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mercy, we beseech Thee, upon us, Thy servants, who now approach the throne of Grace, and let our prayer ascend before Thee with acceptance. Thou hast commanded and encouraged us in all our ways to acknowledge Thce, and to commit our works to Thee; and Thou hast graciously promised to direct our paths and to prosper our handiwork. We desire now to thank Thee, believing that without Thy help and blessing nothing can prosper or succeed, and we desire humbly to commit all who have been engaged in this undertaking to Thy care, protection and guidance. It has pleased Thee to enable us to complete what we have been led by Thy providence to undertake, that being begun and carried on in the spirit of prayer and in dependence upon Thee, it may tend to Thy glory, and to the good of all nations, by promoting the increase of unity, peace and concord. May Thy hand of power and mercy be so ac knowledged by all that the language of every heart may be, Not unto us, O Lord; not unto us, but unto Thy name give glory;' that so Thy name may be hallowed and magnified in us and by us. Thou hast controlled the winds and the sea by Thy almighty power, and granted us such favorable weather that we were enabled to lay the cable safely and effectually. Finally, we beseech Thee to implant within us a spirit of humility and childlike dependence upon Thee; and teach us to feel, as well as to say, 'If the Lord will, we shall do this or that." Hear us, O Lord, and hear us in these our petitions according to Thy precious promise, for Jesus Christ's sake."

The "Amen" which followed the conclusion of this prayer showed what a sincere response it received from the hearts of all present, and the depth of feeling it excited. You recollect," proceeded the Captain, "what our Saviour told his disciples, that if they had faith, even as a grain of mustard seed, they could move mountains. We have performed a work, or rather we are thankful to God for having performed a work for us, which has been ridiculed by a great many who regarded it as an impossibility. We have been peculiarly favored in being permitted to be His agents, and we are pleased to acknowledge that it was through His instrumentality the work has been performed."

A work of such magnitude, conducted and concluded in such a Christian spirit, must prove a blessing to the world, and to religion. It lies embalmed in prayer and piety. It is also worthy of lasting remembrance and gratitude that the first News dispatch August 26, brought the message of PEACE with China; and the second August 27th the still greater fact not only that that vast Empire is open to the trade of all nations, but to Christianity, and that by the treaty THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION IS ALLOWED!"

READ AN HOUR A DAY.

THERE was once a lad who at fourteen was apprenticed to a soapboiler. One of his resolutions was to read one hour every day, or at least at that rate; and he had an old silver watch, left by his uncle, which he timed his reading by. He stayed seven years with his master, and his master said when he was twenty-one that he knew as much as the young squire did. Now let us see how much time he had to read in seven years, at the rate of an hour a day. It would be twenty-five hundred and fifty-five hours, which, at the rate of eight reading hours a day, would be three hundred and nineteen days: equal to forty-five weeks, equal to eleven months; nearly a year's reading. That time spent in treasuring up useful knowledge, would pile up a very large store. I am sure it is worth trying for. Try what you can do. Begin now.

BEAUTIFUL.

BY THE EDITOR.

It is seldom we see so touching an incident as that which has lately gone the rounds of the papers with the caption of "beautiful.” Beautiful certainly it is.

BEAUTIFUL: Mr. W. Evans, now a resident of Boston, Mass., has recently made a donation to the town of Smithfield, in that State, of $10,000, as a grateful tribute for the support of himself and parent by said town, during his infancy and childhood. His parents, with himself and other children, were paupers to said town and were for many years supported by it.

Beautiful is the gift in itself, but more beautiful the spirit which it manifests as dwelling in the heart of the giver. He was once poor, very poor; he has now grown rich, but has not forgotten his former humble condition, nor the place where his lowly life began. Nor has he proved ungrateful toward those who in his humble condition befriended him.

How often do we find that persons of humble origin, when the tide of fortune has turned in their favor and elevated them above their former condition, become so elated as to be ashamed of their humble childhood. They hide it, they cannot bear any allusion to it-they wish it to be forgotten. They shun those who are acquainted with the fact, and disown everything that is associated with their former humble level. Persons whom they once knew are now disowned because they need them no more. We have known persons who did not wish to have the place of their birth known, and could bear no inquiries in regard to their parents and relations, when the only sin of these was that they belonged to humble life! How false and how far from greatness are such ideas and feelings.

Beautiful, indeed, in this respect is the conduct of Mr. Evans. Instead of hiding the fact that he was once poor, he actually builds a monument to commemorate the fact ! As long as the village exists, and coming generations will ask "whence this gift?" it will be told that the wealthy Mr. Evans of Boston was once poor, and the son of poor parents, and that he was supported by the town" during his infancy and childhood." Will this be to his dishonor? No, no! For it will be also told that he did not remain poor-that by industry and perseverance he nobly elevated himself; and above all, that through all his rising prosperity he carried with him a noble heart, which grew neither proud nor narrow, but amid wealth and honor, turned in grateful remembrance toward his native village. The monument will tell forever how the poor bey became a noble man.

How false is that idea of greatness which supposes it necessary to hide an humble origin. Our Saviour has forever put it to shame by his humble birth. We do not find that He thought it necessary to be ashamed of his birth in a stable, and his infant slumbers in a manger "with the beasts of the stall." To rise to greatness is great; and the

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humbler the beginning the more honorable the end. We take off our hat before Mr. Evans, as before one o. the chiefest noblemen of our race, and cry with all our heart-BEAUTIFUL! BEAUTIFUL!

THE TREE AND ITS FRUITS.

RY THE EDITOR.

FALSE principles like false prophets are known by their fruits. The bad effects of novel reading have been often pointed out. It has been shown that it enfeebles and renders morbid the mind that indulges in it -that novels give a false coloring to life, and allure the reading victim by unsubstantial fancies into a land of dreams, whereby they are rendered unfit for the sober realities of life as they actually exist. Thus as the result of disappointment, the abused mind sinks into gloom and despair.

Novelism has the same effect upon the writers as upon the readers of these morbid fancies. This may be seen from some startling statements made by the press immediately after the suicide of Henry Herbert, the novelist who wrote numberless hot-bed stories for our city magazines and newspapers under the adopted name of "Frank Forester," and who shot himself "for love" to a lady of whose love he had made himself unworthy by his debaucheries. Among other notices of this suicide the papers state the following:

A singular story, told in connection with the suicide of Herbert, (" Frank Forester,") is, that in 1851, Thomas Picton, who now claims Herbert's library, started a newspaper called the Sachem, and gathered around him a group of good writers. The list-editorial and corresponding-included Picton, Dr. Bachelor, Herbert, Wm. North, George Foster, Major Richardson, and Capt. Bradley. Picton and Dr. Bachelor are living-the other five have died suicides.

Here is a batch of five novelists who have rushed unbidden into the awful presence of God! Such is the fruit produced by this tree of novelism. These are the teachers of the youth of our land! These are the etherial spirits who are to instruct in matters of love and life! When will our young people-and old too-learn to flee from such poisoners of the mind and heart, and seek to derive their ideas of life from a pure and solid source.

Besides these mournful results of novelism, we have lately had a shameful chapter from the domestic history of Dickens, the great chief of modern novelists. With all his wit and facinating style he has not been able to cover the shane connected with his late separation from his own wife! yet how many there are who read Dickens far more than they read the Bible, and shed more tears over his pages than they ever dropped at the foot of the cross.

It is especially on the points of love and marriage that these novelists offer such sublimated lessons. They are the men to give instructions in this solemn business! Physicians they are who cannot heal themselves. Passion is their affection, and lust is their love; and as the

devil once gave instructions in paradise, so do these of like spirit, enter the sacred enclosures of our homes with their lying words and corrupting touch.

How many of the young have novels misled in regard to the nature and solemnity of marriage. They learn from novels to choose from fancy at first sight at a ball or heated evening party-without any serious reference to the character of the person or their own circumstances in life. Hastily the marriage is effected, but sad is the after disappointment and long the unavailing regret. The romance fades away before the reality, like fog when the sun rises.

We have a case in point. Some months ago the papers were handing round the romantic story of a marriage of fancy between the daughter of a wealthy and refined family in New York and her father's coachman. She would have him-the idea was romantic-she had read the like in novels, and it ended well-so she eloped with "the interesting youth" of the coach-whip. A few months have passed, and now the papers give us the following significant item:

A New York correspondent of the Boston Gazette writes: You remember the story about "John Dean and his Mary Ann" Boker. Poor girl, her romance is converted into a miserable reality. He, as I stated some time since, is a marker in the custom-house, and they now occupy the second floor of a house over a corner grocery on Second and South Third streets, Williamsburg, surrounded by tumble-down shanties and beggarly looking tenement houses. The only sign of refinement in the apartment is a piano, which the young lady continually drums upon, to the great annoyance of her neighbors; for, truth to say, she is by no means a Thalberg.

SUDDEN DEATH IN FULL DRESS.

It is not long since we gave a solemn incident of a sudden death in a ball-room in Philadelphia. Any person may die suddenly; yet who would wish to be called into the presence of the final Judge from the midst of scenes of vanity, robed in all the pride and pomp of fashion's extravagances. That we feel an inward horror at the idea of such a death is the best evidence that we secretly feel such vanity and folly to be in itself sinful. Here is another. How sad the thought!

At this season, says a writer from Paris, one hears almost every day of the house warming of a villa in some neighboring village, as the entrance into possession of a rural residence furnishes one of the best pretext possible for giving a party. A brilliant festival of this sort was given three days ago on the Fountainbleau railway; and as it was rather more formal than most of the entertainments given at this season of the year, the ladies were all in full dress. Among the guests was a brilliant young wife from Normandy. At 2 o'clock in the morning she quitted the rural lodge to return to Paris, and as she wore one of the steel cages and the number of petticoats now fashionable, she occupied the carriage alone, and her husband followed in a brougham.

At 3 o'clock in the morning they reached Paris. Her husband got out of the brougham and opening the carriage door, called her: "Pauline! Pauline! here we are at home!" There was no answer. He called again and louder than before, and he shook her by the shoul

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der. It was cold, strangely cold: "Are you unwell, dear? What is the matter? Speak !" He could gain no reply. Taking down one of the carriage lamps, he entered the carriage and found his wife dead! She had been suffering from an affection of the heart, but the doctors said it was cured; and now coming from a ball in gay ball attire, with flowers on her head, and rouge on her cheeks, death had come all unawares, before she could speak, while she lay dreaming of balls and all the follies of the world. Never does death seem more hideous than when it surprises its victim arrayed to play a part in the frivolous amusements of the hour!

EDUCATION OF WOMEN.

BY REV. DR. COX.

OUR people at large take too little thought about the infinite impor tance of education, especially a right one, for their children; and this is more eminently true in regard to their precious daughters, the women of a soon coming age! Neglect Women-and ruin men!

What use in educating a woman? What use? Let barbarism in Madagascar, or profligacy in Utah, or all manner of pollution in the dark realms of heathendom, be left to ask; what all civilization, and all Christian philosophy answers with rational and conscientious triumph. Woman is the criterion of society. To improve and elevate the sex, is to advance and meliorate the species. What great and good man can you ordinarily show us, who had not a great and good mother? Is the influence of a mother, that is a mother, less potential, when excellent, because bores, and fops, and fashionable simpletons, never think of it? because infidels, who believe in Fourierism and communism, in polygamy and seraglios, in Turkish and Circassian slave-marts, and oriental sensualism, utterly forget or discredit it?

Should we not educate the greatest educators in the world? A mother first influences a man-a son or a daughter, born into the world. For the infantile and formative years of life, she develops, nurtures, forms, impresses, disciplines, and blesses-or curses, a poor human stranger. What if every mother was an Eunice, a Lois, a Hannah, an Elizabeth, or, I had almost said, a Mary; what, in the constitution of God, might we expect, with his own added blessing, on their duties and services and pieties, in educating our successive generations of mankind!

SELF-DECEPTION: I think that one of the most terrible spectacles in the world is to see a man that has destroyed the power of moral judgment in respect to his own action, his own moral character. The number of such persons is not small; it is growing more and more; and what is more remarkable, they are found more frequently in the Church, and within the sound of preaching, than out of it, and in rounds of wickedness.