:

Youth is the season of feeling the heart is then penetrated by the voice of affection; and when once the instructor has awakened a personal attachment to himself, a control the most powerful and beneficial may be easily exerted.

Nor need you, dear friends, to fear even when called to rebuke and condemn. If you be faithful, you will not pass over with any thing like indifference the faulty parts of the character of your charge. You will reprove, but you will be calm, temperate, and loving. You will be firm in measures: but if you value that influence over the young which you may and ought to obtain, your manner and language will be gentle, familiar, and kind. The avenues to conviction in the youthful mind are not difficult to unclose; and you will soon perceive that those are the effectual admonitions which fall from the lips of a tender and familiar friend. It is the harsh, impatient tone-the unrelaxing severity of countenance and demeanour-the austere moroseness and repulsiveness of the whole manner, which are so unpopular among the young: : not the efficient hand of a wise and energetic parent or instructor; not the authoritative measures of a mind which feels itself equal to its office, and is deeply imbued with a sense of its responsibility. Let us only deal kindly and tenderly, openly and honestly, as well as firmly, with our charge, and their affections will remain unalienated. They will not be backward to admit that there are moments when the soft language of persuasion ought to be laid aside for that of decided and unbending authority, and will condemn, even as we ourselves condemn, that guilty easiness of temper- that mere weakness of affection-which would pass over their faults without remonstrance and rebuke.

We hope to be excused for these simple and unconnected remarks. We have neither the desire nor the ability to aim at great things; but while the kind approving voice of encouraging and valued friends sounds as it does, so sweetly in our ears—for

"Sweet is the breath of praise, when given by those
Whose own high merit claims the praise they give”-

we cannot but rejoice and be thankful to lay our lowly

attempts before them, assured, as we are, that their short-comings will be born with, and their imperfections covered and forgiven. Indulgence is very rarely refused to a female pen, especially when employed on a subject which seems to be its peculiar province-female education. We heartily wish that more female pens, and more female hearts, were engaged in that extensive and legitimate field of usefulness. It is a work for which

woman, with her warm and tender affections, her ardent feelings and untiring love, is peculiarly fitted: and if it be true that a pursuit is essential to happiness, surely there is no occupation more worthy of woman than that which, unostentatious as it is, is, nevertheless, one by means of which the good of the community is promoted to an extent which the most ardent and sanguine mind may in vain attempt to calculate.

We venture to make one closing remark on the subject from which we have wandered-self-control.

It is a consideration which forces itself into our mind as being one which may well assist us in preserving an equanimity of temper in those trials which, at one time or other, assail every one who comes into close contact with the young, and occasion even to the most equalminded and benevolent no little disquietude, and call into exercise all the fortitude of the most self-governed. Do we ourselves exhibit the faultlessness which we sometimes seem to expect in our children? Are we not

frequently unreasonable enough to require of them what might be required of ourselves in vain ? Let us but recollect our our own short-comings and misdoings, and we shall surely learn to deal gently with the youthful transgressor when we find that his heart, like our own, is "deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." How often, it may be asked, do we ourselves, with all our increase of years and experience, how often do we make good resolutions and keep them not! How often do we act over again the very sins we have confessed and lamented! How often do we grow faint and weary in well-doing! How do we find, again and again, upon what slippery ground we stand! Do we not constantly own-and if in any measure we know ourselves-do we

not constantly feel that often, very often, we leave undone those things which we ought to do, and do those things which we ought not to do? And shall we have no fellow-feeling, no sympathy with the young soldiers in the spiritual warfare, who have scarce begun the battle, and who, like ourselves, are easily driven from their post?

Surely, surely while we decidedly mark our displeasure at the transgression, we may well sympathize with and compassionate the transgressor. MARY.

TWO DAYS IN GLAMORGANSHIRE.

BY A SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHER.

No. I.

"His presence, who made all so fair, perceived,
Makes all still fairer."

MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,-I take up my pen with a desire to impress upon your minds somewhat of the delightful truth contained in the words just quoted. I trust to be influenced by that presence as I proceed in my endeavours to benefit as well as to interest you.

In the early part of June, 1845,* my business drew me into South Wales; I had a very stormy evening for my passage across the Bristol Channel, to Newport; the sea and rain completely drenched all who were exposed on deck, rendering the trip extremely unpleasant to the majority on board, while to a few, whom the unseasonable roughness of the weather did not affect, it furnished many subjects for merriment and jocularity.

On awaking early the next morning, I found the state of the weather to be nearly the same; but towards the time of starting for Cardiff the rain ceased, and the clouds clearing away allowed the sun to smile pensively, which gave hope of a fine day, and of this I am thankful I was not disappointed, as it materially assisted my plans, and added to my enjoyment.

*The following papers were sketched soon after the time mentioned.

I had some knowledge of the picturesque country through which I had to pass, and anticipated much pleasure from renewing and enlarging my acquaintance with it. There are few persons who do not experience gratification in contemplating fine scenery-many have a keen taste for it-yet, I believe, few comparatively enjoy it aright. I have very often been struck with the truthfulness of the Christian poet Cowper's words—

"Man views it, and admires; but rests content
With what he views. The landscape has his praise,
But not its Author. Unconcerned who formed
The paradise he sees, he finds it such,

And, such well pleased to find it, asks no more.
Not so the mind that has been touched from heaven,
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught

To read His wonders, in whose thought the world,
Fair as it is, existed ere it was.

Not for its own sake merely, but for His

Much more, who fashioned it, he gives it praise;
Praise that from earth resulting, as it ought,

To earth's acknowledged Sovereign, finds at once
Its only just proprietor in Him.'

The contemplative Christian frequently experiences a measure of delight altogether beyond his power to express, while engaged in tracing God's hand in his works of creation; and this in the most minute, as well as in the greatest exhibitions of his creative skill. The words of Thomson seem beautifully appropriate at such times

"Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise."

The little unobtruding hedge-side flower, unknown or unheeded by the mass; the insect which flits to and fro its transient and apparently unuseful existence; and the puny animalcule, so exceedingly minute that many thousands of them inhabit a drop of water that may be covered with the tip of one's finger, and yet elude unaided vision-all have claims upon, and receive the attention of the intelligent person whose heart is the subject of the operations of divine grace, and a feeling of keenest admiration and of purest pleasure passes through his mind while he is employed in tracing the altogether inimitable skill which they so quietly, yet so forcibly, present to his notice; while the bold, and extensive, and

diversified landscape, and the many wonderful operations upon and beneath its surface, so continuously, so noiselessly, and yet so irresistibly proceeding, occupy him with delightful thoughts of the omnipotence, the omnipresence, the omniscience, the goodness of the wonderful Author of all things. "The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein." "" Let every thing that hath breath praise the

Lord."

It was with somewhat of the feelings just described that I journeyed. After leaving the busy and fast-improving town of Newport, and passing the palace-like mansion of Sir C. Morgan, and through Tredegar Park,

the landscape gradually expands. On the right I

viewed hill and dale, picturesquely stretched out, rich in wood, in corn, and in flocks, above all, rich in mineral treasure: the undulating surface in places prettily dotted with villages, and the cottages of the poor, whose clean white and yellow-washed walls, reflecting the bright beams of the morning sun, seemed to speak of purity, and health, and contentment; here and there, the noble dwellings of the rich, encircled with extensive grounds, stood prominently in view. On my left, the Bristol Channel appeared in its spacious nobleness, bearing on its bosom richly-freighted vessels, engaged in interchanging the produce and wealth of distant nations, whose white sails swelling to the breeze pleasingly speckled the face of the water. On the op

posite side appeared the coast of Somersetshire, with the pleasantly situated modern watering places-Portshead, Clevedon, and the outskirts of Weston-SuperMare; a little to the right, Uphill Old Church, and the promontory of Brean-down jutting boldly out into the channel; in the back ground, Brent Knoll reared its conical form; farther to the right, Bridgewater Bay and coast below bounded the view. At mid distance were the Holmes Islands and Lighthouse; still to the right, and nearer, was the bold headland of Pennarth, protecting its secure roadstead, and affording welcome shelter to the wind-bound mariner. Between myself and the channel was the extensive tract of land called Wentloog