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“In another house we found one girl very ill; the doctors gave no hope of her recovery. In this awful condition, however, she appeared hardened and impenitent.”

"Another young woman we found in bed, who said she had laid in bed all the previous day also, because she had neither food nor firing.”

(To be continued.)

THE WORLD.
“This world is all a fleeting show,

For man's illusion given :
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,-

There's nothing true but heaven.
And false the light on glory's plume,

As fading hues of even:
And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gathered from the tomb,-

There's nothing bright but heaven.
Pour wanderers of a stormy day,

From wave to wave we're driven:
And fancy's flash, and reason's ray,
Serve but to light the troubled way,-

There's nothing calm but heaven.”

A DAY OF RETIREMENT. MR. EDITOR,

For the benefit of romantic and sentimental young ladies who indulge in idle musings, building castles in the air, &c. I desire with your permission to disclose the mortification I lately experienced when thus engaged.

A short time since, having leisure and opportunity to spend a day as best suited my inclinations, I

determined to pass the day in solitude. Anticipating perfect peace and happiness in the tranquil repose of retirement, like the Eastern Prince I presumptuously thought “this shall be a day of happiness.” Full of these imaginings I hastened to my little study, closing the door after me and locking it to keep out intruders. Thus entrenched and isolated, I glanced my eyes around my chosen retreat, the smiling neatness of which was quite captivating. There were many nice volumes carefully arranged on the shelves. The interesting paintings and prints that adorned the walls pourtrayed a variety of subjects calculated to induce meditation. Then the windows were thrown open to a sweet garden so secluded and still, that there was not a sound to be heard except the tuneful voices of the little woodland choristers chanting their morning song of praise. In fancied security I reclined on the sofa, with a book in my hand, and gave myself up to enjoyment,—now reading, now musing and carelessly gazing on the fair daughters of Flora, whose balmy breath perfumed the air which I inhaled.

Secretly exulting in the idea that my proudest wishes were about to be gratified I fell into a kind of waking dream, wandering in imagination through scenes of future bliss. But O how transient were these halcyon moments ! on a sudden a swarm of flies, apparently envious of my peace, attacked my face and neck; some hummed in my ear to the distraction of thought, whilst others impertinently fluttered on my neck, altogether making most discordant sounds. Thus assailled, I covered inv face with a handkerchief for awhile, and endeavoured to bear the vexatious interruption with patience,

reasoning with myself on the folly of allowing a trifling accident to ruffle the serenity of my thoughts.

How long I resisted this temptation to anger I cannot tell, but at last I felt a sharp twinging bite on my throat that thrilled through my bosom and made me start. I could restrain no longer, exasperated with rage I threw down my book and chased the enemies of my peace round the room, till I succeeded in puting one to death; the rest flew away, leaving me in silence to reflect on the unworthy deed my vindictive hand had so suddenly committed. In pensive mood, I gazed with regret on the little victim of my passion. Thus, I thought, do the great and powerful of the world sometimes hastily remove a weak and helpless being who thwarts the gratification of their desires; I sighed deeply as I drew this comparison in my mind, whilst the tear of pity trembled on my cheek, and self-convicted, the still small voice of conscience whispered, “Selfish recluse! when you shut out the world and its jarring interests, its passions were not excluded, for anger, revenge, and remorse have discovered a world of iniquity within. When you next seek for peace, remember it dwells not with the idle in solitude, but is found where self is forgotten in the service of God. Henceforth choose a better part, go and do whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, and do it with all thy might, 'For the night cometh when no one can work.'"

Thus conscience spoke in the stillness of solitude; my heart echoed, What doest thou here ? At a loss to answer this searching question I begun to look into my past life, and thus employed the last hour of a day of retirement as I ought to have done the first in self-examination ; like one of those foolish virgins who neglected to trim and prepare her lamp and slumbered and slept till she was aroused with the cry that the Lord was at hand, I was suddenly awakened to the consciousness of standing on the verge of eternity without having my soul, that undying lamp within me, prepared to meet my God. What have I done, I solemny asked myself, in the service of Him to whom I must soon render an account? Were I called at this moment to the judgment-seat of Christ, would he not say to me “ Oh thou wicked and slothful servant, where are the talents committed to thy charge ?"

N. N.

FASHION.

An anecdote says, I know not with what truth, that a certain gentleman was requested by his wife to buy a bonnet for her, and that, after having made his purchase, he was requested to call at a friend's house, but begged to be excused, saying, “I have bought a bonnet for my wife, and I am afraid that the fashion may change before I get home.” Whether or not this story be true, it comments well on the absurdities of fashion. What can be more silly, what less independent, what more ridiculous, than to be whisked into expenditure, and changes of dress and appearance, by the whims of whatever man or woman happens to be at the head of what is improperly termed the beau monde ? improperly, because the world is fair or beautiful in connexion only, or at least chiefly, with those to whom God says, “all things are yours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the World, and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's." The best method, perhaps, of dealing with fashion,-since we live in a state of society which fashion, more than anything else, seems to govern,-is to dress in such a manner as to elude observation, to avoid singularity, neither hastily to adopt new changes, nor to retain so long the forms of a by-gone day, as virtually to set up a fashion of our own.

W. C. T.

Correspondence Department.
SERVANTS’ HOMES.

Leamington, Aug. 28th, 1840. “Our Society has prospered exceedingly, and we have every ground for believing that with the blessing of God it will really be of very great public utility, at least if we may judge from the number of applications both from employers and servants.

ADVICE TO MOTHERS. We cannot wonder when we see the careless and thoughtless manner in which mothers enter into their responsible stations, if their children eventually become curses instead of blessings. “But what a hard task you would impose on us.”-they answer. If you feel it so, then cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you. “But even if we do all we can, we must sometimes leave our children with servants, especially in their infancy.” Granted—are those servants the constant subjects of your prayers ? Have you led them to see the responsibility they

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