of these visitations. Such may gather information, construct plans, and forward projects for the saving some of these lost ones. And all may give to the cause their money, their efforts, and their prayers, through the channel of the Pastoral Aid Society.

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.

LADY of flowers! beside the green
And quiet wood paths ever seen;
Where, through the tangled knots of grass,
The peeping looks of childhood pass,
To find the treasure safely hid

Beneath thy broad leaf's dewy lid,

Whilst rising from its welcome shade
Thy fragrance is an offering made,
To the soft airs of some calm sky,

Which through the leaves unheard steal by.
Oh! 'midst the world be such our place,
Unseen, unmarked, each lowly grace!
By its blest influence only known,
In common duties sweetly shown,
Through the long course of pilgrim days,
Without a thought of human praise:
Content, our daily cross to bear—
Content, as God's own gift to wear
A meek and quiet spirit, sent
To be our precious ornament!

M. A. S. Barber.

OLD MAIDS.

A SINGULAR question is now being discussed in the Christian Lady's Magazine, a question deeply interesting in general to the fair sex, being, in plain English, neither more nor less than-Is it better to be a wife or an old maid? This is the fourth paper on the subject—it is not at all likely to be the last; many a soft voice is, no doubt, ready to whisper its verdict; many a fair hand to be stretched forth with its vote; many a crow-quill in readiness to be drawn out, to trace on satin paper the sentiments of the gentle owner. I can even go so far as to surmise, that one of the first enquiries in many quarters, as that welcome visitant of the opening month, the Christian Lady's Magazine, enters the family, may possibly be, 'Is there anything more about old maids?' Alas! what a disappointment it must be to numbers of querists, to stumble on such a paper as this in reply to their enquiries.

I begin with stating, that I am not going to take any part in this important controversy, in which A would-be Old Maid' is the representative on one side, and Coelebs non volens' (a title to my dull apprehension quite as unintelligible-this by the way) on the other. I have yet to learn, that the Christian is at liberty to choose his or her own path of duty and usefulness; and I have yet to learn, also, that a Christian has time, and is at liberty, to

speculate on abstract questions. My belief was—I was taught it in the church Catechism when a very little child-that Christians are to "do their duty in that state of life unto which it shall please God to call them;" and my impression in riper years, though I am not yet old, has ever been, that the Lord has a variety of employment for his servants, and portions out to each his work, according to his or her power, capacity, and faithfulness. The division of labour, so beautifully exemplified in human society, (Adam Smith's description will recur to many readers,) is quite as evident in the spiritualkingdom of our Lord, and in that is conducted by unerring wisdom. The child-like spirit of the Christian is, that he would not choose his own path; like the sheep on the Andalusian hills, he must follow the guidance of the shepherd, whithersoever he leadeth. His earthly destiny, as his eternal one, he places in the bands of his heavenly Father, desiring only to do the will of his Master, and to finish the work, whatever that work may be, that he may give him to do. If a path of extensive usefulness is denied to him, he remembers that it is his Father's will, and his prayer is to be faithful in what is entrusted to him. Whatever the work be, it is duty, duty to a crucified Redeemer, by whose blood he hath been bought, to whose service, by every tie of honour and of gratitude, he is everlastingly bound. He would not choose for himself. He remembers what Newton used to say: 'If two archangels were sent from heaven to earth, one to sweep the streets, the other to sit on a throne, the scavenger would take his place as cheerfully as the monarch.' And he knows that it is his privilege, his highest interest, to leave all to

the Lord: "Choose thou mine inheritance for me: "Not my will but thine be done." And he grasps the promise with a firm hand: "All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."

It may be said that these are general principles. Yes; but they are general principles applicable to the particular subject under consideration. I will not insult the understandings of readers by making the application.

The result is, (O that I could press it on the consciences of all under whose eye this paper may fall!) that, without murmurings and disputings, we should be faithful to our own appointed work, in our own allotted path of duty.

I have said what I intended to say, yet I cannot forbear adding that as an English woman I always feel sorry to observe any censure cast on so eminent an individual as Mrs. H. More. I allude to the observation that 'many married women must be ranked equally high in point of usefulness, without that love of admiration which was unhappily so conspicuous in Mrs. More.' Without ranging myself among the ultra, out-and-out admirers of Mrs. More, (for I always think that her talents were, from circumstances, a good deal over-rated, and that her celebrity was, in part at least, owing to the society to which she was introduced,) I still honour her, and respect her as a golden-hearted English woman-one whose desire was to do good, whose powers were all given to the Lord, and whose usefulness was so very important that very few, even of the superior sex, can be said to have exercised a more beneficial and extensive influence than the inferior inhabitant of

Barley Wood. I look over my last sentence, and repeat deliberately that my firm conviction is that it was given to Mrs. More to exercise such an influence on the habits and manners of her age, as seldom falls to the lot of a private individual. And as it regards the "love of admiration," with which this honoured woman is charged; I do entreat the critic to tread softly on this ground. It has been well and feelingly said

'Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze;

Is fixed for ever to detract and praise :
Repose denies her requiem to his name,
And folly loves the martyrdom of fame.'

It is easy to mark out faults-to observe the spots on the sun's disk-the wavering wing of the soaring eagle the occasional slumbers of the great poet of antiquity; but it is not easy to act better even within our own sphere and as to the question how we should probably act if placed in the sphere of another, and exposed to like temptations, on that point, I refer Coelebs non volens' to the closing sentence of Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon. I should be deemed harsh and severe if I quoted it myself.

I have travelled very widely from the subject on which this paper began, but it really is very difficult for a private individual to estimate, in any just degree, the snares and temptations to which a public labourer is exposed, and a female public labourer more especially. For my own part, I will freely confess that when I consider the battery of menwrought praise, the continued hot fire of flattery before which Mrs. More was obliged to stand, and that praise that flattery from the most distinguished individuals of the age, persons to whose good opinion