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VOLUME IT.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT ONE DOLLAR A YEAR-PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER 4, 1862.
NUMBER 40.
THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES,
A WEEKLY RELIGIOUS PAPER,
PRICE ONE DOLLAR A YEAR,
PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.
Please address all communications to
THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TIMES,
148 South Fourth Street,
Philadelphia, Pa.
Subscriptions are also received by
A.   D.   F.   RANDOLPH,
,683 Broadway, New York.
HENRY HOYT,
9 Cornhill, Boston, Mass.
J. W. McINTYRE,
9 Sonth Fifth Street, St. Louis, Mo.
M9" For farther particulars, see Notices on fourth page.
For the Snnday-School Times.
THE FIDGETY SUPERINTENDENT,
THIS person is constitutionally uneasy. He
is in a stew at home, at his place of busi¬
ness, and wherever else he goes. He never
was thoughtfully calm for five minutes at a
time. He unwittingly puts into a stew those
with whom he associates or has business. It
would be well if, in putting on his Sunday
clothes, he could clothe himself with a garb
of quiet dignity, but he cannot. So he brings
his every-day manners and customs with him,
as he comes to the discharge of his official
duties in the Sunday-school. His entrance
into the school room introduces a general
odor of disquietude and restlessness. He
seems to have been shaved with a dull razor,
or bitten by venomous insects. Probably
both. As he constantly boils over on the
subject of punctuality, he is careful not to
be after the time for the opening of school.
But he hurriedly bolts into the school room
just as the clock is on the strike, and as hur¬
riedly arranges his affairs, so that the opening
of the school may at once proceed.
His opening exercises are as when a jar of
fermented preserves is opened. Great ebulli¬
tion ; little orderly propriety. His ways are
different. Sometimes a hymn, a chapter, a
prayer. Sometimes a hymn, a prayer, a chap¬
ter. Sometimes no chapter, sometimes no
prayer. Generally without the care in se¬
lection and arrangement which is desirable.
Always lacking in that spirit of earnestde-
votion which Bhould mark every religious
exercise. The school is opened, or rather
torn open, in such a manner as to jar the re¬
ligious feelings of all right-minded teachers;
and the exercises of study are due. But the
impetuous official has a notice to give, or a
new regulation to announce. He rings the
bell with violence, and failing to gain the
attention he desires, thumps on the desk with
a stick till enough noise is made to cause
everybody to look and listen. The notice
or regulation is an unimportant one, which
might have been otherwise disposed of. The
Library duties, contrived as awkwardly as
possible, are then attended to. Five adjutant
superintendents, under the name of secreta¬
ries, then march round, attending to the roll,
which our fidgety friend might as well do
himself, but for the fact that he does not see
how one man can do so much work.
The school is fairly set in motion. Not the
stately and dignified motion of the well
freighted and balanced ocean steamer, but
the nervous wriggling of the little unballasted
skiff, which a flaw of wind may upset at any
moment. A constant buzz is heard when the
superintendent moves around. Notj however,
the buzz of the busy bee, children industri¬
ously studying and reciting; but something
more like the buzzing of a family of hornets,
as he goes from class to class, stimulating
teachers and scholars with some ever new
species of worry. The boys are a special
plague to him. The girls constantly minister
to his vexation. As for his teachers, never
were such an inefficient set known to be in
any one school. The ventilating apparatus
distresses him. The arrangement of the
shutters and blinds requires his unremitting
attention. He flutters at the stove, and dis¬
turbs the school by making a noise with the
poker. He bothers the librarian until that
officer is on the point of resigning. The Bex-
ton is his natural enemy.
The fidgety superintendent has no lack of
rules and regulations. In fact, he has too
many; enough for several Sunday-schools.
He has so many that it is impossible to en¬
force a quarter of them. Some of them con¬
flict with others. Most of them are the pro¬
duct of his own unassisted wisdom. Some
of them have been extemporized for particu¬
lar occasions. For instance, when a boy (not
too able bodied) has behaved badly, the
school is reminded of the rule that all such
boys so behaving shall be made an example
of, by being temporarily imprisoned in the
coal cellar. With strong cries and great
hustling, the evil doer is thus made an ex¬
ample of, the bigger boys wishing that he
had tried it on them, that they might see
whether boy or superintendent would go to
that dimly lighted place of punishment. The
school is thrown into confusion. Superin¬
tendent declares that among such a set it is
impossible to keep order, and that the school
is rapidly going to destruction. So it is.
Aud if the teachers value the school and
think it is worth saving, the best thing they
can do is to call a special meeting, unani¬
mously requester. Fidgety to consider him¬
self put out, and then elect a wiser and more
placid man in his place. -A-. T.
Bristol, Pa.
For the Snnday-School Times.
THE DISCOURAGED TEACHER.
EMILY B sat by an open window, her
cheek resting on her hand, and her dark
eyes fixed upon the distant hills, yet appa¬
rently noticing scarcely any of the beauty of
the rich sunset before her. She was thinking
of the record of another Sabbath day—of her
labors with her Sabbath-school class—and
in a rather desponding mood was wondering
whether she had honored Jesus at all during
the day.
Emily was a Christian, and was earnestly
striving to lead the life of a Christian. She
loved her work, and had a heart full of love
for her scholars. She had labored that day,
with much prayer, to lead them to Christ.
But she felt discouraged. One would be in¬
attentive, another had no lesson, while an¬
other repeated the words, but seemed to care
but little more than to have a perfect lesson.
The Sabbath evening found her, like many
before it had found her, a discouraged teacher.
And yet how could she help it ? she had re¬
peated to herself as many times.
A still small voice of encouragement seemed
to whisper "in her ear a few lines she had
taught her little class the first Sabbath she
met them.    They were :
" And if you meet with troubles
And trials in your way,
Then cast your care on Jesus,
And don't forget to pray."
Ah, that was just what she needed!—
"Troubles," "trials," were they not hers?
She resolved she would cast her care on
Jesus; and kneeling before him she unbur¬
dened her heavy heart upon his bosom. As
the burden rolled off a flood of light entered
her soul, and she arose comforted, strength¬
ened, willing, if need be, to wait, but still
labor on, to guide her class to Jesup, just as
earnestly, thongh with far greater faith.
The sun's rays had wholly disappeared,
and the evening shades were gathering
thicker. The distant hills were dark, bnt a
light within cheered her now, and Jesus
seemed to be by her side.
The Sabbath morning came again. The
once dreaded morning, because the question,
" How shall I honor Jesus to-day?" only the
more seemed to discourage her heart. Emily
again knelt before her Saviour and sought
for strength, and went forth to meet her little
charge. The lessons were repeated as usual,
with the usual success. One tear had rolled
from her eye upon the open Bible as she told
her children of the Saviour's love and suffer¬
ings for them. Perhaps, she thought, a seed
has been Sown, but she felt that she could
now wait till the harvest.
A little time remained before the closing
exercises of the school, and Emily was about
to introduce something new to the notice of
her class, when one little girl made a motion
to speak to her, and then timidly withdrew
her hand. In a moment it was again up¬
lifted, and coming very close to her teacher's
ear, she whispered—" Teacher, do you re¬
member long ago teaching us, ' Don't forget
to pray?' I remembered it, and I do tell
Jesus 1"
She felt like clasping little Ella to her
heart and thanking God, but she could not.
She simply took the hand in hers, and whis¬
pered back some words of encouragement
Jesus had comforted her own heart with but
a few days before. That Ella, the lively,
light-hearted Ella, had so long remembered
those words was a proof that seed had been
sown, and that it was beginning to bring forth
fruit. That was enough to comfort, to encou¬
rage and to strengthen for all the work before
her.
That teacher and pupil still live. May we
not hope to honor Jesus 1
"Be not weary in well doing, for in due
season ye shall reap if ye faint not."
Sklia.
A SWISS SUNDAY-SCHOOL MAIDEN.
THE following incident is from an address
delivered by the Rev. Professor Nagel, of
Neufchatel, Switzerland, at the late Interna¬
tional Sunday-School Convention, held in
London. The Patriot says that it was de¬
livered in beautiful English, although the
speaker had only learned the language during
the previous winter, and for the special pur¬
pose of attending the Convention:
"Proceeding to speak of Switzerland, Pro¬
fessor Nagel gave an illustration of the bless¬
ed influence of Sabbath-school instruction
at Neufchatel. He had in his school a little
girl, eleven years of age, of whom he had
not thought or expected more than of any
of the others. She attended for about two
years, and was then obliged to go home into
the country. There was no Sunday-school in
the village. She felt the want deeply, and
said to herself, 'As there is no school, I must
open one.' She spoke to the little girls of
the village, telling them of the school in
Neufchatel, and asking, «Will you not come
to me next Sunday, and we will pray together,
and sing hvmns, and read the Bible, as they
do in Neufchatel.' They responded to her
request; the first time five or six, then ten or
twelve, then twenty or more. And then the
old girls of the village went with the little
eirls having obtained permission; and at
length the dear girl of eleven years saw
•around her every Sunday a school of 40 chil¬
dren from 6 to 15 years of age. She read
the Bible to them, taught them hymns, and
prayed with them. Her mother said she
aometimes listened from behind the door, and
could never hear her little girl reading and
praying without shedding tears. Christmas
Eve came for these villagers as for the Whole
world. That evening the school children of
Neufchatel used to have a great treat, assem¬
bling, dressed in their best clothes, in a bril¬
liantly lighted and beautifully garlanded
church, their faces lit up with joy, and every
eye shining like a star. In order to make the
treat as complete as possible, every scholar
received from the superintendent a little book
written expressly for the occasion. Now this
little Sunday scholar would not let Christmas
Eve pass over without any treat; and as she
had no little books to give to the children,
she thought to read to them the one she had
received the previous year. Her purpose be¬
coming known, the parents of the scholars
resolved to go also. Distress fell upon the
little girl when she thought of praying and
speaking before adults. What was she to do ?
She thought—IT it should be a blessing to
them I must not refuse. But cannot I get
my father to ceme and help me ? He has
always laughed at me and my Sunday-school,
but yet I will ask him. She asked him. He
could not resist her entreaties, and the conse¬
quence was that he was brought to love
Jesus.
" If a little girl could do so much, what
might not every Christian do for the glory
of the blessed Saviour!"
AM I THE ACHAN1
Lord, is it I ?   Ah, shall I be
An Achan in the camp ?
A clog to Israel—false to thee—
Bearing thine awful stamp ?
Am I at ease in Zion still ?
Does no sad thought arise ?
No secret tear of mourning fill
My down-cast weeping eyes ?
Have I no burden on my heart!—
No errand at thy throne ? *
In Zion's griefs have I no part?
Does she unheeded moan ?
Ah! can I pierce thee—Saviour dear,
And reckless, view the wound ?
Can no deep, mourning, bitter tear
Of anguish here he found ?
Spirit of grace!   0 search me through !
Detect my latent sin ;
Bring my exceeding guilt to view ;
Strike sorrow deep within.
Then shall salvation's waters flow,
When thou the rock dost smite;
Then soon shall bold transgressors know
How marvellous thy light.
—N. Y. Observer.
For the Snnday-School Times.
THE  BABY.
THE Baby rules everybody in the house—
issues her mandates in the feeblest of
voices—yet all hasten to interpret her wishes.
It matters not that they be expressed in the
most unintelligible of dialects, every one in¬
tuitively makes out a wondrously wise mean¬
ing, and watches with the intensest interest
for the next utterance. Even papa is van¬
quished by baby's feeble cry, and when she
stretches out her arms to go to him, he is
prouder,happier far, than when news of gain,
by sea or land, quickens ambition, but stifle
the gentler voices of his soul, the music tones
of humanity.
Is baby asleep? Then is the household
hushed, and the mother, as she sits by its
side, sewing and occasionally rocking the
cradle with her foot, is most truly the " guar¬
dian angel" of its happiness, and the smiles
which flit across its innocent face might well
be the reflections of her own love-lighted
beauty.
Is baby sick? How dull and dark seems
the dwelling: bow envied the mother, be¬
cause she only can soothe the little suf¬
ferer and hush that plaintive moaning; and
if baby dies, how silently and shiveringly do
the household gather round the family hearth,
whence the light is departed aud the fire seems
quenched. Those who say it was only a baby
never knew how the tendrils of affection
twine round the innocent helplessness, which
we wonld fain guard from sorrow, and de¬
velop into the full maturity of truth and
beauty. Such never knew how that tiny
touch can magnetize into forgetfulness the
pain of care; how the thought that upon
that mind is yet unwritten the consciousness
of sin, makes us emulate ourselves, in the
desire to throw npon its impressive nature
the light of a holy life; and how the won¬
drous mystery of its unfolding life sends us
to the Mercy Seat, seeking the wisdom that
cometh from above, that we may train the
child for God. M.
THE THANKFUL HEART.
IF one should give me a dish of sand,
and tell me there were particles of iron
in it, I might look for them with my eyes,
and search for them with my clumsy fingers,
and be unable to detect them; but let me take
a magnet and sweep through it, and how
would it draw to itself the almost invisible
particles by the mere power of attraction!
The unthankful heart, like my finger in the
sand, discovers no mercies; but let the thank¬
ful heart sweep through the day, and as the
magnet finds the iron, so it will find in every
hour some heavenly blessings; only the iron
in God's sand is gold.—0. W. Holmes.
How do I expect to think, and feel, and
act in heaven ? Let me try so to think, and
feel, and act on earth. Let heaven begin
with me below. 1
For the Snnday-School Times.
I      MARY OSBORNE.*
BY   JACOB   ABBOTT,
AUTH0B0? "JUNO AND QIOEail," "TOVXQOHBISTIAlj," 40.
5—Mary Osborne Chooses her Scholars.
SOON after the time when Mary Osborne,
hiving finished her education at the
boarding school, returned to her native town
to take np her residence permanently there,
the minister one day asked the superintendent
of the put icy-achool whether it would not be
a good'plan to invite her to become one of
the teachers.
" By all means, sir," said the superinten¬
dent, « if I can make arrangements to furnish
her with a suitable class."
Marjv Osborne's father was a man of great
wealth, and of great influence in the town, and
Mary herself was a very accomplished and
highly educated young lady. It was quite
natural, therefore, that the superintendent
should Consider it important that if she were
to be invited to take part in the instruction of
the Sunday-school, she should at any rate be
offered such a class as would be " suitable."
"You might perhaps make a selection from
among the upper classes of the school," said
the minister, " of those most advanced, and
most exemplary in their conduct, aud form a
class for her in that way."
" Y$s, sir," said the superintendent, " that
will be an excellent plan."
" Bfet before you take any other steps in
the matter," Baid the minister, " it might be
well fir you to call and see Miss Osborne, and
ascertain whether she would be willing to
take a class."
The superintendent said he would do that
on the first opportunity.
Accordingly, a few days afterward, he called
at the house where Mary Osborne lived. He
went through the little gate and knocked at
the sidje door. A girl who came to admit him,
ushered him into a pleasant back parlor, and
very soon Mary Osborne came in.
The'superintendent was a very plain and
unpretending man, and very little known in
genteel society. He was, however, an honest
and devoted Christian, and was highly es¬
teemed by all that knew him. Mary Osborne
gave him a very cordial reception.
After a little conversation en other subjects,
the afij^rintendent to.W.Mary Osborne what
hib ov^oct waa in calling, namely, to ask her
if she would be willing to take a class in the
Snnday-school.
"Yes, sir," said Mary Osborne, " I should
like to take a class very much."
" We will try to make np a nice class for
you if you will," said the superintendent.
" We shall select the most advanced and the
best behaved scholars out of all the other
classes."
The superintendent observed that Mary Os¬
borne's countenance seemed to fall when she
heard these words. She looked, in fact, quite
disappointed.
"Well, sir," she said, after a moment's
pause, " I will take such a class as that if you
think it is best. Perhaps, by-and-by, after
I have had a little experience—"
" Why, we thought," said the superinten¬
dent, " that that would be exactly such a class
as you would like."
Mary Osborne said nothing, but the super¬
intendent observed that she .shook her head
almost imperceptibly.    .
" What kind of a class would you like ?"
asked the superintendent.
"I should like a class of backward and
troublesome children," said Mary Osborne;
" that is, if you thought I was competent to
manage them."
The superintendent was quite surprised to
hear this, and for a moment he seemed not to
know what to say.
" You see," added Mary Osborne, " if I take
a class in the Sunday-school it is because I
wish to try to do some good; and so I would
like to have a class in which there is some
good to be done. However, somebody must
take the scholars that are good already, and
I ought to be willing to do it."
" And I am," she added, after a moment's
pause.
"Bnt,.MiB3 Osborne;" said the superinten¬
dent, " I would mnch rather give you a class
of backward and troublesome scholars than
any other, and if you are willing to take them,
I am sure you would manage them better than
any teacher we have. Let me see what class
is there?"
The superintendent paused. He was trying
to think which of all the classes was the most
backward and troublesome.
" Would you be willing to let me choose
my scholars," asked Mary Osborne, "provided
I don't take them away from any teachers
without their consent ?"
" Certainly," said the superintendent.
" Then," said Mary Osborne," I will inquire,
and I will come and see you on Saturday eve¬
ning, and tell you the names of those I wonld
like to have."
The superintendent was much pleased with
this arrangement. At Mary Osborne's re¬
quest, he wrote upon a paper the names of all
the teachers in the school who had classes of
girls, for she concluded to have a class of
girls first. He gave this list to Mary Osborne
and then went away.
The next day Mary Osborne dressed hereelf
in a very plain and simple manner, and went
to call upon all the teachers whose names
•Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862,
by Jacob Abbott, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States for the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania.
were on her list. The first one whom ahe
visited was a certain Miss Barnes. Miss
Barnes was sitting at the window in the par¬
lor of her mother's house. She felt quite
pleased at receiving a call from Mary Osborne,
and after some conversation, Mary Osborne
introduced the subject of the Sunday-school.
She said that she was going to have a class,
and it was to be made up of those that did
not go very well in the classes where they
now were.
" I wish you would take my Susan Jenks,"
said Miss Barnes."
"Well," replied Mary Osborne, " I will take
her.    What sort of a girl is she ?"
» Oh, she ia such a fidget," said Miss Barnes.
"She is always on the move—jumping up
and sitting down, and making a noise with
her feet, or dropping her question book, or
something or other. The other day, when I
was turned a little away from her, I saw my
scholars laughing, and I looked round and
found that she was trying to balance her pa¬
rasol on the toe of her boot. When she saw
me turning round, she started suddenly, and
the parasol fell over and made a great noise."
" I will take her," said Mary Osborne, with
a smile. "She is just such a scholar as I
want." *      i
"I am sure I shall be very thankful if you
will take her," said Miss Barnes. " But be¬
fore you have had her three weeks you will
be wishing to send her back again."
" I will try her, at any rate," said Mary.
So Mary Osborne wrote Susan Jenks's name
at the head of her list of scholars, and bade
Miss Barnes good-bye.
The next teacher that she visited was a
maiden lady, who was not very young, but
was of a very good natured and happy dispo¬
sition. As a Sunday-school teacher she was
very much interested in what she called in¬
doctrinating her class, that is, in explaining
to them methodically and enforcing earnestly
the essential doctrines of the gospel—a branch
of Snnday-school instruction which, though
highly important in its place, requires much
judgment and discretion on the part of the
teacher.
Mary Osborne explained to this lady much
as she had done to Miss Barnes, that she was
intending to take a class in the Sunday-
school, and that the plan was to make up her
class from the other classes, by taking those
that could most easily be spared.
" I don't know of any in my class that I
can spare very well," said the lady, " unless
it is Louisa Thornton. Louisa troubles me a
good deal, and I think the class would do
better without her. But then I suppose she
would trouble you just as much."
"What is the matter with her?" asked
Mary Osborne.
" She is what I call a caviller," said the
lady. " She is always making difficulties and
objections. The more I explain things to her
the less she seems to be satisfied. Sometimes
it takes up half the time of the class for me
to answer her objections, and then the next
week she has just as many as she had before."
"That must be very discouraging," said
Mary Osborne.
" It is very discouraging," said the lady.
" Sometimes I should get entirely out of pa¬
tience, only I make it a rule never to get out
of patience with my scholars."
" That is an excellent rule, I should think,"
said Mary Osborne.
" I advise you to make it your rule," said
the lady. "You will be sorely tried some¬
times."
" I will make it my rule," said Mary Os¬
borne, " and I am very much obliged to you
for suggesting it to me. As to Louisa Thorn¬
ton, I suppose you have no objection to having
her taken away from your class if the super¬
intendent thinks best ?" •
" Not at all," said the lady. " On the con¬
trary, I shall be glad to get rid of her."
So this was settled, and Mary Osborne
having put Louisa Thornton's name down
upon her list, bade the lady good-bye and
went away.
She called in this manner upon the other
teachers, and obtained at length quite a num¬
ber of names. There was Jane Slocum, who
gave her teacher a great deal of trouble by
never knowing her, lesson, and never taking
any interest in the class.
" She is a good girl enough," said her
teacher, " so far as sitting still and behaving
well is concerned; but she never can answer
the questions or say any lesson at all. The
fact is she is a stupid little thing, and does
not know anything. I have told her so twenty
times, but it does not seem to do any good."
So Mary Osborne put Jane Slocum's name
down upon her list.
There was one teacher that Mary Osborne
visited who said she could not spare any of
her scholars. She liked them all, she Eaid,
every one. She would give up one of them
if Mary Osborne could not make up her class
without, but she should have to draw lots to
determine which it should be.
Mary Osborne said that she would make up
her number without taking away any of this
young lady's scholars.
" But," she added, " I know you must be an
excellent teacher, to like all your scholars so
much, and you must let me come into your
class some day and see how you manage it."
Another girl whose name she obtained for
her list was Jenny Dart. Jenny Dart, her
teacher said, was a perfect little witch. She
was always engaged in some mischief. She
would bring beetles and butterflies to school
wrapped up in her pocket handkerchief, and
tickle whoever sat next to her with a feather,
under her ear, when the teacher was not look¬
ing, and make up faces at the girls in the next
pew, to make them laugh, and do a thousand
other such-things.
"You may have her and welcome," said
her teacher to Mary Osborne, " and I wish you
joy of your bargain."
In this way, in the course of two or three
days, Mary Osborne made up a list of eight
girls for her class, and on Saturday night she
carried the list to the superintendent.
tfor the Snnday-School Times.
THE HUMMING BIRD.
A HUMMING BIRD was drawing honey
from the scarlet blossoms of the honey¬
suckle. " What a beautiful creature !" said a
lady who was sitting in the piazza. " I wish
some one would catch him for me. I have a
large collection of stuffed birds, and I should
like to add him to my collection."
"Would you like to have him killed ?" said
Laura, with a little more sharpness of tone
than was quite proper to use towardB one
older than herself, and a visitor.
" I can't say I want him killed, or that I
would really prefer to having him in my col¬
lection to having him taking care of his little
ones. We say a great many things, my dear,
which we do not mean ; or rather express our
wishes without mentioning all the qualifying
circumstances. I would not have your darl¬
ing harmed, not even to grace my collection
with his beauty."
Laura felt that she had been too hasty in
drawing her conclusion that Mrs. M. was an
unfeeling woman. A. B.
BE PATIEHT WITH THE LITTLE ONES.
BE patient with the little ones. Let nei¬
ther their slow understanding nor their
occasional pertness offend you, or provoke
the sharp reproof. Remember the world is
new to them, and they have no slight task to
grasp with their unripened intellects tbe mass
of facts and truths that crowd upon their at¬
tention. You are grown to maturity aud
strength through years of experience, and it
ill becomes you to fret at the little child that
fails to keep pace with your thought. Teach
him patiently, as God teaches you, " line
upon line, precept upon precept; here a lit¬
tle, and there a little." Cheer *him on in this
conflict of mind: in after years his ripe, rich
thought shall rise up and call you blessed.
Bide patiently the endless questionings of
your children. Do not roughly crush the
springing spirit of free inquiry with an impa¬
tient word or frown, nor attempt, on the con¬
trary, a long aad instructive reply to every
slight and casual question. Seek rather to
deepen their curiosity. Convert, if possible,
the careless question into a profound and
earnest inquiry; and aim rather to direct
and aid than to answer this inquiry. Let
your reply send the little questioner forth, not
so much proud of what he has learned as
anxious to know more. Happy thou, if in
giving thy child the molecule of truth he
asks for, thou canst whet his curiosity with
a glimpse of the mountain of truth lying be¬
yond ; so wilt thou send forth a philosopher,
and not a silly pedant into the world.
Bear patiently the childish humors of those
little ones. They are but the untutored plead¬
ing of the young spirit for care and cultiva¬
tion. Irritated into strength, and hardened
into habits, they will haunt the whole of life
like fiends of despair, and make thy little
ones curse the day they were born ; but, cor¬
rected kindly and patiently, they become the
elements of happiness and usefulness. Pas¬
sions are but fires that may either scorch us
with their uncontrolled fury, or may yield
us a genial and needful warmth.
Bless your little ones with a patient care
of their childhood, and they will certainly
consecrate the glory and grace of their man¬
hood to your service. Sow in their hearts
the seeds of a perennial blessedness; its
ripened fruit will afford you a perpetual joy.
—The Friend of Youth.
For the Snnday-School Times.
A SPOTLESS SOUK.
"mHIS would be a beautiful dress," said
-L Mr. Alien, "if it were notfor the spots
on it.   I wonder how they came on it ?"
« They are the result of carelessness," said
Maria. " Eliza is the most careless girl I ever
saw. Her dress, and books, and every thing
she has, soon become soiled."
This conversation took place between Mrs.
Allen and her daughter, in her room at a
boarding school. Eliza was Maria's room¬
mate, and the dress in question, a costly one,
was lying on a chair in a corner of the room.
A fine dress, in order to be beautiful, must
be spotless. Much more must a soul, in order
to be beautiful, be spotless.
The soul must be kept unspotted from the
world—from the stains of guilt. Many,
through carelessness, dim the lustre and
bring deformity upon their souls.
AS "no man liveth to himself," so no man
sinneth to himself; and every vagrant
habit uprooted from the young and ignorant—
every principle of duty strengthened—every
encouragement to reform offered, and rightly
persevered in—is casting a shield of safety
over the property, life, peace, and every true
interest of the community; so that it may be
said of thia, moat emphatically, as of every
duty of man, " Knowing these things, happy
are ye if ye do them."
Blessed be the hand that prepares a plea¬
sure for a child, for there is no saying when
and where it may bloom forth.