passed since her baby brother had been buried on the hill near her father's house, and little Alice seemed ever to have it distinctly before her. As she was introduced to her young relatives, she told them all what a beautiful boy her brother Joseph was; how bright his eyes and curly his hair; and how dearly she had loved him, and always ended by telling that he was buried on the hill. She repeated her little piece with the most touching pathos

"Lord, what is life-'tis like the bow

"That glistens in the sky;

"We love to see its colors glow,

"But while we look-they die!"

I see her figure as she stood before a very aged lady, whose tears fell on her cheek as she heard the tones of the little girl. Alice had another brother, about two years old, whom she called Johnny. Their visit passed quickly away, and the latter part of autumn saw the family on their journey home. I recall the figure of Alice as she bowed her face in her muff and followed her parents and little Johnny to the carriage, literally sobbing with grief. She was leaving her grandmother, to whom she had become much attached. She had been named after her, and had on this visit been presented by her with a gold watch which had been worn by her grandmother for many years. It was entrusted to her mother's care till she should be old enough to note the flight of time. We heard often from the dear family at the west, after their safe arrival home. Last autumn, when the leaves began to fall, they wrote us that our little Alice was so well and happy that "she felt her life in every limb." But she had not forgotten her brother, buried on the hill, and in the spring had assisted her father in adorning his grave with the eglantine. Soon after this a letter with a black seal arrived; and we read that our precious Alice, so lately full of life and animation, was buried beside her brother. The affecting story of her sickness was soon told. A severe illness of one week terminated her life. It seemed very sad that her death should occur at a time when her afflicted mother had recently given birth to a little boy, and could not be with her.

Alice, although so young, was, we believe, a child of grace, renewed in the spirit of her mind, and delighting in heavenly things. This was evinced by her deportment and conversation during her season of extreme suffering. Before her illness, to hear of God and heaven seemed peculiarly interesting to her. She loved to say her little, comprehensive prayers. She was fully aware that she was going to die, and told her father and the minister around her bed "she was quite willing." It greatly distressed her to see her father's sorrow, frequently saying, "O, dear father, I feel so sorry for you, dear father!" He having left the room for a short time, she said to the girl living with them, "Elizabeth, why does not my father come and talk to me about Jesus Christ?" Her patience under most severe suffering was remarkable. She often said, "Take me to lie down by my dear mother." Shortly before her death she was carried in for the last time. The parting scene I will not touch upon. The minister, in conversing with her, found her unusually intelligent and bright, perfectly willing to leave all she dearly loved and go to heaven; patient in suffering, and her heart overflowing with love to all. He then baptized her, and had no doubt, he said, of the departing soul being received to the arms of its Savior. During a short interval from pain the little creature made a disposition of what she most valued to those she loved. To her father she said, "Dear father, if you had no watch, and mother had one, it should be for you; now I leave it to my dear mother, my breast-pin to little Johnny, and a book and my calicoes to Mary B," her playmate and neighbor. She looked sweetly composed in death. A smile seemed to linger around her features. The following spring her stricken father planted another eglantine around the grave of Alice.

O ye parents who delight in the little creatures sporting in your path! let the many instances of bereavement like this make you "rejoice with trembling" over your treasures; and while you seek to guard their health and lives, prepare them also, by early religious training, and constant prayer, for the grace of God to rest upon them, for a seat in heaven.

The following little piece is selected, by permission, from "Juvenile SONGS," by Thomas Hastings, published by D. Fanshaw, at 148 Nassau-street and 601 Broadway, New-York.

#

"COME, CHILDREN, COME."

H.

INST

Come, children, come! God bids you come, Come and learn to

No fruit of sin has been more fatal than the misunderstanding of female duty and female character. One of the striking characteristics of all heathen lands is the condition of woman. When the Brahmin priest was reproached by the missionary because he saw a woman dragging her entire length from the point of the commencement of her dreadful pilgrimage to the temple-(it lay entirely through a large tract covered with mud, and she was dragging her body through the filth)-"There!" said the missionary, "that is one of the fruits of your system!" "Well, what is that?" replied the Brahmin; "it is only a woman!" That tells the characteristic feature of their dark and debasing system; "it is only a woman!" And what means the Turkish harem, where woman is but the animal? What means it?-The light of christianity has not shone. What is the present moral and social condition of France-France, that made the desperate experiment of rejecting christianity? It is a fact, that even the

French language itself is destitute of the sweet word home, and all its sacred, tender associations. I rejoice to say that God is doing great things for France; but I speak of it now as a nation in the whole, a nation of mighty intellect, a nation of immense intellectual power and progress-but a nation, that, as a nation, has not a domestic life; and woman is not known in France (not known in France as a nation) as she is in England and in the colonies and the countries that have sprung from England. And I rejoice to say, that French writers are beginning to tell their nation the truth—' Until you estimate woman and the marriage contract, and the marriage relation and the maternal relation differently, it is in vain that you essay the changes of political government; we must have a change at the fireside, and we must begin to have a sacred home.'

But although it is evident that the nations which speak the English language are in advance of the rest of the world on this momentous subject, we have no reason for boasting; and it will but injure us to reflect upon that fact, if we do not besides reflect upon the fact that we are very, very far below the light we have, and very far from discharging our duties. I speak even of the higher classes of female mind; I speak even of our christian mothers; and I say it with the profound respect that I feel in my heart for the mothers in Israel-that even they have much, very much to learn-much, very much to attain.

I wish, in this stage of the subject, to direct your attention to a very remarkable prophecy-remarkable, as being the closing up of the wonderful series of prophecies in the ancient Testament. It is in the Book of Malachi, the last chapter, and the closing

verses:

"Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse."

I understand that prophecy to involve two points. The first is, that christianity (the primary meaning of the prophecy referring of course to its introduction, and the secondary meaning to