Hiring children.

The Savior's thirst on the cross.

simple and obvious, yet one rarely followed, viz. first to ascertain the cause of the evil, and then to find out how to control it by studying its nature. He died at Geneva, where he had resorted for his health, of apoplexy, aged 50 years and 6 months.

I have one more form to describe, in which these notes and abstracts may be kept. It requires a little higher intellectual effort, and is consequently more useful than the other. You meet, in conversation or in reading, with some fact which illustrates a useful and important general principle, or which suggests to you an interesting train of thought: you record the fact, and the reflections which it suggests together. For example, to make use of a case which actually occurred, a sea captain remarks in your hearing that it is unwise to promise sailors extra pay for their extra exertions in difficult emergencies, for it soon has the effect of rendering them indolent whenever such extra pay is not offered. They are continually on the watch for occasions on which they can demand it. This conversation might suggest the following entry in a note book.

HIRING CHILDREN. Parents should never promise their children any reward for doing right, or for refraining from doing wrong. A sea captain was once so unwise as to promise his sailors in a storm, that if they would exert themselves he would reward them by an addition to their wages when the storm was over. They did make an unusual effort, and received the reward; but the consequence was, that he could never afterward get them to do their duty in a storm without a reward being promised. In the same manner, if parents begin by hiring their children to do right, they will not afterward do right without being hired.

The following are similar examples, but on different subjects. The second was written by a pupil in a female school.

THE SAVIOR'S THIRST ON THE CROSS. The dreadful thirst of the Savior on the cross was occasioned by the violent fever produced by

Deceiving children.

Narratives.

the inflammation of his wounds. I met with the following passage to-day in the narrative of a soldier, which illustrates this subject:

"I remember well as we moved down in column, shot and shell flew over and through it in quick succession. We sustained little injury from either; but a captain of the twenty-ninth had been dreadfully lacerated by a ball, and lay directly in our path. We passed close to him; he knew us all; and the heart-rending tone in which he called to us for water, or to kill him, I shall never forget. He lay alone, and we were in motion and could give him no succor; for on this trying day, such of the dying as could not walk, lay unattended where they fell. All was hurry and struggle; every arm was wanted in the field."

DECEIVING CHILDREN. Returning from school yesterday afternoon, my attention was arrested by the loud voice of some one addressing a child; I turned, and as I walked very leisurely, I overheard the following conversation:

Lady. John, leave off playing in the snow; see your clean clothes now; and your shoes are filled with snow.

John. I don't care for that; I shall play here if I'm a mind to, for

all you.

叠

Lady. You little impudence; I don't love you, I don't love you

at all.

John. Well, that's no matter.

Lady. I'll go off, then; good night. I am going to the jail.

She turns round and walks down the street a little distance

Lady. You see I'm going, John.

John. I don't care if you are.

Presently she walked slowly back and came up to John, at the same time he gave a hearty laugh, saying, "I thought you were going to the jail."

I had now got so far as not to be able to hear what more they said, but I could not help pitying the child, who thus early was taught to disobey his superiors, for surely it is nothing less.

Many parents, and even brothers and sisters, complain of the conduct of the younger members of their families, while they are continually treating them in this manner: they certainly need expect nothing better from them while they endeavor thus to deceive them.

The above examples illustrate well what I mean by turning knowledge to account, drawing from it the practical lessons which it may help to teach. This is in fact the most important part of your object in mental cultiva

tion.

Ellen, or "Boast not thyself of to-morrow."

Many young persons err exceedingly in seek. ing simply knowledge, which they treasure up in a cold and speculative form, without drawing from it any moral lessons, or making it the means of awakening any of the strong emotions of the heart. But I wish my readers would always remember that moral progress is far more valuable than intellectual; the latter in fact is but the instrument of the former. In all your writing then, aim at accomplishing the real object which ought always to be kept in view. In selecting from your reading, or from your personal observation, what you will impress upon your memories with the pen, choose those facts and occurrences which touched your hearts, and whose impressions your pen may strengthen or renew. I close the chapter with two specimens which will illustrate this. One, as will be evident from its own allusions, was written by a pupil in a female boarding school; and it will be observed in reading it, how the ordinary occurrences of life may be made the means, through the instrumentality of reflection and of the pen, of fixing in the heart the lessons of the Bible. Both narratives are substantially true; the latter entirely so.

BOAST NOT THYSELF OF TO-MORROW." Yesterday our summer term closed, and a day of bustle it was. Every moment that could possibly be spared from our studies was devoted to preparations for returning home, packing trunks, exchanging parting words, and talking over various plans for enjoyment during the vacation, which all seemed to anticipate as a continued scene of unalloyed happiness.

My afflicted room-mate, Ellen, was then the happiest of the happy. She is an only daughter, a most affectionate, warm-hearted girl; and has been so much elated, for the last few days, at the thought of meeting her beloved parents and brothers, that she has seemed to tread on air; but I fear now that when they meet it will be in a deep sorrow.

Last evening we assembled in the hall for our devotions, and as is customary, each young lady repeated a text of Scripture before we united in prayer. "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth," was Ellen's text. It was particularly observed by several, on account of the appropriate warning it seemed

The story of Ellen continued.

to convey. She little thought how soon her own experience would confirm its truth. After bidding our teacher good night, she skipped up stairs with a glee and light-heartedness that could scarcely be restrained within proper bounds, exclaiming, "to-morrow-to-morrow how happy I shall be!"

"Remember your text, dear Ellen," said one of our beloved com. panions with a sad 'smile, as she passed on to her own room. "I wish J. would not talk so seriously," said Ellen, as we closed our door for the night, "but then, after all, I love her the more for it. I heard some one say that she had been much afflicted for one so young."

This morning Ellen was awake at the peep of dawn, and waked me, that I might enjoy with her, through our half-closed curtains, the deepening glow in the east, which gave promise of a fine day for her ride home. When the bell summoned us to prayers, every thing was ready for the journey, and she met the family in her riding-dress, that no time might be lost after her father, whom she expected for her, should arrive.

"Boast not thyself of tomorrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth," were the first words that met our ear from the selec tion of Scripture which our teacher had chosen for the morning. "We have had your text again, Ellen," whispered one of the girls as we went to the breakfast-room. "Ominous of evil-say you not so?"

"I am not superstitious," said Ellen smiling; "besides, it refers to to-morrow, not to to-day."

There

At the breakfast-table little was eaten and little was said. were happy faces there, but the joyous excitement of the preceding evening had given place to deeper feeling. Many were in a few hours to meet their beloved parents, from whom they had been sepa rated for several months; and all were expecting some friend to take them to their respective homes. Our parting was not however to be particularly painful, as all expected to meet again at the expiration of the vacation

As we were rising from the table a servant came in with the letters which had arrived in the morning's mail. One was given to Ellen. She broke the seal, and glancing at the contents, hastily placed it in the hand of the governess and rushed up to her own room. I followed, and found her in tears, greatly agitated. Her emotion was too

great to allow her to tell me the cause. The governess came up and gave me the letter to read, kindly saying at the same time that I had better leave Ellen alone a few minutes, until the first burst of sorrow should be over, and then she would be in a better state to listen to the voice of consolation.

The letter was from her parents; brief, yet evidently written under

Ellen.

The dying bed

the influence of strong excitement. They had just heard of the sudden and dangerous illness of their eldest son, a young gentleman of high promise, who had nearly completed his professional studies. His physicians gave not the slightest hope of his life. His parents made immediate preparations for leaving home, with the faint hope that by rapid traveling they might be enabled to be with their belov. ed child in his dying moments. They could not take Ellen with them, and the best arrangement they could make for her, was to have her remain where she then was until their return.

I returned to Ellen, but found her scarcely more composed than when I left her. To this brother she was most fondly attached. He had written to her frequently, and taken a deep interest in her studies and amusements. He expected to have been at home during a part of her vacation, and now the thought of never meeting him again was agony. I knew not what to say; I could only weep with her, and silently commend her to "Him who healeth the broken in heart," en. treating that she might be enabled submissively to say, Thy will

be done."

My father consents that I should remain for two or three days with Ellen. I know that more striking instances of the uncertainty of earthly prospects are constantly occurring, but I feel that the scenes of to-day have made an impression upɔn my own heart and the hearts of my companions that can never be effaced. I shall never again hear others planning with confidence for the future, without thinking of poor Ellen's disappointment and affliction, and of the text, "Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."

The other narrative is more serious still in its subject. Both might have been given with propriety as specimens of Personal Journals, though as they do not give strictly the personal history of the writer, they may perhaps better be inserted here. I admit this last the more readily, as the thoughts of the final account which we all must render are brought up very distinctly to view by it, and this thought is a very proper one to be presented, now that this volume is drawing to a close, as a means of fixing the resolutions which I trust some of my readers at least have formed, and stimulating to diligence in duty.