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it necessary for their welfare that she should stay at home. 'No,' she will say, if urged to go, pray do not press me, do not think about me; I could not find any pleasure in company, and I am sure I could not confer any, for my heart would be in the nursery.""

"Yes," said my uncle, "I do not know a more lively illustration of the sentiment, that perfect love casts out fear, and casts out selfishness, than in the untiring devotedness, the willing privations and sacrifices of a tender mother. Her heart is in the work; and she finds her delight where another would find only weariness and disgust. Where there is not this kind of devotedness, and in a high degree, the duties of a mother are never well performed."

"I remember, uncle, when the captain was quizzing Mortimer about his wife being so devoted to the nursery, you said you had known the wretchedness and ruin of several families to have originated in the heart of the mother having been set on pleasure and gaiety, to the neglect of her duties at home."

"Yes, Frank; such instances are but too common. I rejoice to think that dear Ellen's conduct, in this respect, is so totally opposite to that of many modern fine ladies.

A

mother who can satisfy herself as having done her duty to her children when she has provided for them wellrecommended nurses and governesses, too plainly proves that her heart is not in her duty, but is set on something else at variance with it. A mother's duties cannot be delegated."

My uncle's remark touched upon a subject on which I was particularly sensitive. My own dear mother, by ill health, was prevented paying as much personal attention to the affairs of the nursery as my aunt Tatnull bestowed on hers. I often felt a secret conviction, that this was a serious disadvantage to the comfort, health, tempers, and habits of us children; and the superiority which I ever willingly conceded to Frank and his family, I in a great measure ascribed to the greater advantages they enjoyed in that respect. Still I

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could not bear to admit a thought, or hear a remark, which in the slightest degree seemed to cast a reflection on my beloved mother. I have no doubt, that, on the occasion just alluded to, the mantling blush and glistening eye told my uncle that his remark had given me pain; for he looked at me, and continuedThat, Samuel, does not apply to your good mother: she cannot do what she would; but she will and does do what she can, and therefore she does her duty. Her heart is with her children. Illness often presses down the springs of her energy and activity; but, whenever the pressure is removed, though but partially and temporarily, it is easy to see that her heart is in the right place. But there are mothers who cannot bear the confinement of the nursery, yet who may be met with at every place of gay resort, and to whom the appeal of Scripture might be justly addressed --Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget.' (Isa. xlix. 15.) Your mother never forgets you, my boy."

"Oh no, uncle; I am sure she does not she is always thinking and caring about us, if she is ever so ill."

My uncle then mentioned two melancholy facts which had come under his own observation, in which the duties and feelings of a mother were sacrificed to the indulgence of vicious propensities. In one instance, the wife of a tradesman in humble circumstances had in her youth acquired a fondness for the time-consuming, soul-absorbing, temper-ruining novel. She was a young woman of active habits, possessing sufficient knowledge of household affairs to make a plain man's home comfortable, and disposed to do so. Full employment, and the excitement of novelty in circumstances, for a time took her off in some degree from her favourite but most injurious pursuit. Novel-reading was not, as it had formerly been, the employment of hours together, and day after day; but it was still resorted to as an occasional, and, as it was deemed,

harmless recreation. But the cares of a family came on, and confined Mrs. M. more frequently to the house, while her husband was more habitually abroad on his business. Novel-reading is a poor preparative for solitude; and the young woman who has formed her tastes and habits on the model of the novel system, is not likely to regard her infant offspring in the light of the most interesting and agreeable society. To such a one solitude is irksome, and the duties of a family are burdensome. It was so with Mrs. M. To relieve the tedium of real life, she fled to the excitement of fiction, and again daily spent hours on the pernicious indulgence. A novel was the constant appendage of the work-table, the child's cradle, and the mother's pillow. Often a helpless babe was left to cry unheeded or pine neglected, or committed to the tender mercies of a careless servant; or, if the mother was at length aroused to attend to the wants of her offspring, it was with irritated feelings at being disturbed, and pernicious drugs were often resorted to, to secure the quietness of the child, and leave the mother at liberty to pursue the fascinating story. Even the illness of her children failed to secure the undivided attention of a mother whose heart was set on something else. It is a literal fact, that a relative of the family calling to see her children, who were ill of the hooping-cough, found the mother sitting over the fire, reading a novel, and the children in bed, in a cold room, one of them actually dying. There could be scarcely a doubt that at least three infants of that family perished through her neglect; and the survivors, in their uncultivated minds and unregulated tempers and habits, prove a living exemplification of the irreparable evils inflicted on her family by a mother whose heart is not in her duty.

The other instance mentioned by my uncle, was that of a highly accomplished young lady, who, after having for several years exemplarily sustained the relations of wife and mother, unhappily imbibed a passion

for stimulating drink. For a long time she indulged the wretched propensity in secret, occasioning great distress and anxiety to her relatives, by her frequent indispositions, her altered habits, and her wayward temper, and especially her indifference to her children, though the cause was little suspected. But it could not always be concealed. The medical attendant of the lady detected the real cause of illness, both to herself and her infant offspring; and, after repeatedly admonishing her himself, felt it a matter of duty to make her husband acquainted with the truth. Domestic happiness could not survive the melancholy disclosure. Every day brought to light some new sorrow, resulting from the same wretched cause. Debts were found contracted to a large amount, for the payment of which the confiding husband had long before duly provided; and it became necessary to withhold all pecuniary supplies from one who so grievously misappropriated them. Then every article of value which she could remove unseen was parted with, to obtain the means of gratifying her craving propensity; and at length, such was the degree of shameless degradation at which this unhappy woman had arrived, that she was frequently known to sell the very clothing and bedding of her children, and leave them destitute. She died in the prime of life, a martyr to vice, and left, in her impoverished and injured family, sad memorials of the unhappy consequence of a mother's heart being alienated from its proper object.

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But it is pleasanter," said my uncle, after a momentary pause, to dwell on examples of an opposite class. When the heart is set on a good and worthy object, the whole character is ennobled. There is such decision of purpose, such elevation of aim, such steadiness of plan, such consistency of pursuit, such energy and perseverance of action, as almost invariably lead to a successful result. My mind, at this moment, glances with pleasure at the struggles, sacrifices, and exertions, sustained, for at least ten years, by an excellent young

man, whose heart was honourably set on discharging the debts of his father, who had lost his property by an unexpected reverse in trade, and had died under the pressure of the calamity, bitterly lamenting, not so much his own losses, as that others should be injured by him. The son assured his dying father that he would do his utmost to repair all such injuries; and in pursuance of his noble design, he toiled incessantly, practised the most rigid economy, and deferred the completion of his fondest wishes, until he had discharged the filial duty which he had taken upon himself, and obtained full receipts for every claim upon his late father. Then he could with satisfaction begin to labour for himself: and he lived to realize, in sanctified prosperity and domestic happiness, much of the blessing which is ordinarily seen to rest on a conscientious discharge of filial duty. When the heart is set on a benevolent object what exertions are made, what toils encountered, what difficulties surmounted, what dangers braved, in the accomplishment of it! True active benevolence, like well established faith, laughs at impossibilities.' Read, my boys, the Life of Howard, and see what may be done, what has been done, by one philanthropist, whose heart was in the work. And there are many who, on a humbler scale, yet in proportion to their abilities and opportunities, devote themselves to the work of doing good; and the success of their humble efforts is truly astonishing to others and to themselves.

"The missionary-his heart is set on the conversion of the heathen, and the most formidable difficulties sink before his holy zeal; the most costly sacrifices are cheerfully made, the greatest hardships and privations endured; and he seems to lose sight of every thing, except the joy that is set before him in the success of his enterprize. None of these things move me,' is the declaration of his holy ardour; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the

gospel of the grace of God.' (Acts xx. 24.)"

We quitted the conservatory; but at the breakfast table the conversation was resumed. Without detailing the conversation, I will set down a few of my uncle's observations.

"Ay, the heart is every thing; As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.' (Prov. xxiii. 7.) Take care to get the heart rightly and firmly set; for, out of it are the issues of life." (Prov. iv. 23.) When the heart is fixed on God, a man's ways are established before him.

"If the heart be set on trifles, the character is vain, frivolous, and unstable. The heart set on duty renders duty easy and delightful. The wall of Jerusalem got on prosperously and pleasantly; for the people had a mind to work.' (Neh. iv. 6.)

"Á listless, indolent disposition, that murmurs at labour, is a sure indication that the heart is somewhere else. The first feeling of this kind will rouse a wise and pious man to look after his heart, and fetch it back from its wanderings. It is a sad truant with the best of men: fool lets it rove where it pleases; but a wise man desires to seek it, and bind it with cords to the altar of obedience.

a

"It is interesting to observe, in the characters of the kings of Judah, how much stress is laid on the heart. It was David's honour that he sought the Lord with all his heart, and his dying exhortation to his son and successor, to serve him with a perfect heart and with a willing mind.' (1 Chron. xxviii. 9.) Rehoboam did evil, because he prepared not his heart to seck the Lord.' (2 Chron. xii. 14.) 'The Lord was with Jehoshaphat, because he walked in the first ways of his father David: and his heart was lifted up in the ways of the Lord.' (2 Chron. xvii. 3, 6; xxii. 9;) Amaziah did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, but not with a perfect heart. (2 Kings, xiv. 3; 2 Chron. xxv. 2.) Jehu, king of Israel, in many instances fulfilled the commandments of God; but he was not approved, because he took

no heed to walk in the law of the Lord God of Israel with all his heart. (2 Kings x. 31.) 'Hezekiah wrought that which was good and right and truth, before the Lord his God. And in every work that he began in the service of the house of God, and in the law, and in the commandments, to seek his God, he did it with all his heart, and prospered.' (2 Chron. xxi. 20, 21.)

"It is the characteristic of the wicked that their heart is fully set in them to do evil.' (Eccles. viii. 11.) Of the insincere and unstable it is said, 'Their heart is divided; now shall they be found faulty.' (Hos. x. 2) 'A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways;' (James i. 8;) but the characteristic of eminent piety is to have the heart set upon God. 'Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I

"O human life, how mutable, how vain! How thy wide sorrows circumscribe thy joy!

A sunny island in a stormy main,
A spot of azure in a cloudy sky."

Ir was evening, and the reflection of the sun's receding rays empurpled the clouds, which, gradually advancing in the distance, gave an enchanting diversity to the mellow beauty of an autumnal sky. Emma stood at the cottage door, on the road side, waiting the arrival of the stage, while the charm of the scene, together with the thought of her approaching nuptials, gave rise in her bosom to those heart-thrilling emotions of which the generous and amiable are susceptible under such happy circumstances. The avocatious of her destined bridegroom had called him suddenly away to London, and as the period of his stay was uncertain, and they had already endured the most tantalizing procrastination from similar causes, it was decided she should follow him immediately, and their marriage should be solemnized there. While Emma stood at the door, her attentive ear was at length agreeably surprised by the distant grinding of wheels, and

the clattering tramp of horses, till a few minutes brought the stage beyoud the winding angle of the road, and before her delighted view. She kissed her father and mother, while the tear of affectionate regret beamed in her eyes; yet she felt the absence of her beloved parents would be greatly compensated by her once more embracing her only brother, who had been absent two years for the purpose of improvement in London.

Again the coach resumed its rapid course, and Emma spent the night in anxiously waiting the earliest peep of the grey eyed dawn, till outwearied by watching she fell into a gentle slumber. When she awoke she beheld on her right the deep blushing smile of morn reddening the east, and on her left a mighty mass of smoke-disgorging erections, which on inquiry she found was London; half an hour more brought her to the very heart of it, and above all to the heart of her heart's dear betrothed Henry. After embracing each other with all the tenderness of sincere affection, Emma asked Henry whether he had seen her brother? "I waited on him," he

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we

said, "but I found that he was gone on a little country excursion for a week, and was expected home as yesterday." "Then," said Emma, will call on him to-day." Why, I have an invitation to go down the canal in a pleasure-barge to-day," said Henry," therefore we will postpone it till to-morrow." This being agreed on, they proceeded to the canal, where two barges lay gaily trimmed. The signal for starting was soon given, and they rode along the sunny stream with the majestic stateliness of the swan. The magic influence of the music, and the heavenly loveliness of the diversified scenery around them, made the heart half believe the fabled beauty and pleasure of enchantment realized. How soon was the pleasing delusion interrupted! A shriek announced that a man had fallen into the water. Every effort was instantly used, but crowned with no other success than bringing to the shore a lifeless corpse. Most of the parties left the barges, and Henry and

Emma, when the throng had a little dispersed, pressed forward to behold the unfortunate man; but what was her agony and dismay, when looking upon the countenance, she saw it was her brother!

Such is the uncertainty of life and the contingent circumstances connected with it; our dearest hopes are frequently wrapped up in the winding sheet of death, and the paths of delight too often lead to despair and sorrow. Such was the fate of Emma; for her marriage would not only suffer further delay, but the joy of the occasion, whenever it took place, would be damped by the mournful recollections of this melancholy catastrophe. Alas!

"How glow'd that bosom but an hour before

With sweet anticipations of delight! Now agonized with grief, and clouded

o'er

With gloom more dreary than the pall of night."

WHAT," says a French writer, speaking of the eye, "is that astonishing organ in which all objects acquire by turns a successive existence-where the spaces, the figures, and the motions that surround me are, as it were, created- - where the stars, that exist at the distance of a hundred millions of leagues, become a part of myself-and where, in a single half-inch of diameter, is contained the universe. There is no external sense which affords such an endless variety of perception as that of vision. Nor is there any loss that can be sustained productive of so many disadvantages and evils as that of want of sight. By no avenue of perception is knowledge so accessible, by none does it flow so abundantly, as through the channel of this sense, which reveals external things in all their beauty, in all their changes, and in all their varieties. The living and comprehensive eye darts its instantaneous glance over expanded valleys, lofty

W. TAYLOR.

mountains, sweeping rivers and vast tracts of land or of ocean. It measures in an instant the mighty space from one star to another. By the assistance of telescopes its horizon is almost indefinitely extended, its objects are greatly multiplied, and the sphere of its observation is prodigiously enlarged. The imagination, habituated to vast impressions of distance, can not only recal them in their utmost extent, with as much rapidity as they were at first imbibed, but can multiply them, and add one to another, till all boundaries, distances, and measures are swallowed up in immensity. Nature, by profusely irradiating the face of things, and clothing objects in a robe of diversified splendour, at once invites the understanding to expatiate on that extensive and gorgeous theatre which she thus opens up, and gratifies the imagination with every possible exhibition of the sublime and the beautiful."