innocence, that wakes the airy harp of the soul, and draws a strange wild music from its strings. It is the magical influence of this little charmer, which binds the domestic circle. Even its tricks and petty passions, proceeding from selfishness, have something eloquent in them. What a transforming power must a babe possess, when, as I have often observed, its tender arms can stay the wild young rake in his course, and bind him down to the sameness of the fireside circle. Yet such is often the moral power of infants. From the first morning of joy, when the pale young mother* presents her jewel to the arms of the blushing father, a new spring of feelings has gushed forth in his heart, and is there working deep but silent channels for its streams. He feels that he is another man. He looks down upon earth, and sees a bright hue of sunshine mellowing the roughness of its path; he looks up toward heaven, and finds no difficulty in conceiving a bliss, of which he has had a foretaste on earth.

In my bachelor visitations to my married friends, I have often chuckled over the bashfulness, contending with love, which distinguishes the YOUNG FATHER. In the pride of his heart, perhaps, when his little man has first given evidence of that degree of mental exertion called 'taking notice,' he clasps the crowing baby in his arms; he rests its lily feet upon his knees; he endures with philosophic patience all the 'gouging,' and pulling, and kicking, with which the young hero may testify his triumph; and while the young mother stands by, her eyes beaming with mingled love and pride, he becomes warmer in his romps; makes faces, as the nerveless fingers of the little one seek, with more earnestness, his eyes, or pull with a greater effort at his lips; and amid screams of laughter, he chases the flying hours, until at length a 'pale cast of thought' flits over the baby's face, like a cloud in a summer sky. This is the signal for immediate seriousness. The father grows grave - then frightened. He raises him gently from his lap, and with a single exclamation of Take him, mother!' consigns the precious charge to her arms, and, darting a hasty glance at his pants,' he walks in silence from the room.

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which they assume, when they have done any work of mischief; and nothing more irresistible than the joyous crow they give, when they have lost the mingling of fear, and reached a tower of safety in the arms of a mother or a nurse. Their pugnacious qualities are developed sooner than any others. They punch, and gouge,' and kick, and scream, through all opposition. And that mingled generosity and selfishness with which they give away their play-things, and straitway demand them again, forms an excellent comment upon the virtues of riper years. They are fond of seeing folks happy. And they evince their fondness, by taking things out of their own mouths to put them in those of their friends. But what I consider most remarkable, is their great curiosity. They not only fix the big round eye of inquiry on every external object, but, like true philosophers, observe the yraði OEAUTOV of the Greeks. Often have I watched the movements of a youthful sage, who has just made the discovery that he has a big-toe. With wbat a sagacious air does he eye it round and round; how serious and sober his looks ; how he handles, and tugs at, the newlydiscovered member, until at last, by too hard a pull, he finds that it is bonâ fide a part of himself; and his investigation, like those of older philosophers, ends only in tears.

Some people love to plague babies : they tease them, and vex them, and take a savage pleasure in their cries. I often walk the streets with a waggish acquaintance of mine, who never fails, when he sees a baby ahead, looking back over its nurse's shoulder, to salute it with such horrid grimaces, as would pickle a barrel of cucumbers, if placed in his way. This, of course, sets the infant screaming; and the poor nurse, who looks round and sees only two gentlemen conversing, searches in vain for the secret pin! I never join in such wicked amusements. And I counsel all nurses, who are placed in such a situation, to look carefully around, to see whether the gentlemen behind seems particularly grave and innocent; and if he does, to charge him boldly with the deed. Babies should have the benefit of the law.

Poor little things ! Theirs is a strange mixture of calm and of storm. One moment screaming, as if racked to death, the next laughing at soine novel toy, they pursue, not the 'even' or the ‘noiseless' tenor of their way, with a number of jogs and jolts, which make up in frequency, if not in intensity, for the greater ups and downs of after life. We hardly dare to say that theirs is a life of happiness, for we have no means of knowing. But when we look upon the fine blue eyes of an intelligent child, wafted like a bubble on the waves of existence, and glowing with all the rainbow tints of health and spirits, and then upon a poor sick infant, reduced to a skeleton by the lean hand of Sickness, or whirled, with a quickening motion, in the eddy that leads to the jaws of death, we canuot help admitting the fact, that even the pure brow of childhood is branded with the curse of Cain; that he is sent forth, ere Reason has taken her throne, an outcast and vagabond upon the face of the earth. Death has fixed his broadest seal upon the brightest page of existence. Nature puts forth her thousand buds on the trees, and renders spring frolicsome, by filling air, earth, and water, with a fresh supply of young and beautiful creatures. But of these, how few ever come to maturity! The buds are scattered in

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the breeze; the bleak winds howl over the cold, stiff form of the once frisky lamb; and the sweet bud of immortality, which promised so fragrant an opening, is gathered to adorn the icy coronet of death.

In my frequent romps with the children, I have always loved to notice how early the difference developes itself in the dispositions and carriage of the two sexes. Long before he has displaced the unmanly gown for the breeches, the boy shows himself formed of grosser elements, by his rude and boisterous actions, while the girl is as early known by a certain primness and decorum, and a slight tinge of affectation, which seems proper to the sex. Their behavior to strangers is entirely different. The boy comes forward with a bold, confident air, as if he meant to take the heart by storm; he has a thousand questions to ask, and unless checked, is apt to weary, by his talkativeness. But not so with the girl. She first peeps at the visitor from behind her mother's chair; then slowly ventures out from her place of safety; pouts her rosy lips; looks out of the corners of her eyes; and if she is at last tempted into the stranger's arms, receives his caresses in modest silence, hanging down her head, and hardly venturing an answer to his simplest question. She shows a motherly care, too, for her wild young brother. She is fond of holding his head in her lap, and lulling him asleep. She loves to have gloves on her hand, and a reticule, with a handkerchief stuffed in it, which she takes great pride in folding. And when her brothers have ruined a parsnip-bed, by digging after babies, it is she who dresses the young inanimates, and tends them with a mother's care. Nor is she, in other respects, without the use of her hands. She can apply a box to the ears of a naughty brother, with an emphasis and decorum that would not disgrace a lady of thirty. She has already learned to stroke down her gown, and shows particular expertness in that art which the ladies call • fixing themselves. And all these accomplishments are served up together, upon a rich ground of modesty, which relieves their more glaring tints, and makes the colors harmonize with the most lovely and delicate hues. This distinction in her favor is often a lasting one. Little girls, of any age, have a peculiar tact in noticing any slight shade of sorrow, especially upon the face of a mother; and they seldom fail to show their sympathy by sober silence. Their better soul is born, before their reason buds. And perhaps of all the beautiful things upon earth, there is none more charming, than the quiet looks and modest airs of a sweet young girl, before she has gone to school, and been taught how to giggle. There is a flood of mind and feeling in the mellow glance of her eye ; a thrilling sweetness in the tones of her voice; an artless play. fulness in her very affectations, which can melt even the bachelor's soul, and send the most exquisite throbs along the heart-strings of a father. She reigns a queen of hearts, before she has learned the language of love.

My next door neighbor is peculiarly happy in the management of his children, which makes his lads and lasses the sweetest playmates alive. Their play-room is a perfect paradise. Young leather-faced ladies and gentlemen, ranged around on miniature chairs, may there be seen, looking with a marble rigidity of feature. Dogs and cats, taught by complicated machinery to make divers strange noises;

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horses, whose prancing legs form a delightful contrast to the moveless carriages behind them; pigs, cows, and squirrels, and birds of every shape and material, are neatly put up in their proper places; all being under the inspection of that busy little woman, my rosyfaced Mary. There is nothing like riot or disorganization under her rule. Not a doll is touched, nor a puppet moved, but in the way she wishes. With her lady-like ways, and motherly airs, she keeps all her young brothers and sisters in order; while there is always a prim turn at the corner of her mouth, which reveals the laugh lurking within. And when she does laugh, what a flood of life and melo

a dy! What music ! — unrivalled by the strains of Paganini, or any other ninny, who ever charmed away the guineas of Europe! And what an expression, too! With your eye upon that sunny face, and your ear tuned to those honied tones, you might imagine Eden restored, as when the sun first lighted upon it ; 'when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy! How skilful, too, is she in the management of parties! Being a decided favorite among the small folks, I often contrive to smuggle myself in, when any thing of that kind is going on among them. And then what a scene of enjoyment! Little Mary pours out tea for the assembled visitors. All are now grave and serious; for they feel that they are acting an important part. Their diminutive cups of tea are sipped with the utmost gravity and decorum. Every thing is on a scale of small magnificence. Little plates of sweet-meats ; little baskets of cakes; nice little waiters ; delicate little plates ; and sweet little cups, like thimbles, in saucers of proportionate size : and then, above all, those dear little fingers; those sparkling eyes, in which glee and frolic seem almost ready to burst from the seriousness which the awful occasion has thrown around them; those comic mouths, and dimpled cheeks, where the laughs and the graces seem dancing in mockery of the grave part which the urchins are acting.

But supper is over. All now rush, with glee let loose, into the adjoining play-room. And now, what laughing and screaming! what rolling and tumbling! what a gushing flow of life and merriment! what giggling! what dressing of babies in one corner! what boisterous fun among the boys, and what screams among the girls ! And what airs, too!-what a singing together, among those young sons of the morning! - what a shouting for joy, as the room becomes dizzy with their glee! In the mean time, there sits my neighbor B-'s poor little William, all alone by himself. His face is pale and meagre. The hectic of consumption burns in one red spot on his cheek. and the lamp of life flickers with a strange unearthly glare in his eye. The

poor little fellow has come with the others to the party, but his soul is not there. A thoughtfulness, beyond his years, has waved her pale sceptre over his brow; and now he sits sorrowful

among gay, silent among the noisy; his bright eye fixed upon vacancy, and his features hushed into a repose too awful for life. Imagination is already working: and the messengers of thought from the unseen world may be almost seen coming and going, in the occasional quiver of his cheeks. Death has marked him for his victim, and mocks him with the fleeting phantoms of thought. Poor child! His flower is withered in the bud, and must await a more genial clime to revive VOL. XIV.

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it. In the unseen fields of the stars, it may soon bloom fragrant and lovely; one of the ornaments of that garden, whose fruit is immortality and glory.

Childhood is never without its romance. It has a world peculiar to itself; a May-day world of rains and suushine; of the flower opening for a moment, and then closing its leaves; a world whose fleeting impressions of joy and beauty are too soon dispelled by the harsher realities of life. Memory cannot always recall them. And though in after years we may sometimes discern some far-away island, mantled with beauty, and hanging, like some creation of the fata morgana, inverted over the misty waters of the past, it is only a solitary image, so unconnected with every thing else, that we can only wonder at its existence. But little as I have to rest upon, I love to build up my castles in these fairy spots of purity and innocence; and, while I recline on my favorite knoll, with the starry heavens above, and the mellow sounds of earth beneath, I weave the slight fabrics of imagination, and people them with those little beings, whose voices are music to my ears. I follow the wild young creatures in their devious course through the day; and, in fancy, I follow their thoughts during the night. I love to mingle with the spirits. who guard their pillows. And when one of them departs from among us, I picture bright fields, where they stray by the sides of sunny streams, and chase the butterflies of pleasure, through an eternity of bliss. I listen with interest to all their childish prattle. With their little arms around my neck, and their sweet faces turned up to mine, I hear their most trifling adventures, charmed with the music of innocence and glee. I love, too, to have them as listeners; to tell them of giants, and fairies, and all the mystic creatures of fancy; of cruel men, who eat little boys and girls at a morsel, but are horribly punished for their wickedness; of the bright angels who take pity upon the children of men, and hover around their couches. I introduce them to the broad face of nature. I point them to the boundless glories of the milky-way, and I tell them how their little brothers or sisters, who have died in the bud, are now shining, bright as the stars, and winging their joyous flight over the star-spangled fields of ether. I show them the polar star; and tell them of the great ships wandering on the hoary deep, and of the poor sailor, that shuttle of fortune, tossed from shore to shore, in the great web of commerce, until he 'sinks like a bubble in the yest of waves.' And I show them the bear, the crown, the monsters who keep watch on the zodiac, and Orion, with one knee resting on the horizon, while his huge body is drawn up into the fathomless concave of the skies. All this, and more, I show them, while their sweet faces beam with intelligence, and the low tones of inquiry come in whispers from their lips. And so we pass the hours, as the long winter night rolls away, shading no brighter scenes than our humble hearths at Hampden.

P.

THE CHRISTIAN

SOLDIER.

HERE lies a true soldier, whom all must applaud;
Much hardship he suffered at home and abroad;
But the hardest engagement he ever was in,
Was the battle of Self in the conquest of Sin.