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ever since she was quite a little girl, to regard her younger brothers and sisters as the objects of her peculiar and unvarying care. As she has advanced to womanhood, it has become more and more conspicuous, and she is now the most watchful, disinterested, tender being I know." Her happiness consists in making others happy, particularly her own family. She is always ready to perform for her brothers and sisters, those little offices of love which their tender age requires. She attends them when they rise in the morning, dresses them neatly, and never omits attention to their private devotions. When the bell summons them to morning prayer, many a little foot-fall may be heard following her to the dining-room, where solemnity and decorum mark their behaviour. At table, "sister Julia" has many a little pinafore to adjust, and when the hour for school arrives, every bag is ready for their plump little hands to grasp the strings.

She attends to their lessons, mends their clothes, reconciles all their little differences, walks with them, plays with them, sings for them, and is the source and centre of all their enjoyments. Whatever this good girl can do, either for their comfort or improvement, is to her well regulated mind, a source of unalloyed pleasure. Mrs. Cleveland, unlike many mothers I know, taught Julia, from her childhood, to subdue her natural selfishness, and to consider first the comfort and advantage of her brothers and sisters. She was never permitted to assume that haughty air which renders so many elder sisters disgusting. She was never allowed to claim or receive undue indulgence on that account, and no favours were bestowed upon her, on account of her station in the family. On the contrary, she was taught that whenever it became necessary for one to yield, she would conquer by yielding, and win by kindness, where she might provoke and irritate by contending.

As she grew up she practised the most disinterested generosity, and when first impressed by religious truth, one of the most affecting considerations which presented itself to her mind was, "I am the eldest sister! What has the Lord a right to expect from me? What do my parents expect? What do my brothers and sisters expect?" She told me one day, when conversing with her on religious subjects, that there was nothing which more deeply weighed upon her heart, than the responsible situation in which Providence had placed her in her own family. "To me," said the sweet girl, with tears in her eyes, "my dear parents look, to strengthen their hands in the government of our domestic world, to enforce their precepts, to exhibit in my example what the younger ones should practise, and to aid in every way in training up a family for the service of God on earth. With my father and mother I stand connected, by every endearing tie, as the representative of my family, and I know I can do much to aid, or much to defeat them, in all their plans for family usefulness, and personal holiness. To me, my little darlings look for a consistent example, a correct tone of sentiment, purity of conversation, and that life of religion which Christianity requires. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with a sense of my responsibility, that I tremble at every step I take, and my daily prayer to my heavenly Father is, "for grace to walk worthy of the vocation wherewith I am called."

Such was the language of Julia Cleveland, when nineteen years old, and her daily life bears testimony to the sincerity of her desires. She is constantly aiming at the high standard she has set before her, and every day developes a growing conformity to it. It is not the mere expression of the lips with Julia, it is a deep conviction of her duty which constantly influences all her actions. Blessed is the mother who has such a child! and blessed is the family where such an elder sister dwells! She resembles some guardian angel ever hovering over the objects of her tenderest love, and gently expanding her protecting wing to shield them from the impending danger.

Mrs. Grey had been so animated in portraying the character of Julia Cleveland, that she had not noticed the agitation which had affected her friend, and which now increased so violently, that she abruptly stopped and inquired the cause. "Oh, my dear friend," she replied, "the account you give of this sweet young lady plants daggers in my soul. My eldest daughter, Emily, might have been all this to me; but, alas! she is now reaping the bitter fruits of what my own hands so abundantly sowed in her childhood, and I am enduring the reproaches of conscience, armed by myself with ten thousand stings!" Here Mrs. Grey's friend burst into tears, and the gush of feelings long struggled with, gave relief to her sorrowful heart. When a little composed, she continued, "You know that Emily was my oldest daughter. From childhood, she was arrogant and self-willed; always contending, that her station, as the elder sister, entitled her to more indulgence than the younger children. She insisted upon her brothers and sisters serving her, and when favours were to be shared by the little group, she claimed the first, and the best. As she grew up, she became selfish, proud, and unamiable. For a long time my blind partiality never discerned the dreadful consequences of my own foolish indulgence, and her faults 'grew with her growth, and strengthened with her strength.' Disputes and quarrels became common amongst my little ones, and when I reproved them, they would all reply, 'Oh, mamma, sister Emily did this, and you said nothing to her! Sister Emily said that, and you never found fault!' These replies opened my eyes completely to my folly. I reasoned, I expostulated with my oldest daughter, but, alas, it was too late. The usual reply I received was, 'I am the oldest-it is my right-and I will have it so.' Alas! my family soon presented a scene of discord and confusion, which, with all my efforts, I was unable to control. It is now but a few days since my poor misguided girl eloped with a profligate young man, and, in her eighteenth year, has commenced a career which will terminate in misery in two worlds, unless almighty grace interpose for her rescue."

Here the distressed mother was obliged to pause. Sighs and sobs, too bitter to be suppressed, almost overwhelmed her. Her sympathizing friend, Mrs. Grey, hastened forward to her dwelling, and when she had seated the afflicted mother upon the sofa, she mentally exclaimed, "How much is in the power of the elder sister!"

Mothers, look at the contrast! Have you in your own dwellings no portraits which resemble these? Examine the likeness, and however unskilful the artist may have been in portraying the features, you may

perhaps trace some resemblance which may rouse your apprehensions lest an Emily may be your child, and you may become the sad and sorrowful parent, over whose simple tale your sympathy has just wept. Mothers, who have in your elder daughters a Julia, watch well the tender child! pray earnestly that she may be all, yea, more than all here described; for much, very much, depends upon the influence of the elder sister.

Wilmington.

MONICA.

WARTEBURGH, THE PATMOS OF LUTHER.

On the 11th of May, 1818, this remarkable spot was visited by the late Rev. C. F. Ramftler, of Bristol, when on his way to the Brethren's Synod, at Herrnhut. The following account is extracted from his Select Remains, by Mr. Grinfield, recently published :-"Our journey was through a very mountainous country, presenting a fruitful appearance. In the afternoon it became very romantic, increasingly so as we drew nearer to Eisenach. After a very long ascent, the celebrated Warteburgh came within sight, the castle in which Dr. Luther spent a friendly confinement of two years, and where he was engaged in the blessed work of translating the Scriptures into the German language. I could not withstand the temptation to take a narrower view of this place; and, though it had rained heavily for a considerable part of the day, I let my travelling companions go forward to Eisenach, and walked to the summit of the eminence on which the interesting castle stands. This walk was extremely striking; immense rocks, of grotesque shapes, are jumbled together on the left; thick woods stand on the right; a path, but little trodden, leads across meadows; the dusk of the evening added to the awful grandeur of the scene; and, while my mind was occupied with reflections on the age of chivalry, when this and similar castles were erected by nobles and princes, as places of security against invading neighbours, and as central spots, from which they darted forth to plunder and levy petty warfare, I had a particularly lively representation of Dr. Luther's seizure by masked men, on his return from the Diet of Worms.

"A kind of shudder seized me in this lonely and gloomy walk. The ascent is steep, and required much exertion. At length I met the trodden path, which leads from the town of Eisenach direct to Warteburgh, and fell in with a company who had mounted the hill for the same purpose. The ruins of a former convent, artificially repaired, were shown us on a near and opposite hill. A winding passage, hewn through the rock, leads to the castle. Here I was sorry to hear the sound of vulgar and profane music and dancing, a noisy celebration of the festival (Whitsuntide), a defilement, I thought, of a place whose memory is sacred. A female guide was procured, who introduced us to some apartments in which the complete armour of many knights and princes was preserved; and a very close view could be taken of the military apparel of the feudal times. We then saw a little chapel, with the pulpit in which Luther had preached. Lastly, we were introduced to the room in which he usually sat. Here the place is shown on the

wall, against which he threw his ink-stand, to banish the devil. The rest of the wall is white-washed; this spot remains untouched. The table at which he sat, and a joint of a whale's spine, which is said to have served for his chair, are also shown, as well as the family table of his father, which has but lately been purchased, and removed thither, by the grand-duke of Weimar.

In addition to these antiquities, garlands of oak branches, inscriptions, a bust of Luther, and other ornaments, were left from the celebration of the 18th of October last; which was held by a number of students and their professors, as a combined memorial of the battle of Leipsic, or release from political oppression, and the centenary of the Reformation, or release from mental and religious bondage. It is deeply to be regretted, that German literati, and especially divines, regard the Reformation more as the commencemencent of an era for thinking and reasoning freely on religion, than the period when the ever unchangeable and blessed doctrines of the New Testament, and especially the doctrine of salvation by free grace, through our Saviour's merits alone, were again brought to light."

Fully concurring in the above sentiment, and supposing that Mr. Ramftler's account of Warteburgh would be interesting to your readers, I have taken the trouble of transcribing it, and leave the consideration of its insertion to your judgment.

Haverfordwest.

J. BULMER.

ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON.

(Continued from page 79.)

WASHINGTON TAUGHT THE BEING OF A GOD.

The father of George was a man who was deeply impressed with the importance of a belief in the existence of a Supreme Being. And before his son was very old, he took the following plain and delightful method of instilling into his mind the same solemn truth.

He prepared, one day, a bed of earth in the garden, in the neighbourhood of a favourite walk of his son. In this, he wrote with a small stick the name of his son, George Washington, at full length, and just in those letters he scattered plentifully some cabbage seed. This being done, he carefully covered the seed, smoothed over the bed, and waited the issue.

In a few days the seed germinated, the plants appeared, and then, quite conspicuously in the bed, appeared in green-nature's writingthe name of George Washington.

One day, not long after, the desired discovery was made. George was taking his favourite course in the garden, either trundling his wagon or riding his prancing-horse-a bean-pole, perhaps, or a broomstick-when his eye caught a sight of the wonder.

He stopped and gazed-spelt the name-hesitated-doubted-read again; he never saw such a wonder before-never heard of any such thing-could scarcely believe his eyes; yet it was so.

He tarried not long, but bounded towards the house, and soon stood in the presence of his father.

"Father!" exclaimed he.

"Well, George, what's the matter?"

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Why, father, I've seen such a sight!"

"What? where, my son ?" inquired Mr. Washington, entering with kindness into the animation and surprise of his son.

"In the garden, sir."

"And what have you seen strange in the garden ?"

"Oh! come and see, come and see, father; something I never heard of before," said George.

Although well persuaded what the strange sight would prove to be, Mr. Washington repaired, with more than usual expedition, to the spot; George leading the way, by some rods in advance.

"Here, father, here it is; did you ever see such a sight before ?” "What is it you see so strange?" said Mr. Washington, now approaching, and affecting some wonder at the zeal of George.

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Why, here, father, don't you see these?" stooping down, and passing his little fingers over the letters of his name in the bed.

"What, George?"

"Why, my name, father, here, growing in this bed, so green; how came this so ?"

"Is it any thing wonderful?" asked Mr. Washington.

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?"

'Why, father, I never heard of any such thing before; did you "Why-George-well," said Mr. Washington, a little hesitating at the unexpected question; "it is certainly curious."

"But, father, how came it here?"

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'No, no, father, it could not have come by chance; I never heard of such a thing."

"Well, and why may it not have come by chance?"

"I don't know, father; but I don't believe it did.'

"We don't believe many things, George, which nevertheless are true.'

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"Yes, yes, father; but I never saw any thing like it before."
"That may be, and yet it may have come by chance."
"Well, I never heard of any such thing."

"True, and yet might it not happen, although you never heard of it?" "Ah! but, father, how should little plants grow up just so as to make the letters of my name—all the letters-all in exact order? why was it not your name? Ah! father, why was it any one's name?” "It is rather wonderful," said Mr. Washington.

"Ah! father, I guess," said George, looking up rather inquisitivelyWell, and what do you guess, my son?"

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"Why, I guess somebody did this; yes, I've just thought; somebody sowed the seed so as to make my name.

father; did'nt you?"

I guess you did it,

"Well, George, for once you are quite right in your guessing; I did do it."

"What for, father?"

"What for? why, does it not look beautiful?"

"Yes; but you had some design, father. What did you mean by it?"

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