her to warrant the attempt, she invited them to meet her on Saturday afternoon, to hear a Bible story. A few came,

from love to her, and others were attracted by the idea of a "story; " but the greater number preferred liberty, to confinement in the school-room on a holiday. Those who did come, however, went away full of interest, and their account of the meeting attracted nearly all her school on the next Saturday. By their own solicitations, she continued the little meeting. All looked forward to the time with delight, and attended with interest. At length, she proposed to change the time to Sabbath morning. The children came then as willingly; they loved their teacher, and her affectionate instructions had awakened a thirst for Bible knowledge. Soon the moistened cheek and anxious eye, gave evidence that a new work had commenced among them. God's spirit was in their midst, and the inquiry was heard, "What shall I do to be saved?" Parents, with elder brothers and sisters, drawn by the entreaties of the children, dropped into the little schoolhouse, to see what this new interest meant. One after another was added to their number. The zeal of the young disciple had touched the hearts of two old professors of religion, and they came to her aid with penitence and tears. The work went on with power, and stout hearts bowed to the truth, as taught by the young Christian. She felt herself incompetent to carry on the work, and wrote to her old pastor. A minister was sent to her aid; and where, a few months before, not half a dozen could be induced to attend a meeting, a large and attentive audience now met with anxious hearts to hear the truth. God blessed his servant. The tavern was forsaken for the prayer-meeting. Many were converted; many family altars erected; and there is now an efficient and active church in the village.

Miss B. is now among the heathen. Her journals and letters often gladden the hearts of friends at home. God has enlarged her field of usefulness. The one talent improved has become five. May the same spirit animate her, and the same success attend her efforts, as, when teaching that village

school, she labored for her Master among neglected ones in New England; and may the blessed approval follow her, "Thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things."

WHY WOMEN ARE UNHEALTHY.

MANY of the physical evils- the want of vigor, the inaction of system, the languor and hysterical affectionswhich are so prevalent among the delicate young women of the present day, may be traced to a want of welltrained mental power, and well-exercised self-control, and to an absence of fixed habits of employment. Real cultivation of the intellect, earnest exercise of the moral powers, the enlargement of the mind by the acquirement of knowledge, and the strengthening of its capabilities for effort, for firmness, for endurance of inevitable evils, and for energy in combatting such as they may overcome, are the ends which education has to attain; weakness, but becomes infirmity. The power of the mind over the body is immense. Let that power be called forth; let it be trained and exercised, and vigor both of mind and body will be the result. There is a homely, unpolished saying, that "it is better to wear out than to rust out;" but it tells a plain truth: rust consumes faster than use. Better, a million times better, to work hard, even to the shortening of existence, than to sleep and eat away this precious gift of life, giving no other cognizance of its possession. By work or industry, of whatever kind it may be, we give a practical acknowledgment of the value of life, of its high intentions, of its manifold duties. Earnest, active industry, is a living hymn of praise, a never-failing source of happiness; it is obedience, for it is God's great law for moral existence. The Physical Training of Girls at School, by Madame de Wahl.

THE

MOTHER'S ASSISTANT.

Written for the Mother's Assistant.

FOUR HAPPY CHILDREN.

BY MRS. H. J. LEWIS.

It is night upon the ocean, and as the stately vessel ploughs its solitary way over the dark and ruffled waters, and the stars shine in still and solemn majesty, the heart of the brave mariner is touched by the remembrance of the spot to which all his hopes and wishes tend-the home of his affections and his prayers.

Who can comprehend the mysterious mind, or follow its swift journeyings from land to land, from sea to sea, and over the arch of time into the shadowy and incomprehensible future? As memory unlocks her treasures in the heart of the sailor, the outward world vanishes, and a bright and beautiful creation gathers around him, luminous with its own soft and tranquil light, vocal with the melody of low and musical voices, and clad with all the radiant hues of a bright, unfading summer. Ocean, sky, the vessel's deck and the harsh voices of the crew have fled before the the music of one little word, the first upon the lips of lisping infancy, the last which falters upon the tongue as death consigns it to silence.

The home of the mariner occupies his thoughts and affections, and for a brief season he is no longer a wanderer upon the treacherous wave, but a denizen of the fresh, green woods, and in the precious household ring, a sharer at the plentiful table, and a worshipper at earth's holiest shrine, the family

altar.

Precious gift of God!-the power thus to forget the present in the happier past, or promising future.

On a delightful evening in midsummer, the cross which sparkles in a southern sky looked down upon the deck of the Amazon which, a few months before, sailed from Boston harbor. One would scarcely have recognised the captain of this gallant craft in the youthful figure which leaned over the vessel's side. He seemed lost in a cloud of recollections, and utterly regardless of the orders given by the officer of the deck, and the unvarying "aye, aye, sir," of the obedient crew, he was engaged in tracing the history of his brief, bright life; and as he raised his hat from his broad, white forehead, to invite the evening breeze which played over the waters, his large, dark eyes gave forth a mild, unclouded light, which uttered more plainly than spoken language, that sorrow and guilt were alike strangers to his breast.

The quick, heavy tread of the first mate approached and roused him from his reverie. ""T is a glorious evening, captain, and the ship is making good headway. We have stretched every inch of canvas, and now we may sleep as soundly as if under the roof of the Sailor's Home."

The young captain regarded the face of the speaker for a moment with a scrutinizing air, but in the hard features he could read no sympathy with the thoughts under which his own breast labored.

"Mr. Jones," said he, "have you a home, a pleasant, happy home, where dwell mother and sisters, and in whose circle the careless, hopeful days of boyhood were passed? Have you such a home ?"

The person thus addressed, folded his arms and leaned over the bulwarks to conceal, if possible, the expression of his face. The simple and earnest inquiry made to him, disturbed fountains in the holiest recesses of his heart, and with a strong and conquering effort he replied calmly,

"I had a bright and happy home for many years, but it is desolate now. I had a mother who blessed me morning and evening in her prayers, and whose example was a clear and