usual, and began to reason with Mr. Evarts, and tell him that it was altogether uncertain, when another boat would come along. But Mr. Evarts told him, he could not travel on the Sabbath. It was soon rumored among the passengers, who were more surprised than the Captain had been. They looked upon Mr. Evarts as alınost beside himself, and tried to dissuade him from his purpose by telling him that he might stay there a whole fortnight before another boat come along. "No matte for that," was Mr. Evarts' laconic reply; "Providence will take care. Duty is mine; consequences I must leave with God." Finding his passenger fixed in purpose, the Captain landed him. On the Sabbath Mr. Evarts conducted a religious meeting in the destitute villiage, at which he stopped; and early Monday morning, another steamboat came along, and brought him to the place of his destination almost as soon, as if he had continued in the first boat. "There," said I, "was a proper observance of the Sabbath; and I think every enlightened Christian in the land would approve the conduct of Mr. Evarts." "Well," said he, if I had done so, and run the risk of being kept away from my business and family a whole fortnight, I should have thought myself fit for a mad-house."

Brothers and Sisters.

IF your Father in heaven has blessed you with such relations, you must be very grateful for his kindness. Treat them with the most affectionate regard. If they are older and wiser than you are, take their advice, and follow their example. If they are yonger, do all in your power to teach them good. Never speak unkindly, or indulge anger toward them. Remember if they should be taken from you by death, how unhappy such remembrances would make you. There was once a little boy, who was often seen at the grave of a brother younger than himself, who suddenly died. He used to sit down upon the grave and weep bitterly. A friend led him nway, and asked him why he mourned so long for his brother. He answered, sobbing, "because I did not love

him more when he was alive." If you are out of patience with a brother or sister, remember how you would wish to have treated them, should death take them from you, or you from them. It is a great misfortune to have no brother or sister. Some children have no such companions, and grow up in loneliness. When they study their lessons, there is no older brother or sister to explain or encourage them. When they come home from school, there are no little feet to run and meet them; no glad voice to say, "how glad I am to see you, dear brother, or sister," and no sweet babe for them to take in their arms and kiss. And when they grow up, and are sick and sorrowful, there will be none to whom they can say, "My sister," or "my brother," when they pour out the burdens of their hearts.

Kindness and affection between children of the same family, is delightful to an observer. I never knew it more sweetly displayed than by two little deaf and dumb sisters. Their names were Phoebe and Frances Hammond. When the youngest began to walk, the other was always by her side to assist her tottering steps. When they were permitted to play out of doors, Phœbe took care of Frances, who was two and a half years younger than herself. If she saw any thing coming, which she feared would hurt her, she clasped her in her arms with the utmost tenderness. She was never out of patience with the little one, or tired of performing any labor for her. They were not able to speak, because they were deaf and dumb, but they looked at each other with the sweetest smiles, and by the signs which they invented, and the tender language of the eyes, understood each other's wants, and sorrows and pleasures. If one received a gift, she divided it with the other: or if it could not be divided, it was considered as the property of both. So entire was their love, that it seemed, as if one heart animated two bodies. When the youngest was but seven years old, they were both sent many miles from their parents, to the Asylum for the deaf and dumb, in Hartford, Conn. Here they were left among strangers. But they took their seats pleasantly with the one hundred and forty pupils. When the lessons of the day were over, they comforted each other with their sisterly love

Phœbe tried to be a mother to Frances. She taught her to keep her clothes without spot or stain, and to put every article she used in its right place. She led her by the hand wherever she went, and if there were any tears on her cheeks, she kissed them away. Little Frances looked up to her with the most endearing confidence. When they went home to spend their vacations, the affection of these sweet silent sisters was admired by every one. In 1829, Phoebe was taken sick of a consumption. She was obliged to leave the asylum, and go to her parents. She wished every day to be carried into a room and left alone, that she might pray to her Father in heaven. "I am so weak," she said, "that I shall die. I pray to go to heaven. I wish Frances to love God. She is my good sister." When asked if she wished to be restored to health, she replied, "No, I would see Jesus." And in quietness and peace she departed to be with the Lord. Now the constant affection which gave so much happiness to these little silent sisters is a good example to those who are blessed with the power of hearing and speech. Let all, therefore, who have brothers or sisters, perform their duty to them, and the God of love will bless them.

An Affecting Narrative.

Two little boys, decently clothed, the eldest appearing about thirteen, and the youngest eleven, called at the Lodging House for vagrants in Warrington, Eng. for a night's lodging; the keeper of the house very properly took them to the Vagrant Office to be examined; and, if proper objects, to be relieved. The account they gave of themselves was extremely affecting; and no doubt was entertained of its truth. It appeared, that but a few weeks had elapsed since these poor little wanderers had resided. with their parents in London. The typhus fever, however, in one day, carried off both father and mother, leaving them orphans in a wide world, without a home and without friends. Immediately after the last mournful tribute had been paid to their parents' memory, having an uncle in Liverpool-poor and destitute as they were, they resolved to go and throw themse ves upon his protection.

Tired therefore and faint, they arrived in this town on their way. Two bundles contained their little all. In the youngest boy's was found neatly covered and care fully preserved, a Bible. The keeper of the lodging house addressing the little boy, said, "You have neither money nor meat, will you sell me this Bible? I will give five shillings for it." "No," exclaimed he, (the tears rolling down his youthful cheek,) "I'll starve first." He then said, "There are plenty of books to be bought besides this; why do you love the Bible so much?" He replied, "No book has stood my friend so much as my Bible." "Why, what has your Bible done for you?" said he. He answered, "when I was a little boy about seven years of age, I became a Sunday Scholar in London; through the kind attention of my master, I soon learned to read my Bible; this Bible, young as I was, soon showed me that I was a sinner, and a great one too; it also pointed me to a Savior; and I thank God that I have found mercy at the hand of Christ, and am not ashamed to confess him before the world." To try him still further, six shillings was then offered him for his Bible. "No," said he, "for it has been my support all the way from London: hungry and weary, often have I sat down by the way side to read my Bible, and have found refreshment from it." Thus did he experience the consolations of the Psalmist, when he said, "In the multitude of sorrows that I had in my heart, thy comforts have refreshed my soul." He was then asked-"What will you do, when you get to Liverpool, should your uncle refuse to take you in?" His reply may excite a blush in many established Christians-"My Bible tells me," said he, "when my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up." The man could go no further, tears choaked his utterance, and they both wept together. They had in their pockets, tickets, rewards for their good conduct, from the school to which they belong ed and thankfulness and humility were visible in all their deportment. At night these two little orphans, bending their knees by the side of their bed, committed themselves to the care of their heavenly Father-to Him whose ears are ever open to the prayers of the poor destitute; and to Him who has said, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will relieve thee, and thou shalt glorify me." The nex

morning these refreshed little wanderers arose early, addressed themselves to their Maker, and set out for the town of Liverpool; and, may He who hears the ravens when they cry, hear and answer their petitions, guide them through time, and bless them in eternity.

A Rare Combination.

WE have the following singular and interesting facts. from a gentleman of our acquaintance now residing in the city of N. York, who was acquainted with the persons and the circumstances mentioned below.

During the past winter, owing to the depth of the snow and the severity of the weather, the price of wood reached the enormous sum of twenty-four dollars a cord, and consequently there was much of severe suffering among the multitude of the poor in that city. A call was made upon the benevolent to contribute for their relief. Individuals had their different districts assigned them, and a call was made at every house. So that those who were able might have an opportunity to contribute, and that those who were in want might be searched out and relieved. One of the gentlemen thus employed in the upper part of the city, called at the hut of a man of color, who was well known there, from the circumstance of his driving a single cow before a cart, guiding her with reins,-obtaining a living by the employment, which he found in the business of a carman. The gentleman as he entered, noticed in a pack yard a considerable quantity of hickory wood, and inquired of the occupant whether it was his, and being told that it was, proposed to purchase some of it. But he refused to sell. The price at which wood was then selling was offered and urged upon him; but no, he would. part with it at no price. The gentleman told him the object for which he wanted it, and mentioned the distress of the numerous objects of charity in the city at that inclement season. The negro after a little conversation told the applicant, that if it was to be given to the poor, he might send for nine loads, for which he should take no pay, and that he might have nine loads more for the same price which he paid for it 'n the fall-being about one