We love autumn! for is it not delightful to take a walk through two or three villages in September and October, and see the ripe rich fruit in the gardens and orchards, hanging in beautiful clusters, and weighing down the over-loaded branches? Never do we feel more cause to exclaim with adoring gratitude

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good!"

And what, young reader, is that apple tree like, when, loaded with fruit, its branches bend beneath the weight? It is like the humble christian. The fruits which he

bears to the glory of God, do not exalt him, but rather humble him. The fruitful christian is always the most humble.

But if there are no blossoms, there will be no fruit. Spring is the time for blossoms, and youth is the time for the promise of piety. If there are no blossoms of religion in youth, we cannot look for fruits in manhood or old age. True it is, that

blossoms are sometimes found on trees in summer, and even autumn, but they do not come at the right time, and seldom produce much fruit. So is it also in religion. Those whose blossoms of piety appear at the right time, that is, in youth, which is the spring of life, usually bear much fruit in future years.

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Nobody loves to see an orchard without fruit. Trees that can bear fruit, should bear fruit. And therefore when we see in an orchard, a tree bearing plenty of fruit, we are ready to say, Ah, that is a good tree, see how well it bears!" We are pleased to see it, and think it is just as it should be. And this is right. The tree was made to bear fruit, and it should bear fruit. But did you never hear, do you not know, that you are expected to bear fruit as well as that tree. You can bear fruit, and so you should bear fruit. God made you to bear fruit.

If you ask me what I mean, I will tell you. You are not to live without thinking about your Creator, for if you do, you are like a barren tree that bears no fruit. If you fear the Great God, and love Jesus Christ who died for your sins, then you will bear fruits of righteousness to the praise and glory of God. You were made to love and serve God, just as that apple tree was made to bear fruit. Take care then you be not accounted as a barren tree or a dead branch. You know what they do with dead branches. Men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and burn them. Take heed and beware lest you be thus cast out. But if now you put forth the blossoms of early piety, God will make you trees of righteousness of his own right-hand planting, and then transplant you to the paradise above to bloom in immortal youth at his right hand for ever!

A DYING CHILD'S GIFT.

THE annals of christianity furnish many bright and interesting instances of early devotion to Christ; and what christian does not feel constrained to admire and adore, when before his own eyes he sees that word fulfilled-"Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise."

Clarissa Dolsen, the subject of this brief notice, was a beautiful and interesting child, aged about ten years, the daughter of G. and A. Dolsen. For about two years she was a pupil in the sabbath-school at Newburgh, and attended the ministry of the pastor, Dr. Forsyth. Religious truth seemed to have made a deep impression upon her mind, which was evident in her quiet attentive countenance in the house of God, or when in conversation with her sabbathschool teacher. Early in the present year, the family removed to Goshen, and during the summer she was seized with scarlet fever, which proved fatal.

Just

before her death, and after she had learned that her case was deemed hopeless, she requested her mother to transmit a halfeagle, (five dollars) which had been given her by a kind friend, to be deposited in the missionary box of the sabbath-school, where she had heard so often the lessons of wisdom, and towards which she seemed to cherish a warm attachment. Her request has been complied with, and her dying bequest will go towards the education of an Indian child, at one of our western missionary stations. This interesting death-bed scene, suggested the following lines:

Mother! I'm dying now:
I feel an icy chill, e'en at my heart;
The damp of death is on my brow:
Mother, we now must part!

Mother! how brief the space
Allotted me among my earthly friends-
The loved and honoured; and my race
On earth, how soon it ends!
Mother! my sight grows dim:
The shadows of the grave are closing round;
But yet my soul clings fast to Him,
Death's conqueror crowned.

Mother! he died for me,

For me, a sinful child, the Saviour died;
My sins transfixed him to the tree:
They pierced his bleeding side.
Mother! my hope is placed

On his atoning blood, so freely shed
For me; for me death's vale he traced,
And robb'd the grave of dread!
Mother! thy child would give
Some dying tribute to the Saviour's cause;
That others, too, may hear and live,
Obedient to his laws.

Mother! this piece of gold.

The gift of pleasure in the hour of mirth,
I consecrate; tis all I hold

Of treasure here on earth.

Mother! farewell, farewell!

The shadows of the grave are gathering thick; But all is safe, tis well! tis well!

Come Jesus, Lord, come quick!