I would also caution mothers against the foolish ambition of trying to make prodigies of their children; and against the vanity of so exaggerating their smart speeches and exploits as to make them appear to be prodigies. I would not be so rigid as to prohibit mothers from speaking of their own dear offspring; for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth will speak; but I may advise you not to make your children the everlasting theme of your conversation, morning, noon, and night. Rest assured, that other people do not take as much interest in the subject as you do. And while I would commend those mothers who are diligent in the instruction of their children, I would respectfully say, be thankful that they are not idiots, nor deformed, nor destitute of the common senses of human nature; but be not anxious that they should be thought prodigies. Children may be so trained as to perform wonders, but what good can come of it? Do we not see pigs trained in the same way? Exercise a salutary discipline towards your children, even with the rod, when it is necessary; but let this species of discipline be the last resort, and used rather seldom. It is far better than a dark room, or starvation, or any thing which keeps the child a long time in a bad humour. But carefully avoid chastisement in the heat of passion, for this will do your children more harm than good. Keep your children as long as you can in your own house. Domestic feeling is a sacred tie, which should be preserved fresh and strong, as long as possible. Often, mothers lose all their influence over sons by their being sent abroad to school. Have as much of your children's education, therefore, conducted at home, as is practicable. Be assured, that no place is so favourable to the good feelings and morals of the young, as the family circle, unless the family be destitute of religion and virtue; and for such I do not now write. Boarding schools, for girls, may be useful,but I would advise you to keep your daughters at home, under your own eye,-and when they go to school in the day, let them come home at night. You may possibly find a better school by sending them abroad, but

the sacrifice is too great; and the risk of evil habits and evil sentiments is not small. And as to your sons, if they must go abroad, place them in the family of some pious man, and under the maternal care of some pious woman, where they may find a substitute for parental attention. While absent, let them return home as frequently as may be, that what I have called the 'domestic' feeling may be preserved. If your sons must be put to a trade, or become clerks in a store or counting-house, be very particular as to the character and conscientious fidelity of their master. It is lamentable to see, how youth in these circumstances are neglected; and how they are exposed to temptations, from which it is hardly possible they should escape without guilt and contamination.

I would earnestly recommend it to mothers to keep up a correspondence, by letter, with their children when removed from the domestic roof: a single word of admonition and warning, from a mother, might be the means of reclaiming a beloved son from the verge of a precipice. But whatever else you neglect, omit not to follow your children, when absent, with your daily prayers. Very often, this is the only thing which is left to mothers. Their children are either removed far from them; or, if near, they have lost their influence over them. But there is ONE, who is near to them, and who can influence them. O mothers! plead for your dear offspring at the throne of grace, travail in birth for them, a second time. God is gracious. God will regard the fervent, importunate cry of Christian mothers. Bespeak also the prayers of friends. Get them to unite with you in social prayer. This leads me to speak of those societies, called "Maternal Associations." If prudently and humbly conducted, they are calculated to be eminently useful. Let all parade and ostentation be avoided, and mothers may meet and pray for their dear children, as often as they are dis posed.

LETTER TO A MOURNING, AFFLICTED WIDOW.

MY DEAR FRIEND,-What a change in your circumstances and worldly prospects within a short time! A few months since, you appeared to be carried along in the full tide of prosperity. Every thing seemed to smile around you, and probably you had no anticipation of the sad reverse which has occurred. Blessed with health and abundance; happy in the possession and regard of an excellent husband, and in seeing around you lovely and promising children, who were the joy of your heart. But now, alas! you are a bereaved, desolate widow;-you have experienced the greatest loss which you could experience of any earthly possession; and, to increase the calamity, (for afflictions are apt to come in clusters,) another stroke has fallen on you, so that you have sorrow upon sorrow. Under such afflicting circumstances, what can I say to alleviate your distress? I am afraid that I can do no more than to express my tender sympathy. Though far off from the scene of your suffering, I feel for you-I could weep with you. Officious efforts to check the swelling torrent of grief, on such occasions, are injudicious, and rather tend to aggravate than relieve our misery. Nature must have its course. Tears, if deeprooted grief does not prevent, furnish almost the only mitigation of which the mourner is susceptible: and what nature demands, God does not forbid. There is no sin in the feelings of lively sorrow, which such bereavements produce. The blessed Saviour did indeed forbid the daughters of Jerusalem to weep for him, because he had undertaken to bear the curse of God for us, without alleviation; but he tells them to weep for themselves and their children. He did also exhort the bereaved widow of Nain not to weep; but the reason of this was, that he intended immediately to restore

to life her only son, then lying dead before her. When our blessed Lord came to Bethany, and found the two sisters, Martha and Mary, in a state of deep distress, on account of the recent death of their only brother (the support and protector of the family), does he forbid their tears? No: the compassionate Jesus weeps with them! How interesting, how amiable, does the kind condescension and tender sympathy of the Son of God towards this afflicted family appear! They had reason to be surprised at his conduct beforehand, because, when they sent for him, he delayed coming until their brother was dead. His motive for this delay, they understood not; but, when he came, they both remarked with sorrowful regret, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." And when he answered, "Thy brother shall rise again," they still had no other apprehension of his meaning, than that he should arise at the last day. But his benevolent purpose was to restore to them their beloved brother, by raising him from the grave, where he had lain four days. But so deeply was his compassionate heart affected by the sight of the tears and distress of his beloved friends, that he not only wept with them, but groaned in his spirit, and was troubled, and said, "where have you laid him?” And before he would enter the house to rest himself after his journey, he must visit the grave of his friend, that he might at once relieve the aching hearts of these pious women. But no such relief can now be expected. Jesus, the almighty Saviour, who is "the resurrection and the life," no longer sojourns among

men.

But it should still be a consolation to mourners, that, though exalted at the right hand of God, the compassionate Redeemer is accessible, and that his tender sympathy is still retained; "for we have not an High Priest who cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities." He knows as well what his disciples suffer, as if he were upon earth; and is as able to aid them and to comfort them in all their sorrows. I cannot, then, give you better advice, than to "look unto Jesus" who, for the joy set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now set down at

He was the

the right hand of God." I know of no consideration which is more effectual to reconcile us to bear with submission our heaviest afflictions, than the contemplation of our divine Redeemer wading through floods of sorrow for our sake; yea, overwhelmed with a weight of distress which pressed him to the ground in a bloody agony, and caused him to cry out with an exceeding bitter cry, "My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death;" and on the cross to exclaim, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" "Did Jesus thus suffer, and shall I repine?" Son of God: he was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners; and yet for our sake, he bore this infinite pressure of grief. This suggests another consideration, which I have always found, when I could feel its force, to have a powerful effect in repressing a murmuring and repining disposition. It is, that we suffer less than we deserve. God afflicts us, it may be, severely; but his strokes are lighter than our sins. If it were not for his unmerited mercy, we should now be in hell.

Add to this, that God does not willingly afflict: he takes no pleasure in the sufferings of any of his creatures, much less in the sorrows of his children; but he chastises them for their real good. Why some are so much more afflicted than others, we do not know; but we do know," that all things work together for good to them that love God;" and that, although "no chastening for the present is joyous, but grievous, yet afterwards it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them who are exercised thereby." The afflicted mourner finds it hard to believe this promise, and cannot see how it is possible that such a calamity should be of any benefit. But God's word is to be credited in opposition to our own feelings, and to all appearances. He has ways of working which we do not now understand, but shall know hereafter. He can make our bitterest anguish a salutary medicine for our diseased souls. Our whole course through this world is intended to be a state of trial and discipline; and therefore it is ordained, that "through much tribulation, we