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instruction on this head, to many who err, not knowing the consequences of their inconsiderate purchase of French gloves? I beg you to pardon my intrusion; and hoping you may long be spared to protest against open and latent evils, and that you may receive a blessing from the Lord on your work.

I remain, my dear Madam,

Your obliged and respectful,

H. N.

I DO IT TO PLEASE MY HUSBAND.

THERE is a woman who has a husband, wanting to dress her up like a graven image and worship her. Woman, be firm, and say, 'I am not going to be worshipped.-I worship God myself, and will not be an idol for man.'

I have known some Christian women who, when asked how they could wear such and such expensive dresses, say, Oh, it is to please my husband, he is a worldly man, and loves to see me wear them, and he can afford it, and so I gratify him.' Suppose now he should build a temple, and set up an altar in it, and then wish you to stand up there and be his goddess, and let him offer incense, and some one would say, How is this? I thought you professed to worship Jehovah, and do you stand up here to be worshipped yourself?' You would reply, 'Oh, I do it to please my husband: he is an ungodly man, and

wishes to do so, and I gratify him. I hope in this way to lead him along, and retain an influence on his mind, that in God's time I hope will make him a Christian.' Why, you have just as much right to say this, as you have to be decked out in all this gaudy drapery of fashion, and made an idol of in the way you are. REMEMBER, you are a servant of Jesus Christ, and you have no right to yield to any mortal that authority which belongs to HIм. And besides, this pretence of doing it to please your husband is, in nine cases out of ten, all a sham. You do it to please yourself: beware.The Christian Journal.

A VERY young boy, a Romanist, in my curacy, learned to read the Irish Scriptures, and used to read them to his father and mother in the evenings. He bas, together with his father, now left Rome; and it is a sweet sight to witness the lad, being the spiritual father of his parent, going together to the house of God. I have known many conversions of masters, &c., and in one case, when the man came to me to speak of his desire to abandon the church of Rome, he was served at night with a notice that he would be shot if he persisted!'-Rev. Hobart Seymour.

SABBATH MUSINGS.

THAT bright star in the Christian world-Wilberforce the burning and shining light of his day and generation, in speaking of the exercises of the Sabbath, recommends that of numbering up, and calling to mind on that sacred day, the various blessings and privileges which we enjoy. This delightful occupation, this retrospect of the boundless mercies and benefits of our heavenly Father, is indeed calculated to produce that thankful and elevated frame of mind best suited to the day set apart to the service of a God of love. Were such reflections more generally indulged,- -were the sweet and filial feelings resulting from them more sedulously cultivated, how infinitely more gladdening and delightful would be the service of the sanctuary! Much of the lifelessness and formality which, alas! we find so often stealing over us would be at an end,-we should then indeed "go our way into his gates with thanksgiving, and enter into his courts with praise," and from the inmost recesses of every grateful heart would breathe a silent hymn of adoration and love, rising upwards like a cloud of sweet incense, to the Lord of the Sabbath.

Among the countless multitudes of which the world is composed, there is so great a variety, that the sources of gratitude must, of course, differ widely. In that vast family of human beings, every heart

knoweth its own bitterness, and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joys; and there are mercies and comforts peculiar to each individual case, for which he or she alone can "render thanks, and praise the Lord."

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But there is one grand subject for endless and unbounded gratitude, in which all can unite and sympathize, in which every creature that draws human breath is deeply interested, and that is, the blessing of REVELATION. Oh! can we ever be sufficiently thankful for this inestimable treasure, this glorious lamp unto our feet and light unto our paths, in treading the tangled and intricate ways of a dark world, this day-star from on high, which can shed its bright beams over the awful regions beyond the grave, and irradiate even that gloomy valley of the shadow of death, from which unassisted nature shrinks with a cold shudder of terror and dismay. Who can cast a retrospective glance on the dark ages of the world, and view the heathen philosopher grappling with mighty truths, too high for the brightest human intellect to attain to,-who can follow the sages of old in their laborious researches, and watch their fruitless endeavours to grope their way by the faint glimmer of reason, and not lift up his heart in thankfulness to God for the glorious lamp which has been placed in his hands,-revealing the past, cheering and gladdening the present, and flinging a bright and enlivening ray deep down the shadowy gulf of futurity.

This surpassing subject of praise never forces itself so irresistibly on my mind, or produces a gush of more deep and heart-felt thanksgiving, than when treading the narrow path that leads through the

church-yard to our house of prayer. Around in every direction are scattered the abodes of the dead, -the grassy hillocks where

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,'

some decorated by tall head-stones whereon are recorded the names and ages of those to whose memory they were erected,-others without any thing save a slight elevation of surface to distinguish them from the rest of the sod,-and others again where the only tribute of affection poverty could afford to the departed, is a simple wooden cross, now fast crumbling into decay like the mouldering remains beneath. Among these lowly graves are the square stone slabs that mark the tombs of the better class, and here and there the entrances into vaults, through which the wealthy are carried into their last resting place.

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What a scene would this be,' I exclaimed, as a few sabbaths since I paused on the narrow path, before mentioned, to contemplate "the house appointed for all living," what a scene would this be, were we not able to raise our eyes to the mansions beyond the grave! Truly it is here that Reve lation sheds its brightest beams,-gilding the gloom and dreariness of the church-yard, and kindling with an ardent and heavenly flame the torch of hope, just ready to faint and utterly expire before the chilling damps of the sepulchre. Were it not for these glo- rious hopes, how painful would be the contemplation of these silent tombs,-how jarring and discordant the contrast they present to every thing around!'

There was indeed a contrast, for all without was redolent of life and gladness. The balmy air of spring came loaded with the fragrance of the early

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