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cultivate correct taste without fostering sinful pride,— to give a child a respectable appearance without undue expense, will require all the taste and judgment and firmness a parent can command. As childhood passes into youth, and youth approaches maturity, the necessity for parental oversight, discretion, and firmness, increases. There are three errors, in matters of dress, into which the young are inclined to run. The first, most common and most pernicious, is extravagance, especially in ornaments. And here we may as well say as not, we think everything put on for mere ornament, extravagance.

Young ladies are particularly inclined to this error; with many of them it is a perfect mania. If unrestrained, they would hang around themselves such a profusion of rings, pins, clasps, drops, chains, bracelets, buttons, bows, ribbons and laces, as to hide their real beauty, and make them but little more than walking show-cases for the jeweller, the milliner, and the mantua-maker, just as if anything hung on to it can beautify the human form and face divine. Sooner paint the rainbow, and re-gild the sun! The opposite of this is that negligence of personal appearance which marks the sloven. There is still another class, who choose gaudy, or odd patterns, and uncouth forms; evidently seeking a low and doubtful notoriety, and displaying much more vanity than taste.

All these tendencies require a careful correction. The formation of a delicate and correct taste in dress is of very great importance to the young, and intimately connected with their success in future life.

LIVE FOR OTHERS.

LIVES of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footsteps on the sands of time;
. Footsteps, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, may take heart again.

CHARITY.

BY REV. WM. M. THAYER.

CHARITY is QUEEN of the Christian graces.
Meekness, Patience, and fair Humility,
Three loving sisters, follow in her train,

To lift her robes from the world's foul dust, as

She walks the streets of life. Though richly clad

In garments wrought in heaven, she deigns to tread The meanest lanes of life, and oft descends

To human habitations, dark and cold,

Where Hunger's haggard victims mix in crowds,
And roll the glaring eyeball of despair.

She loves to fling her spotless robes around
The naked forms of Want, rather than flaunt
Them in fashion's splendid parlor. She loves
To sup with humble worth in penury's home,
Rather than banquet with kings in palace
Made of gold. "T is her joy to wipe the tear,
Breathe smiles on the brow of sadness, tender
Relief to want, revive the drooping hopes,
And cheer up the spirits with Religion's
Tale of heaven.

Misfortune's stricken sons
Rejoice to catch her smiles, and share her blest
Munificence. Nature's paupers, those
Who lack some talent on others well bestowed,
Sincerely seek her kindliest sympathies.
The countless multitude, poor, wretched mass
Of human life, thrust their fleshless fingers
Into her loaded basket. All hail her gifts.

E'en helpless age is captivated now,

And burns to share one sweet embrace, the last;
While tender babes of want delight

To nestle in her bosom, and draw the "milk

Of human kindness" from her fruitful breasts.

Without her aid no blest asylum stands
Upon the desert wastes of time, in which
The smitten race can find a covert from
The beating storms of woe; the penniless,
Fatherless, friendless, houseless, homeless, all
Must lie down and perish in the wild, cold
Solitude of a heartless world.

And more;

Without this QUEEN of Graces to herald
Us up on high, and seek admittance at
The gate of GLORY, all our hopes are vain.
Prophetic gifts, nor mysteries of lore,
Nor angel's tongue melodious, nor goods
All lavished on the naked poor, nor e'en
The body laid upon the flaming pile,
Can give us hope to gain admission there.
Sweet CHARITY must be our guide to Heaven,
And knock for welcome at the gate of pearl.

HINTS TO PARENTS.

BY MARY GRACE HALPING.

WHEN the tender mind of the child begins to expand, and its inquiring disposition begins to manifest itself, check it at once; it will save you a great deal of trouble. Beside, he might ask questions which you would find it difficult to answer.

Should he, in doing anything, commit any childish mistake, or error, laugh at him; it will inspire him with confidence, and induce him to try again.

Should you refuse him anything, after a proper amount of crying and teasing on his part, make it your invariable practice to yield, as this will cultivate in him a spirit of perseverance, and a firmness of character, which will be of great service to him in after-life.

Should he inadvertently break anything, or should you surprise him in any unconscious mischief, immediately pounce on him, cuff and shake him severely, exclaiming, as you do so, "I never saw such a child; he's the plague of my life; always in mischief," and so forth. But, if he wilfully transgresses some trifling command, pass it over in silence. This course will not fail to impress him with a high respect for your authority, and enable him to form correct ideas of right and wrong.

If you wish to enforce some particular command, repeat it several times, threatening, if he disobeys you, "to take his head off," "to whip him within an inch of his life," or some such sort of a thing.

Your failing to execute these threats will lead him to appreciate the tenderness of your heart, and the sincerity of your love for him; beside giving him a high opinion of truth, and the consistency of your character.

Should you send him to school, be very careful to inform him that "you do it merely to get him out of the way; that you don't expect him to learn anything," and so forth. This will serve to encourage him, and will be likely to incite in him a laudable ambition to distinguish himself in his studies.

Don't strive to make home agreeable; for, if you do, he may stay there too much, which would be a source of trouble and annoyance to you.

Should he commit some trifling peccadilloes, such as stoning his neighbor's dogs, drowning his cats, breaking his windows, and so forth, don't treat him with much severity, "lest you discourage him," and break down his noble spirit.

Don't bring him up to any useful employment, but let him lounge about the streets; as this will tend not only to refine his manners and cultivate his moral principles, but to make a man of him.

Don't, on any account, allow him any spending-money; for as boys will have money some way, throwing him on his own resources will serve to sharpen his wits, and enlarge his understanding.

If, after following these directions, your son fails to become a useful member of society, and a support and comfort to your declining years, why it won't be your fault, of course not!

RICHES.

THE way to make thy son rich is to fill

His mind with rest, before his trunk with riches
For wealth without contentment climbs a hill,
To feel those tempests which fly over ditches.
But if thy son can make ten pound his measure,
Then all thou addest may be called his treasure.

GEORGE HERBERT.

IS IT WELL?

ORIGINAL.

"Is it well with thee? Is it well with the child?" And she answered, "It is well."

A MOTHER is bending the Holy Book o'er,
But she heeds not its promise of joy,

Her child's merry laughter she heareth no more,
And she mourns for her beautiful boy!

Her boy! O, how cold is the marble-like brow!
O'er his form the green sods have been piled.
Then what means the whisper that comes to her now,
"Is it well with thee? Well with the child?"

"Is it well with thee," mother? Thy heart is opprest,
And thy voice has forgotten the lays,

Whose music hath oftentimes lulled him to rest,
In the twilight of happier days.

The cradle is vacant; thy cherub hath flown,

Hath passed with the Spring's fragrant breath;
And how canst thou live with thy sorrow alone?
O, how canst thou give him to Death?

"Is it well with the child?"

No mother's fond arm

Encircles the pale sleeper now!

No mother's sweet voice can relieve the dread calm

That rests on the innocent brow!

"Is it well with the child?"

The flush to his cold cheek,

Who, the light to his eyes, can bring?

"Is it well with the child?" All unconscious he lies,

A chilled, withered snow-drop of Spring!

The mother is bending the holy book o'er,

She is learning its lessons of joy;

Her child's merry laughter she heareth no more,

Yet she feels it is well with her boy;

For she knows that her Saviour of infants hath said,

"Suffer children to come unto me,"

And her child, if but owned by the Saviour, though dead,

Over Death the glad victor shall be.

In a beautiful home, where shall be no more pain,
Where shall fall no dark shadow of Death,

She is looking to find her lost treasure again,
If she heeds what the holy word saith.

Thus sorrow shall fit her for pleasures divine,
In a home of repose and of joy,

And now she can answer, "The sweet hope is mine,

That 't is well with me,-well with my boy!",

ENNA.