Every man has his house, his orchard, his road-side trees, as we have seen, commonly so hung with fruit, that he is obliged to prop and secure them in all ways, or they would be torn to pieces. He has his corn-plat, his plat for mangel-wurzel, for hemp, and so on. He is his own master; and he, and every member of his family have the strongest motives to labor. You see the effect of this in that unremitting diligence which is beyond that of the whole world beside, and his economy, which is still greater. Howitt's Rural and Domestic Life in Germany.

DICTIONARY OF PRACTICAL MEDICINE. By James Copland, M. D., F. R. S. This is an English work of great celebrity, being 'decidedly the leading medical production of the age, both as it regards the philosophy it inculcates, as well as the vast accumulation of facts it presents.'

The American edition is edited by Dr. Charles A. Lee, Professor in Geneva Medical College, and is published by Harper & Brothers, in monthly parts, at 50 cents each to be completed in twenty numbers, of 144 pages each.

The work comprises general pathology, the nature and treatment of diseases, morbid structures, and the disorders especially incidental to climates, to the sex, and to the different epochs of life; with numerous prescriptions for the medicines recommended.

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For sale by Waite, Peirce & Co.

ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DOMESTIC ECONOMY.- Harper & Brothers, N. Y. City.

This work is to be completed in twelve numbers, at 25 cents each. Four are already published. The subjects are those most immediately connected with housekeeping; as the construction of domestic edifices, with the modes of warming, ventilating, and lighting them; also a description of the various articles of furniture; the preservation of health; domestic medicine, &c.; illustrated by nearly one thousand engravings. For sale as above.

THE subject of moral discipline in families is too often passed by as comparatively unimportant. All, however, who reflect seriously upon it will perceive that it has a strong claim upon the attention of every parent. As families constitute little communities, it is as important that strict moral discipline be observed in them, as in large ones. If there be confusion and disorder in the parts, the same evils will pervade the whole. The stream cannot rise higher than its fountain.

Much of the degradation, wretchedness, and crime which prevail, may be accounted for on the ground of lax moral discipline in families; and he who would effect a reform must not begin by lopping off the branches. Something may be done in this way, but effectually to remove the evil, he must strike vigorously at the root. The children of the present generation will constitute the men and women of the next; and in this vast mass of mind, are the materials which will form, direct, and control the moral energies of the next. That the next age may have a healthy moral tone, the work of reform, in the present age, should be thorough.

It is a fact universally admitted, that children are powerfully influenced by the example and precepts of their parents. The mind, during the period of infancy and childhood, is in a state, capable of receiving almost any mould the parent chooses to give it.

Impressions, therefore, received while the mind is in this tender state, will never be entirely effaced, but will have an influence upon the after-life in proportion to the strength of the impressions, and the force of the circumstances into which those impressions may lead. Parents are, therefore, to a great extent, responsible for the vices and crimes of which their children, as they progress in life, are guilty. How many practical exemplifications of this truth are set before us in the confessions of different criminals, who, at the close of life, have traced their career of crime to the days of childhood, and discovered its source in the defective family discipline of their parents. On the other hand, how many pious and useful men have publicly testified that they were indebted for their piety and usefulness, in a good degree,. to the example, instruction, and prayers of their parents, and especially of their mothers.

A short time since I attended a ministerial meeting in the western part of Massachusetts. A part of the exercises consisted in the relating of religious experience. Among other things, several ministers present, stated distinctly, that they received their first religious impressions from their mothers, and that they owed a large measure of their piety and usefulness to their teaching and prayers. It cannot, in the nature of things, be otherwise, than that children, young, tender, and confiding, should hearken to a mother's counsel, and be guided by her godly instructions. Who, we earnestly ask, is there so well adapted, both by relation and circumstances, to teach the child to lisp its prayers to its heavenly Father, and to train it up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord,' as the mother? One well authenticated fact should be more positive and conclusive, than a thousand metaphysical opinions. And what an array of facts is almost daily presented to the mind; facts so well authenticated, and of such a character, as to carry along with them the clearest convictions of duty; and in view of which, parents who fail to discover and discharge their duty to their children, are verily guilty!

A very important part of moral discipline is, restraint. Many parents seem to forget that the bent of the young mind, is not toward virtue and holiness, but toward vice, continually; and, judging from their indifference to the moral welfare of their offspring, they seem to be insensible that a tide of evil is constantly flowing around them, and that the native inclination of children, is

ever drawing them deeper into its current.

Yet such is the fact,

and parents do not discharge their whole duty to their offspring, unless they restrain them from the vices by which they are surrounded. To effect this, persuasion is better than force, but if this fail of accomplishing the desired end, coercive measures must be resorted to, and the sooner this is done the better, both for parent and child, though it may pierce parental affection with many a bitter pang.

I have now in my mind an affecting incident of the ruin of a son by his mother, who did not restrain him in his childhood and youth.

About five years since a young man, in a neighboring State, was detected in the act of committing a high crime, and committed to the county jail. He was universally known in that vicinity as a licentious and abandoned character. Such was the nature of the evidence against him, that there remained not a doubt of his guilt. Being in that place at the time, I, in company with one of the clergymen of the village, made him a visit. As we entered his cell, I was forcibly struck with his appearance. He was scarcely twentyfive years of age, and though within the gloomy walls of a prison, his dress was arranged with studied neatness. He bore evident

marks of dissipation and crime; and yet there was something in his dark, piercing eye, and full intellectual forehead, indicative of ability to do right. He was standing at his grated window, apparently contemplating some object without; but, as we entered, turned, and received us with an easy politeness, which would have graced a drawing-room. As he readily engaged in conversation, we succeeded in drawing from him a portion of his history.

'You see in me,' said he, 'a degraded, guilty being; but I was not always so. Had I, in early youth, been blessed with the pious, parental example, counsel, and restraint, with which many are blessed, I should never have been reduced to the wretched condition in which you now see me.'

'Are your parents living?' inquired my companion.

'My father died when I was a child. I have no recollection of him. My mother I have not seen for nearly six years, and do not know whether she is living or not.'

'Is it your wish that your mother, if living, should know where you now are?' I inquired.

'It is not. No, - rather let me perish than that she should

know I am imprisoned as a felon, though it is chiefly owing to her neglect of my moral culture, that I am here. I have already said that I was not always as you see me now. My father was a graduate of one of the first institutions of learning in New England and, as a member of the bar, was fast outstripping his associates, and reaching an eminent position, when he was arrested in the midst of his career by death. I was left an infant of six months. Having been thus early deprived of her husband, I became the idol of my mother. I was petted and indulged, and, through excess of maternal fondness, ruined. My mother always loved me, wild, and wicked as I was, and so deep was her love, that it blinded her to my faults, and led her to forget the obligations she was under to train me up to virtue and piety. My every wish was gratified. My passions, naturally strong, were never curbed by wholesome restraint. Religious instruction was never communicated to me, at my fireside home.' My mother, apparently forgetting that I was an immortal being, sought rather to gratify my present wishes, than to mould my character for time and eternity. My Sabbaths were spent, not in the house of God, but in dissipation and vice.

'Thus I ran my headlong course, unchecked, until my evil passions, violently inflamed by the vices in which I indulged, impelled me to commit an act which rendered it unsafe for me to remain longer beneath the paternal roof, and I fled. My mother knew not where I went. Since that time, I have been wandering in different States, engaged in various scenes of dissipation and crime. Four months since, I came to this place, where my vices have rendered me notorious. Night before last I was detected in the act of committing the crime for which you now see me in prison. My career is run. The gloomy walls of a State-prison will be my abode for several years. Should I live to leave them, I must leave with the brand of infamy upon me. One consolation alone remains. I am under an assumed name, so that my mother can never know my fate. Still, I am a wretch, a villain, unworthy of the society of men, and fit only for a prison. O! my mother! But I will not upbraid her. She meant well, though her undue fondness has led me to disand ruin.'

grace

Here he became subdued, and, bowing his face between his hands, wept tears of repentance and regret!

We left him. But never shall I forget that scene.

That young