DEAR MOTHER,--I must not forget to tell you that I received a call in the parlor yesterday from Mrs. Thomas Jones. She was dressed so differently that at first I hardly knew her. Thomas and his wife after a suitable time for examination and trial, made a public profession of religion in our church; and have since conducted themselves and their household in such a manner as to give the strongest evidence of the sincerity of their profession. Mrs. Jones called to see me with reference to William Reynolds, for whom both she and her husband feel a lively interest; and from her I received these incidents. Mrs. Reynolds with her interesting children, was long ago removed to a decent tenement in the village, where she has supported herself comfortably by her skill as a tailoress. During the past year she has seen nothing of her husband, who wandered away when released from his confinement. Now he has returned, pale and haggard, worn out in body and mind. He loitered around the streets all one day, not daring to ask for his family. At length, Thomas met him and took him to his own home. "I could not but think," said the kind-hearted woman with tears starting to her eyes, "of the time when my husband used to return from a drunken frolic, looking pretty near as forlorn as he. But Thomas brushed him up, and we made him look as smart as we could, though we couldn't restore the ruddy cheeks, or the bright eyes he used to have; and then I jest stepped over to Anna Reynolds's. She was a sitting so kind o' comfortable hearing her little girl read a nice book, she got from Sabbath-school, while Willie was whittling into a basket, that I couldn't help feeling kind o' guilty, to think how soon the errand, I'd come on might destroy all her peace. For you know, her husband had been gone so long she'd got settled like to have him away. But I knew who was waiting at home, and so I made bold to walk in. "'Good evening, Miss Reynolds,' I says. "She looked up as pleasant as could be, and says she,'good evening, Miss Jones,' and then she got up and set me a chair by the fire. I allus said she was a born lady, and so is her little Anna. After all I didn't know how to bring in my message, and I begun to wish I hadn't come, for fear she'd faint away or something. She looked up from her work while I was trying to think how I could begin, and says she, 'can't you stop and spend the evening?' "'Oh! no,' says I, 'I'm expected home. Miss Reynolds,' says I, my heart beating so I was feared she'd hear it, 'who do you think's over to our house?' "'I can't say indeed,' says she. Then she smiled and asked, 'has Samuel returned?' "'No' says I, 'but your husband has' and with that I burst right out a crying, I couldn't help it, I'd tried to keep in so long. Miss Reynolds turned jest as white as a sheet; and her work fell out of her lap to the floor. 'Oh, dear!' says I, 'I didn't mean to tell you of it so sudden.'