*

and discernment in reference to the minor affairs of life than man. Her mental eye is more discerning, her touch more delicate, her taste more refined on all matters of behavior. Let her, therefore, keep up this in reference to the conduct at home. Mrs. Copley, in dwelling upon this, has the following reference to her own history: "Might I be permitted to say, that after the lapse of twenty-six years, a sensation of pleasure thrills through my fingers, when I recollect the daily task of tying on my father's neckcloth, and combing back my mother's silvery locks." * "But we return to the more ordinary circumstances of young females, resident under the parental roof, after having finished the term of their education; and observe, that their conduct should be marked by a soothing forbearance and tenderness toward the infirmities of their parents. Deafness, lameness, dim-sightedness, and other infirmities of age, circumscribe their pleasures, and, perhaps, a degree of fretfulness is sometimes observed. But a dutiful child will be fertile in expedients to extend their pleasures, to alleviate their privations, and to bear with and soothe their infirmities. The prompt eye will discern their needs, and anticipate their wishes. The needle will be threaded before the eye aches with endeavoring, and before the sigh is excited by inability, to accomplish it; or, by gentle and playful persuasion, the needle-work will be exchanged for knitting or netting. The leg-rest or the footstool will be presented or exchanged before complaint of uneasiness

is uttered. The large-printed Bible and the spectacles will be placed at hand; the dim columns of the newspaper will be read aloud; the inquiring eye will be answered by a repetition of the conversation, or of the sacred address, which, uttered by a stranger's voice, had passed over the dull ear; and in the most exalted sense, the benevolent pleasure will be enjoyed of being eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, ears to the deaf, and causing the trembling heart to sing for joy."*

-A HAPPY HOME.

I now return to the idea with which we started -that the right conduct of a "daughter at home," is to study to make home happy. There is, my young friends, a fascination in the very expression And so far as what may be called the poetry of home scenes is concerned, is there a lovelier flower to be found in this garden of earthly delights, this paradise of sweets, than a good daughter and affectionate sister, adorning her maiden charms with the virtues that become her sex, her age, and her relationships, and elevating and sanctifying all her other excellences by a saintly piety, which makes her lovely in the eyes of God by all the beauties of holiness? Her father's pride,

*These extracts are from an anonymous work published by the Religious Tract Society, entitled "Female Excellence," which was written, as well as many others, by that admirable woman. If the productions of her pen had not the brilliancy of many other writers, they are all adapted to usefulness. By her decease the female part of the community have lost one of their ablest guides.

her mother's comfort, and her brother's companion, she is the ministering angel of them all. How much of bliss does that one dear object of their common affection throw over them all! Her absence is mourned as a common loss, and her return to the family circle is hailed as the restoration of a suspended enjoyment. This loved one has been loved by another that belongs not to the family, but who is about, through her, to be united with it. With what a treasure, at their expense, is he about to enrich his own home. Their hearts, at the thought of parting from her, bleed from wounds which nothing but the hope of her happiness could heal. Her removal leaves a blank, which, as they look upon her vacant seat, calls up recollections, and produces a sense of deprivation, which even her happy union can scarcely appease. But as woman's mission is to make happy the home of her husband, she is now gone forth to fulfill hers. Well has she been trained, and well has she trained herself, also, at her mother's home, for this home of her own, where all the united excellences of the good daughter and the good sister now develop and blend in the more mature and matronly virtues of the good wife, mother, and mistress; and she who, "the as young woman at home,” contributed so largely to the felicity of one family circle, was preparing to contribute still more largely to the felicity of another, and that other is her own. Behold, my young friends, your pattern. May the imitation of it be your study, your prayer, your bliss.

The Young Woman awaq from Bome.

"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."-GENESIS xxviii. 15.

"In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and he shall direct thy paths."-PROVERBS iii. 6.

"

'Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory,"-PSALM lxxiii. 24.

THE hour of separation from parental society, home enjoyments, and the scenes of early history, is in most cases, and ought to be in all, a season of pensive grief. No affectionate daughter can leave the house of her father, and go from beneath the covering wing of maternal love, without passing over "the bridge of sighs." Even the joys of the bridal morning, when she quits the arms of her hitherto nearest relations, to throw herself into those of one now still nearer, do not prevent her from looking round with something of instinctive regret on the scenes she is leaving, now no longer hers; and amid the smiles of the happy bride, are seen falling the tears of the loving child, like dew-drops sparkling in sunbeams. It would augur ill for the husband, if his wife could part from her parents, even for him, without a momentary pang. It is one of nature's loveliest sights to see in that

scene and season of delight, filial piety blending its luster with conjugal affection, and investing even nuptial charms with new and captivating beauty.

But I now speak of a different kind and purpose of separation from home. I contemplate the young woman, not led out by that right hand, the "cunning" of which is to be employed for her support; nor going away, leaning upon that arm which is to be continually stretched over her for protection, but departing solitarily and mournfully on the journey of life, to meet alone its dangers, cares, and toils. It is sad enough to see a young man quitting his father's house, and leaving home to earn his daily bread by the sweat of his brow; how much more to see a young female thus go forth to seek her own support. What is it but a lamb venturing out into the wilderness where wolves abound; or a young dove quitting its nest to fly abroad, amid eagles and vultures. How many in the progress of life, and amid its changes, some of which are so melancholy, look back to the hour of separation and exclaim, "Oh, my mother, how sad and certain presages of what awaited me were those bitter tears I shed on that morning when I tore myself from thy embrace! My heart then sunk, and the sun of my life then set never to rise. Every step since then of my dark journey has been one of sorrow; and every change, but of one calamity for another."

In some cases separation from home is rendered necessary by a change in domestic circumstances, and she who was brought up ever so tenderly amid