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At such times as these, he will wonder how he can be so intent upon the trifles, which now occupy his attention, and with that inferior part of his nature, which must so soon fade and die, and return to its original dust. Who is there, who has not experienced such emotions ?

I intend not now to ask whence come these thoughts, and why they often leave so little impression, how they can be so easily banished from the mind. I was led to such reflections by thinking about my friend, Maria.

She was the gayest of the gay. The thought of sorrow or trouble, I should hardly deem had ever entered her mind. She had been well instructed, and her character was such as would gain the love of all who knew her. But she was not a Christian. She had her seasons of thoughtfulness and reflection, but they left no permanent impression. The commencement of a new year was always to her a solemn season, and the effect of her serious meditations on that day, generally lingered long after it was past, though time would always at length, gradually dissipate them, and ere long, she would be as gay as ever.

On that day, she always made it a point to review the events of the past year, and seriously to consider the bent which her character was taking; and never, I presume, did the season pass, without many and sincere resolutions for the future, and tears of sorrow for the faults of the past. But all these good resolves were made in her own unaided strength, and what results could we expect, other than those, which really followed. They would gradually yield to temptation, and before she was aware, she would find herself walking in the same path, in which she had ever trod, and from which she had fondly imagined, that she could escape alone.

But things could not always go on thus, and well did Maria know this. The day that she completed her fourteenth year, she, as usual, resolved to devote to reflection. She early rose from her pillow, that she might have the silent hours of the inorning for her thoughts, when she knew no eye but that of God could be upon her. She took out her journal, which on the last year at that time, she had resolved to keep, and read it over. When it was finished, she asked herself the question, whether her character was in any respect altered for the better, since the day that book was commenced. She could candidly reply, There is a change for the better. I have, at least, in a great degree, overcome some of the faults, which a year ago, exerted so uncontrolled an influence over me. My friends have not as much cause for complaint, as they had one year since.

But just as she was about to congratulate herself upon this improvement, she remembered her mother's last words to her, as she lay down to sleep the night before. - How it would rejoice my heart, were my daughter only willing to begin her fifthteenth year, with devoting herself to the service of that God, who has brought her so happily to its commencement;"_and she could not but acknowledge to herself, that the means by which she could most please her parents she was not willing to adopt. And again the thought rushed upon her mind, if my parents are thus pained at my unwillingness to come up at once to the work of doing my duty, how must God look upon me?

The train of thought thus introduced, was not to be stopped here. She reviewed all her past life, and as day after day, she saw the blessings, and the mercies of a holy God falling new and fresh upon her, in contrast, she beheld only an entire forgetfulness of this friend and Benefactor, and a complete consecration of her time, her talents and influence to the world. Could she view herself thus, and not be astonished and humbled at her own ingratitude ? She had never felt thus before, and she determined that she would never have cause to feel so again. But when she began to think of forming resolutions for the future, she could not forget, how many she had already made and broken. Still she was not discouraged. She opened her Bible, and she knew where to find strength and wisdom to sup

port her.

I would not dwell on this scene. It is too holy, it is too sacred for the public gaze. It was an hour, we have no doubt, in which the angels in heaven tuned their harps anew, and poured forth a song of joy and thanksgiving, that another soul was saved from death, and would ere long be added to their blissful number.

When the hour for the meeting of the family ar rived, it was observed by her mother, that Maria was even more serious and thoughtful than usual on such days, and she could not but put up a silent prayer, and indeed hope, that the tiine had come, when this beloved one would turn her attention to the concerns she had so long neglected; for she was a child of many prayers.

It was noticed by the other children through the whole day, that Maria was very silent, and did not engage with as inuch ardour as usual, in their many sports;—and how could it be otherwise ? Her thoughts were fixed

upon that great step, which she felt that she had taken, and on the weighty and important responsibilities she had assumed by it, and as she looked upon these brothers and sisters, she felt that though a little girl, she had great influence over them, and that thus far, it had been all exerted against God. What the consequences might be, she could not tell, but she had resolved, “ forgetting the things which were behind, to press forward to the mark, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus," and she was desirous of knowing in what way, she could best do it. By degrees this deep seriousness of manner disappeared; but her whole conduct showed a heart renewed and changed by a power superior to her own.

Does not this little story show the advantage which may result to every one, from setting aside some portion of time for serious meditation ? At such a time, if ever, a person might expect to receive the special influences of God's grace. We should surely have more hope of one, who would employ such means, than of an individual, who went on constantly in the round of worldly cares and pleasures, without leaving a moment in which concerns of a higher and more important nature could find an entrance to her heart. Such duties, of course, could never entitle a person to salvation, but they may be a means in the hand of God, as in the case of Maria, to direct the heart to heaven. [The Wanderer.]

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On the top of a wild and bleak mountain in Wales lives Alfred the Shepherd: on his cheeks the roses of health appear in full bloom, and form a fine contrast to the sun-burnt brown of his face. Coarse are his clothes, hard is his fare, and severe are his labours; yet he is content with his lot: his apparel is warm and clean, his dry crust is sweetened by hunger, and his toils render repose more delightful.

As I was climbing up the hill on which Alfred Jives, in my tour through Wales, I heard the tinkling sheep's bells and the barking dog above me, and on reaching the top I saw the Shepherd slowly driving bis flock before him. His faithful dog Tray was sharply rebuking the straggling lambs, and then running back to his master, wagging his tail with pleasure, as if sensible that he had done his duty, and deserved a cheering part as his reward.

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