The religious life of Mr. Rollins, from boyhood to age, has been as strongly marked as his official career. He believes in doing, not in seeming; in practice, not in profession. He can speak as well as work for the truth. When the pastor needs help, he addresses the people. When the poor of the church or congregation need aid, he heads and carries the subscription paper. He has never lived in a place where he has not taught a Bible class; and worthy young men who have learned in his classes have often received promotion in business through his influence. He is always present at the stated meetings of the church. "Punctuality," says the old maxim, "is the essence of virtue." Mr. Rollins believed in the importance of punctuality; therefore he was never missed from the place of duty. In college he was never absent or unprepared; in office, in the bank, in public assemblies, the hours of business are promptly observed. In church, too, the times and places of worship are conscientiously observed, and if a delinquent neighbor, who has failed to be present when church affairs, temporal or spiritual, were discussed, meets him on a subsequent day, he is carefully questioned with regard to his health! The family is the unit of the state. Good families make good communities, good cities, and good nations. A single good family is a light shining in a dark place. The history of the world is the united histories of illustrious families. The history of the church is the history of holy men. The Scriptures record the deeds and words of the best men our earth has known. Eliminate from the Bible the actions and opinions of kings, prophets, and apostles, and the records of our race become unintelligible. When we find a faultless and worthy Christian household, we do well to present it to the public for contemplation and imitation. One such household we venture to describe. Mr. Rollins's house is beautiful of situation, at the corner of Spruce and Fortieth streets, in West Philadelphia. Its liberal grounds, numerous trees, shrubs, and flowers make it very attractive to the eye of the stranger. When once introduced to the interior, every guest who has any music in his soul would be delighted to sing "Home, sweet Home" from early morn to dewy eve. Every room invites you to repose; every picture that looks upon you from the walls bids you welcome. It is impossible for one who has enjoyed the hospitality of the house to describe it fully without encroaching upon the sacred privacy of domestic life. This house was long the home of the now sainted mother, who only a few months ago was bidden to go up higher, and left the husband and children desolate. The house seems like the shrine of a departed divinity. The furniture was of her selection, the walls and mantels were adorned by her handiwork; and when changes or additions are now made to the internal conveniences of the home, the first question asked is, "What would mother choose if she