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pittance she receives is returned to the donors tenfold in acts of kindly affection, and the peaceable fruits of righteousness.

I knew an interesting young girl, who was left an orphan, with an impaired constitution. She fell into the hands of beings as insensible to the ties of nature, as to the commands of God. They were publicans, and the rude riot of the house on the sabbath and week days was little suited, either to a body sinking under slow consumption, or a mind thirsting for the water of life; and such was her case. Her relative, the landlady, was a covetous and unfeeling woman.

A lady who knew that the poor girl often laid for days with no attention to her wants or comforts, forgotten, or only remembered to be taunted with the trouble and expense she incurred, visited her. On the lady's expressing a hope that, now deprived of earthly parents, Mary would look to the Father of the fatherless, her tears rose to her eyes; she remembered that she had once a tender and dearly loved father and mother, "But they are in their graves," said she, “and, oh, the difference to me! I sometimes think if my precious mother were here, how it would ease me to lay my poor aching head upon her gentle bosom, as I used when I was a little one. Sometimes in the night, as I lie awake, I fancy that perhaps her spirit is hovering round me. I could almost imagine, that I hear her voice, and see her like a guardian angel waiting till this brittle thread of life is snapped, that she may carry me with her out of all this noise, and blasphemy, and rough treatment. Oh, I long for the time! My dear parents were poor, but they knew in whom they had believed. Christ and his cross were all their hope, and I desire humbly to trust, and safely to die on that Rock."

On the lady's next visit, she was rudely told that the doctor had given orders for no one to see Mary. These visits of mercy was thus put a stop to, and all she afterwards saw of the poor orphan was her mean funeral.

Reader, is your fireside surrounded at eventide by a merry group of beloved objects, for whom all your anxious and affectionate wishes are called forth; and is there among them one whom you have admitted as a pensioner on your love and charity, and who can lay no claim upon you as its parent, O remember that your "dear household voices" may one day be heard, like this orphan's, at the hearth of a stranger; and do unto another's child, as you would that others should do unto yours. That God who has commanded the fatherless child to trust in him, will not pass by the [sin of those who tyrannize over it.

Is there one whose mean garb, timid look, and retiring behaviour, bespeaks her the daughter of affliction; who has

neither the house of a husband, nor the door of a father, open to her, but is the dependent relative in your family? remember God has bidden us to open our hand liberally to our poor brother; be cautious not to wound her feelings, nor put any slight upon her; let her feel her irksome situation as little as possible; and console her as you would desire to be consoled if in her situation.

Above all, is there one in your family whose trembling hands and feeble knees, bespeak that the days are come in which there is no pleasure. One,

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Whose withered arm and sightless eye,
Cherished and watched your infancy."

Aged parents in their helpless old age, when they become dependent relatives, have indeed claims upon our tenderest sympathy and support. Bear with their whims and fancies; they bore with yours in childhood; they put up with much that was disagreeable, and performed many a painful task by night and day for you; it is now your turn to take care of them. And woe be to the son who does not open his purse to the extent of his means, be they humble or ample, for his aged parents supply; and woe be to the daughter, whose gentle and tender offices of gratitude and love are the sweetest balm of old age, should she grudgingly attend her mother's bed of sickness, or her father's dying pillow. Such children may expect the just indignation of the Lord to overtake them in their last days.

TRACTS AMONG THE NATIVES OF CELEBES.

In my walks and visits from house to house, I saw many intimations of that respect and honour in which females are held among the natives of Celebes, and did not fail to note it as an evidence that sin had not deprived them of everything that was amiable in their character. Besides, I never can divest my mind of the recollection of the many great things which females, in more favoured lands, have done towards the furtherance of Bible and missionary objects; and am glad to seize any glimpse of hope, that the women in these dark and much neglected places will prove a blessing to their husbands and their children, by being among the first to lay hold on the truth whenever it shall be set before them. When we called upon a Bugis prince, in the kampong Waju of Macassar, we found him sitting upon the floor, his ledger spread before him, and his wife close by his side; who, though her looks were youthful, seemed to be acting the parts of accountant and confidential clerk, and doubtless took an equal share of interest in all the mercantile specula

tions of her husband. In the South Sea islands, and in those of which we are speaking, it is customary, when two or more persons walk together, for them to follow each other; and if one is more honourable than the rest, he takes the first place. Hence, my servant, when he wished to know whether I required him to go with me in any of my excursions, would say, "Shall your servant follow?" Now, in Macassar, when I met a company of persons of both sexes coming to town, or returning into the country, the females always walked before, while the males followed as a mark of respect; nor was it an uncommon occurrence to see the females mounted on horseback, while their husbands or male friends performed the humbler duties of groom by leading the animal.

One evening I fell in with a party of youths, who were very desirous to obtain some of my books; but, finding that none could read, I showed some reluctance to part with them. While I was talking with them, the mistress of a little cottage hard by, sent a child to bid one of the number ask me for a book, which he did in a tone that implied his respect for the individual, and his confidence that such a request would not be denied. They all assured me, with one voice, that she could read, of which I had some little proof; for she soon discovered, rather to my surprise, that I had given her only one half of the work, and sent in haste to beg the other. On another occasion, whilst I was straying amongst the shady walks of a distant village, I met with a man who remembered the taking of Macassar by the English, and who endeavoured to entertain me with a description of the several actions and skirmishes he had witnessed. When I showed him a book in the Bugis character, his countenance seemed full of delight and admiration; nor did he keep his joy to himself, but after a glance or two called his wife to share in it, with an inimitable tone of tenderness and esteem, evincing that he considered her as the partner of all his joys as well as of all his sorrows. He then read aloud, for the benefit of the neighbours, who began to cluster around us; but, as Bugis was not his native language, he now and then faltered, when his wife set him right. He adopted her corrections with extreme complacency; and, at last, when he was so bent upon giving me two little pieces of money in requital for my books, that he would not listen to my refusal, the gentle assurances of his companion, that they must be treated as presents, went so far with him that all the money was soon restored to its lodging in the box from which it had been taken.--Notes made during a Voyage in the Malayan Archipelago, by G. T. Lay.

TO A PERSON BEREAVED OF TWO CHILDREN AT ONE TIME.

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MRS. M., you have been for some length of time exercised with afflictions and trials, but as yet they do not appear to have had any good effect; they are lost upon you, and now the Lord has seen fit to take from you your two children you deem it unkind. You ought to know, that our children are only lent us by God, who has a right to take them again when he pleases. I have often referred you to the Bible, not only as a revelation of the mind and will of God, and pointing out to us the way of salvation, but as explaining all his designs in the afflictions and trials he calls us to pass through in this life. You say you have read the Bible, and know its contents, but nothing can reconcile you to the loss of your children. That you should feel as a parent is natural, but let me intreat you to reflect seriously, upon the gracious and merciful dispensation of Divine providence, in removing your children; they are taken from the evil to come, and are now in heaven. Job had the whole of his family taken at one time, and his language should be yours-"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord," Job i. 21. Do not question about the Bible, take it, and read it, as it is in truth, the word of God," with prayer that you may understand it, and it will be the joy and rejoicing of your heart. The light it sheds, the instruction it imparts, and the consolation it affords, if you are once permitted to know them, will be an unfailing source of happiness here, and the earnest of happiness hereafter. We should know nothing of a future state, were it not for the Bible. The doctrine of the resurrection is made known to us in the Bible, a doctrine full of comfort to those who believe in Jesus. We see the mortal remains of our dear children and friends consigned to the grave, there to remain till the morning of the resurrection, but then they shall rise again. Should you wish to see your children again, and be united to them, you must make religion your great concern. Remember the sabbath day to keep it holy; attend the sanctuary of God, that you may be instructed in the things that belong to your eternal salvation; train up your children in the fear of the Lord, that they may be blessings to you. There can be no religion without prayer; and you must believe in the Lord Jesus Christ if you would be saved. There is a happiness in religion to which you are at present a stranger; the words of Jesus is, "Seek, and ye shall find," Matt. vii. 7. May you receive these few lines in the same spirit which has led me to write them; and should you be brought to realize the peace and happiness I wish for you, give God the praise. Your friend and well wisher, W. C.

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OCCASIONAL MEDITATIONS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. UPON AN IMPORTUNATE BEGGAR.

It was a good rule of Him that bade us learn to pray of beggars; with what zeal doth this man sue, with what feeling expressions, with how forcible importunity! When I meant to pass by him in silence, yet his clamour draws words from me. When I speak to him, though with excuses, rebukes, denials, repulses, his obsecrations, his adjurations, draw from me that alms which I meant not to give. How he uncovers his sores, and shows his impotence, that my eyes may help his tongue to plead! With what oratory doth he force my compassion, so as it is scarce anything to me that he prevails! Why do I not thus to my God? I am sure I want no less than the neediest; the danger of my want is greater, the alms that I crave is better, the store and mercy of the Giver infinitely more; why shouldest thou give me, O God, that which I care not to ask? Oh give me a true sense of my wants, and then I cannot be cool in asking, thou canst not be difficult in condescending.

UPON THE SIGHT OF AN HUMBLE AND PATIENT BEGGAR.

SEE what need can do; this man, who in so lowly a fashion croucheth to that passenger, hath, in all likelihood, as good a stomach as he to whom he thus abaseth himself; and if their conditions were but altered, would look as high, and speak as big to him, whom he now answers with a plausible and dejected reverence.

TRACT MAG., THIRD SERIES, NO. 96, DEC., 1841.

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