of scripture itself, which has not omitted to record that Isaac was not "comforted" after his mother's death until the day when, a happy bridegroom, he led into the tent of Sarah one who, in some measure at least, reflected the image of her beauty and her worth.

And how her husband honoured her memory, was sufficiently attested in the eyes of the people of the land, by the magnificent burial he provided for her. Nothing strikes the Orientals so much with ideas of the dignity of the dead, or of the degree of esteem and affection in which they were held by the survivors, as the honours paid to their earthly remains. The children of Heth beheld the anguish of Abraham's soul, when he lay prostrate before the lifeless form of his beloved wife, and then rose up from before his dead to address them with a touching allusion to his condition, now doubly felt to be that of one who had neither tie nor possession upon earth. "I am a stranger and a sojourner among you, give me a possession of a burying-place, that I may bury my dead out of my sight." They read, in the words and bearing of Abraham, the overwhelming nature of the loss he had sustained, and with that sympathy which is usually excited by great calamities, they gave him liberty to express all his heart's desire to do honour to the memory of Sarah by the largeness of their grant. "In the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead; none of us shall withhold from thee his sepulchre."

The venerated dust of the beautiful mother of Israel still rests in the cave of Machpelah, and, by one of those strange revolutions which mark the lapse of centuries, it is now strictly and jealously

guarded by the sons of Ishmael. But her memory is embalmed in a record that will survive all inscriptions of the costliest marble that ever has been or shall be raised to human greatness. An apostle of Jesus Christ (himself a husband) has bequeathed her history as a model for Christian wives throughout all ages. She shall be "a mother of nations," and unborn daughters of the church shall learn, by looking into this mirror which is held up before them, how to adorn themselves with that which is not corruptible; that which survives the decay of personal beauty and the ravages of the tomb, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price."

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LYDIA.

FRAIL is the world-here's no substantial goodEarth yields her roses, but her thorns intrude; Riches unfailing crown the path to heaven, Redemption! Glory!—all through Jesus given. Encompassed with life's snares, how sweet to prove Repose and comfort in our Father's love,

Sealed by the Holy Spirit from above.

M. C.

INCONSIDERATE QUESTIONS.

AMONG the various details of practical duty which have been brought under the notice of our Christian ladies in these pages, I do not recollect that I have ever seen the subject with which I have headed this paper. Perhaps I may request a few minutes' attention while I endeavour to prove its importance.

Doubtless my fair readers would recoil with very great indignation, were I to ask them whether they adhere to truth in the statements they give, in the replies they make to the queries of others. Doubtless they always speak the plain truth, undisguised, yet well-considered. They would shrink from anything so unprincipled, so unchristian, as the attempt to deceive.

But, ladies, permit me to ask whether you are quite as conscientious in the questions you ask as in the replies you give? Do you never put curious, impertinent, nor inconsiderate queries to your acquaintances? thereby endangering their truth in answering, their fidelity concerning the affairs of their friends, or their prudence as regards their own. Do you

never ask Mr. A. questions about the private or literary affairs of the Rev. Mr. B., which may compel him either to equivocate to you, thereby stepping into "the way of lying,” (Psalm cxix. 29,) or else to betray the confidence of his friend, and acquaint you with the particulars which he knows Mr. B. wishes

should remain strictly private? Or perhaps you attack the often more communicative sex, and inquire of Miss C. about the family affairs of her intimate friend, Mrs. D., and by so doing you place her in a similar dilemma, between deceiving you by a prevarication, or else divulging Mrs. D.'s pecuniary or domestic secrets, which Miss C. knows her friend would rather suffer banishment than make public. Is this as it should be? Are a love of gossip,-a wish to seem intelligent and acute,—mere curiosity, or even thoughtlessness,-sufficient motives to justify you in thus placing an unfortunate person between two fires?

Probably you reply that you do not meddle with the affairs of other people, that you do not wish to hear idle gossip, and that you never ask questions which can lead to any betrayal of confidence. It is well. I rejoice to hear it. But, ladies, if you never play the inconsiderate querists to your friends, as to the affairs of others, are you equally careful as regards their own? Do you never 'pump' them on‘a delicate subject,' nor fish out a nice bit of news' by putting skilful questions which the poor questionnee cannot avoid? or such that, if she can avoid them, the very act of avoidance gives the desired answer to your curious inquiry?

A 'leading question' is always objected to by the lawyer; why should the tribunal of private gossip be more inquisitorial than that of public justice?

These are plain, and perhaps unpleasing inquiries. I fear some of you may be tempted to call them impertinent questions, but I happen to know some few ladies who are in the habit of thus extracting the secrets of their acquaintance, and I just vaguely guess that there may be a great many who do so.

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We are frequently warned in Holy Writ to be careful in speaking the truth,-" Putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour." (Eph. iv. 25.) Speaking the truth in love, we may grow up unto him in all things;" (v. 15,) not forgetting that awful passage where "liars" are enumerated among those whose portion is in the fiery lake. (Rev.xxi. 8.) Now, let me ask you, what can be a stronger temptation to forsake truth, and to resort to equivocation, or positive falsehood, than the designing or thoughtless question which leads to this distressing dilemma, 'I must either deceive you, or break my promise of secrecy.' Even where no promise may exist, the sense of honourable fidelity to a friend, or of delicacy and prudence in our own affairs, is enough to stagger many a noble and sensitive mind, if not to hurry it at once into direct falsehood. I know those who believe that a denial of the truth is 'the least evil,' compared with revealing a secret; while others, heedlessly chivalrous, have said, 'I would tell a lie, any day, rather than betray my friend.'

Consider, then, Christian ladies, the temptations, the grievous stumbling-blocks you throw in the way of your friends by your inconsiderate questions, and refrain. Be content with knowing and managing your own affairs; and submit to be ignorant of the concerns of others, rather than lead them into "the way of lying," on the one hand, or the breach of confidence and prudence on the other.

X. Q.