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ON THE DEATH OF INFANTS.

requested Mary to commit to memory. Her heart was comforted, her countenance lost its sad expression, and she knelt down again and thanked her heavenly Father for such a precious book.

Little children don't tear or cut the leaves of your Bible.

For the Mother's Magazine.

ON THE DEATH OF INFANTS.

THE narrative of the Shunammite's child teaches us how suddenly and unexpectedly children may die. It was well in the morning; at noon, it was dead. "Childhood and youth are altogether vanity." As a flower of the field, so are they. "In the morning, it is green and groweth up, in the evening it is cut down, and withereth away." The wind passeth over them, and they are gone. And as if most impressively to teach us the danger of building hopes on such a frail support, it would seem that death often removed those who are the most remarkable for health, beauty, and promise, who come and go like a vision, that we might always regard the life of a child, as the most uncertain of all things ;

"Like snow that falls upon a river,

A moment white-then gone forever."

Such providences are specially mysterious. Death is always a great mystery. But there are many circumstances which relieve the mystery of death when it comes to the mature and aged. It seems according to the law of nature, that the aged and infirm, when the work of life is done, should lie down to sleep in the grave. And when one is cut down in the midst of his days and usefulness, however mysterious it may seem to us, we recollect that he hath not lived in vain, and that "being dead, he yet speaketh." But the death of a child who has not passed the period of helplessness, who has been only an object of care and watchfulness, who has never been able to accomplish any thing for himself or others,—the death of such a one is as mysterious as the setting of the sun in the morning. The toil, anxiety, and suffering attendant upon the short and helpless existence of an infant, remind as of the precious gums brought from afar, to vanish as the costly incense of a moment,

"A short sweet odor, at a vast expense."

We wonder that so much should be expended in vain, and are led to enquire "wherefore is this waste?"

Our greatest consolation under every trial, is confidence in a kind and benevolent Providence. And the special mystery in which the death of children is involved, is remarkably adapted to create and nourish this very emotion. When all is midnight darkness, when the ways of God are inscrutable, and past finding out, how favorable the hour to put forth a more full and implicit trust in Him, who, though enveloped in clouds and mystery,

ON THE DEATH OF INFANTS.

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is infinite in mercy, wisdom, and truth. It is comparatively easy to exercise confidence in God under other trials, the causes and reasons for which are obvious and indisputable; but blessed are they who believe, though they see not. Blessed are they, who with nothing to relieve the deep mystery of their affliction, can cast their care upon Him who careth for them, and say with the bereaved mother of old-" It is well with me, it is well with the child." Such seasons will, if improved, do more for the cultivation of holy confidence in God, than long seasons of ordinary affliction, just as we have seen an ivy growing slender and weak so long as it clings to its support, but which, when detached and alone, shoots out into a stem strong and bold as the adjacent tree.

But there are special consolations afforded those who have been called to consign their infant offspring to a premature grave. They escape the deeper affliction of seeing their children grow up in sin, accumulating guilt, and dying without hope.

There is a death worse than the death of the body,—the death of affection, of reputation, of conscience, of the soul. Parental hopes may be crushed by the misconduct of children, more than by the closing of the grave's portals. They may live only to treasure up wrath against the day of wrath, and bring down the grey hairs of pious parents with sorrow to the grave.

See that son of many prayers; he was consecrated to God in infancy, How anxiously do those Christian parents watch every indication of sobriety. How ardently do they hope it may result in his salvation. What despondency and sinking of heart do they experience, as they behold him grow up in impenitence. He is about to leave his father's house; his mother gives him a Bible, and begs him to read it. But as he passes beyond the reach of parental restraint, he casts off fear, restrains prayer, takes his seat with the scorner, and, with the drunkard's unmeaning laugh, scoffs at the Bible, and the Bible's God. Behold him now the grief of parents, the shame of friends; an outcast from society. Were it not for the hope that at some future period he might be overtaken by divine grace, and peradventure might repent, would it not be the spontaneous language of those afflicted parents, "Would God, my son, that you had never been born; would that you had died in infancy, ere such a measure of guilt and wrath had been treasured up against you!" And now let him be laid upon his dying bed, let all hope of his repentance be taken away; and see him pass into eternity with all his sins upon his head, and what consolation can cheer the midnight gloom of such bereavement? Be assured that there is a measure of grief in that affliction, com> pared with which all else is nothing. When David's infant child was dead, he arose, washed, anointed himself, and took refreshment: but when Absalom died, deep in sin and rebellion, his heart broke, and burst out in an irrepressible flood of grief," O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom, would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son !"—

One of the bitterest pangs which a parent can experience when about to die, is the thought that he leaves his children in an evil and dangerous world, uncertain what will be their conduct and destiny. While with the utmost

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ON THE DEATH OF INFANTS.

confidence he can leave all the temporal allotments of his fatherless children with God, he cannot but feel some sorrow and foreboding at heart, in view of the uncertainty which overhangs their future prospects as meral beings, who are to act, choose, and decide for themselves. That uncertainty he escapes, who, before his own departure, sees his children securely laid in their best home and refuge. Once he might have mourned, and said of him who he had hoped would have been his solace and joy, "How is the strong staff broken, the beautiful rod !"-But now as he thinks of the uncertain conflict to which he would have been exposed, with the temptations and dangers of a wicked world, he is grateful that the blessed Jesus holds the keys of life and death, and that, like the skilful gardener, whose experienced eye detects the approaching storm, and who knows when to hide the lily in its narrow bed, He knows when to put his little ones secure from the storm and tempest.

Weeping mother! is it not a balsam to your bleeding heart to believe that your infant child now rests in the bosom of that Savior, who, when on earth exclaimed, "Suffer little children," &c. So that you may now say over its sleeping body, smiling in its sweet repose," It is well with the child." That infant mind which here on earth was folded up like a bud, expands and blooms in the light and warmth of heaven. It drinks in the pleasures of a rational, holy, and immortal existence. In many respects it must be wiser than any sage on earth. It is the companion of angels; it has seen God and his Son Jesus Christ. It hath entered before you on its exalted career. While you are left to struggle longer with doubt and danger, that infant child has spread its wings for its upward flight, nearer and nearer to the throne. You have a new relationship to heaven. There your offspring dwell. Surely you must discern a new and peculiar meaning in the beautiful words of the Psalmist "Lo children are a heritage of the Lord-happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them."

Be not rash, therefore, to speak of that infant which perished like a blossom from your arms, as a fleeting and unimportant thing. How important doth the smallest thing become when regarded as the commencement of that which is advancing into immensity. The little rill near the source of the Missouri, must be an interesting object to him who is apprized as he steps across it, that this is the stream which runs so far, and which gradually swells into so immense a flood. So as a parent looks upon his child and thinks of the solemn and unknown scenes through which it is to take its course, it loses that character of vanity and insignificance which would seem to belong to a train of fleeting, perishing moments, and assumes the dignity of a commencing eternity. He hath just begun to live, but he will survive the stars in the firmament. And will he not throughout the ceaseless ages of his being, look to the circumstances of his birth and infancy with unutterable emotions? If consecrated to God in the germ of its being, and watered with tears and prayers, hereafter as your reward, you shall hear it, say in heaven, "Auspicious day, in which I was born: blessed, forever blessed be those parents who taught me the way to heaven. All the joys of my eternity I trace back to their fond, and early, and faithful instructions." Christian parents, will it not be a full and sufficient reward, to see those who were

redeemed by your instrumentality, while praising their great Redeemer, often turning towards you, as from the sun to its image in the fountain, with secondary gratitude, and the permitted utterance of a human love? W. A.

For the Mother's Magazine,

HABIT OF TEASING.

THE habit of teasing or coaxing, is a fault very prevalent among children, and which is strengthened and encouraged, often unconsciously, by a mother's yielding to the repeated importunities of her child, even after having once refused it. Let a child understand that you are decided, that your word can be depended upon, that you mean what you say when you refuse him any thing, and he will very soon learn that you cannot be coaxed out of what you have once refused him. As illustrative of this I will state a case that came under my own observation. A mother gave her two sons each an apple, when they returned one day from school. They went to play, but as soon as they had eaten them, one of the boys went to his mother, and asked for another; she refused, and he did not repeat his request, but went to play again. His brother asked him to go again and coax her to give them another. "No," said he with much emphasis, "William, don't you know that mother said no, meant no !" A child very soon discovers whether his mother can be teased into a compliance with his wishes.

I once took tea with a lady, and while we were sitting at the table, a little boy came round her chair and asked several times for a piece of cake, which she at first refused, but finally gave to him. A little sister then came and made a similar request, but was refused. I sat near and overheard her little brother whisper in her ear, "Coax her, Jane, and you will get it." The mother was busily engaged talking with, and entertaining her visiters, and probably to get rid of the child and his importunities, had given him the cake without thinking, perhaps, what she was about. But this habit which she was fostering in her child, was not calculated to diminish her trouble, or prevent her from similar importunities when she was particularly engaged. Instead of weighing the pros and cons in their own minds, some mothers are in the habit of making the conduct of their children the entire foundations of refusing or granting their requests. This shows a weak and perverted judgment. It is the uniform practice with some mothers to keep their children in a state of suspense, parlying with them, even when they have decided in their own minds that it is inexpedient to grant the favor desired. But this only engenders a peevish and fretful disposition in children, and often leads them to think that it is obstinacy, and not necessity, that prompted the refusal. Children usually have a mind open to conviction, and when they see that their parents desire their happiness as really when they deny them, as when they yield to their wishes, they will generally acquiesce.

It is true that a mother cannot always make up her judgment at once, but when she has sufficiently reflected, let her act promptly and decidedly. Even in cases where she finds she has misjudged, she should be careful not to let her child see that she has no confidence in herself.

ENCOURAGEMENT TO LITTLE CHILDREN.

TO EVERY little boy and girl who reads the Mother's Magazine, I would say, would you not like to do something to save the souls of the poor ignorant heathen? Then ask your dear mothers if you cannot earn, or save something, a few cents at least, every month, and instead of spending it in buying cakes or candy, or other trifles, save your money, and send it to the Sandwich Islands, to help print tracts, which may be the means of saving the souls of some of these islanders.

My little friends, when you read what Mr. Bingham says of the "Usefulness of Tracts," which you will find inserted below, I hope you will immediately resolve to earn something to help print tracts, or to support schools among the heathen; perhaps in China, or in Liberia, or at Mackinaw.

If you are too young, or unable to earn any thing by your labor, perhaps your parents will give you a few pennies at the end of each week, for learning all your lessons perfectly, or for being particularly attentive to their directions, or for exercising self-denial in regard to tea, coffee, sugar, or butter, &c.

Would you not be delighted, and very thankful, if at the judgment day you were to meet some souls who had been saved by means of the tracts which your money assisted to print, or in some school which by your industry, or self-denial, you helped to support. Perhaps you sometimes think that it will be soon enough to attend to these calls when you are older, but you may not live to grow up to become men and women. Now may be your only time to show your love to Christ, and the perishing millions which he died to save. Remember, my dear children, that the promises of God are as much intended for your benefit, as for your parents. It is said, "he that watereth shall be watered."

USEFULNESS OF TRACTS.

CALLED as we are to supply the whole nation with moral instruction, and with few hands and tongues to reach many thousands, who live ten, twenty, or thirty miles from any missionary, tracts are specially serviceable. They go on light wings, work faithfully and cheap, and never tire in well doing. They declare the truth in season and out of season, without fear. They seek the society of all classes, and are never exposed to temptation. They never stumble or fall to the reproach of the cause they plead; never indulge in levity, or anger, or excess, nor wink at the sins of those who hear them. They may speak at the same hour the same important truths, in a thousand collections of the islanders called schools, or to thirty thousand families, as the evening candlenut-torch is trimmed to cheer their humble cottages of straw.

Yes, if Christians in America, who pray for our success, have a word to say in the ear of fifty thousand Sandwich islanders, you may say it now. The tract press, like the power of a whispering gallery, whose arch spans