as in the day, not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, nor in strife and envying. Nor thieves, nor drunkards, nor railers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

In the spirit of these words let us go forth and engage with one heart and soul in the active service of God, and make no provisions for the flesh to gratify the lusts thereof. And in reference to the sin of intemperance, let us resist it to the extent of our influence, and seek to mould a public opinion that shall banish it from our borders, as a foul blot upon the community, the nation and the world.


The rain is o'er-How dense and bright
Yon pearly clouds reposing lie!
Cloud above cloud, a glorious sight,
Contrasting with the deep-blue sky!

In grateful silence earth receives
The general blessing; fresh and fair,
Each flower expands its little leaves,
As glad the common joy to share.

The soften'd sunbeams pour around
A fairy light, uncertain, pale;

The wind blows cool, the scented ground
Is breathing odors on the gale.

Mid yon rich cloud's voluptuous pile,
Methinks some spirit of the air
Might rest to gaze below awhile,

Then turn to bathe and revel there.

The sun breaks forth-from off the scene,
Its floating veil of mist is flung;
And all the wilderness of green

With trembling drops of light is hung.

Now gaze on nature-yet the same-
Glowing with life, by breezes fann'd,

Luxuriant, lovely, as she came,

Fresh in her youth, from God's own hand.

Hear the rich music of that voice,

Which sounds from all below, above;

She calls her children to rejoice,

And round them throws her arms of love.

Drink in her influence-low-born care,
And all the train of men desire,
Refuse to breathe this holy air,
And 'mid this living light expire.



If you are under the disagreeable necessity of passing a person who is sitting or standing in a slip, present to him neither your back nor your breast, but your side; the narrowness of the passage is scarcely an apology for a violation of this dictate of propriety. If a gentleman is seated in a slip, he should arise, open the door, and pass out, when a lady presents herself for admission, which she ought to do by simply touching the top of the door, without an effort to open it, or exhibiting any uneasiness; for this would sometimes be interpreted as a rebuke for the tardiness of the occupant, who would perhaps at such a hint, stumble out to relieve her impatience, resentfully remain in his seat, and allow the comer to help herself to one. None but a lame or decrepid gentleman should suffer a lady to open the door of a slip and seat herself next to it, or to crowd past him to the other end of the seat.

Make as little noise as possible in opening and shutting the pew door. Enter and retire from a pew deliberately. Never place your hat in the aisle, if there is room for it in the pew.

Always be seated in your pew before the hour of worship. With a view to this, always be dressed an hour or two before the bell rings. Even put on your gloves before going into the street. The want of a few minutes just previous to church-time, occasions blunders and accidents which discompose the mind, and disturb Divine worship.

When you happen to be in your seat some time before service, abstain from bows, shaking hands, congratulating, talking, whispering, or gazing curiously or vacantly around the room, but sit quietly, and occupy your mind with subjects suitable to the place. A silent ejaculation should be offered as soon as you take your seat. If you are a gentleman, and a lady, or your superior, or a feeble person is standing in a crowded aisle, rise and offer such an one your seat.

When the hour for service arrives, give your entire attention to the introductory part of the worship. Do not accustom yourself to wriggling, or seeking an easy position the moment the service begins. If a person in your pew, or in one near you, has no book, offer him one of yours; if it is a lady, the book should be presented open at the proper place. In summer, if a person near you has no fan, offer him yours. Turn over the leaves of your book, and return it to the book-rack without noise. When you assume the various postures the service requires, do it deliberately, without any rustling, starting, or flourishing.


THE unnatural length and ridiculous smallness of their waists baffle description. A waist that could be spanned, is an English metaphorical expression used in a novel, but it is an American fact; and so alarming does it appear to an Englishman, that my first sentiment on viewing the phenomenon, was one of pity for unfortunate beings who might possibly break off in the middle, like flowers from the stalk, before the evening concluded. No less extraordinary is the size of the ladies' arms. I saw many which were scarce thicker than moderate-sized walkingsticks. Yet, strange to say, when these ladies pass the age of forty, they frequently attain an enormous size. The whole economy of their structure is then reversed, their wrists and arms becoming the thickest parts of the body. Here is a subject worthy the contemplation of the ethenologist. How comes it to pass that the English type-which I presume has not, in every case, been so affected by the admixture of those as to lose its own identity-how comes it to pass, I say, that the English type is so strangely altered in a few generations? I have heard various hypothesis: among others, the habits of the people— the dry climate. The effects of the latter on a European constitution would have appeared to me sufficient to account for the singular conformation, if I had not been persuaded by natives of the country, that the small waist is mainly owing to tight-lacing. This practice, it is said, is persevered in to an alarming extent; and if report be true, it is to be feared that the effects will be felt by future generations to a greater degree than they are at present.-Dublin University Magazine.

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My little boy, as gently on my breast,
From infant sport thou sink'st to rest,
And on my hand I feel thee put,
In playful dreams, thy little foot;
The thrilling touch sets every string
Of my full heart a quivering:
For ah! I think, what chart can show
The ways through which this foot may go.
Its print will be, in childhood's hours,
Traced in thy garden round the flowers;
But youth will bid it leap the rills-
Bathe in the dews of distant hills-
Roam o'er the vales and venture out
When riper years would pause and doubt;
Nor brave the pass, nor try the brink,
Where youth's unguarded foot may sink.
But what, when manhood tints thy cheek,
Will be the ways thy feet my seek?
Is it to lightly pace the deck?
To helpless slip from off the wreck?
Or wander o'er a foreign shore,
Returning to thy home no more,
Until the bosom now thy pillow,
Is low and cold beneath the willow.
Or is it for the battle plain?
Beside the slayer and the slain?

Till there its final rest be taken,

There sleep, thine eyes no more to waken?

Is it to glory or to shame

To sully or to gild thy name,

Is it to happiness or wo

This little foot is made to go.

But wheresoe'er its lines may fall,
Whether in a cottage or a hall,
Oh! may it ever shun the ground
Where'er His foot hath not been found,
Who on His path below hath shed
A living light, that all may tread
Upon His earthly steps, and none
E'er dash his foot against the stone.
Yet if thy way is marked by fate,
As guilty, dark and desolate-
If thou must float by vice and crime
A wreck upon the stream of time;
Oh! rather than behold that day,
I'd know this foot in lightsome play
Would bound with guiltless infant glee
Upon the olod that shelters me!

No. 9.



Will our young friends permit us to ask their serious attention to a few thoughts on Economy. We would be far from recommending a narrow and miserly spirit; this is not only sinful in the sight of God, but also mean in the sight of men. There is however another extreme, which is just as bad. We mean a careless squandering. It is a beautiful thing to be able to hit the golden middle-path between the miser and the spendthrift.

The tendency, at present, we think, among the young, is not towards too much saving, but towards too much spending. How frequently do we see that young persons scatter the earnings and savings of their parents with a freedom and carelessness which shows that they neither consider their value, nor remember the labors and pains by which they were gathered. How common it is for heirs to fall into extravagances which eat up in a short time the gatherings of years. It came easy-not to them who earned it but it came easy to the heirs, and it goes easy. How often, too, do we find that, true to the proverb, this kind of "wilful waste soon brings woful want."

It is however, not only among those who inherit what they have that this extravagant spending prevails; but, as we think, also among young persons who have what they spend by hard labor. How lavishly, and how carelessly, do many young persons spend their hard earnings! I think I hear my young reader say, "have I not a right to spend what I earn myself?' Certainly you have. But if I can persuade you that it is an injury to you to do so, have I not done you a kindness? This I will endeavor to do.

Now look at facts. Take a young journeyman in any of our towns. He gets, we will say, to make it high enough, $30 per month. Out of this he pays his boarding, say $8 per monthwhich leaves $22. Washing perhaps another $1, which leaves $21. Then comes clothing, say in an average $5 per monthleaves $16. Then allow for little necessary incidental expenses, for postage, paper, books, innocent social pleasure, traveling expenses to visit friends, loss of time, &c., $6 per month, in an average, leaves $10 per month, or $120 per year clear saving. This any young man, in good health and of industrious habits, with economy, can save per year; and in so doing he need not be miserly or niggardly in his savings. This, now, in a few years, would secure him a handsome sum on which to begin bu

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