IT is the duty of mothers to sustain the reverses of fortune. Frequent and sudden as they have been in our own country, it is important that young females should possess some employment, by which they might obtain a livelihood in case they should be reduced to the necessity of supporting themselves. When families are unexpectedly reduced from affluence to poverty, how pitifully contemptible it is to see the mother desponding or helpless, and permitting her daughters to embarrass those whom it is their duty to assist and cheer.

"I have lost my whole fortune," said a merchant, as he returned one evening to his home: "we can no longer keep our carriage. We must leave this large house. The chil.. dren can no longer go to expensive schools. Yesterday I was a rich man; to-day there is nothing I can call my own."

"Dear husband," said the wife, "we are still rich in each other and our children. Money may pass away, but God has given us a better treasure in those active hands and loving hearts."

"Dear father," said the children, "do not look so sober. We will help you to get a living."

"What can you do, poor things?" said he. "You shall see! you shall see!" answered several voices. "It is a pity if we have been to school for nothing. How can the father of eight children be poor? We shall work and make you rich again."

"I shall help," said the younger girl, hardly four years old. "I will not have any new things bought, and I shall sell my great doll."

The heart of the husband and father, which had sunk within his bosom like a stone, was lifted up. The sweet enthusiasm of the scene cheered him, and his nightly prayer was like a song of praise.

They left their stately house. The servants were dismissed; pictures and plate, rich carpets and furniture were sold; and she who had been the mistress of the mansion shed no tears.

"Pay every debt," said she; "let no one suffer through us, and we may be happy."

He rented a neat cottage and a small piece of ground a few miles from the city. With the aid of his sons he cultivated vegetables for the market. He viewed with delight and astonishment the economy of his wife, nurtured, as she had been, in wealth, and the efficiency which his daughters soon acquired under her training.

The eldest one instructed in the household, and also assisted the younger children; besides, they executed various works which they had learned as accomplishments, but which they found could be disposed of to advantage. They embroidered with taste some of the ornamental parts of female apparel, which were readily sold to a merchant in the city.

They cultivated flowers, sent bouquets to market in the cart that conveyed the vegetables; they plaited straw, they painted maps, they executed plain needle-work. Every one was at her post, busy and cheerful. The little cottage was like a bee-hive.

"I never enjoyed such health before," said the father.

"And I was never so happy before," said the mother.

"We never knew how many things we could do when we lived in the great house," said the children; "and we love each other a great deal better here. You call us your little bees."

"Yes," replied the father, "and you make just such honey as the heart likes to feed on." Economy as well as industry was strictly observed; nothing was wasted. Nothing unnecessary was purchased. The eldest daughter became assistant teacher in a distinguished female seminary, and the second took her place as instructress to the family.

The dwelling, which had always been kept neat, they were soon able to beautify. Its construction was improved, and the vines and flowering trees were replanted around it. The merchant was happier under his woodbine-covered porch in a summer's evening, than he had been in his showy dressing

room.

"We are now thriving and prosperous," said he ; "shall we return to the city?"

"Oh, no," was the unanimous reply. "Let us remain," said the wife, "where we have found health and contentment."

"Father," said the youngest, "all we children hope you are not going to be rich again; for then," she added, "we little ones were shut up in the nursery, and did not see much of you or mother. Now we all live together, and sister, who loves us, teaches us, and we learn to be industrious and useful. We were none of us happy when we were rich and did not work. So, father, please not be a rich man any more."

SEARCH FOR WIVES. WHERE do men usually discover the women who afterwards become their wives, is a question we have occasionally heard discussed, and the custom has invariably become of value to young lady readers. It is certain that few men make selection from ball-rooms or any other places of public gaiety; and nearly as few are influenced by what may be called showing off in the streets, or any allurements of dress. Our conviction is, that ninety-nine hundredths of all the finery with which women decorate or load their persons, go for nothing as far as husbandcatching is concerned. Where and how, then, do men find their wives? In the quiet homes of their parents or guardians-at the fireside, where the domestic graces and feelings are alone demonstrated. These are the charms

which most surely attract the high as well as the humble. Against these, all the finery and airs in the world sink into insignificance. We shall illustrate this by an anecdote, which, though not new, will not be the worse for being again told:

"In the year 1773, Peter Burrell, Esq., of Beckenham, in Kent, whose health was rapidly declining, was advised by his physicians to go to Spa for the recovery of his health. His daughters feared that those who had only motives entirely mercenary would not pay him that attention which he might expect from those who, from duty and affection united, would feel the greatest pleasure in ministering to his ease and comfort; they therefore resolved to accompany him. They proved that it was not a spirit of dissipation and gaiety that led them to Spa, for they were not to be seen in any of the fashionable circles; they were never out of their father's company, and never stirred from home, except to attend him either to take the air or drink the waters; in a word, they lived a most recluse life in the midst of a town then the resort of the most illustrious and fashionable personages of Europe. This exemplary attention to their father procured these three amiable sisters the admiration of all at Spa, and was the cause of their elevation to that rank in life to which their merits gave them so just a title. They were all married to noblemen-one to the Earl of Beverley, another to the Duke of Hamilton, and afterwards to the Marquis of Exeter, and a third to the Duke of Northumberland; and it is justice to them to say, that they reflected honour on their rank rather than derived any from it."

CARE OF THE TEETH AMONG THE BRAHMINS.

MR. JOSEPH MURPHY, says the Dental Mirror, in his "Natural History of the Human Teeth," informs us, that "the natives of Hindostan, the Brahmins in particular, are extremely delicate in every point relating to their teeth. Every morning when they rise they rub them for upwards of an hour with a twig of racemiferous fig-tree, at the same time addressing their prayers to the sun, and calling down the blessings of heaven on themselves and their families. As this practice is prescribed in their most ancient

books of law and divinity, we imagine it coeval with the date of their religion and government. It exhibits a curious proof of the regard which this polished and scientific people had for the purity and beauty of the mouth, when so simple a practice is inculcated as a law, and rendered indispensable as a religious duty."

The Brahmins are said to have finer teeth than any other people in the world. This is, without doubt, in a great measure to be attributed to the attention that they pay to their cleanliness. These people also separate their teeth with a file as soon as the second set is perfectly formed, but we cannot determine whether this be for the purpose of preventing decay or of adding to their beauty.

WHAT FAMILY GOVERNMENT IS. IT is not to watch children with a suspicious eye, to frown at the merry outbursts of innocent hilarity, to suppress their joyous laughter, and to mould them into melancholy little models of octogenarian gravity. And when they have been in fault, it is not to punish them simply on account of personal injury that you may have chanced to suffer in consequence of their fault, while disobedience, unattended by inconvenience to yourself, passes without a rebuke. Nor is it to overwhelm the little culprit with a flood of angry words; to stun him with deafening voice; to call him by hard names which do not express his misdeeds; to load him with epithets which would be extravagant if applied to a fault of tenfold enormity; or to declare with passionate vehemence, that he is the worst child in the world, and destined to the gallows. But it is to watch anxiously for the first risings of sin, and to repress them; to counteract the earliest workings of selfishness, to suppress the first beginnings of rebellion against rightful authority; to teach an implicit, and unquestioning, and cheerful obedience to the will of the parent, as the best preparation for a future allegiance to the requirements of the civil magistrate, and to the laws of the great ruler and Father in heaven. It is to punish a fault because it is a fault; because it is sinful and contrary to the commands of God, without reference to whether it may or may not have been productive of immediate injury to the parent or others.

no doubt, be attributed the interest which in subsequent life he ever felt in agricultural pursuits. His grandfather secured for him a superior education (a blessing more generally valued in Scotland, than it is in England); nor were his spiritual interests neglected,

as he was early taught to read and reverence the Holy Scriptures. But in regard to that period of his life, he expressed himself as follows, in the address he delivered at his ordination: "For knowledge of the truths of the Bible in early life, I shall ever feel thankful to Him who determined the bounds of my habitation, for I believe they had some salutary influence in giving existence to a beneficial fear, and in thus restraining me from many vices to which I was prone; but though the things which belong to my peace' sometimes pressed themselves on my attention, they caused in me more disturbance than delight, on account of their uncongeniality with my carnal affections. My attendance on the preaching of the Gospel was tolerably regular, but the ball-room and the theatre were my more favourite places of resort; and the sports of the field were more grateful than the services of the sanctuary. It has been to me the cause of deepest grief that so much of the years that intervened between infancy and manhood was spent in mental dissipation; for though my mind was employed in acquiring instruction for the business of life, it was not applied to the noblest purposes for which mind was given to

man.

While quite a youth William was deprived by death of his only surviving parent, and her dying admonitions for a while impressed his mind; but what produced a more lasting impression, was a personal illness of a severe and alarming nature with which it pleased God to visit him.

His malady was typhus fever, of which, at that time, many of his neighbours died. While in a fair way for recovering, he imprudently exposed himself to the weather, the consequence of which was a relapse, that rendered his final recovery very doubtful. But it pleased God to spare him, and on the first day that he was well enough to sit at the window, he was much affected by the sight of several funerals of persons who had fallen victims to the very same disease which had brought himself so close to the confines of the eternal state. He solemnly asked himself, "What would have been my destiny had I been ushered into eternity?" "I felt," said he, 66 a resistless conviction that my doom would have been one of unutterable sadness; and hope

and fear began to alternate in my mind. When I thought of myself, fear seemed to have the ascendancy; but when I thought of the end for which Christ died, and of the invitations and promises of God, hope would sometimes animate my bosom. I reflected much on the Lord's goodness in sparing me, and I cannot but regard it as something more than an accident that the first sermon I heard after my illness was from that text, 'Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground?' The sermon deepened the impression that, while my body had been near the grave, my spirit had been near the confines of woe.' The next sermon he heard, which was on the value of the soul, confirmed the purpose he had already formed, to seek, in dependence on Divine grace, a personal participation in all the blessings of salvation. There can be no doubt that about that time he entered the kingdom of grace, from which he has been recently translated in the kingdom of glory.

At

Soon afterwards he accepted an invitation to visit his uncle in Bristol, with whom he subsequently resided for several years. For a while he attended several chapels, but more usually that in Broadmead. He was desirous of making himself useful as a Sunday-school teacher; but he was too modest and diffident to be willing to offer his services, and it does not appear that any Christian friend invited him to become a Sabbath school teacher. It may be feared that much valuable talent, in reference both to the school and the pulpit, has remained unemployed from similar oversights on the part of Christian men. length, however, he was induced to offer himself as a teacher in the Sunday-school connected with the chapel in Newfoundland-street, where his services were thankfully accepted and much valued. He became a member of that church, and was afterwards chosen to be one of its deacons. An instance of his usefulness in that school has come to light since his death. A town missionary at Reading called at the house in Reading where Mr. Dove's father-in-law had lived, and called on purpose to see Mr. Dove; but in this respect was disappointed, Mr. Dove having left Reading, on his return home to Falfield. The town missionary called in order to inform Mr. Dove that it was through his instruc

tions in the school at Newfoundlandstreet chapel, that he was brought to a decision in religion. Although our deceased friend was, as we suppose, unacquainted with this encouraging fact, we cannot doubt that he will one day hear it where sower and reaper will rejoice together. But as many faithful ministers, especially such as labour in secluded places, are occasionally disheartened on account of the non-appearance of much success, it would be well if those who derive decided benefit from their labours would give them some intimation of the delightful fact.

Mr. Dove's introduction to the Christian ministry was, as has been the case in a thousand other instances, through the Sunday-school and village preaching. He was first invited to give addresses in the school; then, to preach in villages; next, his services were often desired for pulpits in Bristol; and at length he was encouraged to become the pastor of a Congregational church. In the year 1831 he received and accepted an unanimous invitation to become the pastor of the Congregational church at Thornbury, where he laboured for nearly twelve years. In 1842 he was invited to preach at Tortworth, and it is believed that in the heavenly world some persons, then living in Tortworth and its vicinity, will thankfully relate the happiness they felt in hearing him declare the truth as it is in Jesus with a degree of fulness, and clearness, and pathos, which made the old Gospel appear to them, not only a new thing, but that which was exactly suited to their spiritual necessities. Who can fail to recognise the Divine goodness in the fact that a noble family, resident in the vicinity, instead of frowning on such preaching, decidedly and generously encouraged it, under the conviction that that "godliness" which, by the blessing of God, is the result of such preaching, "has the promise both of the life that now is, and of that which is to come;" and how pleasant is the recollection that a distinguished member of that family who lately died (the Earl Ducie), enjoyed in so remarkable a degree, in his last hours, the consolation of that Gospel which he was anxious that his poor neighbours should know and love.

For several years Mr. Dove preached every Thursday evening at Avening

green, near Tortworth; and though the congregation was often small, both preacher and hearers felt much interest in the service.

For more than twelve months previously to his becoming the pastor of the church at Falfield and residing there, he laboured hard to promote the spiritual welfare of the people of the neighbourhood; and during that time he walked more than 1,000 miles, not unfrequently suffering a degree of weariness and fatigue far greater than was generally known.

It was in the year 1844 that he came to reside at Falfield, and he consequently laboured there eleven years, during part of which time he preached alternately at Tortworth and Falfield. His friends hoped that he would have been spared to labour for many more years; but He who does all things well had otherwise determined.

His last services at Cromhall, Falfield, and Reading, were rather remarkable; as we are not aware that he had any distinct presentiment of his departure as being very near.

The last time he preached at Cromhall was from Psalm xxxix. 5: "Behold, thou hast made my days as a handbreadth." His last sermon at Falfield was delivered on a week day evening, from 1 Pet. i. 4, which speaks of the inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away. The last two sermons he preached were delivered in the chapel in Castle-street, Reading, whither he and Mrs. Dove had gone on occasion of the death of Mr. Woodman, her father. The texts were, "Absent from the body, present with the Lord; and "We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God." Persons who heard those discourses represent them to have been unusually impressive.

His return from Reading in the same week was his last earthly journey. On arriving at the Charfield railway station he walked to his own house, a distance of more than three miles, and though fatigued, was remarkably cheerful; but within a few hours a severe stroke of paralysis came on him, causing continued drowsiness and stupor, with only occasional intervals of wakefulness; during which intervals, though capable of thinking, his power of distinct articulation was gone.

*In Mr. Dove's chapel, Falfield, Dr. Chalmers preached his last sermon.

What little he did say, however, plainly indicated that his mind was peaceful and happy, although he was not without bodily discomfort and pain. The name of his Saviour often escaped his lips, and when unable to speak, he seemed to be engaged in mental prayer. To inquiries occasionally made, his answers were, "I am very happy. I have no doubts or fears. Jesus is one to be trusted in at such a time as this. My faith in him is steadfast." His last intelligible words were, "He doeth all things well."

His relatives and friends of course desired his longer stay with them, especially as his age was only fifty-five years; but, on the whole, the brief review we have taken of his life and death shows that gratitude to the Giver of all good should be the pre

vailing temper of their minds with regard to him. "When his father and his mother forsook him, the Lord took him up." A new heart was given to him. Gifts and grace were imparted to him, making him "a good minister of Jesus Christ." He was not only kept from falling, but it may be truly said, that he was enabled "to adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things." In his last illness his enjoyments far outweighed his sufferings; and now "his warfare is accomplished,' and he is, and ever will be, "with the Lord."

Oh, that his God may ever manifest himself the friend of the mourning widow and of the mourning children; may their father's God be their God! He died June 19, 1855.

AT the present crisis, portending momentous issues, in the immediate prospects of the most enlightened nations, and holding out to their Christian inhabitants almost unprecedented promise, in the religious aspect of strongholds of paganism, broken and tottering, an unusual want of candidates for the ministry is, in the opinion of many wise and zealous men, the great want of the church. But in view of some facts and circumstances which have been recently made prominent in the discussion of this subject, the correctness of such an opinion may well be questioned. This, it is humbly hoped, will sufficiently appear from a few thoughts upon a single point, which has been of late especially insisted on by many; sometimes, doubtless, to the exclusion of other points of higher importance.

It will be generally admitted, upon a little reflection, that the recent decrease of the number of theological students is chiefly owing to that increase of worldliness among professed Christians, which is the natural result of a high degree of commercial prosperity. It is the engrossing spirit of enterprise in temporal things which is incident to such a state of prosperity,

VOL. XII.

that diverts many a young man of suitable talents for the ministry from all due consideration of the claims of the Gospel upon such young men. But what, under such circumstances, must be said of the readiness of many Christians, pastors as well as parents, to find an excuse for the young who thus neglect the claims of the Gospel, in the mere fact that the sacred ministry offers no inducements to its arduous labours, in the form of large compen sation in this world? Does not the prominence of this point, in the reflections of many, sadly betray a wide prevalence of very low views concerning the nature and purpose of the Christian pastor's holy calling? It is, unquestionably, a plain doctrine of the Gospel, as well as the law, that "the labourer is worthy of his hire." But is not this important sentiment somewhat perverted from its appropriate and apostolical application when it is used for a motive to the blessed work of preaching the Gospel? And even with reference to the universally admitted insufficiency of ministerial support in the church at large, does not the lamentable worldliness, to which the neglect of so important a matter must be ultimately traced, almost seem

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