cannot, indeed; there still remain many little things for me to attend to."

"What, at this time in the evening, Eliza!" he replied; "then I really wish you would arrange matters so as to spare an hour or two when I return home."

"Oh, I never shall! I never can! a woman's work is never done."

Thus repulsed, the husband folded his arms, leaned back in his chair, and, we suppose, cogitated upon his plans and prospects in silence. Alas! by slow degrees he ceased to wish to consult Eliza on any important concerns. If he asked her to accompany him on any excursion, to walk, or to ride with him, her heart was so set upon the mysteries and intricacies of her household affairs, that an absolute refusal to accompany him usually followed. He, too, soon learned to be quite willing to forego her society. "And such a wife as I have been!" said she, after he had forsaken her. She had indeed been such a wife as to destroy her own and her family's peace and real comfort.

It is beautiful to behold a wife regularly and perseveringly acting out a previously well-arranged plan of domestic economy in its wide sense; for her to take a deep interest in the whole duty of her sphere is most praiseworthy: far be it from any one to underrate a strict attention on the part of the mistress to the most minute details of the house, from the drawing-room to the laundry, the pantry, or the kitchen. If she is neglectful of these, she is out of her duty. But there is need for caution against bestowing upon them an all-engrossing devotion of heart, and time, interest, and attention to the exclusion of other duties.

To a mother, the training, teaching, and instruction of her children are surely of more than equal importance with the over-neatness of her house, or her exertions in other worldly matters. Everything is beautiful in its place.

In the prosperous business of Mr. R, the personal exertions of his wife were unnecessary; but so devoted had she become to the trade, that for it her children were neglected; their ragged garments, uncleanly persons, and untutored minds, were not, in her estimation, of so much importance as "the work," as she used to call that part of the handicraft to which she devoted herself.

Her children would return from school, and have a slice of

bread and cheese presented to them, because she had not had time to provide dinner. She injured her own health materially, by neglecting to take proper and regular meals or exercise; and has been known to stand till she fainted over her employ. Her children-her sons at least-each became sources of great affliction to her; and, in her old age, she was often heard to lament, that she had helped to obtain more than a sufficient fortune by attending to "the work," at the price of neglecting to train and form the characters of her sons, who, with God's blessing on her efforts, might have been the comforts of her widowhood.

Look at another instance of equal activity, but under better regulation. Mrs. L had seldom been accustomed to enter the shop of her husband, till a paralytic stroke disabled him from attending his business. Finding, however, that her personal exertions must be put forth, if the maintenance of her family was to be secured, she set herself diligently to learn her duties, and to perform them. She became most active in the shop and the counting-house.

The blessing of God rested upon her efforts, and enabled her to realize such honest gains, as supported her household in credit. Her well-digested plan showed a clear head and a good judgment. She assigned to her numerous, onerous, and uncommon duties their proper time and place; she was a tender mother; the welfare of her little ones lay near her heart; she could not, did not, neglect them. It is true, her hands were too much occupied to ply the needle for them herself; this task another could well perform; but by early rising, and great watchfulness to seize every opportunity for instilling good principles into their mind; by so filling up the hours of the Lord's day, that religion appeared to those children in its own beauty, and by rendering their home attractive to them, she contrived to discharge her maternal duties well.

The helpless state of her beloved and afflicted husband sometimes grieved her, and weighed down her spirits. Here again her bright example of true affection shone forth. It had pleased God mercifully to preserve some degree of power of mind to the sick man. This was deemed by both a special mercy; they could still converse and consult together; and though the smile that had cheered her through many trials, now beamed forth from sadly altered

features, and though the hand that had often supported her in weakness, had now lost its power; though the well-known footstep was never to be heard again in its wonted vigour, yet still the cherished husband was there. If she could snatch an interval, to give a cheering word or look during the busy scenes of the day, he was near, and able to appreciate the tender attention; and when her labours for the day were finished, sweet was the short hour of rational enjoyment, affectionate intercourse, and holy communion, which they held; and this was the only relaxation which Mrs. L allowed herself after her untiring exertions from a very early hour of the morning.

Let us conclude by observing, that Mrs. L was guided in all she did, by those unerring principles which true religion alone can give. Mrs. R-, on the contrary, did not set the fear of God before her eyes. Worldlymindedness had taken root in her heart, and it yielded her the fruits of dissatisfaction and regret. She stepped out of the usual line of female duty unnecessarily, determined to be rich, cost 'what it might. Mrs. L on the other hand, was, by Providence, compelled to as much unusual activity; but she tried every motive by the law of God, and His grace gave her power against covetousness and a worldly spirit.

In the one, an ill-regulated mind led her to an excess of activity, for the attainment of an unworthy object. In the other, that new birth, without which no one can see the kingdom of God, had mortified the old and bad inclinations of her nature; and when forced by circumstances to act a difficult and toilsome part, she set herself with unflinching self-denial to perform duties which called forth extreme activity, for a truly justifiable end. Her noble efforts were crowned with success by the blessing of Him who" maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow with it."

These are pictures of truth. Let the readers look around on the world, and they will be able to multiply such examples and warnings, by observations for their own improvement.

One appears, to the mind of the writer, in private life, whose activity and neatness were proverbial, while her devotedness to God caused her to live above the world. Methinks I hear her, with melodious voice, singing one of

Newton's experimental hymns, while "her threaded steel flew swiftly, and unfelt her task went on."

Another venerable matron appears in the vision of the past. Full of activity in her shop; surrounded by business; and in reply to a holy relative of our own, who asked her how she kept up her spirituality of mind (for which she was remarkable) in the midst of all this, she said, "Sir, it is not where we are, but what we are."

One other deservedly claims a passing encomium among those noted for diligence in business, and fervency of spirit. Through a long and consistent profession of religion, down to old age and hoary hairs, did Mrs. W- maintain a spirit of activity in the calls of business, and to the claims of a numerous family, which ceased only with her ability for exertion. All her children became devotedly pious, and her praise is now on the lips of her children's children.

Let us examine, and try ourselves, and implore light from above, to find out if we, in any measure, suffer our activity to degenerate into a fault by its interfering with other duties, and more especially by its undermining the spiritual health of ourselves or our families.

M. J. M.

THE OLD SAILOR.

ABOUT four months since, I was accosted by a weatherbeaten tar, whose appearance showed that he had weathered many a storm, but whose blackened eye, and trembling limbs, proved that the perils on land had been more disastrous than the dangers of the deep. He had for years, whilst on shore, been the victim of the rum-selling landlords, and the prey of those harpies that infest their sinks of iniquity. He approached with a dejected look, and spoke as follows:

"I hope you will excuse me, sir, but I am in a very bad state, as you perceive. I have suffered dreadfully for a long time from drinking, and although I don't care much about it myself, I can't help it, when I am where it is, and my shipmates are urging me to drink.”

"You had better make up your mind to leave off at once," I said.

"That is what I want to do, sir; and if you will put my name on the temperance book, I would thank you.'

"I will gladly do it," said I; " and if you will come tonight, I will go with you to the temperance meeting.” "I will sir; I will.”

A little before the time named, he presented himself, with his nerves somewhat steadier, but still a pitiable looking object of intemperance. "Well," said I, " you are true to your time;" and off to the meeting we went; and as soon as the invitation to sign the pledge was given, up he stepped, and down went his name.

After the meeting, I gave him a caution to stand fast, and we parted. The next morning, my new convert_made his appearance, and with a sorrowful look, said, “I can't stop where I am, sir; if I do, I shall break my pledge. My landlord and shipmates are trying all they can to get me to drink. I can't stand it, sir ; I can't stand it.".

“Well,” said I, "you must leave. How long have you been in the house? what is the amount of your bill ?"

He replied, "I have only been there for two or three days, but my bill for grog is rather heavy."

I paid the amount of his bill, which was nearly nine dollars, and had his dunnage taken to the Sailor's Home, where he stopped about a week, kept his pledge, got thoroughly sober, and obtained a voyage up the Straits; and, for once in his life, rendered himself on board, a sober seaman, in possession of his senses, and knowing what port he was bound for.

Three months slipped round, and brought back my honest tar. He met me with a look of gratitude, and gave me such a grip, that my fingers fairly ached.

"Well," said I," have you kept your pledge ?"

"Oh yes, sir, and mean to keep it."

He returned to the Sailor's Home; was paid off; rigged himself out in a new suit of clothes; paid the little debt he owed, and in a few days was shipped again.

As he was going on board, I saw him.

"Look here, sir," said he, shaking in his hand seven or eight dollars in silver; "I have been sailing out of this port fifteen years, and, for the first time, I am going out to sea with all I want, and money in my pocket. If I had been where rum was, I should not have had a copper, or bit of