THE BROKEN STICK.

A good man, the superintendent of a Sabbath-school, was one day annoyed by a teacher. It was said, "There is a lad striking us with a stick." He looked round, and could see no stick. Again there was a cry, "There is a lad striking us with a stick." He slowly turned round, and saw that an overgrown lad had a stick, and that after striking with it, he pushed it up his coat sleeve. My friend stopped till the lad pulled it out again, and the instant he did so the superintendent put his foot upon it and broke it. This wicked fellow came to my friend and said, "I shall catch you some night as you are going home, and I will break your head for breaking that stick.” 'What," said the superintendent, "what do you say?" "I will break your head some night as you are going home. You had no right to break my stick." I put it to your gentleness, sir, whether this was not really provoking. He went up to the lad and said, "John, give me your hand. I have prayed for you many a time, but I will pray now for you more than ever." The lad wept, and the teacher also. The lad left the school about a fortnight afterwards; and when, some two or three years subsequently, my friend was at a watering-place, at a little distance off, he saw a tall young man making his way towards him. He soon came up and said, "How do you do?" "I do not know you." "Have you forgotten me?" "Oh no, I recollect the stick ;" and he started. "Ah! you need not run away; but what are you doing now?" "I am a member of a Wesleyan Society. After I had left, when I was wandering at a great distance, I began to think of what had passed, and that led me to Christ. The first impression I had of a saving character I received when you broke my stick, and afterwards took me by the hand and said you would pray for me.'

MAXIMS FOR FAMILY GOVERNMENT.

BEGIN discipline as soon as the child can be made to understand the wishes of the parent.

Let the first object be, to produce the habit of prompt obedience; and the first lesson, unconditional submission to the will of the parent.

Aim always at producing a right state of feeling, as well as outward obedience.

Never give a command to which you do not intend to enforce obedience. Give your reasons frequently enough to show your child that you have good ones for your requirements; but not so frequently as to lead him to expect them as a matter of right.

Avoid giving needless occasion for the exercise of authority by bringing the disposition of the child to unnecessary trial, especially when it is in an irritable frame from bodily infirmity or any other cause.

A contest with a child should always, if possible, be avoided; but if commenced, it should be carried through.

To avoid a contest, when the child is in a turbulent mood, it is generally better to punish for the disobedience, without insisting on submission at the time; which may afterwards be more easily secured when he is in a better frame. The passions are strengthened by exercise, and should not, therefore, be needlessly excited.

Do not unnecessarily thwart children in the object they are pursuing. Avoid keeping them in suspense. Answer them positively, and let your decision be final, unless you see good reason for changing your mind, when that reason should be explained to them. Do not irritate them by evasion, nor suffer yourself to be teased into a compliance with their wishes.

Be firm, resolute, and persevering, not inconstant and uncertain, in your administration of family government.

Do not be always finding fault with children, lest they be discouraged; and manifest your approbation of what is commendable in their conduct.

Let authority be rather felt than seen. Its constant and unnecessary exhibition teazes children, hardens their hearts, and weakens its power.

Be sparing of reproof; much talk weakens authority.

Do not needlessly multiply rules and directions. Children's memories are short; and many rules are vexatious to them. In correcting improper habits in the outward deportment of children, be careful not to allude to them so frequently as to produce the impression that they are confirmed, and cannot be broken.

Be as sparing as possible of punishments. Frequent use weakens their po ver.

Administer correction in a prayerful spirit, combining decision and firmness with tenderness and affection.

Regulate discipline by justice. Do not punish your children according to the vexation you feel, but according to their real faultiness.

Avoid terrifying and violent punishments; and be cautious, both as to the severity and locality of blows administered. They have been known to cause the death of children, by secret injuries unknown at the time. Use no more severity than is necessary to secure submissson to authority, and the remembrance of chastisement.

In correcting a fault, look more to the state of the heart, than to the outward act.

OUR YOUNG PEOPLE.

THE FATAL MARRIAGE.

Few dangers are more formidable to the young than that of forming flattering but pernicious friendships. This is the snare into which I have seen many fall-the rock on which thousands have been destroyed. Many who have left the paternal roof with good principles and good habits, or even with the most promising symptoms of piety, have yielded to the seductions of irreligious friends, or of pleasing connections; and have either been at once turned from the paths of virtue and religion, or have entered into some rash and unwise engagement, which has made the rest of life wretched, and supplied matter for unceasing regret and repentance. The great errors which I have observed in pious young persons, when they are entering upon life, are, their too great confidence in the outside appearance of human friendships; an unwillingness to ask the advice of experienced and judicious friends; and a want of settled principle in the formation of the matrimonial connection. It is in reference to this latter point that I have enjoyed the opportunity of extensive observation, and have in my recollection, at this moment, several instances of the lamentable results to which an unequal and prohibited union between the religious and irreligious has proved introductory. The following narrative may serve as a specimen of a numerous class of cases, and will illustrate to the young reader the extreme peril to the interest both of body and soul, of being guided by the impulse of passion, rather than by sound judgment and scriptural rules.

In my youthful days I was placed by Providence in a large and populous town, where I enjoyed the privilege of attending on the ministry of a valued and venerable minister. In connection with many pious young persons, I was engaged in various designs of usefulness-sometimes in visiting the sick, in teaching schools, in circulating tracts, and itinerating to the neighbouring

villages. These occupations brought me into connection with various excellent and devoted individuals, some of whom have passed to their reward, while others, like myself, are still sojourning in the wilderness.

Among these was a youth to whom, on account of his affectionate disposition and great devotedness to the labours of Christian love, I felt powerfully attracted. We were companions in many an errand of mercy. We laboured strenuously in the same Sabbath-school. We often penetrated together the haunts of poverty and sickness, and frequently mingled our petitions and thanksgivings at the throne of grace. In short, I have reason to think that our friendship was mutually pleasant and profitable, and that it bade fair to last as long as life. This youth paid an occasional visit, for a few weeks, to the metropolis. Here he was thrown into company with a young lady, for whom he contracted a strong regard. Some time passed by before I became acquainted with the fact. A correspondence had been opened, and mutual tokens of affection offered and received, before I discovered either that the connection was altogether an improper one, or that any such acquaintance had commenced. At last, however, I heard the report with grief and astonishment. I took the earliest opportunity of inviting my friend to a private walk, when I introduced the subject, and expressed my concern to know whether he had carefully considered the evidence of the young lady's piety, or whether he had weighed the scriptural injunctions against unsuitable connections in marriage. He confessed readily that such an acquaintance had commenced, and that he had no satisfactory evidence of the lady's piety; but alleged, that he had known people become pious after marriage; that he could see no great sin in his marrying an unconverted woman, provided he did not himself forsake the ways of God; stating at the same time his hope, that he should be able to lead his young female acquaintance into the paths of piety. Here, for the present, the matter ended; and I resolved to wait a few weeks, and observe carefully the effect of this new and thoughtless step upon his mind, reserving my main attack upon his resolution for a future period, when I might be better prepared to show the positive evils that must result from the consummation of his purpose, and when I might hope the ardour of his first feelings would have subsided. I accordingly waited a month or two, and then chose my opportunity, and selected two young friends, who, like myself, were intimate with the individual, and were grieved to find into how bewitching and ruinous a snare he had fallen. We had already observed, with deep pain, the decline in his spiritual feelings which had begun to work, and the undermining power of this new attachment, which seemed already to threaten the ruin of his piety. We accordingly obtained an interview, and each, in turn, besought our friend to pause, and listen to our united remonstrances. For hours we pursued our argument, and viewed his case on all sides. He heard us, I cannot say with indifference, but without conviction; and we parted, without any satisfactory evidence, either that the object of his affection was likely to prove a help-meet for him, or that he was likely to cast off the guidance of passion, and yield himself to the laws of Jesus Christ.

From this time, as might be expected, our friend avoided our society; declined engaging in those labours of Christian benevolence in which we had formerly been united; and, though he did not forsake the public means of religion, evinced an awful departure from that life and power of godliness which former days had witnessed. The regret felt by his religious connections, who had been interested in his character and labours, was indeed great and general, but it was too evident that an unlawful affection had got the mastery of his heart, and that everything would be prostrated before it.

Time rolled on, and in a few months our friend was united to the object of his choice. She had promised fair, and flattered his hopes upon the subject of religion. All his fears were quieted, under the expectation that after this union, he should certainly be able to draw her to God, and to return himself to the fervour and activity of former days. The union led to the removal of our friend from amidst the circle of his religious acquaintance. He settled in the metropolis-attended a large place of worship, where little notice was taken of him, and no pastoral eye extended over his movements. For a short time he

was stealy, and his partner conformed; but at length he yielded to worldly temptations--his resolution relaxed, and step by step he began to go back, till worldly amusements and extravagances, together with a rising family, involved him in embarrassments, which he had no means of overcoming. Trouble be gan to hedge up his way and to make it thorny, but still he returned not to the Lord his God. Ruin in his circumstances soon followed, and with a wife and four or five children he was cast upon the world. Yet, in the midst of calamities, he continued insensible to the sin of his former conduct, and satisfied with the steps he had pursued. So truly was the Word of God fulfilled in this backslider, he had hardened his neck against reproof-he had refused the instruction of wisdom, and the admonitions of his Christian brethren, and God had given him up to his own heart's lusts. Some Christian friends visited him in his troubles, but they found him neither humble nor well-disposed to retain their friendship. The consequence was, an entire alienation in both parties. I have sometimes since thought, perhaps, we did wrong in altogether allowing him to escape from our view. We might have led him to repent, and return to the Lord from whom he had revolted; but, in the immense popula tion of London, we lost sight of him for a considerable period. At length some of his early acquaintances discovered that he had been reduced to the necessity of keeping a public-house. They found him out, visited him, but could make no impression upon his mind. He had sunk into a state of total apathy, and though he received them in a respectful manner, yet it was too evident that he had totally declined from the ways of God.

Thus was this promising youth reduced from a station of respectability, to a line of life little compatible with domestic comfort, and from the most promising beginnings of a religious course, to an utter abandonment of everything like vital godliness. He subsequently prospered in his worldly circumstances, but appeared to have made shipwreck of faith and of a good conscience.

I have now, for more than twenty years, lost sight of the man "with whom I took sweet counsel, and went to the house of God in company." I have no reason to think he ever returned to the fold of Christ. I know not whether he is yet alive, for a wide separation of residence, and other circumstances, have put it out of my power to ascertain. But these melancholy facts have ever lived in my memory, as a warning against the danger of forming improper connections in youth; and should this brief narrative be the means of producing or confirming in any young mind sound and scriptural views of the importance of choosing none but a truly pious partner for life, the end of the writer will be thus far attained.-From the Pastor's Sketch-Book.

ADVICE.

My son, if ever thou lookest for sound comfort on earth and salvation in heaven, unglue thyself from the world, and the vanities of it; put thyself upon thy Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: leave not till thou findest thyself firmly united to him, so as thou art become a limb of that body whereof he is the Head, a spouse of that husband, a branch of that stem, a stone laid upon that foundation. Look not, therefore, for any blessing out of him; and in, and by, and from him. look for all blessings. Let him be thy life; and wish not to live longer than thou art quickened by him; find him thy wisdom, righte ousness, sanctification, redemption-thy riches, thy strength, thy glory. Apply unto thyself all that thy Saviour is, or hath done. Wouldst thou have the graces of God's Spirit?-fetch them from his anointing. Wouldst thou have power against spiritual enemies?-fetch it from his sovereignty. Wouldst thou have redemption?-fetch it from his passion. Wouldst thou have absclution?-fetch it from his perfect innocence. Freedom from the curse?-fetch it from his cross. Satisfaction?-fetch it from his sacrifice. Cleansing from sin?-fetch it from his blood. Mortification?-fetch it from his grave. Newness of life?-fetch it from his resurrection. Right to heaven?-fetch it from

his purchase. Audience in all thy suits?-fetch it from his intercession. Wouldst thou have salvation?-fetch it from his session [sitting down] at the right hand of Majesty. Wouldst thou have all?-fetch it from him who is "one Lord, one God, and Father of all, who is above all, through all, and in all." —Eph. iv. 5, 6. And as thy faith shall thus interest thee in Christ, thy Head, so let thy charity unite to his body, the Church, both in earth and heaven. Hold ever an inviolable communion with that holy and blessed fraternity. Sever not thyself from it, either in judgment or affection. Make account there is not one of God's saints upon earth, but hath a property in thee, and thou mayest challenge the same in each of them; so that thou canst not but be sensible of their passions; and be freely communicative of all thy graces, and all serviceable offices, by example, admonition, exhortation, consolation, prayer, beneficence, for the good of that sacred community.

And when thou raisest up thine eyes to heaven, think of that glorious society of blessed saints who are gone before thee, and are now there triumphing, and reigning in eternal and incomprehensible glory; bless God for them, and wish thyself with them; tread in their holy steps, and be ambitious of that crown of glory and immortality which thou seest shining on their heads.-Hall.

THE BEGINNING OF EVIL.

Young men, for the most part, are but little aware of the danger which attends the beginning of evil. They readily perceive the degrading and destructive tendency of the grosser vices; but they are slow of heart to believe that there are certain dispositions and habits which inevitably lead to those vices and their consequent degradation and ruin. Hence, while they are careful to shun the more open and flagrant offences, they are not afraid to venture upon what are deemed little sins-upon slight deviations from dutyoccasional indulgence of the appetites and passions.

No mistake is more common or fatal than this. It is the way in which vice maintains its dominion in our world-the standing cause of ruin to the character and souls of men. All vicious habits commence in what are considered little sins.

No young man becomes suddenly abandoned and profligate. There is always a gradual progress. He begins in slight, occasional departures from rectitude, and goes on from one degree of guilt to another, till conscience becomes seared, the vicious propensity strong, the habit of indulgence fixed, and the character ruined.

Nothing is more obvious than this connection between the beginning and the consummation of evil; and yet, hardly anything is more difficult than to convince the young of its reality. In entering upon wrong courses they have not the least expectation or fear of the dreadful issue. They mean not to proceed beyond the point of safety and they have no doubt they can easily effect an escape whenever danger appears but ere they are aware, they are arrested by the iron grasp of habit, and ruined for ever.

Take, for example, a young man who occasionally drinks to excess in the social circle. He does not dream that he is entering upon a course which will probably end in confirmed intemperance: he means no harm: he says of the sin, is it not a little one-there can be no danger in this? But soon his bands are made strong, and he becomes the slave of a sottish vice.

Thus it is with all vicious practices. However slight at first, they tend, by a strong and necessary impulse, to the point of utter depravation of principle, and ruin of character. There is no safety but in guarding against the first approach of evil. To step upon forbidden ground is to throw one's self into the power of the destroyer; and, if God interpose not to deliver, ruin is inevitable. It was a wise saying among the ancients, that the way of vice lies down the hill. If you take but a few steps, the motion soon becomes so impetuous and violent, that it is impossible for you to resist it.