ith his brothers and sister, the value he attached to every token of
her love to him, convinced us that he remembered her with deep
affection.

When a young man, he was several times beguiled by the tempter into
forbidden paths, and his eyes were not opened to behold the danger
until the fangs of the serpent pierced deeply into his heart. Then most
fully did he realize that he was _poor motherless William_; that he was
abroad in the world without those most effectual safeguards against sin,
a good mother's counsels and a mother's daily prayers; that while others
could express unreservedly to their mothers their hopes or fears, their
success or misfortune, their faithfulness in the hour of temptation or
weakness under its power, and be counselled, encouraged, urged or
entreated anew,--he could only go to his mother's grave and shed bitter
tears of repentance in loneliness, or withdraw himself from all around
him, and, _a poor motherless child,_ call up the dim remembrance of that
young and cheerful being who once called him her precious son, her
treasured child,--and weep the more bitterly that no answering voice or
smile, or look of encouragement or hope, met _him_ in this sinful world!

Oh ye who have hearts to feel, who profess Christian principles to guide
you, and the holy love of our Master for your example, seek out the
_motherless child_ of the poor, the ignorant, the vicious, and by the
power of Christ which is within you, according to the measure of that
power, strive to be like fond mothers to the thousands who cry "We have
no dear mother--our mother is in heaven--is dead--and we know not what
is right or what is wrong!" Help and pity them. Rescue them from that
heart-breaking loneliness and sorrow that prey incessantly on the
feelings of a sensitive, intelligent, _motherless child_.

FAITH.

BY MRS. E.R.B. WALDO.

Upon the peaceful breast of Faith
My troubled soul hath found repose,
Free from the sad and starless gloom
That doubting scepticism knows.

Though disappointment, care, and pain,
Have bent my heart to their decree,
One thought hath ever led me on,
It is, _that it was so to be_.

Oft would my weary spirit faint,
My heart yield almost to despair,
Did not "a still small voice" exclaim,
"There is no change, but God is there."

That mighty power which points the shaft,
And forms the spirit to endure,
Will, in its own peculiar