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small temporary aperture at one side served for a chimney; and one window, with half-a-dozen panes of dingy glass, and a pine door, swinging on a pair of crazy hinges, were the most noticeable exterior features of the hut. In good sooth, it would have looked more like the savage retreat of a beast of the forest, had its wildness not been relieved by the really neat white fence that surrounded it-presenting the idea of a beautiful frame around a deformed picture-and the further and more charming relief of a wild rose-bush, that had turned its tendrils around the stakes of the gate-posts, and broke into a shower of rich oriental blossoms, filling the air with fragrance, and standing as the sentinel-flower of this rude, uncouth structure. So gloomy a building seemed little to deserve so fair an attendant. A sprite, "all air, all poesy," doomed to the heels of an ugly, grinning Cyclops, could not have been at more seeming contrast; and yet those crimson-hearted roses had in nowise caught the rude infection. They smiled as only roses do smile, and threw their gay plumes to the wind in the very merriest of humours.

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IF I WERE A VOICE.

IF I were a voice, a persuasive voice,

That could travel the wide world through, I would fly on the beams of the morning light, And speak to men with a gentle might,

And tell them to be true. I'd fly, I'd fly, o'er land and sea, Where'er a human heart might be, Telling a tale, or singing a song, In praise of the right-in blame of the wrong.

If I were a voice, a consoling voice,

I'd fly on the wings of air,
The homes of sorrow and guilt I'd seek,
And calm and truthful words I'd speak,

To save them from despair.
I'd fly, I'd fly, o'er the crowded town,
And drop, like happy sunlight down,
Into the hearts of suffering men,
And teach them to rejoice again.

If I were a voice, a convincing voice,

I'd travel with the wind,
And whene'er I saw the nations torn
By warfare, jealousy, or scorn,

Or hatred of their kind,

I'd fly, I'd fly, on the thunder crash,
And into their blinded bosoms flash;
And all their evil thoughts subdued,
I'd teach them Christian brotherhood.

If I were a voice, a pervading voice,

I'd seek the kings of earth;
I'd find them alone on their beds at night,
And whisper words that should guide them right

Lessons of priceless worth:
I'd fly more swift than the swiftest bird,
And tell them things they never heard,
Truths which the ages for aye repeat,
Unknown to the statesmen at their feet.

If I were a voice, an immortal voice,

I'd speak in the people's ear,
And whenever they shouted “Liberty !"
Without deserving to be free,

I'd make their error clear.
I'd fly, I'd fly, on the wings of day,
Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way,
And making all the earth rejoice-
If I were a voice, an immortal voice.

THE CHRISTIAN MOTHER.

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THE feelings of a Christian mother, towards her child are of a deep and holy kind. She looks upon him as an immortal being committed to her care, and she strives and prays that her child may be a child of God and an heir of glory. The highest honour which she can claim for him, is, that his name may be written in the Lamb's book of life. Nor is this a mere empty wish; it is the prayer of her heart and the aim of her life. - Over the earliest dawnings of reason, therefore, she carefully watches, that she may infuse into his infant mind the first elements of that knowledge which maketh wise unto salvation. Her great, her unwearied anxiety is, to nurse him for the skies, that, whether he be cut off in the tender years of childhood, or spared to maturer age, he may at last be a jewel in the Redeemer's crown; and that it may be her privilege to say to her redeeming God and Father, “Here am I, and the child whom thou hast given me.”

Not only, however, does the Christian mother train her children by imparting direct religious instruction. This, in the case of the young, is often no very easy task. The difficulty of conveying, to a child, clear and adequate notions of the real nature of the truths of Christianity has been often felt and acknowledged. But how often has it been seen, that, by a thousand indirect influences, emanating from the sanctified heart of the parent, the child has been gradually won to God! The whole aspect and demeanour of a mother whose soul is imbued with pious feeling, convey a powerful influence to her offspring. The child insensibly breathes, as it were, a holy atmosphere, and he grows up prepossessed in favour of those principles, on the side of which have been enlisted all his best and most effective sympathies. We are told of a young man who, at one period of his life, had been nearly betrayed into the snares of infidelity: “But,” said he, “there was one argument in favour of Christianity which I could never refute the consistent conduct of my own father!" It is this impression of the heart which the child of a pious parent finds it at all times difficult to resist. It cleaves to him amid all his wanderings and distressing deviations from the paths of righteousness. “Though, in process of time," says

, Mr. Newton, “I sinned away all the advantages of my early impressions, yet they were for a great while a restraint upon me; they returned again and again, and it was very long before I could shake them off.” If such, then, be the power which the direct and indirect influence of the pious female exerts over the mind of the young, how important is it that that influence should be all on the side of religion ! Christian principles and Christian feelings, indeed, can never be widely prevalent in families, until a heartfelt interest in the concerns of the soul shall animate mothers and daughters to exert their all-powerful influence in re

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