cocks where that boy was brought up;" or, "The silly girl is not to blame, for she was dolled up, from a doll in the cradle to a doll in the parlor." All children have foolish desires, freaks, caprices, appetites, which they have no power or skill to gratify; but the foolish parent supplies all the needed skill, time, money, to gratify them; and thus the greater talent and resource of the parent foster the propensities of the child into excess and predominance. The parental love, which was designed by Heaven to be the guardian angel of the child, is thus transformed into a cruel minister of evil.

Think, my friends, for one moment, of the marvelous nature with which we have been endowed,—of its manifold and diverse capacities, and of their attributes of infinite expansion and duration. Then cast a rapid glance over this magnificent temple of the universe into which we have been brought. The same Being created both by His omnipotence, and by His wisdom. He has adapted the dwelling-place to the dweller. The exhaustless variety of natural objects by which we are surrounded; the relations of the family, of society, and of the race; the adorable perfections of the Divine mind, these are means for the development, and spheres for the activity, and objects for the aspiration of the immortal soul. For the sustentation of our physical natures God has created the teeming earth, and tenanted the field and the forest, the ocean and the air, with innumerable forms of life; and He has said to us, "have dominion" over them. For the education of the perceptive intellect there have been provided the countless multitude and diversity of substances, forms, colors, motions,-from a drop of water to the ocean; from the tiny crystal that sparkles upon the shore, to the sun that blazes in the heavens, and the sun-strown firmanent. For the education of the reflecting intellect we have the infinite relations of discovered and undiscovered sciences,-the encyclopædias of matter and of spirit, of which all the encyclopædias of man, as yet extant, are but the alphabet. We have domestic sympathies looking backward, around, and forward; and answering to these, are the ties of filial, conjugal, and parental relations. Through our inborn sense of melody and harmony, all joyful and

plaintive emotions flow out into spontaneous music; and, not friends and kindred only, but even dead nature echoes back our sorrows and our joys. To give a costless delight to our sense of beauty, we have the variegated landscape, the rainbow, the everrenewing beauty of the moon, the glories of the rising and the setting sun, and the ineffable purity and splendor of that celestial vision when the northern and the southern auroras shoot up from the horizon, and overspread the vast concave with their many-colored flame, as though it were a reflection caught from the waving banner of angels, when the host of heaven rejoices over some sinner that has repented. And finally, for the amplest development, for the eternal progress of those attributes that are proper to man, -for conscience, for the love of truth, for that highest of all emotions, the love and adoration of our Creator,--God, in his unsearchable riches, has made full provision. And here, on the one hand, is the subject of education, the child, with its manifold and wonderful powers-and, on the other hand, this height and depth, and boundlessness of natural and of spiritual instrumentalities to build up the nature of that child into a capacity for the intellectual comprehension of the universe, and into a spiritual similitude to its Author. And who are they that lay their rash hands upon this holy work? Where or when have they learned, or sought to learn, to look at the unfolding powers of the child's soul, and to see what it requires, and then to run their eye and hand over this universe of material and of moral agencies, and to select and apply whatever is needed, at the time needed, and in the measure needed? Surely, in no other department of life is knowledge so indispensable; surely, in no other is it so little sought for. In no other navigation is there such danger of wreck; in no other is there such blind pilotage.

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You all recollect, my friends, that memorable fire which befell the city of New York, in the year 1835. It took place in the heart of that great emporium,-a spot where merchants whose wealth was like princes' had gathered their treasures. In but few places or the surface of the globe was there accumulated such a mass of

riches. From each continent and from all the islands of the sea, ships had brought thither their tributary offerings, until it seemed like a magazine of the nations, the coffer of the world's wealth. In the midst of these hoards, the fire broke out. It raged between two and three days. Above, the dome of the sky was filled with appalling blackness; below, the flames were of an unapproachable intensity of light and heat; and such were the inclemency of the season and the raging of the elements, that all human power and human art seemed as vanity and nothing. Yet, situated in the very midst of that conflagration, there was one building, upon which the storm of fire beat in vain. All around, from elevated points in the distance, from steeples and the roofs of houses, thousands of the trembling inhabitants gazed upon the awful scene; and thought—as well they might that it was one of universal and undistinguishing havoc. But, as some swift cross-wind furrowed athwart that sea of flame, or a broad blast beat down its aspiring crests, there, safe amidst ruin, erect amongst the falling walls, was seen that single edifice. And when, at last, the ravage ceased, and men again walked those streets in sorrow, which so lately they had walked in pride, there stood that solitary edifice, unharmed amid surrounding desolation; from the foundation to the cope-stone, unscathed; and over the treasure which had been confided to its keeping, the smell of fire had not passed. There it stood, like an honest man in the streets of Sodom. Now, why was this? It was constructed from the same materials, of brick and mortar, of iron and slate, with the thousands around it whose substance was now rubbish and their contents ashes. Now, why was this? It was built by a workman. It was BUILT BY A WORKMAN. The man who erected that surviving, victorious structure knew the nature of the materials he used; he knew the element of fire; he knew the power of combustion. Fidelity seconded his knowledge. He did not put in stucco for granite, nor touch-wood for iron. He was not satisfied with outside ornaments, with finical cornices and gingerbread work; but deep in all its hidden foundations-in the interior of its walls, and in all its secret joints-where no

human eye should ever see the compact masonry-he consolidateà, and cemented, and closed it in, until it became impregnable to fire -insoluble in that volcano. And thus, my hearers, must parents become workmen in the education of their children. They must Know that, from the very nature and constitution of things, a lofty and enduring character cannot be formed by ignorance and chance. They must know that no skill or power of man can ever lay the imperishable foundations of virtue, by using the low motives of fear, and the pride of superiority, and the love of worldly applause or of worldly wealth, any more than they can rear a material edifice, storm-proof and fire-proof, from bamboo and cane-brake!

Until, then, this subject of education is far more studied and far better understood than it has ever yet been, there can be no security for the formation of pure and noble minds; and though the child that is born to-day may turn out an Abel, yet we have no assurance that he will not be a Cain. Until parents will learn to train up children in the way they should go-until they will learn what that way is the paths that lead down to the realms of destruction must continue to be thronged; the doting father shall feel the pangs of a disobedient and profligate son, and the mother shall see the beautiful child whom she folds to her bosom turn to a coiling serpent and sting the breast upon which it was cherished. Until the thousandth and the ten thousandth generation shall have passed away the Deity may go on doing his part of the work, but unless we do our part also, the work will never be done-and until it is done, the river of parental tears must continue to flow. like Rachael, parents shall weep for their children because they are, and not because they are not; nor shall they be comforted, until they will learn that God in His infinite wisdom has pervaded the universe with immutable laws-laws which may be made productive of the highest forms of goodness and happiness; and, in His infinite mercy, has provided the means by which those laws can be discovered and obeyed; but that He has left it to us to learn and to apply them, or to suffer the unutterable consequences of ignorance. But when the immortal nature of the child shall be brought within the

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action of those influences--each at its appointed time-which have been graciously prepared for training it up in the way it should go, then may we be sure, that God will clothe its spirit in garments of amianthus, that it may not be corrupted, and of asbestos, that it may not be consumed, and that it will be able to walk through the pools of earthly pollution, and through the furnace of earthly temptation, and come forth white as linen that has been washed by the fuller and pure as the golden wedge of Ophir that has been refined in th refiner's fire.

Pictures.

How

We don't care whether pictures abound in a house from pride, fashion, or taste, so that they be there. If there is insensibility in the proprietor, he may be the means of gratifying taste in others, or of awakening a taste where it was lying inactive before. It is more delightful, of course, where good taste prompts their supply; then the pleasure of the exhibitor is added to the gazer, be he never so humble, and the two realize a better brotherhood-not before recognized, perhaps in the broad avenue of natural taste. cheerful the walls of a home look with them; and, by the rule of opposites, how cheerless without them! It is a garden without flowers, a family without children. Let an observing man enter a house, and ten times in ten he can decide the character of the proprietor. If he is a mean man, there will be no pictures; if rich and ostentatious, they will be garish and costly, brought from over the water, with expensive frames, and mated with mathematical exactness; if a man of taste, the quality is observable, and, whatever their number or arrangement, regard has evidently been had to the beauty of subject and fitness, with just attention to light and position. In humble homes, when this taste exists, it still reveals itself, though cheaply, but the quick eye detects it and