power of Satan unto God. But my mother could not always be near me to watch over and correct my faults; she died; and in her death were severed the bonds which bound me to the being I loved best upon earth. I was an only son, the sole heir to a large fortune, which, my father dying, left to me when I should be of age. But though amply provided for in the treasures of this life, I had but one relation-an uncle, in whose hands my fortune was placed. This uncle was a very worldly-minded man, who cared but little for my welfare except so far as my education and standing in society affected his reputation as a guardian. He allowed me all the money I chose to ask for, not troubling himself to ascertain in what way it was spent. Thus was I left to follow my own inclinations, exposed to the allurements of pleasure and fashion, without a mother's hand, or a mother's warning voice to point out their end. After the funeral of my mother, several of my schoolfellows, a few years older than myself, kind-hearted, but light-headed, giddy youths, came to console me, and for that purpose endeavored to persuade me to go with them to the theatre, and other places of amusement. In an evil hour I yielded to their importunities. The dazzling deceptions of the theatre, which I had never visited before, completely enchanted me, and from that hour I found no pleasure except when under its exciting influence. I continued my studies however in the mean time, until being nineteen years of age, I entered college with a good reputation as a scholar; my virtue unsullied; too proud to do a mean action, and beloved by all my friends, but wasting my time, injuring my health, squandering my property, to gratify my passions. It seemed as if the spirit of God had left me for ever; but it pleased him, in his infinite mercy, to raise up an instrument who, in his hands, should be the means of awakening my sleeping conscience, rousing me to a sense of my sin, and bringing me back into the fold from whence I had strayed so far. For my room-mate in college I had one of the most lovely Christian characters with whom I have ever met. As soon as he perceived into what state I had fallen, he kindly warned me of my danger, and pressed me to forsake my foolish course. His coun sels were not heard with indifference, but it seemed as if I should give up all my happiness if I did as he required. I could not bear to hurt his feelings, however, so for one night I thought I would deny myself, and go with him to the house of God, which I had not visited for many years. I went and God saw fit to bless the word to my soul. The subject of the sermon was the duty of young men as well as children to obey the commands of their parents. The text was, "My son, keep thy father's commandment and forsake not the law of thy mother." The last sentence arrested my attention, and when the man of God spoke of the blessings which would attend those who obeyed the command of the text, and of the dreadful fate which awaited those who did not, I trembled; but when he exhorted those who had forsaken their parents' counsel, and walked in ways of their own devising, to return, and mercy should be shown unto them, I thought of my mother, her counsels, her prayers, and my heart was melted; I burst into tears and wept. I returned home that night with a burden upon my conscience, and found no peace till I found it in Jesus my Saviour. Q Original. THE HEAVENLY IMAGE. Mothers, the curse is upon us, as it was upon Eve, our mother. These care-worn, weak, agonized frames, admonish us from hour to hour, that we do indeed "bear the image of the earthly." Pain and sorrow and sickness are our part of the curse, and what is worst of all, they are often our greatest seducers to sin. But praised be God who in his mercy sometimes converts the curse into a blessing, and by its influence, draws us nearer to his foot-stool. From Adam we inherit these vile bodies, with all their proneness to disease and death; from him, too, have we received that fallen nature, which continually impels us downward," As is the earthly, such are they also that are earthly." Mothers, are you often overborne by the weight of care, which is upon you, and which your feeble frame is scarcely able to endure? Does sin, your worst enemy, sting you deeply with his dart? Let me tell you there is a promise for you, "We shall also bear the image of the heavenly." 1 Cor. xv. 49. It is not our Father's will to continue us here for ever; the day of departure will shortly arrive. These bodies, now sown in weakness and dishonor, shall appear in glory and strength, no more to feel pain or sickness, or any such thing. Now, these bodies need their daily food, and, perhaps, you have but little to bestow upon them; or perchance, they are diseased, and loathe even dainty meat. Do all you can, they daily wear away, and give warning that they will soon be no more. But despair not; bear up under your allotted portion, knowing that our Heavenly Father hath done all things well. Soon you will bear the image of the Heavenly Jesus, both in soul and body. You are already "predestinated to be conformed to his image" and although not entirely so here, yet when we see him, " we shall be like him as he is."-Then shall we be satisfied when we awake in his likeness, and all our hungerings and thirstings shall be filled. "Oh glorious hour! oh blest abode ! I shall be near and like my God; Original. REFLECTION. "What is this that thou hast done?" Solemn thought! addressed first to our Mother Eve, and through her, to all her daughters. To her, spoken but once, by the Eternal God himself: to me, every day and hour by his living truth. Let me repeat it to myself; and, whenever I sin, let me use it as the wisdom and power of God, to call myself to reflection and repentance. "What is this that thou hast done?" Dr. Adam Clarke remarks that from three sources, all natural and moral evil sprung: "the desire of the flesh," "the tree was good for food;' "the desire of the eye," it was pleasant to the sight;" and "the pride of life," "it was a tree to be desired to make one wise." These three lusts all laid their imperious demands upon the heart of Eve, and through them, she became the willing agent of Satan in tempting her husband. Have these desires led me astray; and have I, through any one of them, drawn my partner into sin? Has the desire of the flesh had an undue predomi nance in my heart, or can I say, "whether I eat or drink, I do all to the glory of God?" In regard especially to my children, have I led them by precept and example to deny themselves, and to make it their meat and drink to do the will of their Heavenly Father? Do they know and believe that there is meat to eat, which the world knows not of? Do they ever see me angry and cast down on account of some sensual disappointment; the loss of some zest which my palate craved; or, however plain my fare, do I with cheerful countenance and thankful heart exclaim," Thou preparest my table; my cup runneth over?" On the great and solemn subject of Temperance, have I boldly set my seal to the Bible, that it is true, and taught my dear children to" look not upon the wine when it is red ;" to shun it as the serpent and the adder? How stand I, in regard to the "desire of the eye?" Have I remembered that the gold and the silver are the Lord's, and to him must we give account for them? and while fine clothes, fine furniture and costly equipage, are all pleasant to the eyes, have I in any of them caused my beloved ones to say, "The woman, she tempted me and I did eat?" Have I indulged myself, and under cover of kindness led them to undulge, until self-denial has become a burden? Then have I, indeed, laid a yoke upon them which will be hard to bear. Let me arise and shake off this bondage, and let me now teach my children to count all things but dross, that they may win Christ. Let me make a covenant with my eyes, as the inlets to iniquity, lest I should not only offend, myself, but become a tempter to others. "The pride of life," how has this ruined many a soul! Praise, honor, wealth have hung up their golden baits, and tempted to pluck and eat. Let me here practise self-examination. Do I love the world's applause, and am I training my sons and daughters for its altar? Or, have I warned them that the love of the world is enmity with God, and that they cannot serve God and Mammon? Have I practically shown them that 66 a day in his courts is better than a thousand" and that "there is none upon earth that I desire beside him?" That I have found his favor to be life, and his loving kindness better than life? Have I told them of the rewards which he has promised to them that love him here, and attracted them by the untold joys of an Eternal world?' And have I been their helper to obtain these favors, not their tempter to be cast out? Lord, thou knowest my heart; thou knowest my life! "Search me and try me, and see if there be any evil way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." A MOTHER, CARE OF YOUR ROOM. THERE are a good many young ladies to whom the following advice on order is applicable. We extract it from "Letters to a very young lady," published by the American Sunday School Union, and recommended to all our young friends. MY DEAR MARY,—Whether you have a room all to yourself, which is very desirable, or occupy one with a sister or companion, it is proper that you should keep it in order. A place for everything, and everything in its place. This would be a very good inscription for your table. It is a shame for a young lady to be very careful of her person, and very negligent of her room. It looks as if she had no real love of neatness and order, but did everything to be seen of others. Show me the inside of a lady's private apartment, and I can learn a great deal of her character. Suppose I see the table covered with books, papers, needles and thread, brushes, combs, unfinished work, and half-caten fruit. Suppose I find half the drawers open, and chairs covered with pieces of clothing, and |