Mr. Pierson proposes opening immediately a probationary house, in the sixth ward, and also to make ample provision for all that may offer themselves as candidates for reform.

As there is for this class of unfortunate females no charitable or benevolent institution that proposes to lend them a helping hand, nor door open through which they can make their escape from destruction, it is expected that the philanthropists of this highly favored city will promptly send to him, in Pearl street, near Maiden lane, the necessary amount to carry on this important charity.

The institution will be known by the name of the New York Female Asylum Society. The Asylum is now open for the reception of applicants, on Bowery Hill, at the junction of the Bowery and Broadway.

No. 36.

A WELCOME HOME.

(A Tract lately published in New York.)

The virtuous have fallen and risen again. The fairest buds have withered and revived again.

In 1761, Ephraim Syrus related the following history to the Rev. John Wesley, who remarks, "I wonder it was never translated into English." It is as follows:

"My beloved brethren, I have a desire to relate to you, what our brother Abraham did in his old age. This blessed man had a brother according to the flesh, who had an only child. When her father fell asleep, she remained an orphan. Her friends brought her to him being six years old. He ordered her to be placed in the outer cell; he himself abode in the inner. A little door was between them. He taught her the psalms and the other scriptures, and watched and sang with her. And as he lived an austere life, so did she, willingly profiting in every exercise, and laboring to excel in all virtues. The holy man often besought God for her with tears, that her heart might be fixed on God, and not entangled with the care of worldly things; for her father had left her much wealth, which by his advice she gave to the poor. And she entreated him, saying, 'Pray for me, that I may be delivered from evil thoughts, and from all the wiles and snares of the devil.' The blessed man rejoiced, seeing her good conversation and forwardness, and tears, her lowliness, meekness, quietness of spirit, and earnest love to God. And for twenty years she thus exercised herself with him, as a fair lamb, a spotless dove.

"When the twentieth year was fulfilled, the devil was mad against her, and lay in wait to get her into his net. There was a man in name religious, but not in truth, who frequently came to consult Abraham. He saw the maid, and his heart burned within him. He lay in wait for her a whole year, till hereart was inflamed also and opening the door of her cell, she went out to him, and consented to his will. But no sooner had she committed wickedness, than she rent her clothes, smote her breast, and thought of putting an end to her own life. For she said in herself, "Now I am dead, aad I have

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lost all my time, and all my labor, and my austerity, and my tears are perished, and I have destroyed my own soul, and I have brought sorrow upon the man of God, and am become a laughing stock to the devil. Why do I live any longer? Ah me, from whence, how low am I fallen! How shall I be hid? Where shall I go? Into what pit shall I cast myself? Where is the exhortation of the blessed man, Keep thy soul spotless for thy immortal bridegroom?' I dare no more look up to heaven. I am lost both to God and men. I dare not approach that holy man, sinner as I am, and full of uncleanness. Were I to make such an attempt, surely fire would come out of that door, and consume me. It is better for me to go where none knows me; for I am undone, and there is no salvation for me.' And rising up, she went straight to another city, and became servant at an inn. "A little before this Abraham saw a vision :-A dragon, great and terrible, rising out of his place; and coming to his cell, he found a dove, and devoured it; and then returned to his place. The holy man coming to himself, was much troubled and wept bitterly, and said, 'Thou, Lord, knowest all things; and thou only knowest what this vision meaneth.' After two days, he saw the same dragon again. And he came out of his place, to the blessed man, and laying his head under Abraham's feet, burst asunder, and the dove was found alive in the dragon's belly.

"Coming to himself, he called once and again, saying, “Child, where art thou? Behold, here are two days that thou hast not opened thy mouth in the praise of God.' Finding that none answered, and that she was not there, he perceived the vision related to her. And he groaned in spirit, and said, 'O Savior of the world! bring back this lamb into thy fold, that my gray hairs come not down with sorrow to the grave. Lord, despise not my supplication; but send down thine hand, and take her out of the mouth of the dragon that hath devoured her.'

After a season he heard where she was; and having learned all things concerning her, he called one of his friends, and said to him, "Bring me a horse and the habit of a soldier:" and having put it on, with a large cap upon his head, he left his cell, and rode away. Being come to the place, he alighted and went in; and after a time, said to the inn-keeper, Friend, I have heard thou hast a beautiful damsel here: call her to me, that I may rejoice with her.' Being called, she came. When the holy man saw her, in harlot's attire, he was melting into tears; but he refrained himself, that she might not perceive it. After they sat down, she embraced him, and kissed his neck. And she smelled the smell of his cell, and called to mind past things, and groaning deeply, said, 'Wo is me! What am I?' The inn-keeper, being astonished, said, 'Mary, thou hast now been with us two years, and I never heard thee groan before, or heard such a word from thee. What is come to thee?' She answered, Would I had died three years since; then I had been happy.' 'Immediately Abraham said to him, 'Prepare us a supper, that we may rejoice together; for I am come from afar, for her sake.' And after supper she said to him, Let us go into the chamber.' And when they were come in, he saw a bed made ready: and he sat upon it, and said, 'Make fast the door:' she made it fast, and came to him. Having taken hold of her so that she could not run away, he

took off his cap, and said to her, weeping, 'My child, Mary, dost thou not know me? Am not I he who brought thee up? Mary, what is come to thee? Who hath destroyed thee, my daughter? Where are thy prayers and thy tears-thy watching and holy exercises? My child, when thou hadst sinned, why didst thou not tell me, that I might have humbled myself for thee? My daughter, why hast thou done this? Why hast thou forsaken thy father?' She remained in his hands as a lifeless stone; till he said to her with tears, 'Dost thou not speak to me, my child, Mary? Dost thou not speak to me? Am I not come hither for thy sake? I have besought the Lord concerning thee.' Till midnight he continued exhorting and comforting her. Then coming a little to herself, she said to him weeping, I cannot look at thee; for I am defiled with sin.' The blessed man replied, 'On me be thy sin; only come, let us go to our place.' She said to him, 'If it be possible for me to repent, and if God can accept my repentance, I come; and I fall down, and kiss thy steps, wetting them with my tears, that thou hast thus had compassion on me, a forlorn wretch, and art come hither, to draw me out of the mire of sin.' And laying her head at his feet, she wept bitterly all the night, saying, What shall I render thee for all thy benefits?'

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Early in the morning, he set her upon the horse, and went before her with great joy. And being come to his place, he put her in the inner cell; where she gladly resumed her former exercise, with sackcloth and ashes, and much humiliation, with mourning, and watching, and ceaseless calling upon God. And the merciful Lord gave her a sign that he accepted her repentance, healing many that were sick, through her prayers.

"Holy Abraham lived ten years after, beholding her good conversation, and blessing, and praising, and magnify God. Then having lived seventy years, he slept in peace. Mary survived him thirty and five years, calling upon God night and day; insomuch that all who passed by, glorified God, who saveth them that were gone astray."

Abraham's example is followed by the friends of the New York Magdalen Society. Any unfortunate girl, desiring to avail herself of these charities, is welcomed to the probationary house of the New York Female Asylum, 16 Centre street, where she shall be protected, and taught the way to heaven, and provision made for her future happiness and welfare.

No. 37.

RETURN POOR WANDERER.

(A tract lately published in New York.)

Accept this tract, as a proof, that though unfortunate, you are not without a friend. True, it was an evil hour in which you listened to temptation, and made a sacrifice of that virtue which by all, (and especially by women,) should' be held more dear than life. Have you not thought thereon and wept? Oh, that you may shed the tears of unfeigned repentance, and obtain mercy and forgiveness, and grace effectually to restore you!

The awful step to which you ascribe your present situation, was accompa

nied, no doubt, with sharp misgivings, and immediately followed with confu sion and alarm. At the sight of a virtuous friend, you reddened with shame; the growing apprehension of discovery oppressed your life; and fatally, alas! you quitted the shelter which a parent's or some benefactor's wing would have still afforded. The partner of your crime cared not that he had broken up the peace of a family; he soon became weary of his victim, and then thrust her forth upon the unpitying world.

Ah! did you not despond too soon, and desponding, did you not form the desperate resolution to make an end of life, or to sin yet more? Had you even then sought a gracious God, he would have soothed the wanderer, and opened a door of hope for you.

But, alas! you proceeded to fill up the measure of iniquity. You sought an intimacy with those whose habits of impurity were confirmed. You entered on the ignominious trade of prostitution. What were your gains? Let your sad experience tell! Shame, confusion of face, disease, a prison, hospital, or penitentiary! And what have been the gains of your sisters in prostitution? Three in one house of ill fame in New York, within a short time, committed suicide: one drowned herself by jumping off the dock, the other two poisoned themselves; a fourth killed herself by stabbing with a fork to the heart. Suicide is as common among prostitutes as murder among Algerines. There are hundreds who have attempted to destroy themselves, by opium and laudanum, but by medical aid have been restored. Others have jumped into the river but have been rescued. Hundreds die annually in the hospitals at Bellevue, and thousands disappear from the beds of the adulterers and adulteresses, and none to relate their sad death. They left the virtuous walks of life, and soon disappeared.

The keepers of the houses keep silence; their present victims feel all the pangs of them that have gone before, and soon follow them to a dreadful judgment. It is supposed by those that have fully investigated this matter, that few see many years, after giving themselves up to public prostitution.

Now answer candidly these questions, what will you do? will you go to the grave with all your sins upon your head, and with suicide too on the top of all the other black catalogue? Be persuaded. Before you again go to your chamber to ask what gain or pleasure has all my wickedness brought me? and will not my end be as awful and as sudden as that of those who have walked with me in lewdness, but now sleep in death?

"What then," you ask, "shall we do? Is it possible in some measure to retrieve our character? Remains there a hope? Are we not banished from virtuous company? Do not the modest shun and abhor us, as all human be-. ings fly from the plague?" For the sincere and broken hearted there are assuredly grounds of encouragement. But think not that sorrow and tears are an effectual reform: you must cease to do evil, and learn to do well. There is a place provided by the bounty of a few Christians, at No. 16 Centre street. Many have therein recovered health, profited under religious instruction, and been restored to friends or put into a capacity of carning an honest and decent livelihood.

Perhaps even now a mournful voice is asking-"where is my sister?" or "where my child?" Some heart longs to melt over you; some lips are prepared to say, "she was lost and is found; she was dead, and is alive again; it is meet that we rejoice." Above all, there is a God, who, though you have not considered it, has witnessed all your conduct, and all your misery. "Choose the profound of midnight, and the deepest cavern, his eye perceives you as clearly as in the public street in the midst of day." Such, we are informed, was the language of one whom an unfortunate vainly solicited to attend her home. The unexpected remark fixed like an arrow in her conscience; she represented to herself the guilty scenes on which the all seeing God must have frowned: she sued for mercy; forsook her shameful occupation; and from that time, devoted her life to industry, purity, and all the pursuits of a genuine Christian: may you go and do likewise.

The door is not yet shut against you. Should father and mother refuse you a sight of them, should the world extinguish all the hopes you placed on its candor, there is one greater than all, who will not only receive you, but do abundantly more than you can venture to ask. The Lord God is merciful and

ready to forgive. You have heard that Jesus, his beloved Son, came into this depraved world with the design to save sinners. The seventh chapter of Luke records an affecting instance of salvation: to you it applies with unspeakable interest, for it describes the mercy of which one criminal like you became a partaker. "And behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner," that is, one addicted to lewdness, "when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and annointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him, for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering, said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors; the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay,he frankly forgave them both: tell me therefore which will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he to whom he forgave most: and he said unto him, thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet; but she hath washed my feet with tears and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this woman since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not annoint; but this woman hath annointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much : but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, thy sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with him, began to say within themselves, who is this that forgiveth sins also? And he saith to the woman, thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace." The same Jesus, though we see him not, retains all his authority and grace. Go to him in prayer, and entreat him to pity, to save, and to direct you. We know from his character, from his promises, from the whole scope of his gospel, what his answer will be. He will say, "Thy sins are forgiven;" "go in peace."

Are you young, and but lately led astray? Draw back your foot this instant. Rush from the destructive path. It were ten thousand pities to thicken the clould that has begun to hide from you the light of Heaven; and to employ the energies of youth in preparing arrrows which shall pierce and poison the last hope of drooping age.

Despise not this perhaps the last token of God's compassion which, if despised, will ever reach you. Read this address, and consider it, and pray over it; and who knows whether we shall not hereafter meet a crowd of penitents, ransomed from this miserable class, and invited to dwell among the faultless and the happy before the throne! We will cherish the idea, while a single gleam discovers the prospect to be still open.

Return, O daughter of reproach. Let one hour after such an age of dissipation be devoted to thought; Show kindness to yourself Why should you add bitterness to the bitter? Why refuse an application to the God of grace? The excellent of the earth say, Come; the Divine Spirit saith, Come. Come to the fountain of grace and purity. Come to the footstool of that throne from which smiles were shed down upon the publican. Come to the tender hearted Christian, who will pity, direct, and encourage you. Come to the cheering ordinances of religion. "Wherefore, come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty."

Blessed language! Can any thing, but a heart of stone, be insensible to i' persuasive import? A prayer rises from each devout reader, that you, wh it principally concerns, may feel all it is calculated to impress. Oh, tha may also pray, and that your sorrow, your amendment, your entire cony to God, may form the solid demonstration that prayer has obtained an a The stranger who puts this into your hand is anxious to promote ar glorious. In return for his good intention, comply with one re ving read this tract, lend it to whom you think will read it too; ar least for yourself, that you will remember and esteem and fall in mendations.