"It requires nothing," replied my friend, "but common sense, and a strong _determination to do it_. Parents who make a definite object of the religious instruction of their children, if they have common sense, can very soon see what is necessary in order to interest them; and, if they find themselves wanting in the requisite information, they can, in these days, very readily acquire it. The sources of religious knowledge are so numerous, and so popular in their form, that all can avail themselves of them. The only difficulty, after all, is, that the keeping of the Sabbath and the imparting of religious instruction are not made enough of a _home_ object. Parents pass off the responsibility on to the Sunday school teacher, and suppose, of course, if they send their children to Sunday school, they do the best they can for them. Now, I am satisfied, from my experience as a Sabbath school teacher, that the best religious instruction imparted abroad still stands in need of the cooeperation of a systematic plan of religious discipline and instruction at home; for, after all, God gives a power to the efforts of a _parent_ that can never be transferred to other hands." "But do you suppose," said I, "that the _common_ class of minds, with ordinary advantages, can do what you have done?" "I think in most cases they could, _if they begin_ right. But when both parents and children have formed _habits_, it is more difficult to change than to begin right at first. However, I think _all_ might accomplish a great deal if they would give time, money, and effort towards it. It is because the object is regarded of so little value, compared with other things of a worldly nature, that so little is done." My friend was here interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Fletcher with the children. Mrs. Fletcher sat down to the piano, and the Sabbath was closed with the happy songs of the little ones; nor could I notice a single anxious eye turning to the window to see if the sun was not almost down. The tender and softened expression of each countenance bore witness to the subduing power of those instructions which had hallowed the last hour, and their sweet, bird-like voices harmonized well with the beautiful words,-- "How sweet the light of Sabbath eve! How soft the sunbeam lingering there! Those holy hours this, low earth leave, And rise on wings of faith and prayer." LET EVERY MAN MIND HIS OWN BUSINESS. "And so you will not sign this paper?" said Alfred Melton to his cousin, a fine-looking young man, who was lounging by the centre table. "Not I, indeed. What in life have I to do with these decidedly vulgar temperance pledges? Pshaw! they have a relish of whiskey in their very essence!"