hearts of relatives and friends with warm affection towards each other. But, in this season and time, while celebrating the birthday of the Prince of Peace, the gentle Bringer of Good Tidings, the Representative of his Father and our Father, his God and our God, we find even the strongest family ties drawn closer. Yet, let not our kind feelings, although they centre in our home circle, be contracted there, let them expand, as does the circle in the water. Let us, as far as we can. cheer the hearts and the homes of those who have not our means of comfort and warmth. Peter and John had neither silver nor gold to bestow, but they cured the lame man. We, too, may not have wealth to bestow on our poor neighbours, but we can all give kind, gentle words and deeds, sympathy with sorrow, sympathy with joy. All may give these, and that best gift, a good example of steady conduct, strict truth, unbending honesty and justice, good temper, piety towards God, blameless conduct towards our neighbours; all may give this, every day and all day long. The old year draws towards its close, but before it leaves us it would be well to ask ourselves what we have thought, learned, done, during 1857. We all, no doubt, began the year with good resolutions and plans of amendment. What have these produced? Some have flowered and ripened into fruit; some have failed. But courage, dear young friends! Try again in 1858, the good that you left unfinished in 1857. Try again, you are a year older than last Christmas. It is better and braver to try again, than sit and grieve over past failures. Look back on such to see why you erred, and then look steadily, cheerfully, bravely, to the work before you. Let every improvement in goodness, wisdom, learning, cheer you on to further efforts. Ask God's help, and you will receive it. Seek His truth, and you will find it. Knock, by frequent and earnest prayer, and the gates of heaven will be opened unto you. Dear young friends, if, in our monthly walks, I have helped you to see beauty in all God's works, and to "look through nature up to nature's God," much, much, indeed, have I to thank Him for. J. A. THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Right merrily sing of the dark-leaved pine, The garlands of gladness let children twine, We have planted our tree, our Christmas tree, Our noble, sound-hearted, bright Christmas tree. Though it waves no longer in native pride, Nor gleams midst forests its stem, It is decked as it were an eastern bride. We have planted our tree, our Christmas tree, &c. Wields the fairy-queen her magic power, The leaves with stars are streaming; Pavilioned in light is our beauteous bower, And wonders round are beaming. We have planted our tree, our Christmas tree, &c. Then merrily sing of the dark-leaved pine, With laughing children round; While voices of angels breathe words divine, And the young hearts drink the sound. We have planted our tree, our Christmas tree, &c. The day is more sunny for every smile, We have planted a stately, a matchless tree, A noble, sound hearted, a matchless tree. And when upon earth it shall cease to dwell, We have planted a stately, a matchless tree, &c. Nor springs a joy that the soul can know, We have planted our tree, our Christmas tree, I HAVE a faith, the growth of many years, H. G. J. A. LOVE AND FEAR. LET those who educate the young consider how it has been said " Perfect love casteth out fear." Love, spiritual love, cherishes and enlightens, making cheerful music in the soul, and causing it to vibrate in harmony with all God's universe. A young mind, breathing an atmosphere of love, opens without effort, like a young bud under the influence of sunshine and balmy air. The spirit of fear has a contrary influence, darkening the moral atmosphere, and checking healthy development. It can rarely, if ever, be employed in education with advantage; at best, it can only restrain from evil by crippling the activity of the powers of the mind. Love breathes life and vigour, and awakens faith and hope, and a joyful existence is the result; the kingdom of heaven is begun on earth. And seed, dropped into a young mind enjoying these favorable circumstances, will never perish; however long it may remain in embryo, it will spring up and bear fruit when the bleak gales of affliction have passed over and purified the soul, and loosened it from the joys of sense and worldly desire. Fear is given in early life, especially, as a shield to protect the young and tender from harm, wisdom being dormant; but if too often called into action, it becomes excessive, blighting and destroying every beautiful growth in the animal, mental, and spiritual life. How often has the spirit of fear led its victims on, from evil to evil, down into the lowest depths of vice? Tyranny, ambition, avarice, know how to terrify the weak into submission; so poisonous the atmosphere, so deadly the effects of fear, that nothing noble, or beautiful, or true, can live beneath its shadow. It is the Upas tree of the moral world, spreading desolation and barrenness around it. But the spirit of love is the great motive power of the universe, it blesses the infant in the arms of its parent, it nerves the youth to high and noble deeds, it inspires the teacher, the prophet, the martyr, and the saint, and it soothes the tottering steps of the aged. All that is highest and best in men, and perhaps in angels, owes its birth to the spirit of love. Why, then, employ fear to deter from evil, rather than love to inspire what is good? Oh, cherish this heavenly seed, foster it in the bosom of the young; it is strong and vigorous for every purpose of life, both now and forever. If it once take root in the soil, fear will shrink away and depart, for lo! God is love. G. D. THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER.-Travellers are often disappointed with the sight of objects of which they may have either heard or read exaggerated accounts, but the St. Lawrence, with its "thousand islands,” went far beyond my expectations. Immediately below Kingston it is from six to eight miles in breadth, and numbers of steamers and sailing vessels were floating over its dark blue waters, which had more resemblance to an arm of the sea than a fresh-water stream. The steamer threads its way among islands with precipitous sides and deep water all around, so that we can approach within a few yards of them. All are covered with broad-leaved timber, the foliage of which is now putting on its bright autumnal tints, and making a particularly gaudy scene. In some parts the river narrows to a mile and a half in breadth, and again swells out into broad lakes, and, as we proceed onwards in our course, we are impressed with the majesty of the mighty stream that forms the outlet to the vast chain of lakes to the Westward. The rapids, too, of the St. Lawrence, are a noble and most exciting sight. When I saw the white crests and waves of Niagara Rapids above the Falls, I could not believe that the breaking and foaming of the water were consistent with great depth, but this false notion was quickly dispelled as the steamer dashed down the rapids of the St. Lawrence, tossed by huge waves that were worthy of the Atlantic, their crests being broken into white foam where the current was from thirty to forty feet in depth. As it is only a narrow passage through which the steamer has to be steered, considerable skill and dexterity are required to avoid the rocky shoals. Four men were at the helm, and the vessel seemed to be completely under control amid the boiling and surging of the current, which has a velocity in some places of fifteen miles an hour. WHAT LITTLE EDWARD THOUGHT ABOUT DEATH. "OH, MAMMA! Mamma!" said little Edward, in an agony of grief, as he ran from the garden, through the French window, into the room in which Mrs. Percy was sitting, Oh, mamma! mamma! Willie Lameson is dead!" And poor little Edward laid his head on his mamma's lap, and sobbed violently. 66 Mrs. Percy lifted the boy on her knee, stroked his hair from his forehead, and wiped his streaming eyes. "Are you sure," said she, "that Willie is dead-how did you hear it ?" 66 'I went in to look at Willie's garden," said the sobbing child, "and the postman had just brought the letter that tells he is dead. They are coming in to show it to you, mamma. And they have drawn down all the blinds, and everyone looks frightened. Oh, he is dead, he is dead, I cannot bear it!" Mrs. Percy pressed the weeping boy in her arms, and he laid his hand across his mamma's bosom, and for a time they wept together. It was but ten days since Willie went with his mamma to visit an aunt. He had never been out before—had never been in a train, and he was full of health, and life, and spirits. He had kissed Edward again and again, and often times had said "good-bye," long before the carriage came, which was to take him to the station. And when it drove up he bounded into it, and he was laughing and talking and nodding when it carried him away. And now the bright little boy was dead. His head ached, and the burning fever came, and all that the tenderest love could do for him could not keep him here. No, his Father in Heaven knew what was kindest and best for him, and He had called him home. Mrs. Percy had loved the little Willie, he had always been Edward's playfellow, and she was grieved, too, for Mrs. Lameson, who had to part with her only earthly treasure. When Edward felt his mamma's tears trickle on his arm, he looked up, saying-" I am glad, mamma, that |