ture into. It is called 'the Rookery,' and lies north of Holborn; George-street, which runs thence to Great Russel-street, Bloomsbury, forming the eastern boundary; and it includes about eight streets and lanes, the condition of which almost defies any attempt at description: though we are inclined to give a sketch of it, from constant personal observation, in a future number, together with a short narrative of some touching cases occurring within our own immediate knowledge. For the present this will suffice, to prove to the benevolent friends of our interesting school, that their labour has not been in vain in the Lord.

C. E.

THE AGED WOMAN.

IF she be a mother-one of those fond mothers who expect that mere indulgence is to win the lasting regard of their children-what sad thoughts must crowd upon her at every fresh instance of unkindness, and every additional proof that she has fallen away from what she was, both in her own, and others' estimation.

Over the brow that now frowns upon her, she has, perhaps, watched with unutterable tenderness through the long night, when every eye but her's was sleeping. The lips that now speak to her coldly, or answer her with silence when she speaks, she has bathed with the welcome draught when they were parched and burning with contagious fever. The scorn with which her humble pretentions are looked down upon, arises in the hearts of those for whose higher intellectual attainments she has made every sacrifice, and exerted every faculty. And what if she be unlearned in the literature of modern times, she understands deeply and feelingly the springs of affection, and tenderness, and sorrow. She knows, from what source flow the bitterest tears- -a thankless child!

She sees the young glad creatures of another generation sporting around her, and her thoughts go back to the playmates of her childhood, some reduced to the lowest state of helplessness or suf

fering, some dead, and some forgotten. She hears the reluctant answer when she asks a kindness of one of the merry group, and she thinks of the time when kindness was more freely granted her, though far less needed than now. She starts at the loud laugh, but cannot understand the jest, and no one explains it to her listening ear. She loses the thread of earnest conversation, and no one restores the clue. She sits within the social circle, but forms no link in the chain of social union. Her thoughts and feelings cannot harmonize with those of her juvenile companions, and she feels, in all its bitterness, that least tolerable portion of human experience-what it is to be desolate in the midst of society-surrounded by kindred and friends, and yet alone.

Let the aged woman be no longer an object of contempt. She is helpless as a child, but as a child she may be learning the last awful lesson of her heavenly Father. Her feeble step is trembling on the brink of the grave, but her hope may be firmly planted on the better shore which lies beyond. Her eye is dim with suffering and tears, but her spiritual vision may be contemplating the gradual unfolding of the gates of eternal rest. Beauty has faded from her form, but angels in the world of light may be weaving a wreath of glory for her brow. Her lip is silent, but it may be waiting only to pour forth celestial strains of gratitude and praise. Lowly, and fallen, and sad, she sits among the living, but exalted, purified and happy, she may arise from the dead.

Then turn, if thou wilt, from the aged woman in her loneliness, but remember she is not forsaken of her God.

M

ON THE ABUSE OF SUPERFLUITIES.

MADAM,

I HAVE been a reader of your magazine from its commencement. An attentive reader, because it passes from my hands to those of several young females, whose best interests demand my cares. Occasionally I meet with papers that do not exactly accord with the rule, that every one should please his neighbour to his good, for edification; and then I feel bound to point out to my youthful friends the particulars in which we differ, with my own reasons for dissent, leaving them to judge for themselves. I can safely do this, as you have not admitted into your pages anything of a directly dangerous tendency. Your last number, however, contains an article, of which you must pardon me, if I say, that you must either have overlooked its obvious bearing, or else have greatly relaxed in your accustomed watchfulness over the work which seems to be entirely under your control.

I have heard it currently reported, that the lady who signs G. E. M., in your pages, is a writer of considerable eminence in the Christian literary world but I am unwilling to think that you would give insertion, on the mere strength of a name, to what your conscience disapproved. To me, at least, a name is nothing: I have long since learned to cease from man, who at his best estate is altogether

vanity. Eternal truth is every thing, in my sight, and in obedience to the dictates of my heart, I for once, intrude into a department, where many may think me ill-qualified to appear. At least, I have this advantage over your more able correspondent, that I have not disdained to read, with attention, what has been written on the subject I presume to handle. In your place, Madam, I should have been almost tempted to draw my pen across a passage, the reverse of kind or respectful towards those who have formerly helped you; but you know best.

66

In handing to my young friends the paper in question, I directed their attention mainly to one point,— the pre-supposed existence of superfluities, and the use that Christian women might feel justified in putting them to. The term superfluities is vague, and arbitrary in its application. The Apostle says, Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content." Taking the expression, "food and raiment" to include whatever is necessary to our bodily comfort in the state of life to which it has pleased God to call us, we have to deal, under the name superfluities, with that portion which we do not require for our own expenditure. And here the question would arise, shall I lay out this money in the purchase of luxuries, the production of which employs many hands that would otherwise be idle, and, perhaps, steal; or shall I bestow it on such as are without any employ, without the means of obtaining employment, and pining in want of actual necessaries? The political economist has much to say in favor of the former; and when people consider themselves left at liberty to choose their own ways, there can be little doubt how the point is decided;