ments of life, it might attain majority. The unpunctual are perpetual thieves of other men's time. This alone, is sufficient to stamp them with reprobation. A want of punctuality is one of the many forms of selfishness, the root of all evil. If your father is a man who counts much upon the pleasure of having all his family with him at his meals, you may, by your dilatoriness, quite spoil them for him, any proof of a child's indifference being a poor appetizer. Nor is it merely with the enjoyment of his meal that you may interfere, but with its digestion; since the most material functions of our material bodies, are greatly assisted, or greatly hindered, by moral agencies.

The unpunctual man is apt to think that the greatest evil he occasions, by his special infirmity, is temporary inconvenience or disappointment. But this is not so. If one of his delays should disturb only the arrangements for one day of a single person, he may congratulate himself. Order is Heaven's first law; and the second, regular routine, is like unto it. If the earth and the moon were to loiter in their course, and accomplish their revolutions at uncertain times, and in uncertain periods, everything here would be out of joint. And so is everything put out of joint that is in the sphere of duty and occupation of the procrastinator. If the duty that belongs to one hour be

deferred to another, they seem subjected to a process that merges one in another, until all are reduced to a single vanishing point, and leave no record behind them. What bitter disappointment and what serious annoyance and loss, may come from a letter a little too late for the mail-a bill paid after the promised time—an appointment not kept-a commission deferred! Note for your

selves, and think on these things.

Punctuality is essential to another virtue―reliableness. Do all that you promise to do, and all that you are rightfully required and expected to do, as certainly, so far as it depends upon yourself, as the sun rises and sets, so that the hearts of all with whom you are in any way connected, may "safely trust” in you. Then you will become "pillars of support" in the family and in society, instead of broken reeds. The comfort and satisfaction of dealing with the truly reliable is immense, as, of course, also is the misery of all intercourse with the unreliable. Go, when you say you will go; come, when you say you will come; do this and that, when you say you will do it, even if it be a little thing, without being deterred by any but insuperable obstacles. Some of you will remember how once, when a party from a neighboring village had engaged to pass the evening with me, and sent a messenger at noon to say that the bad state of the roads must prevent their coming, we all went

down in the large sleigh to tell them, at their own doors, how sorry we were, also.

Some people, who would not break any important promise, have little or no conscience in regard to small promises. I advise you to cultivate in yourselves, and in your children after you, the obligation of these especially; for, as in the case of pounds and pence, if the latter are cared for, the others will take care of themselves.

Nor is the manifestation of this reliableness to be confined to action; it must belong as well to moods and phases of feeling, and is opposed to caprice and inconstancy of every sort. Let those who have a natural claim to dependence of some sort or other upon you, and those to whom, by preference of friendship or offers of service, you have given a claim, never be disappointed in their reasonable expectations. The complaint "I never know where to find him," so often heard in society, is applicable, unfortunately, to a large class, with whom is such variableness, that, whether you shall meet frowns or smiles from them; whether you shall receive a cordial shake of the hand, or have a cold shoulder turned towards you-whether, if your character is attacked, they will defend you, or seem, by their silence, to acquiesce in the condemnation is all matter of uncertainty. There is no real friend, that is not a steadfast friend, that cannot be relied upon for friendly regard and con

sideration, under all circumstances. And he is not a good neighbor, or desirable acquaintance, who gives testimonies of good-will one day, which, for no obvious reason, he entirely withholds on the next. Have as little to do with such people as possible, and "be ye not, therefore, like unto them."

Daughters and sisters should be like flowers and sunshine in a house. They have not yet, in ordinary circumstances, grave responsibilities, nor onerous duties. They have a right to be, to a certain extent, ornamental; and their light-heartedness should diffuse cheerfulness and joy throughout the whole house. They should try, also, to make it attractive by all sorts of tasteful arrangements and simple decorations—such as may be gathered from gardens and the woods. Their voices should be as the sound of music, and their presence full of all "sweet influences," like the seven sisters of the heavens. They should watch for occasions of giving pleasure in a thousand little ways, by unlookedfor tokens of love and remembrance, or by agreeable surprises.

Why do little gifts and offerings of slight value in themselves, often impart so much pleasure, but because they betoken remembrance and consideration; and what can better show how subtle and wonder-working is the power of association, by which importance and dignity are imparted to the

homeliest thing, on account of what it is made to signify, than that even by providing a favorite dish we may touch the heart of one we love. Thus, love spiritualizes life even through material agencies, when it is its moving principle. The regular observance of birthdays may become a mere form; but when the record is evidently kept-not in the almanac, but on the tablets of the heart-and an offering, however simple, is presented in proof of its accuracy, it awakens a sentiment that becomes a source of new inspiration, new strength, and new joy; and the birthday is made to foreshadow that which shall introduce the soul into the sphere of immortal life. This reminds me to tell you of the beautiful manner in which one man whom I know observes the birthday of a living friend, and of one who is no longer here. When that of the former occurs, he has a bountiful, excellent entertainment provided for the poor women of a large institution in the city of his residence; and on the occasion of the other, he furnishes the nearest friends of the departed one with gifts, to present to any whom they may like so to remember on Willy's" birthday.

66

Many persons are naturally kindhearted, who have not been made, by education, thoughtful and considerate of others. They would do a great deal more for their fellow-beings, especially in little ways, if it only occurred to them to use their op