, should thus inflict privation on some, generally the most deserving, and sow the seeds of future heart-burnings and discord in all. In this instance, from the odd temper of the father, little or nothing had been expected by his least favoured son, and, therefore, no great disappointment was felt. Besides, that part of the family possessed a treasure of which others were ignorant, and in comparison with which, thousands of gold and silver shrink into insignificance. They had learned to be content with such things as they had, and to realize the import of the promise, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,” Heb. xiii. 5. But fresh trials awaited the struggling pair; as if at once to make them keenly feel the privations entailed on them, by the cruel unkindness of an earthly parent, and to endear still more to them an interest in that Father who is never unkind, never unmindful. Mr. B. was again visited with illness: the attack was far more severe and of longer duration than any previous one had been. His life was long despaired of; and when, at length, hopes began to dawn, they were beclouded by indications of remaining feebleness that would entirely unfit him for the duties of his profession, and his hopeful son was not yet officially qualified to enter it, and there was little chance of retaining a prosperous practice in the hands of an assistant, however competent, when the principal was not able even to superintend it. Trying as was the measure, as it involved giving up the present means of support for the family, and also relinquishing the long-cherished plan of establishing the son in the father's connexion, it became necessary to give up the practice, and trust for the future; yes, trust, not when present resources almost equalled present exigencies, but when no resource remained but the faithful word of God, which had long been believingly obeyed, "Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed," Psa. xxxvii. 3. And the result did not invalidate the observation of the inspired penman of that promise, "I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread,"

ver. 25.

That tender, anxious wife, as she

NEST OF THE PINCPINC.

(Cysticola textrix, Swains.)

THE curious nest figured above is a beautiful example of those kinds which present a globular contour, with a small passage leading to a snug chamber, in which the eggs are deposited and the young reared. The artificer is a little bird not uncommon in South Africa, named by Levaillant the pinc-pinc, (Cys. ticola textrix, Swains,) and of which he gives an interesting account in his work on the birds of Africa, (Vol. iii., page 88, plate 131.)

Pendant nests of various figures are constructed by many birds, and among these the pensile weaver bird of South Africa is especially celebrated. The nest of the pinc-pinc, however, differs from that of the weaver bird in many essentials, and particularly in this: it is not composed of intertwined grasses, but of the down of plants, felted, as it were, so as to form a tolerably compact, though soft and delicate fabric. Besides, the weaver bird's nest has a long neck, forming a passage into it, and with the opening downwards, as the nest swings from the twig or palm leaf; in the nest of the pinc-pine, the narrow entrance is at or near the upper portion of the dome. In addition, it may be observed that this nest does not swing freely, but is more completely attached to the twigs which sup

port it. It is generally among the twigs of thorny shrubs that the pinc-pinc places its nest; sometimes, however, at the extremity of the branches of trees. That of which Levaillant gives a figure was attached to the twigs of a mimosa.

The nest of this bird is usually of great comparative size, but in this respect different specimens are found to vary greatly; however large they may be, still it must be observed, that it is only in external volume, the walls being very thick, while the interior cavity of the largest does not exceed that of the smallest. Abundance or deficiency of material may tend to create this difference, which varies from five, six, or eight inches, to a foot in external admeasurement, or even more, the diameter of the cavity within being about three inches.

It is, as already mentioned, of the down of plants that this elegant nest is made, and hence it varies in colour, according to that of the raw material from which it is fabricated; often it is of snowy whiteness; in other instances, brownish.

Its external form, though globular as a whole, is irregular according to the ramifications or tournures of the branches on which it rests, and to which it is so intimately attached, that it is impossible to remove it without tearing the composition, and leaving flakes and shreds of it still adherent; the twigs, indeed, pass through