had undertaken to preach through part of the Book of Job, the text which came in course was Job i, 21 : ‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!' and on this I preached, notwithstanding the death of my child. It would be in vain to attempt to describe either my anguish or my exultation on this trying yet animating occasion. Sorrow and joy succeeded each other in the highest degree, and often in the most rapid manner that I ever experienced: and sometimes they were pathetically, dolefully, yet sweetly intermingled. Prayer and thanksgiving seemed my main employment. I never obtained such a victory over the fear of death as by looking, for a long time together, on her corpse. Gradually my sorrow abated, and joy prevailed; and I often said, I would not exchange my dead child for any living child in the world of the same age. Some have told me that her religious turn was only the effect of hearing so much on the subject, and had nothing so extraordinary in it; but I never could see anything of the same kind in my other children, at so early an age, nor till they were much older, though they had at least the same advantages.

"MY MOTHER NEVER TELLS A LIE."

A FEW ladies had met at the house of a friend in the city of St. Louis, for an evening visit, when the following scene and conversation occurred :

The child of one of the ladies, about five years old, was guilty of rude, noisy conduct, very improper on

all occasions, and particularly so at a stranger's house. The mother kindly reproved her.

"Sarah, you must not do so."

The child soon forgot the reproof, and became as noisy as ever. The mother firmly said :"Sarah, if you do so again, I will punish you." But not long after, Sarah did so again. When the company were about to separate, the mother stepped into a neighbour's house, intending to return for her child. During the absence, the thought of going home called to the mind of Sarah the punishment she might expect. The recollection turned her rudeness and thoughtlessness into sorrow. young lady present observing it, and learning the cause, in order to pacify her, said :—

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"Never mind, I'll ask your mother not to whip you."

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"O," said Sarah, "that will do no good-my mother never tells a lie !"

The writer who communicated the above to the St. Louis Observer, said :-"I learned a lesson from the reply of that child which I shall never forget. It is worth everything in the training of a child, to make it feel that its 'mother never tells a lie.'"

"AFRAID TO SEE GOD."

A DEVOTED Christian mother, some years since, related what had then recently passed between herself and her little boy, not then far from four years old. In conversing with the child, occasion was

offered her to ask him this question: "Charles, do you wish to go to heaven?" With much thoughtful solemnity and modest deliberation, he answered: "No, mother!" She, of course, was not a little surprised; and, after assuring herself that she had not misunderstood him, she asked for his reasons. "Why do you not wish to go to heaven?" The little fellow, his breast heaving with emotion, and his eyes filling with tears, replied: "I have been such a wicked boy, that I am afraid to see God!” Now let none infer that this child was wicked in the sense of using bad language, or being quarrelsome, or otherwise outwardly faulty; for the reverse was

true.

All but himself would have pronounced him a lovely and excellent child. But his conscience had been enlightened he had been taught that God's "law is exceeding broad ;" that "the thought of foolishness is sin;" that great sin may be committed by the indulgence of wrong feeling, even when not made known to others by words and actions.

TIME TO BEGIN.

"ONE afternoon, in the autumn of 1839," says a pastor, "I rode several miles to visit a family in a remote part of my parish. The mother, a son, and a daughter, were professedly pious. During the interview which I had with the mother-the other members of the family being absent, except two or three quite small children-various Christian duties were presented by one and the other, as subjects of

conversation. At length the relation of parents to their children was spoken of. The mother evidently felt the importance of the subject. She was apparently endeavouring to train her children for the 'skies.' One question after another was proposed and answered. Among other things, the duty of praying for and with our children was referred to. 'Mrs. M.,' inquired I, 'do you pray with your children?' The tear started in her eye as she replied: 'Ah no, sir, with my oldest I do not. I know it is my duty to pray with all my children; and I am sensible that the influence of a mother's prayers is great and lasting; but I have not the confidence to go forward in the performance of this duty. This is just what they need; and the salutary effects of such an exercise would be felt and manifested by them, perhaps, when I should be in my grave; but the cross is great. I have not resolution to take it up. We have no morning nor evening prayers,' continued she, 'in our family; and I never set the chairs about the table, to sit down and take our meals, but I think of it. My husband sometimes expresses a faint hope in the Saviour, but he has never erected the family altar. Could I take my four oldest children into my chamber with me, and there wrestle with God for them, as did the mother of John Newton for her son, and as I trust I now sometimes do for those little ones on the hearth, and for them all when in my closet alone, what a blessed thing it would be!' Her emotion nearly stopped her utterance, as she closed this sentence.

'O that I had begun with my oldest children when they were small," said she; that is the time to begin!' Yes, thought I, that is the time to begin."

A WISE AND PIOUS MOTHER.

THE mother of a family had an infidel husband, who made a jest of religion in the presence of his own children; yet she succeeded in bringing them up in the fear of the Lord. I one day asked her, how she preserved them from the influence of a father whose sentiments were so openly opposed to her own. This was her answer: "Because, to the authority of a father I did not oppose the authority of a mother, but that of God. From their earliest years, my children have always seen the Bible upon my table. This holy book has constituted the whole of their religious instruction. I was silent that I might allow it to speak. Did they propose a question; did they commit any fault; did they perform any good action, I opened the Bible; and the Bible answered, reproved, or encouraged them. The constant reading of the Scriptures has alone wrought the prodigy which surprises you."

THE RUINED SON.

"ABOUT five years since, a young man in a neighbouring State, was detected in the act of committing a high crime, and committed to the county jail. He was universally known in that vicinity as a licen