led
style of living, or the style of particular parties, may be in
themselves innocent, and yet they may be so interwoven and combined with
evils, that the whole effect shall be felt to be decidedly unchristian,
both by Christians and the world. How, then, shall the well-disposed
person know where to stop, and how to strike the just medium?

We know of but one safe rule: read the life of Jesus with
attention--_study_ it--inquire earnestly with yourself, "What sort of a
person, in thought, in feeling, in action, was my Savior?"--live in
constant sympathy and communion with him--and there will be within a
kind of instinctive rule by which to try all things. A young man, who
was to be exposed to the temptations of one of the most dissipated
European capitals, carried with him his father's picture, and hung it in
his apartment. Before going out to any of the numerous resorts of the
city, he was accustomed to contemplate this picture, and say to himself,
"Would my father wish to see me in the place to which I am going?" and
thus was he saved from many a temptation. In like manner the Christian,
who has always by his side the beautiful ideal of his Savior, finds it a
holy charm, by which he is gently restrained from all that is unsuitable
to his profession. He has but to inquire of any scene or employment,
"Should I be well pleased to meet my Savior there? Would the trains of
thought I should there fall into, the state of mind that would there be
induced, be such as would harmonize with an interview with him?" Thus
protected and defended, social enjoyment might be like that of Mary and
John, and the disciples, when, under the mild, approving eye of the Son
of God, they shared the festivities of Cana.

LITTLE FRED, THE CANAL BOY.

PART I.

In the outskirts of the little town of Toledo, in Ohio, might be seen a
small, one-story cottage, whose external architecture no way
distinguished it from dozens of other residences of the poor, by which
it was surrounded. But over this dwelling, a presiding air of sanctity
and neatness, of quiet and repose, marked it out as different from every
other.

The little patch before the door, instead of being a loafing ground for
swine, and a receptacle of litter and filth, was trimly set with
flowers, weeded, watered, and fenced with dainty care. The scarlet
bignonia clambered over the mouldering logs of the sides, shrouding
their roughness in its gorgeous mantle of green and crimso