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Facts and Hints.
EDUCATION.-Where this has been entirely neglected, or improperly managed, we see the worst passions ruling with uncontrolled and incessant sway. Good sense degenerates into craft, and anger rankles into malignity. Restraint, which is thought most salutary, comes too late, and the most judicious admonitions are urged in vain.
KEEP A LOW SAIL at the commencement of life; you may rise with honour, but you cannot recede without shame.
CURIOSITY is a good servant when under the control of discretion. But the indulgence of a sinful curiosity ruined the world.
SWEETNESS OF TEMPER is pleasing in every company, and reflects a lustre on every accomplishment and action.
"WHEN first I was married," said Mary Campbell, a respectable woman, well known to the writer, "we generally had flint soup for dinner once a week."
Flint-soup! I never heard of such a thing. What could it be good for."
Why, to be sure it was not over rich; but I am very glad that ever I learned to make it, and eat it, too."
"And pray how is it made ?"
"I will tell you:-The first Saturday after we were married, my husband brought home his wages, Now, Mary,' said he, 'I must lay by for rent, and for firing, and for clothing; and here is the remainder for you to make the best of for our supply through the week. But mind you do not run in debt; and have always a fresh loaf in the house before you cut the last. We cannot afford to eat new bread.' I got things very comfortably, and, as I thought, very frugally; but the next Friday evening, after supper, I had to say to my husband, 'What must we do? the money is all gone, and we have nothing in the house for to-morrow's dinner. I am sure I have made it go as far as I could.' My husband was very kind; he found no fault, but said we could have some flint-soup for dinner. He asked, if there was bread in the house. 'Yes,' I said, 'a whole loaf and a piece.' 'That's well,' he said, and, perhaps you have a little oatmeal or flour?' "There is a little.' 'Good again, and plenty of herbs in the garden; we shall do.' So he washed a couple of flints very clean, and set them on with water and onions, and a carrot or two. When the roots were tender he put in the meal, and some pepper and salt, and parsley and thyme, and the piece of stale bread, and I assure you we had a good dinner."
"But what was the use of the flints? Why not leave them out, and call it herb porridge ?"
THE PENNY POST.
"That is what I could not understand at first. Well, next Saturday matters, were much the same, so we again contentedly dined on flint-soup. In the course of the week, having picked some bones of meat, I was going to throw them away, when the thought struck me, that if they were chopped up and put in the soup, they would give at least as much goodness as flint. My husband thought so too; so we tried, and found they greatly improved the soup, and from that time we never wasted a bone; and in the course of a few weeks we found the money hold out for Saturday's dinner, and even allow a trifle to lay by. My husband was pleased when we got into this course; and when we were thoroughly settled in frugal habits, and not before, he told me the real use of the flints in the soup. 'There are two things,' said he, 'which I have always resolved against, as being the ruin of many poor people-debt and waste. So, from the day I took to providing for myself, I determined always to keep bread in the house, and to live on bread and water, rather than run in debt. But instead of eating dry bread, and drinking cold water, I set myself to make it into soup; for I thought, if I boiled down the flints, which could not enrich the liquor, it might sharpen my wits to make the best use of anything that could."- "I believe," continued the good woman, "it was to sharpen my wits rather than his own; and I can truly say, that making flint-soup has taught me to turn to good account many things that are often thrown away as if they were worthless as stones." Family Economist.
The Penny Post.
"A BRAND PLUCKED OUT OF THE FIRE."
OUR minister spoke from these words a few weeks ago, on the occasion of a public baptism. Among the candidates was one whose case afforded an answer to the inquiry. He had been a wagoner several years, and was a sad drunkard-drink, strong drink, and much of it, he would have. He told me, after his baptism, of a narrow escape he once had in falling from the shafts of the wagon when drunk, and as the wheels passed on they tore off the flesh from the lower part of the back of his body, and passed over his right foot, broke his left leg and his right arm, and he showed me his forehead, from which the wheels tore the skin-a few inches more, and they would have gone over his head! He was conveyed to the county Infirmary, and on coming out went as soon as he could to the public house again for drink! Some time after this his wife died, and he was afflicted, but still he was unchanged, until one of our friends invited him to walk with him to O to hear Mr. S. He came, heard, believed, and with his wife, for he had married again, was baptized. "Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire."
THE CHILDREN'S CORNER.
The Children's Corner.
THE BOY AND THE BIBLE.-A little boy, a Sunday-scholar, was one day sent by his mother to a shop for some soap; the soap-woman having weighed it, took a leaf from a bible that was placed on the counter for waste paper, at which the boy was greatly astonished, and vehemently exclaimed, "Why, mistress, that is the bible!" "Well, what if it be ?" replied the woman. "It is the bible," repeated the boy," and what are you going to do with it?" " To wrap up the soap." "But, mistress, you should not tear up that book, for it is the bible" cried the boy, with peculiar emphasis. "What does that signify? I bought it for waste paper, to use in the shop." The boy, with still increasing energy, exclaimed, "What, the bible! I wish it was mine; I would not tear it up like that." "Well," said the woman, "If you will pay me what I gave for it, you shall have it." "Thank you," replied the boy, "I will go home and ask my mother for some money." Away he went, and said, "Mother, mother, please to give me some money!" "What for?" said his mother. "To buy a bible," he replied, "for the woman at the shop was tearing up a bible, and I told her she should not do it; then she said she would sell it to me: oh, mother, do give me some money to buy it, that it may not be torn up!" His mother said, "I cannot, my dear boy, I have none." The child cried; still begged for some money, but in vain. Then sobbing, he went back to the shop, and said, "My mother is poor, and cannot give me any money; but, oh mistress, dont tear up the bible, for my teachers have told me that it is the word of God!" The woman perceiving the boy to be greatly concerned, said, "Well, dont cry, for you shall have
the bible, if you will go and get its weight in waste paper." At this unexpected but joyful proposal the boy dried up his tears, saying, "that I will, mistress, and thank you too." Away he ran to his mother, and asked her for some paper; she gave him all she had, and then he went to all his neigh bours' houses and begged more; and having, as he hoped, collected enough, he hastened with the bundle under his arm to the shop, and on entering it, exclaimed, "Now, mistress, I have got the paper." "Very well," said the woman," let me weigh it." The paper was put into one scale, and the bible into the other. The scale turned in the boy's favour, and he cried out, with tears of joy sparkling in his eyes, "the bible is mine!" and seizing it, he exclaimed, "I have got it! I have got it!" and away he ran home to his mother, crying as he went, "I have got the bible! I have got the bible!"
THE BIBLE A TREASURE. WHAT a mercy!-what a treasure I possess in thy dear Word; There I read with holy pleasure, Of the love of Christ my Lord.
That dear word reveals the Saviour
Sinful children deeply need; Oh! what mercy, love, and favour, That for sinners Christ should bleed.
Oh! the blessedness of knowing
Christ, the tender Saviour's love, Freely on a child bestowing
Grace and mercy from above.
Let that book be ever prized
Far above my little toys; All besides shall be despised,
Led to seek far greater joys.
A POETIC EPISTLE.
DEAR brother in Christ, though I see not your face,
But oh! to that grace which has saved us from hell, What debtors we have been, and are!
We must be content if the whole we would tell,
Yet, though I am conscious the heights of God's love, And depths of his wisdom and grace,
Will never be known till we sing them above,
I cannot but aim at his praise.
Though high is the theme, and the ransom'd in heaven,
For one to be silent, whose sins are forgiven,
Look back then, my soul, and, by mercy constrained,
That conquest which made thee his own.
A slave to the passions which fetter mankind,
And yet to self-righteousness strongly inclined,
To gratify self, and gain human applause,
And heaven-bestowed talents, in pleasure's vain cause,
But thoughts of eternity oft would intrude,
Till secret alarms, in the season of sleep,
By pointing my fears to the bottomless deep,
'Twas then with reluctance I purchased the book Where God's righteous will is revealed, Intending but seldom within it to look,
My eyes to its worth being sealed.
A POETIC EPISTLE.
I wanted to flee from the danger of hell,
And foolishly thought if I sometimes did well
But while I was seeking, on his holy day,
'Twas whispered to conscience, and filled me with fear, When, trembling, I opened and read—
'Cut off that right hand, and pluck out that right eye, And sell not thy soul for thy sin;
'Tis better, though maim'd, from destruction to fly, Than whole, with thy lusts, to fall in.'
This pierced through my soul, like a two-edged sword, And laid my heart open to view;
I felt both the truth and the power of the word;
Thenceforward a struggle commenced in my mind,
'Suppose, all through life, I in luxury roll,
Yet what is my life worth to me, if I part
Friends, prospects, amusements, all clung round my heart,
And seemed to demand it for earth.
Too oft from reflection I hasted away,
I trembled to think of those all-seeing eyes,
That word, which bold infidels dare to dispute,
I found, like an axe which is laid to the root