The following record of a passage in the life of a faithful minister and his wife, when about to leave a beloved people and enter on the missionary work, will show how hard it is for woman to sunder the ties that bind her to her home, and go she knows not where, and yet with what childlike trust she enters that perilous and difficult field of effort to which she is called. "My dear good wife seems more than usually depressed at the thought of leaving the many friends who have endeared themselves to her by their kind offices. It is hard enough for me to break the bands of love that a year's tender intercourse with the people has thrown around my heart. But this I could bear, if other and gentler hearts than mine were not made to suffer; if other and dearer ties than those I have formed had not to be broken. My wife is warm in her attachments. She loves companionship. On every new field where our changing lot is cast, she forms intimate friendships with those who are of a like spirit with herself, if such are to be found. Sometimes she meets none to whom she can open her heart of hearts--none who can sympathize with her. But here it has been different. She has found companions and friends--lovers of the good, true, and beautiful, with whom she has often taken sweet counsel. To part with these and go, where and among whom she cannot tell, is indeed a hard trial. I passed through her room a little while ago, and saw her sitting by the bed, leaning her arm upon it, with her head upon her hand, and looking pensively out upon the beautiful landscape that stretches far away in varied woodland, meadow, glittering stream, and distant mountain. There was a tear upon her cheek. This little messenger from within, telling of a sad heart, touched my feelings. "Mary," said I; sitting down by her side, and taking her hand in one of mine, while with the other I pointed upward, "He will go with us, and He is our best and kindest friend. If we would wear the crown, we must endure the cross. 'For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding weight of glory.' We are only pilgrims and sojourners here; but our mission is a high and holy one--ever to save the souls of our fellow-men. Think of that, Mary. Would you linger here when our Master calls us away, to labor somewhere else in His vineyard? Think of the Lord, when upon earth. Remember how He suffered for us. Hear Him say, 'The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.' And shall the servant be greater than his Master?"