the mother's gushing heart, while it yearned over him with the keenness and fullness of maternal feeling, could silently thank her Savior that grace triumphed, and that she was enabled freely to offer up such a sacrifice in so glorious a cause. Even his twin-sister, the lovely Helen, as she fixed her beaming eyes on her fondly-loved brother, seemed to say, by her affectionate cheerfulness,—“you shall find no hindrance in me, brother, in your holy desire to win the wandering back to the fold of Christ. Go: may the Lord bless you. Fain would I go myself, and seek to save those perishing souls for whom Christ has died." Frederic's companion, Mr. Lacy, had consecrated himself to the same work. Said the old man-" Well, my friend, go, and may the Lord bless you: and my son here-I give him up heartily to the same work. I gave him to the work of the Lord before he could lisp the name of father; I made no conditions where he should labor. And now, when the Lord calls for a fulfilment of my pledge, and appoints him to a foreign land, where my eyes may never again see him, nor he be allowed as a comfort and prop in my old age, shall I say, no-I cannot let thee go? Never! I bless the Lord from the depths of my soul, that he has permitted me to train for his use one missionary of the cross of Christ. I have not lived in vain; though I mourn that I have been so worthless myself as to any efficient personal aid I have lent the Lord." Let christian parents peruse this, and reflect.

There are many interesting and prominent topics, which we must of necessity pass by in silence. The effect of fashion and gaiety upon religious feelings, is alluded to quite to the purpose and with becoming delicacy. Some young ladies of undoubted piety, palsy their usefulness by a too great. display of dress and personal appearance; and this, not that they are intentionally proud, but they have been trained thus. The fault and the guilt, in no small degree, belongs to the indulgence and pride of their mothers. Pride is rapid in its growth, and instead of being cultivated, needs to be rooted out of the heart, and left to wither and die. We recommend this subject, as it is treated in the work before us, to mothers most of all, that they may learn the wisest method of educating their daughters, and moderate their maternal fondness. It may be well for all to read this part of the "Wife for a Missionary" with self-application.

The motives which should prompt to the dedication of one's self to the work of missions are not overlooked. One may become a missionary out of pure selfishness-to gratify a spirit of adventure and novelty. He who would stand on the shores of India, or China, as a herald of the glad-tidings of redeeming love to man, must be inspired with far other motives; his purposes must be like those of his Savior, he must look beyond self, and sacrifice self to the enterprise of benefiting others. But we must hasten to notice the character of her who is to be the missionary's wife. Her qualifications, as they ought to be, are most admirably exhibited. Here we cannot do justice to the subject. We hope the "Wife for a Missionary" will be read and studied, as furnishing a most perfect example of a female consecrating herself to the work of missions. To make extracts from our favorite volume would be to but little purpose, for we could not be copious enough to illustrate its merits with any degree of justice. The Missionary's wife must combine glowing, well disciplined piety, with education and an inquiring mind. She must resolve on perils and be prepared to meet them; fortitude and meek

ness should harmoniously blend in all her plans and conduct. Her mental cultivation should be "for a life of real usefulness." Her manners should be winning. She should be heroic-for woman can put on the armor of holiness-she can fight as with an angel's strength, for she may wield the sword of the spirit. She should be eminently endowed with the power of eliciting the attention of children, and communicating instruction. She must determine to break away from the embraces of home. Most of all, she should be "eloquent in prayer," and instant at the mercy seat. One thus gifted, with a pure benevolence-a cultivated intellect-an extensive.acquaintance with human nature-a fortitude which knows not defeat-a self-denial which is ready to suffer and even to die for the salvation of others—such a female may enter upon the work of foreign missions, in the hope, nay the assurance of leading many souls to Christ. But we are warned to terminate our remarks. We will add but a single sentence. "The Wife for a Missionary," is calculated to do great good-it breathes throughout the spirit of the purest holiness. We recommend it as worthy of the perusal of every follower of Christ. We have offered these remarks hastily-they are of course disconnected, and in some respects may be erroneous.

GEO.

For the Microcosm.

EDWARD FAIRFIELD;

OR, THE INFLUENCE OF SUSPICION.

In the summer of 1830, Edward Fairfield, on account of ill health, obt. ed leave of absence for a few weeks, from the University of which he was distinguished member. He proceeded forthwith to the beautiful and roman. tic village of H—, in New Hampshire, where he found Mr. Thornton his former teacher and old friend, who was now the highly esteemed pastor of a flourishing parish.

Relaxation and change of air, together with the cheerful company of the clergyman and his lovely wife, soon restored his health and spirits.

"I shall reckon this visit among my days of happiest memory," said he to Mr. and Mrs. Thornton, as they were taking their accustomed twilight ramble"Indeed I very much regret to leave you."

"You will not return at present," said Mr. Thornton. "I think I must start to morrow," replied Fairfield. "You must not go yet," said Mr. Thornton, "you have not been introduced to all the interesting and beautiful things of”"Certainly not," interupted Mrs. Thornton, "you must stay at least two days longer-for to-morrow evening our sewing society meets, and I have an invitation for you to attend; and the next evening, I intend to invite a small party of select friends at our house. I shall not consent to have you leave, until you have become acquainted with Miss Mayville. Unless I am greatly mistaken you will find in her a rare union of loveliness, intelligence, and simplicity-indeed all you can wish in a lady"

Mrs. Thornton had struck a cord, which vibrated to his heart. Fairfield had long felt an aching void-an oppressive loneliness of spirit-an unutterable longing to find some kindred spirit, upon whom he could bestow the deep affection of his soul. "I thank you, Mrs. Thornton," replied Fairfield, "your arguments are quite irresistable. Like a true orator, you make your way at once to the heart."

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Yes," said Mr. Thornton, playfully, "she always storms the heart.” “Hush, hush, husband!" she replied, "I think when Mr. Fairfield becomes acquainted with Miss Mayville, I shall no longer need arguments to induce him to remain. Perhaps even our village may become such a center of attraction to him, that we shall often be favored with his company."

They had now returned to the parlor, and who should they find there but Thekla Mayville herself. She had called with another lady to consult Mr. Thornton, in reference to the disposal of the funds of their sewing society. I must inform thee, reader, that these industrious and benevolent societies are the meek ornament of almost every New England parish. The ladies meet one afternoon of each week, and ply their needles with great industry, while one of their number reads some useful and interesting book, for the mutual instruction and edification of the company. Gentlemen are frequently invited to attend in the evening, and display their munificence in the purchase of various articles of their handiwork. The avails of their industry are sacredly consecrated to the cause of benevolence and religion.

I need not describe the interest with which Edward Fairfield observed every expression, word, and tone of Miss Mayville. She was not regularly beautiful; yet she had a sweet mildness and honest frankness in her face, which made her a universal favorite, an object of deep interest, if not of admiration. Her voice was mellow and sweet, her eye dark and enthusiastic, and her conversation vivacious, free and intelligent.

“Well, Mr. Fairfield," said Mrs. Thornton as she returned from attending the ladies to the door, "what do you think of Miss Mayville." "She is lovely," exclaimed he. “I think your opinion of her perfectly correct—you said she was a rare union of loveliness, intelligence, and simplicity, and I think so too. Will she be at your society to-morrow? "I want" said he with emphasis, "to see her again very much." "But," continued he looking out the window, perhaps like yonder twinkling star, she is far beyond my reach."

"And perhaps not," said Mr. Thornton, who sat looking out the window and listening to the conversation-" I am happy to find you so much interested Mr. Fairfield, she is certainly a lady of inestimable worth. I hope you may have other reasons for gratitude to God for directing you here, besides the recovery of your health."

"Thank you, Mr. Thornton," replied Fairfield, "but" continued he, "is it not strange, that a connexion which involves so much of our happiness and usefulness, as that of marriage, should be determined by such apparent haphazard circumstances. Marriage is a holy institution; but to me, the ordinary process of selecting and securing the person with whom the holy alliance is to be formed, appears trifling and revolting.”

"Very true," answered Mr. I horuton, "every thing in human society is marred by sin. Yet, what we are accustomed to call hap-hazard is really providential. I doubt, however, whether there is any thing more strange, or dependant upon circumstances over which we have no control, in the woo

ing and winning a fair lady, than in selecting a profession, or a place of residence."

"Suppose," replied Fairfield, “a gentleman deeply interested in a lady— the customs of society are such, that he cannot determine, whether his affections are reciprocated, or whether they are made the object of sport and ridicule."

"No lady who is deserving the name," said Mrs. Thornton, "will trifle with or even expose the avowal of a gentleman's love. But I hope Mr. F.” she continued, "you are not one of those, who could deprive a lady of her birthright-the privilege of concealing her own feelings, until a gentleman makes a full declaration of his own. This is our inalienable right-and no gentleman of correct sentiments and true delicacy, would wish a lady to lay open the sanctuary of her heart, until called upon, in the most express terms."

Edward Fairfield acknowledged the justice of Mr. and Mrs. Thornton's remarks; yet he was not satisfied. He felt that there were difficulties of no ordinary character, connected with the subject of their conversation. He shrunk instinctively from the thought of wasting his affections, where they would not be reciprocated;-and the idea of proffering himself body and soul to a lady before he knew she loved him more than any earthly object, he could not endure. Jealousy of his own power to interest Miss Mayville, haunted him like a spectre. The next evening at length arrived and found him at the sewing society seated by Miss Mayville, admiring her handiwork, and exchanging thoughts and sentiments on a variety of subjects. His conversation was lively and fluent, often sparkling with wit and humor; -his manners graceful and familiar, yet respectful;-and his person tall and commanding ;--and strange as it may seem, while he was a universal favorite he seemed to be perfectly unconscious of it, and always expressed the greatest distrust of his power to interest others. So marked were his attentions to Miss Mayville during the evening, and so cordially were they received, that some of the more observing ones whispered among themselves that the signs of the times portended a match. A more cautious and wily man, would have been more general in his attentions, and less open in the manifestation of his preference. But Fairfield loathed and despised all hypocrisy and artifice, and was himself, on all occasions, perfectly frank and ingenuous. The evening pleasantly and rapidly passed away, and he found himself arm in arm with Miss Mayville attending her to her home. It was a calm and beautiful evening. The silver moon was just rising over the tops of the trees, and the stars were fading away in her mellow light. The katy-did sang merily, and the nightingale's mellifluous song floated on the breeze. Their way led along the banks of a rivulet which seemed to chime with its rumbling bass to the music around.

"Beautiful!" exclaimed Fairfield, pointing to the moon, "and what a sweet and hallowed light falls upon the meadows, the groves and the water. Can any thing be more beautiful? This is a scene for a poet."

"Delightful," responded Miss Mayville, "the katy-did, the nightingale, and the brook seem already to have caught the inspiration."

They became so deeply engaged in conversation on the beauty of the night and scenery, that the company with which they started, had passed on out of sight and left them alone.

"We are left alone," said Thekla, quickening her step.

"True, Miss Mayville, but I can hardly regret their absence. One congenial spirit at such a time as this, quickens and augments our pleasure ;-but more seems to disturb and dissipate the calm and holy feelings which, like magic, possess the soul."

Fairfield proceeded in a strain scarcely less poetical than philosophical, to speak of the instinctive longings of the soul for some kindred spirit with whom it can sympathize, and know that its own feelings find an actual response and echo in the heart of another. "It is," said he, " in the eloquent language of Coleridge, "that willing sense of the unsufficingness of the self for itself, which predisposes a generous nature to see, in the total being of another the supplement and completion of its own;-that quiet perpetual seeking which the presence of the beloved object modulates, not suspends, where the heart momently finds, and, finding, again seeks on." This is my home," said Thekla, as they approached a neat little cottage glimmering through the trees which half concealed it.

"Our walk has been very short," said Fairfield.

"More than half a mile," replied Thekla. "Time passes rapidly, Mr. Fairfield, when we are discoursing on subjects which deeply interest us." Very true," rejoined Fairfield, "and perhaps our interest in the audience before whom we discourse, may have some effect."

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After a short conversation at the door, pressing her hand and breathing kind wishes, he bade her good night, and returned to his lodgings. Thekla Mayville had become the magnetic center of all his thoughts, feelings and emotions and he believed her the only "supplement and completion of his own being."

To be continued.

For the Microcosm.

EVENING.

THE noise of trade has ceased, and all is still,
Save where some lated traveler doth stray;
And as night gathers o'er him drear and chill,
Thinks of his home to speed him on the way.

The light of day is fading from the earth,

And while home's hallow'd joys their sabbath keep,

And smiling faces crowd the cheerful hearth,
I sit unfriended and alone and weep.

Yet not unfriended am I, or alone;

For as night's deep'ning shadows upward steal,
Concealing human works-till all are gone,

I seem to lose my hold on man-to feel

Alone with God-on Him depend

Who knows no change, no weariness,-no end.