MY MOTHER LOOKED SAD. LATE one autumn I returned from the forest with a beautiful brown rabbit imprisoned in my box-trap. I conveyed it home with an exulting heart, in the buoyancy of unreflecting boyhood, expecting congratulation and the expression of congenial joy from my loving and beloved mother, in announcing the welcome tidings of my success. Rare pleasure would she share with me upon exhibiting my innocent captive. I loved my mother's smile; but as I hastened to relate my achievement, how great was my disappointment! My mother lookeď sad. "My son, I wish you had a taste for higher and better pursuits," was her only reply. Volumes were contained in these few words. They indeed damped my spirits, and sent pain to my heart; but they were words of wisdom and love. They awakened the sober, salutary thought, that time was not given me for selfish gratification or unprofitable amusement, but for mental and moral culture, and for the great ends worthy of a rational, immortal being. They struck deeply into my memory and my conscience, and often they revived, in a sober hour, in future years, to check wayward inclinations, and to reprove and restrain me when solicited by temptation to devote time to ignoble objects. What thanks shall I render to God for such a mother! Many a Ichild would have been cheered with smiles and gratulatory words, fanning the growing passion for the trap and the gun. And what might have been the moral influence of such treatment from my own fond mother in that momentous period of life? I tremble at what might have been the result. Selfindulgence I imagined to be the source of happiness; and in this delusive, ruinous sentiment I might have been confirmed, to my utter undoing. That scene is fresh before me; my mother at her foot-spinning-wheel-the trap introduced, despite the sobering words just spoken-the prisoner released in my inconsiderateness to play in the room, as if this must gratify her whom I so much loved, no less than myself. Poor victim! Few were his terrified leaps, ere he rushed into the open, blazing fire upon the hearth, whence he was taken with the tongs by my distressed mother, and dispatched in haste to end his pains. Then, too, I was sad; for I had brought to a miserable death the innocent animal: and all my promised pleasure had vanished, like the smoke of the fire into which my captive had vainly hurried for safety. Then and there I learnt the lesson, never to be forgotten, that the pursuit of mere pleasure at the expense of the happiness and life of the inferior, harmless creatures around us is irrational and criminal. It was time to have higher aims, and to aspire after nobler objects. This was seen and felt by one who loved me more wisely than I loved myself, and whose fervent desire and prayers were, that my happiness might be found in the fear, love, and service of God. She well knew that a heart unrenewed and devoid of Christian affections could not be the abode of joy or peace, which will abide through the changes of time, and survive the sorrows of earth and the solemnities of death and the grave.-J. L., Mothers' Treasury. PREVIOUS to the introduction of mills, corn was reduced to flour by pounding. The hand-mills of India were probably the earliest specimens of this species of machinery. TIME'S WINGS. TIME'S wings are bearing us away To our eternal home; This life is but a winter's day- Bright youth and vigour soon shall flee, Time's wings are bearing us away But soon the Christian shall enjoy Time's wings, though bearing us away If we were led to Christ to fly- MEMOIR OF ELIZABETH PALMER. A BRIEF account of the last illness and death of Elizabeth Palmer, of Barking Road, Essex, who was taken home January 27, 1871, in the fourteenth year of her age. This dear child was brought up under the ministry of the Word, and I am witness to some of the many pleadings made at a throne of grace by her gracious parents on her behalf. It would appear, from some remarks made by her during her last illness, that she was the subject of convictions when only ten years of age, though it is impossible to judge of what nature, as she was very reserved on all subjects connected with her interests for eternity (and indeed, up to the time of her death, it was not so much the quantity she uttered as it was the way in which what she did utter was commended to the consciences of those who heard her as being the work of the Holy Spirit in her soul). At the commencement of her illness her mother was led to entreat of the Lord concerning her, and these words were sweet to her: "All thy children shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children." But still there was not any ground for hope that a change had taken place in the child until, drawing towards the close of her illness, her mother said to her one day, "Do you feel yourself a sinner ?" She replied, "I am nothing but sin; is there any hope for me? I pray the Lord to make me willing to submit to His will, and He has done that." She then wept aloud. At another time, apparently meditating, she said, "Do I love Him? Yes, I do." Her illness was of a nature that caused her to be rather irritable and peevish, which seemed to trouble her very much. At one time she spoke rather unadvisedly to her aunt, and afterwards seemed to feel it very much, saying, What a dreadful creature I am! I feel worse than a beast," and begged her aunt to forgive her. At another time she said to her mother, "Do not pray for me to get better, I shall be sure to sin if I live, and I feel so happy and comfortable now. I like you to pray and read." Now her mother 66 |