in disorder, but is at variance with every thing lovely and commendable in young female. When you selected the baskets in the shop, Mrs. R. I knew then that sister Jane would have the one that I liked best. I find that I must always submit to her, right or wrong. Worse and worse, Eliza, exclaimed Mrs. R. mournfully. What a wicked humor you have been indulging for nearly an hour; and, I am persuaded, without the least provocation. In what way is Jane to blame for the decision I have thought proper to make in the distribution of the baskets. You have now satisfied me beyond a doubt that you were the only one in fault, in relation to the baskets purchased by your sister more than two months ago, and which I returned to the shop, on account of your resentment, because I did not then give you your choice in them. I did hope, by subjecting you to the inconvenience of waiting so long for an article you were so eager to obtain, you would be sufficiently punished for your groundless and mortifying contention. I must say, Eliza, that as far as I have observed your conduct, for four months past, I am satisfied that this perpetual jarring between you and Jane is the effect of your unsubdued temper. My dear Jane, do you remember your sister's early history? A momentary pause ensued. Poor Jane's bosom, convulsed by many a heaving sigh, vainly attempted to repress her falling tears, which, till now, had been unperceived by her sympathizing friend. My sister, Jane replied, was a mere infant when our dear mother died. I was myself not quite six years old, though I well remember her last words to my dear father. "Take good care," said she " of our precious babes. Jane is a healthy child; but who will nurse Eliza as I have done? I have feared that we should lose her as we did little Tommy. She will need a mother's care; but, thank heaven, I leave them with a fond father; and, for my sake, he will not see them abused or forsaken." The shock was too great for my father's frame, enfeebled as it was by constant watching, anxiety and great fatigue. He took the same fever, and survived my mother only a few weeks. Previous to his death, he sent for a clerical friend a few miles distant, to whose kind guardianship he left us and his effects. After I became ten years old, we were to be transferred to his family, for the benefit of a more liberal education, in the city of N. In the meantime we were placed under the care of an aunt, my mother's sister, our only surviving relative. She was exceedingly kind to us, even to a fault; for she indulged Eliza in every thing, in consequence of my mother's dying words. "Poor things," she would often say, "you are indeed orphans. One cannot, or indeed I cannot be so cruel, so hard-hearted, as to refuse any thing to a sick child, who has lost its best earthly friends." After we went to reside in the family of Rev. Mr. B. the same motives operated, and the same reasoning was employed, to save my sister from the rod, and indeed from all kind of reproof, though Mrs. B. used often to say, that Eliza richly deserved punishment. My dear madam, continued Jane, I do assure you that I have invariably waived my right to any pre-eminence on account of my superior age, till I am satisfied that this one fault of my sister is rather increased by my always yielding to her humor; for the more I strive to satisfy and please her, the more unreasonable are her demands. This propensity to govern is now so interwoven into her very nature, that I should for ever despair of a reformation, but for your superior skill and faithful discipline. My dear children, said Mrs. R., more kind and gentle than ever, greatly affected by Jane's narrative, when Mr. R. and I were solicited to superintend the Orphan Asylum, we solemnly dedicated ourselves to God as his stewards. We promised to instruct, discipline and educate the children that should be entrusted to us, precisely as if they were our own, just in the manner that would satisfy their faithful mothers, if from yonder world they could hourly witness our conduct in the management of their children. I am more than ever resolved to be faithful to you, Eliza, in helping to subdue your selfish and wayward disposition. I have often remarked, that when you can have your own way, take your choice and please yourself in every thing, you are a most industrious, obliging, polite, affectionate, and even dutiful child. But for this one faull, I have often thought you would be a favorite with us all. As it is, when your feelings or inclinations are crossed, my house is like a bedlam. Reflect, my child, for a moment, upon your unkind and unnatural treatment of your only sister, besides your rebellious and ungrateful opposition to me. Your ill humour and peevish resentment, I perceive, are professedly aimed at your inoffensive sister; but, in fact, it is a downright attack upon my own love of justice and impartiality, and I shall hereafter meet it as such. Attend to me, Eliza, while I attempt to set before you your unreasonable conduct this morning. To avoid all altercation, such as occurred on a former occasion, I went myself to the shops, and with no ordinary pains, I selected these baskets precisely alike. On my return, I placed them in order, and in condescension to your one fault, I requested your sister Jane, and your friend Emily to draw cuts with you, giving you the privilege of drawing first, which you declined. Jane and Emily, after politely thanking me for the trouble I had taken to please them, hastened to their chambers to see how many little conveniences they could collect, to deposit in this new treasury; while you, on the contrary, left yours remaining on the floor, not absolutely in sullen silence, but in a low and muttering voice you expressed the deep-toned feelings of envy and discontent. But you said, Mrs. R., that the three baskets were precisely alike, now retorted Eliza, angrily. When you were engaged in conversation with Mr. N. I changed one of them, and selected one in its place, to please myself. That one had two stripes upon the top, instead of one. As I chose that, I think I had the best right to it; but I expected Jane would have it when I selected it, so in this particular I am not disappointed. As Emily's and mine have but one stripe upon the top, I knew that we should be always mistaking them, one for the other. Did you do right, Eliza, inquired Mrs. R. to exchange one of the baskets I had selected? Have you done right in accusing your sister of a love of rule in the present case? Have you treated me with respect? I claim some acknowledgment for your improper and unnatural behavior. You may now retire with me to my own room, and you will there remain, till I see you willing to confess and forsake your fault. I cannot see any propriety in forcing an acknowledgment, said the perverse Eliza. What is the use of confession unless one feels guilty? I am sure that I have, already, had more trouble than all three of the baskets are worth; and since there has been so much said on the subject, I do not care to accept either of them, so I hope the affair will soon be ended. Not quite so readily as you imagine, said Mrs. R., in a mild but decided tone. I shall neither return the basket, nor retract from the position I have taken. As you are too old for the infliction of the rod you may stand up at the foot of my bed, and lean against the foot post, for I perceive from your present humor, that you will have to remain there a long time. Jane, will you bring my work-basket, for I cannot afford to spend so much time in doing nothing. And now, my dear Jane, you may return to the sitting-room, and if Mr. R. inquires for me at the dinner table, please to request him to excuse my absence, for if poor Eliza had such a sorry fit arising from bodily indisposition I should not leave her; but a diseased mind is infinitely more alarming. Eliza now took her station by the bed-post, and with an air of seeming indifference to this humiliating punishment, she assumed a cheerful and even gay manner. Here this poor wilful girl stood for more than two hours picking and chewing her apron strings, and occasionally biting her nails. At length she very politely requested permission to sit down and rest herself. Yes, Mrs. R. kindly replied, you may sit down when you are disposed to confess your faults, and are ready to ask forgiveness, but not till then. Eliza's patience being now nearly exhausted from fatigue in standing, she began to cry; but of this Mrs. R. took no notice. Immediately after dinner Jane came trembling to Mrs. R's. room, and gently lifting the latch requested permission to enter, faintly inquiring, how is my sister? At this unexpected interposition Eliza began to cry vehemently, exclaiming, Mrs. R., Mrs. R., I shall fall upon the floor. "Will you please to forgive my sister," said Jane, imploringly? Mrs. R., distressed at this unseasonable interruption, requested Jane to retire, assuring her that she might safely confide in her judgment, and that she should do her sister no injustice. After Jane's departure Eliza continued to exclaim, I shall certainly fall. Well then, said Mrs. R., confess your fault, and you may sit down. You alone keep yourself standing. Poor Eliza once more braced herself against the bed-post. And why do you delay? said the kind hearted Mrs. R., you will have eventually to come to that point. What do you expect to gain by waiting? I am willing to ask your forgiveness Mrs. R., but I do not think I ought to ask sister Jane to forgive me. I do not think I have injured her. I shall accept of no half way confession, said Mrs. R. You have violated the rules of my house, and treated me and your sister with marked disrespect before all the family. Your confession in order to be accepted, therefore, must be as extensive and as public as your offence. I shall certainly fall upon the floor. I cannot hold up myself ten minutes longer, said Eliza. Poor child, said Mrs. R., I fear I shall have to send for Mr. R. to come and tie you up to the bed-post till your heart will relent. A few moments only elapsed, when 124 EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS. Eliza, with one bound sprung to the feet of Mrs. R. Will you, can you forgive your poor miserable and wicked Eliza? If you know how unhappy I am, you would pity as well as forgive me. I am not only sorry for my wicked conduct, but I will forever hereafter take the lowest seat in your house, for I deserve no other. I cannot wait to ask my sister's forgiveness. Come to me, Eliza, said the delighted Mrs. R. I do most heartily forgive you, and let us cordially unite in praising God for his goodness in transforming a heart of stone to a heart of flesh. EXTRACT OF A LETTER RECENTLY ADDRESSED TO THE EDITOR OF THE MOTHER'S MAGAZINE. Madam-I feel a deep interest in the success of your benevolent enterprise. I recently saw a young man in New Orleans with whose boyhood I had been acquainted. The language of that young man was-"Folks soon get over their Sabbath day notions when they come here. There is but little superstition in this city." There is a terrific significancy in this inconsiderate remark, with which would that every mother in the land was more fully acquainted. Their boys will rush to the far distant south-west in pursuit of money! money! The perils to their morals, and the perils of the climate are equally disregarded, and then, O! how poor a security for their uprightness is that fabric of the natural heart popularly denominated correct principle. Without that fundamental morality which religion only brings, how can they be secure? Observation abundantly proves that their fall is the rule—their integrity the exception, made by sovereign grace, for which no philosophy can account, which rejects a belief in the efficacy of intercessory prayer. Ꮮ. FROM ANOTHER CORRESPONDENT. When will mothers in Israel be awakened to train up their sons and their daughters for great Christian effort? We certainly limit the Holy One of Israel in this particular. Children can be taught to brave any clime, or traverse any ocean, or climb any mountain for gold; and shall not Christian mothers tell their little ones that for Jesus' sake and to win immortal souls to glory, they must never know danger, or make a covenant with obstacles? "Tis better, said the voice within, to bear a Christian's cross M. MOTHER AT HOME. Although we inserted in our last number a brief notice of the "Mother at Home," together with a short extract, it is with pleasure that we give the following notice a place in the Magazine. We shall be gratified in our subse THE MOTHER AT HOME. 125 quent numbers to make extracts from Practical Hints, Cotton Mather's Essays, &c. &c. For the Mother's Magazine. We wish to direct the attention of mothers to two invaluable works, "The Mother at Home," by Rev. J. S. C. Abbot, Worcester, Mass. and "Practical Hints to Members of Maternal Associations, and Christian Mothers." The latter may be had of Perkins & Marvin, Boston, Mass., the former at the principal bookstores there, and of J. Leavitt, Broadway, N. Y. It is replete with practical directions, happily illustrated by example; and we should confidently expect the early conversion of children thus educated. The dedication to his own parents is irresistible; and we believe, with the author, that the millennial dawn will commence in the cradle, and as woman was first in the transgression, she also is to be the first instrument of redeeming love in the work of mercy. When Bonaparte asked Mad. de Campan what the French nation needed, she replied "mothers." That word spoke volumes, and the world needs Christian mothers. When they do their duty, Christ will possess "the dew of the youth, and out of the mouth of babes and sucklings perfect his praise." Though we can hardly select parts of the Mother at Home, without doing it injustice, it is so complete as a whole, we cannot refrain from quoting a few passages, which may give an idea of the general spirit of the work. "Improve appropriate occasions. You may so intimately connect devotional feelings with the ever varying events, and changing scenes of life, that every day's occurrences will lead his thoughts to God. The raging storm, the hour of sickness, the funeral procession, the tolling bell, will, in after life carry back his thoughts to a mother's instructions and prayers. Should your son hereafter be a wanderer from home, as he stands upon the Alps, or rides upon the ocean, his mind will involuntarily be carried to him who rules the water, and who built the hills. With these occasions, which produce so vivid an effect the mind, endeavor to connect views of God and heaven." upon "God knows how to adapt instruction to the human mind. We must imitate his example. And we must present heaven to our children as God has presented it to us, crowded with images of delight." "Dwell particularly upon the Savior. Your child will listen, with tearful eye, while you tell of the Savior's elevation in heaven; of his becoming man; of the sufferings and persecutions of his life; and of his cruel death upon the cross. A definite idea is introduced to the youthful mind, when you speak of him who took little children in his arms, and blessed them. It is very observable, in all the accounts of youthful piety, that the Savior is the prominent object of affection. Let parents, therefore, imitate the apostles, and preach to their children a suffering Savior. your "Tell child of Christ, who created him; of Christ, who became man, suffered and died to save him; of Christ, before whose judgment seat he soon must appear; of Christ, whose praises the Christian will sing in heaven, ages without end. Thus is God, if I may so express it, simplified to the comprehension of the child. The mother who does not often present this Savior, and |