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THE social condition of Woman is a sure and unerring index to the real character of Nations. But nations are formed of Families; and as are the parts, such is the whole. The chief source of man's happiness is the society of woman; but that woman may impart happiness, she must first possess it, and this wholly depends upon her husband. How can she, if herself a wretch, contribute to his felicity? Man finds his own bliss in securing hers; in destroying her peace he destroys his own. In this we see the wisdom and goodness of God in framing the Domestic Constitution. Let the husband study those things which make for the happiness of his wife, and his own will follow of course. Woman's love is lasting as her existence. What a pity that man should ever prove unworthy of such fidelity! The following admirable lines, by an American lady, a member of the Society of Friends, were left in the cottage of a tippling gardener, whom it had the happy effect of winning from the noisy tap-room to his own domestic hearth:

THE WIFE TO HER HUSBAND.

"You took me, William, when a girl, unto your home and heart, To bear in all your after-fate a fond and faithful part;

And tell me, have I ever tried that duty to forego,

Or pined there was not joy for me when you were sunk in woe? No; I would rather share your tear than any other's glee,

For though you 're nothing to the world, you're ALL THE WORLD

TO ME.

You make a palace of my shed, this rough-hewn bench a throne;
There's sunlight for me in your smiles, and music in your tone.
I look upon you when you sleep-my eyes with tears grow dim,
I cry
'Oh Parent of the Poor, look down from heaven on him;
Behold him toil from day to day, exhausting strength and soul;
Oh look with mercy on him, Lord, for thou canst make him whole!'
And when at last relieving sleep has on my eyelids smiled,
How oft are they forbade to close in slumber by our child!
I take the little murmurer that spoils my span of rest,

And feel it is a part of thee I lull upon my breast.

There's only one return I crave, I may not need it long,

And it may soothe thee when I'm where the wretched feel no wrong:
I ask not for a kinder tone, for thou wert ever kind;

I ask not for less frugal fare, my fare I do not mind;
I ask not for attire more gay-if such as I have got
Suffice to make me fair to thee, for more I murmur not.

But I would ask some share of hours that you on clubs bestow,
Of knowledge which you prize so much, might I not something know?
Subtract from meetings amongst men each eve an hour for me;
Make me companion of your soul, as I may safely be.

If you will read, I'll sit and work; then think when you 're away;
Less tedious I shall find the time, dear William, of your stay.
A meet companion soon I'll be for e'en your studious hours,
And teacher of those little ones you call your cottage flowers;
And if we be not rich and great, we may be wise and kind,
And as my heart can warm your heart, so may my mind your mind."

The Children's Gallery.

SKETCH OF E. S. REEVE. How painful sometimes are the dispensations of Providence, in afflictions and bereavements, which may appear in this memoir of E. S. Reeve, the eldest son of the Rev. E. Reeve, of Hales Owen. We wish to give an impartial account of what we know and remember of him. He had his faults incident to youth, for which he received parental reproof and correction with becoming submission. We do not remember that he ever showed any resentment for correction. God most mercifully preserved him from all acts of immorality; he did not like the society of the profane, nor take pleasure in sinful amusements. His recreations were music, drawing, painting, and various mental efforts to acquire knowledge. He always spoke of religion with respect;-the truly pious he highly esteemed, and chose them as his associates, which, we hope, was the effect of the Holy Spirit's operation on his mind. He was a strict observer of character; often expressed his dislike of a profession of religion in any without the evident fruits of piety; and was very careful not to say much of his own religious views and feelings. From frequent conversation with him, we discovered that he well knew the sinfulness of human nature, his own sinful state, and the way of salvation by faith in Christ. He very much loved his only sister, about two years older than he, had entire confidence in her, and opened his mind to her more freely than to any one else. She wrote to him at school and conversed with him when at home

on the subject of religion and salvation,
by which they became increasingly
attached to each other. His parents
had observed for some time his serious-
ness, and how much he was concerned
to do everything to please them. He
was the child of many prayers; yea,
many hundreds of prayers have been
offered up for his salvation by both
his parents, and they do confidently
hope that prayer has been answered in
his salvation. He was brought home
from school quite unexpectedly on Sa-
turday evening, Nov. 22nd; his tutor
and a friend came with him. He was
a little delirious when he arrived-was
put to bed; had some medicine given
to him-slept tolerably well through
the night. When he awoke in the
morning he was quite rational, and
said to his father, who had watched by
him through the night, "If it were not
for affliction, we should love the world
more than we do." He continued all
the forenoon of Monday quite sensible,
and conversed composedly with his fa-
ther and sister; his mother was then
from home. His father prayed with
him and for the preservation of his life,
but especially for the salvation of his
soul. When he concluded, the dear
boy said, "Thank you, father." He
was told he must pray for himself; and
that he could do so on his bed.
said, "I do." His father then said to
him, "My dear, do you believe that
Jesus Christ is able to save you?" He
said, Yes." "And that he is willing to
save you?" He said, "Yes." "And are
you trusting in him for your salvation?"
He said, with an expressive look of great

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seriousness, a tear starting in his eye, "I hope I am.”

Some time after this his sister heard him praying very earnestly to be pardoned and saved, for the sake of Christ who died on the cross to save sinners; which he repeated many times. After his father had prayed with him again, he said, "My dear, do you love the Saviour?" He said, with the same expressive look of seriousness, "I hope I do." Shortly after this he became delirious, and continued so, with some short, lucid intervals, till he expired. The next day his fever and nervous excitement became very strong and distressing. He did not know his dear parents, whom he tenderly loved; but amidst all his delirious talking we did not hear one improper expression, which was a consolation to his distressed parents, relatives, and friends, who were in constant attendance on him. On one occasion we were standing by his bed; he seemed composed; and we heard him say, "Now is the time to serve the Lord." On another occasion he was heard praying very fervently; and in the evening before he died he was heard to say, "Old things have passed away." During his delirium he sang much, and with an energy and tones of voice such as we never heard him while in health. 66 "Ah," said his afflicted and distressed mother, "that singing pierces my heart; they are unearthly sounds-dying sounds."

By Thursday evening the fever seemed to have quite exhausted him: he then fell into a slumber, and till the time of his death did not seem to have any conscious pain of body or distress of mind; and on Friday evening, the 27th of Nov., 1846, at half-past seven o'clock, this amiable and highly promising youth expired without a struggle or a groan, aged thirteen years, seven months, and nine days.

We now insert a letter, received by the father of the deceased the week after his death from his esteemed tutor, as a further illustration of his character. He had been furnished by the father with an account of his dear son's dying testimony, and the circumstances of his death:

"My dear Sir,-I thank you very

much for the pains you have taken in furnishing me with the circumstances attending the last moments of your dear departed son. I do, indeed, sincerely sympathize and weep with you on your bereavement, and yet rejoice that you have not to sorrow as those without hope. God has been pleased to becloud our prospects.... but your intelligence has cheered my spirits, and led me to bless the Lord for his great mercy in permitting dear Edward to leave behind him such an evidence of the good seed having been previously sown in his heart. At the commencement of the present half-year he was evidently concerned about his state as a sinner, and anxious to obtain salvation. Several times he and two other boys retired to their room for prayer. He prayed with them fluently and earnestly, and on one occasion felt so deeply his guilt, that he threw himself on the bed and burst into tears. He has frequently since that time reminded those with whom he was most intimate of the necessity of being more serious and thoughtful about their souls. As I have before stated to you, his attention to the duties of the office he sustained was unremitting and constant, ever anxious to fulfil his part and anticipate my wishes. He often hesitated to leave me alone when the arrival of the day devoted to drawing called him away to attend to this branch of education." (He was assistant to his tutor part of his time, the last half-year he was at school, being deemed by him well qualified for this office.)—"I need not tell you that he possessed talents of the first order, and a capability of acquiring any kind of knowledge with apparent ease. He was a good arithmetician, had a knowledge of geometry, was tolerably well acquainted with geography and history, and, from the testimony of his Latin tutor, had a respectable knowledge of that language."— (We may add, that he was a good grammarian, had made considerable advances in drawing and painting,-some of his last pieces are considered very beautiful: he has left behind him some beautiful ornamental Scripture pieces and maps. He was fond of music, understood it, and could play well on

the piano and organ: had directed his attention to the study of chemistry and astronomy a little, and was a most diligent student, and, we fear, predisposed his brain to the fever of which he died by incessant study.)

"From the period of his attack of illness," continues his tutor, "he was anxiously inquiring as to the probability of his recovery, being evidently alive to the importance of the salvation of his soul. Often has he asked me this question, 'How can a person know when he is converted?' And this was repeated when in the car on the journey home. He also asked, 'Do we not all pay more regard to the interests of the body than to those of the soul? And on my speaking of the necessity of faith in Jesus, and of the true characteristics of faith, he said, 'Yes; we are not saved by our own good works, but by faith; yet it must be a faith from which will spring good works and fruits of holiness.' The intelligence of his death produced an impression on the minds of my pupils which I shall never forget; and at our dinner-table, to use the words of Mr. James, we all felt ourselves weak,' and sadness and silence brooded every mind."

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We have confined ourselves to simple facts, avoiding every kind of embellishment; and may not the bereaved parents, relatives, and friends, indulge a scriptural hope that this interesting youth, whose early death they deeply deplore, is saved by grace, through the merits and righteousness of Christ; that he is taken from the evil to come; that he is washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb, and is now before the throne of God in heaven ? We do hope this is the case; and this hope sustains the minds of his dearest relatives, who loved him greatly, for they esteemed him to be from childhood very amiable and lovely; and we know that

many others who knew him well entertain the same opinions of him.

None but affectionate parents can know the agonizing distress which was felt by his affectionate parents during the week he was lying under a brain fever, and when he expired. But the Lord has graciously sustained their minds, and has enabled them to say,

"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord." In stature of body and in mental powers and intelligence this interesting youth was thought by many to be two years older than he was. His now sorrowing father sincerely loved his son, and was astonished and delighted at the rapid advances in various kinds of knowledge he made during the last two years of his life. He had high hopes of him, but they are frustrated in reference to this world. He is lost to our sight, but not to our future hopes.

May parents learn from this narrative the importance of being more concerned for their children's salvation than for their worldly interests, and by their prayers, pious instruction, and example, earnestly seek their salvation.

Let the young who read this narrative be at once decided for religion, for Christ and salvation, and not calculate on a long life because they may have a good constitution and be healthy and strong, for none could have a better constitution or be more healthy and strong than was Edward Secundus Reeve, the beloved youth who has been removed by a sudden and early death. Hales Owen, Dec., 1846. E. R.

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I} (Dan. i. 17, 20.) Stephen's faith and spi- (Acts vi. 8, 10.) spi-}

rit too;

John's divine communion (John xiii. feel, 23.) Moses' meekness, Mar- (Num. xii. 3.) tha's zeal: J (Luke x. 38.) May I with unwearied Paul, (2 Tim. Win the day, and conquer all; S iv. 7.) Mary's love may I possess, (Luke x. 42.) Lydia's tender-heartedness; (Acts xvi. 14.) Peter's ardent spirit feel, (John xxi. 15,

And, like him, to Christ 17.) appeal ; Like young Timothy, may I (2 Tim. ii. Every sinful passion fly; 22.) Job's long patience may (James v. 11.) I know, David's true devotion too; (Ps. lv. 17.) Samuel's early habits) (1 Sam. ii. 18, iii. wear, 19.)

Lazarus' happy portion) (Luke xvi. 22.)

share;

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of the rats:

"The rats once assembled in a large cellar, to devise some method of safely getting the bait from a small steel trap which lay near, having seen numbers of their friends and relations snatched from them by its merciless jaws. After many long speeches, and the proposal of many elaborate but fruitless plans, a happy wit, standing erect, said, "It is my opinion that, if with one paw we keep down the spring, we can safely take the food from the trap with the other.' All the rats present loudly squealed assent, and slapped their tails in applause. The meeting adjourned, and the rats retired to their homes; but the devastations of the trap being by no means diminished, the rats were forced to call another convention.' The elders had just assembled, and had commenced the deliberations, when all were startled by a faint voice, and a poor rat, with only three legs, limping into the ring, stood up to speak. All were instantly

silent, when, stretching out the remains of his leg, he said, My friends, I have tried the method you proposed, and you see the result! Now let me suggest a plan to escape the trap-Do not touch it!'"

LESSON OF THE BIRDS.
LUCY sat at her mother's side,
And watch'd the waving trees,
Whose bending branches sadly sigh'd,
Touch'd by the stormy breeze.

She almost trembled as she heard
The thunder's distant roar,
And hardly dared to speak a word
As the clouds began to lower.

But when the lightning's dazzling flash
Came on so fast and thick,
And when the nearer thunder's crash
Follow'd, so deep and quick,

She could not hide her secret fear,
But with a simple thought,
Drawing her mother's arms more near,
She there for shelter sought.

But soon the storm pass'd off; the sky
Assum'd a brighter hue;

While the hoarse winds in cadence die,
And zephyrs sing anew.

Then Lucy, like a happy bird,

Felt the returning light;

And show'd, by thoughtless laugh and word,

Her innocent delight.

"How glad the little birds must be
To think the storm is done;
How joyfully from every tree

They greet the cheering sun."
"Their songs are sweet," her mother said;
"But, Lucy, 't is in praise
To Him who turn'd the storm aside

That they their anthems raise.
"And should not they who deeper feel

The pleasure and the pain,
Their heartfelt gratitude reveal
For mercies sent again?

"Should you, who felt the greatest fear,
No grateful tribute bring?
Should you, whose joy is more sincere,
Refuse your offering?"

And Lucy own'd that far too true

Were these mild, chiding words,
And willingly in future drew

A lesson from the birds:

She learn'd, like them, to fear no ill,
Sure of her Father's care;
But raise, with more devotion still,
Her grateful praise and prayer.

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