But where are we running? We must positively pass over hundreds of interesting pages, and be silent about Bristol, Cowslip Green, Barley Wood, and all the good men and women who visited those places, or wrote to them, or had favours from the excellent pen of the subject of our memoir. Yes, we say we must omit them, lest our readers should complain that our article is too long, or Mr. Seeley should obtain an injunction against our Magazine for robbing his volumes too much. We should, indeed, like to tell of her schools, the opposition she met with, and the manner in which she at length overcame it; of her illnesses, and the support she experienced in those gloomy seasons; of her studies, publications, her congratulations, her wit, and a thousand things besides; but we must abstain. Here, however, are a few lines which we will give, partly because they are very beautiful in themselves, and partly on account of the interest which passing events impart to them. Sir Alexander Johnstone, of Ceylon, had requested her to furnish a few lines on the abolition of domestic slavery in that island: she wrote: SABAT-HOLDING OUT THE BIBLE. This is the boon which England sends, Oh blest exchange for fragrant groves! It yields a trade of noblest gain, This shows us freedom how to use, Then let our masters gladly find, A free man works the faster ; Who serves his God with heart and mind, But we must positively close the volumes, hoping that our readers will shortly take them into their friendly custody. We shall only add, that after having adorned humanity and religion for eighty-eight years, Hannah More exchanged earth for heaven on September 7th, 1833. O that very many of our female readers may be found emulating her example, and ultimately enjoying her reward! MONITORY HINTS TO CHRISTIAN PARENTS, ON THE RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION OF THEIR CHILDREN. BY THE REV. JOHN THORNTON, OF BILLERICAY. 1. REMEMBER that it is your duty to use all possible efforts to communicate to the tender pledges of conjugal love, those truths which have enlightened your own minds, and warmed your own hearts. God himself saith, "Thou shalt teach them diligently to thy children, and thou shalt talk of them when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up." A thousand insinuations and cavils of objectors are swept away by one divine command. It is the declared will of God that you should early instil into the minds of your children the principles of true religion. You are appointed the guides and guardians of their youth. Without a sense of your obligation, little will be attempted, and still less done, in the religious education of your children. In every engagement where difficulties are to be encountered, drawbacks are to be expected, and trials are to be endured; nothing is efficient, but a deep, strong, solemn sense of duty. This is the main spring of movement; the mighty lever, before the force of which every obstacle surely, though sometimes slowly, eventually gives way. You may well appropriate the Apostle's language, and exclaim, "Necessity is laid upon us; yea, woe unto us if we train not up our children in the fear of the Lord." 2. Remember that there is an adaptation and suitableness in the truths of Christianity to the human mind, at every period and stage of life. Say not, Our children are so dull and stupid, are so volatile and restless, that to attempt to rouse aud fix their attention were a hopeless task. The elements of common learning may be given them, but religion must be left till they are more fit to receive it. These are vain and idle pleas. The Holy Scriptures are full of interesting narratives and wondrous facts, which are well calculated to strike and engage the opening mind. The Bible has been compared to a river, which has shallows where a lamb may wade, and depths where an elephant may swim; or to a store-house, which contains milk for babes, as well as strong meat for those of mature age. It is your part to lead the lambs to these streams, to feed the babes with these nutricious provisions. It is no visionary and romantic employment to which you are urged, but a work of the highest importance both to you and your family. High talents and wise gifts are not necessary; good feeling and good sense will suffice. Apply yourselves, then, to this great and momentous object with earnestness and assiduity. If a whole band of mockers should deride your plans and labours, disregard them and their banters, and pursue your course. Let it be your aim to win, conciliate, and preserve, the affections of your juvenile charge. Every ray of light which is poured into the understanding, should be combined with a genial glow of love; every exercise of the parental authority, should be softened with tenderness. Set before them examples of early piety, and contrast with these the fearful consequences of vice and profane ness. 3. Remember that all your endeavours depend for their success on the blessing of God. If this is lost sight of, the most plausible theories and systems of education are essentially defective: you must use means, but not rest in them. While we fence, and sow, and plant, and weed, and water a piece of land, we know that it is God alone who giveth the increase. And is it not equally true, as it respects the mental, moral, and religious culture of youth?-Beyond a doubt. While you employ every rational method to stimulate and encourage your children, the blessing of Heaven ought to be fervently, believingly, and perseveringly sought. Begin and carry on your instruction with prayer; breathe out your warmest desires in daily prayer. This is the medium of intercourse between our needy souls and a Being whose fulness of grace cannot be exhausted; the mysterious link, which connects human weakness with almighty power. And recollect, God has said, "Those that honour me I will honour; and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed." Honour, then, his precepts by training up your children in piety and virtue, and trust his promises for the influence of the Holy Spirit to bless your efforts. THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. BY MRS. CAMERON. (Continued from page 42.) SUCH was my unhappy situation, when one morning, to my utter amazement, my uncle, with his eldest daughter, walked into the parlour; they were come with the intention of asking me to visit them. I knew my uncle immediately; he was not so much altered as might have been expected; time had laid a gentle hand upon him, and the years that had passed since the death of my aunt, had brought with them that consolation which the progress of time naturally supplies to a mind habitually conformed to the divine will; but my cousin, had I met her alone, would not have been known to me, although, when I had looked at her for a minute, I recognised, though in an improved form, that sweet countenance which was mingled with all my dreams of infant happiness. Our meeting was, however, warmer on her part than on mine, for she was less changed than I was; hence she retained more of former feelings; neither did she seem sensible of my coldness, for her own bright joy at this re-union, perhaps, rendered her less capable of observing. My uncle and cousin had not heard of the illness of my aunt; but when my uncle was informed of the circumstance, he extended his invitation to my old relation, who was precisely in the state to be benefited by a change of place. I felt no great desire at that time to visit my cousins, nor did I feel any great pleasure in the anticipation of having my aunt for a companion. I was, however, not sorry for a change on any terms; but although I set out in a heartless state of mind, yet as we drew near my uncle's residence, I began to feel some interest in tracing what I could recollect of objects once so well known to me, and an increasing curiosity to see my old friends. It is true that there was a sort of feeling of contempt, mingled with my thoughts of my cousins, as persons likely to know much less of the world than myself, and the very short interview I had lately had with my eldest cousin had not served to remove these ideas, for I had observed that her bonnet was trimmed with an unfashionable colour, and that she had not the precise number of flounces on her dress which fashion required. It was spring when we undertook this journey; and when we came in view of my uncle's old-fashioned house, it appeared surrounded by all the beauties of early green, and the cheerfulness of birds and lambs, and other rural circumstances. What first astonished me on our arrival was, the extreme cordiality of the reception given me by my former companions, all of whom gathered round me, addressing me by my name, and expressing themselves as if I had been a long lost sister, restored to the home of her father; sentiments which I could not understand, for the cold policy of worldly sentiments had rendered me thoroughly selfish. Kind and lovely as was the reception I met with, I was still so unmoved by it, that I had abundant leisure to ascertain how far there might be any exterior perfections in my young relations, which might tend to throw me into the back ground, and to ascertain that there was neither any superior beauty or elegance by which I might fear to be outshone. Yet, although there was nothing remarkable at first sight in my cousins, the ease and cheerfulness of their manners immediately struck me as being something unlike any thing I had ever seen before; and I soon found it very difficult to maintain that sense of my own superiority which I had felt at the first view of this simple and unpresuming group. My uncle's family was large; my eldest female cousin, whom I shall call Maria, had the management of the house, and conducted it with extreme propriety; the rooms were furnished with neatness and simplicity, and the table ordered in the same way; the two next sisters took charge of the education of the five younger children, one of whom had been an infant at the mother's death; the eldest son was living at home with his father, and the second, who was being educated for a profession, happened also to be at home during the time of our visit. My cousins had arranged their employments with a prudence and forethought which I had never met with in such young people, and had so ordered their various duties, that they should not interfere with each other; they had their regular hours of business, and when these were over, they had leisure to devote to the interchange of agreeable conversation, and all those polite attentions which are due from one member of a family to another. I was amazed to find that the affairs of this large family were carried on with less public discussion, and less intrusion on the hours of relaxation and of social intercourse, than had been the arrangement of my aunt's small establishment; with us, at home, every hour had been disturbed by petty cares. Whereas, in my uncle's house, cheerfulness was ever blended with activity, and composure with diligence, with an entire absence of those little disputes and heart-burnings which so often disturb domestic societies. It seemed an established regulation, that the mention of minor evils should be interdicted in the hours when the family met; and although they lived in great retirement, there was more improving and agreeable conversation than I had ever heard in the society in which I mingled at home. I made several fruitless efforts at first to astonish my cousins, with the various changes of my dress, and with the accounts of what I saw and did at home. My female cousins, however, made no comments on my dress, and listened to me with civility, but without any of those expressions of surprise which I had expected. This was mortifying; but the true state of the case was, that their minds, being occupied by more serious duties and more interesting pursuits, were not easily attracted by the various vanities which I exhibited; and if indeed they understood my object, which was to dazzle them by my superior splendour, I wholly lost my aim, for they did not even so much as reprove my follies; but not so their elder brother, who being at that age in which people do not accustom themselves to use any qualifications in uttering their opinions, not unseldom addressed me in a style which I did not entirely relish. From the moment of our arrival, Maria had devoted herself, as far as she was able, to the care of my aunt; she possessed too much penetration, it is certain, to remain long ignorant of the treatment the poor old lady still received from me, and, in consequence, she laboured the more to make up by her gentle and affectionate behaviour towards her for all that she saw deficient in me. These sweet attentions being bestowed upon her at the time in which she most wanted them, were peculiarly blessed to the old lady, and produced upon her character so sweet and sudden an effect, that her mind, which had hitherto been entirely under the power of the world, foot-bound as it were by its hard and chilling influences, suddenly became thawed, and ready to receive many of those opinions and sentiments which it had hitherto been totally incapable of admitting. I shall have occasion, in the sequel, to speak more at length of the revolution which took place at this time in my aunt's character, through the instrumentality, it appeared, of my cousin Maria; yet I cannot now leave the subject without expressing my conviction, that unless the heart of my aunt had been previously prepared by the Almighty, for the preparations of the heart are of the Lord, and all our fresh springs are in him, my amiable cousin would assuredly have laboured in vain, and the gentle yet warm influences of her kindness would have descended as ineffectually upon it as lightning upon ice. But I was much pleased to find myself relieved from all attentions to my aunt, by the voluntary services of Maria, although I could neither account for her behaviour nor for the general conduct of her sisters; they seemed to live for the good of their fellow-creatures, having little thought of themselves, whilst I was ever full of selfish plans, and considered all things merely as they bore upon my own present and peculiar gratifications. I knew nothing then of the life of faith, that life by which the regenerate creature is enabled to seek the glory of God in all his actions, and patiently and cheerfully to fulfil the duties to which he has called us, trusting him with all our concerns for time and for eternity. I was, therefore, amazed at the composure of my cousins, and could not comprehend whence sprang that ease and cheerfulness, and that polish of manners, which the constant manifestation of Christian charity in our behaviour is sure to produce. Yet I felt the superiority of all this to my own perpetual aim at gentility, though I would not acknowledge this conviction to myself; and |