things. "He that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love."

If we are "accepted in the Beloved," we shall be saved. "If God be for us, who shall be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that

condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen again; who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.' "If, when we were enemies, we were reconciled by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life." The strongest reasoning I ever saw was in the Bible; but even in that blessed volume I never found any stronger than this. It shuts us up to confidence and hope, unless we are given over to unbelief.

What glorious prospects believers have! "The Christian hath such a harvest of glory and happiness coming as will never be fully got in. It will be always reapingtime in heaven." Every redeemed soul that has got safe to glory has been ready to say, as the queen of Sheba on visiting Solomon, "It was a true report that I heard in mine own land. . Howbeit, I believed not the words, until I came and mine eyes had seen it; and behold, the half was not told me."

WORLDLINESS IN THE FAMILY.

BY REV. DR. CHEEVER.

Few persons ever think of the power of worldliness of mind, in persons bearing the Christian name, as an element in the education of their children. Baptism, and the ordinances of the Christian Church, the regular worship of God upon the Sabbath, and the duties of the household altar, are all observed, perhaps with a strict punctilious regularity, and in precept the importance of religion is inculcated; but the example of character and life, outside those forms, fixtures, and homiletic teachings, is all the other way. There is so much conformity to the manners, customs, expenses, and amusements of the world, and so much dependence on the laws of fashion, and so much regard to them, whether they be of doubtful propriety, or of religious tendency, or not, that the positive weight of example and influence of life is nearly all earthly and irreligious. For one hour

of religious teaching in form, through the course of a week, there are seven times twelve hours of teaching and influence in reality and power, regardless of religion, and therefore expulsive of it, and tending to form a young and growing mind to a neglect and aversion of it. The things of the world, the pleasures of the world, the tastes of the world, the pursuits of the world, the ambitions, the amusements, the opinions, the friendships, the fashions, the respectabilities of worldly circles, both in social and business life, are practically placed and regarded as uppermost and supreme, and everything is made to give way to them, so that even in the detail of education itself, religion is entirely subordinate to fashion and worldly respectability.

Now, even supposing that the children of such families become themselves professors of religion, what is the kind of piety which, from all this practical training, is likely to descend to the next generation? What kind of religious character will probably be developed in those whose religious education has been that of mere ordinance and form, but whose life-education, whose education in opinion, feeling, taste, association, and example, has been that of habit and character under a worldly standard, and perpetual worldly influences? The effect of a couple of hours of sermons on the Sabbath, and of the fixtures of a morning and evening family altar, might be to recommend religion, and remind the soul of the supremacy of another world; but the effect of the whole life apart from these fixtures, and of all the hours passed in positive education, and in the formation of life-habits of opinion and of action, is to make this present world supreme, and to put religion aside as a matter of mere theory and profession.

The stamp of the piety of the Church will be just as sure to come out in the education of the children of the Church, as any hereditary features or propensities in person or soul. Our habits in all things are most likely to be the habits of our children; for habit is a second nature, and children inherit this second nature as well as the first. The piety of the generation succeeding this present Church, is likely to be run in the mould of its own piety; it will not probably be any better than that.-The principle may play in different directions, but it is hardly likely to rise any higher, no more than the fountains in our parks will rise higher than the level of the river

at its fountain. Nay, it may be shown from all history and experience, that the piety of the second generation is likely to run lower. If there be a self-indulgent Church, the children of that Church will be more self-indulgent. This has always been the case. Piety in this world has been like Nebuchadnezzar's image, the head gold, but the feet iron and clay; divine in its origin, mingling with the world's elements in its progress, and at length becoming bare earth. Then God has to begin anew; then comes a new dispensation, a new people, a new baptism; but these divine experiments last only for a time, and again piety runs down and degenerates. God keeps mending, we keep marring; what God does, we undo; and in our children we present to Him a generation not after His likeness, but our own.

We have been talking much about this present age being the generation of God's people by whom He is to convert the world. If we beheld a Church eminent for godliness, if we saw the hosts in the tents of Jacob distinguished for deadness

to the world, self-denial, heavenly zeal, and fervent prayer, then might we conclude this to be the case. But if worldliness of mind is the prevalent characteristic, what becomes of this prospect? If we see a Church over which every breeze of worldly prosperity that blows sweeps it off from the work of God into eager competition with the world in laying up treasures on earth, then we become doubtful. Self-indulgence and worldliness are not good materials out of which to form good soldiers of Jesus Christ. There is more danger, that instead of our being the instrumental generation of Churches by which the work of the world's conversion is to be accomplished, God may find it necessary to break up the mould, and begin anew. Our piety needs not only reviving, but in many respects re-casting. Christians thus injured by worldly conformity are like old stereotype plates, soiled and broken, and no longer giving a true and fair impression of the original. The type is worn, the paper is thin, the ink is pale, and the page is blurred and doubtful.

Import of Cotton, 56,000,000 lbs. 428,000,000 lbs. Wool, 10,000,000, 65,000,000, 5,750,000"

Silk, 2,250,000

Exports, value, £24,000,000 £132,000,000

In ten years insurances against fire have increased £156,000,000. Depositors in savings banks have increased since 1831 from 429,503, with £13,000,000, to 1,108,000, with £33,000,000. The property which paid legacy duty between 1797 and 1831 was £742,000,000, and by 1841 it had increased to £1,163,000,000. In 1830 there were 30 miles of railway; in 1848, 4,400. In 1839, 68,000,000 letters; and in 1848, 338,000,000 passed through the Post-office. The above are examples of the progress of wealth to the British nation as a whole. The great enterprise and industry of the people stand confessed.

On the reverse, the Bankruptcy Committee prove £50,000,000 of bad debts every year; the Poor-Law Commissioners give a list of 3,650,000 paupers, besides the expense of £8,000,000 to keep the starving Irish from being paupers. In France, with a population of 34,000,000, there were, in the year 1842, 6,953 persons committed for trial. In England, with 17,000,000 people, there were 31,300, which is nine times as much in proportion; and in Ireland the pro

portion is twice as great as in England. There must be some remedy for this. There must soon be a change at any rate.

WOMAN.

THE proud, haughty, and capricious woman delights to show her power over her husband, even at the expense of his reputation, which never fails to affect her own. Men are very frequently the servants and slaves of such women.-There is another kind of woman that rules men too; the cold, calm, unexcitable, and self-possessed; the woman that never forgets herself. We never saw such a one as a wife, but the husband was, more or less, the subject of her will. In both instances an intense selfishness is the predominant principle; in the first combined with vanity; and in the second, with that and a large portion of self-esteem into the bargain. In a true woman-and by a true woman we mean one in whom the nature of the sex is the most completely developed-candour will be the distinctive attribute, inasmuch as it is the distinctive attribute of the intuitive life which in her must prevail; but it is remarkable that these women, the true archetypes of their sex, are exactly those who have the least influence over commonplace men; for, to understand and appreciate such a woman, a man must be as noble and candid as herself. He must have insight, which few men have, for intellect gives it; and in the present stage of civilization it is certain that men are much more governed by the vices and artifices of women than by their virtues.

A DAUGHTER'S LOVE. THERE is no one so slow to note the follies or sins of a father, as a daughter. The wife of his bosom may fly in horror from his embrace, but his fair-haired child cleaves to him in boundless charity. Quickened by the visitation of pain to the paternal dwelling, her prayers are more brief, but more earnest-her efforts doubled and untiring-and if she can but win a transient smile from that sullen and gloomy face, she is paid--oh, how richly paid! for all her sleepless cares and unceasing labour. The father may sink from deep to deep-from a lower to a yet lower depth. Those who, in a happier hour, received largely of his benefactions, may start when they behold his shadow, and accelerate their pace to get beyond it—all, all may forsake him-God and the world-all but Satan and his daughter. Poor child! if thou canst not save, thy feeble torch, made bright as thy power can make it, throws at least a flickering light upon the path, till the object of thy unquenchable love has for ever left thee, and is shrouded in the thick darkness; and when undone-when gone from thee, and gone for ever-thou mayest wed thy early love, and know in him all that thy young heart pictured, yet, again and again, in the midst of thy placid joy, even with thy smiling infant on thy knee, the lost one will not be forgotten. Seeing the past, as it were only yesterday, forgetful of thy little darling, thou wilt exclaim, from the depths of thy ever-mindful and affectionate spirit, "My father! O my father!"

LUTHER'S CHILDREN.

"THERE were six children of this marriage," says Sir James Stephens," and it is at once touching and amusing to see with what adroitness Luther contrived to gratify at once his tenderness as a father, and his taste as a theologian and a reformer. When the brightening eye of one of the urchins round his table confessed the allurements of a downy peach, it was the image of a soul rejoicing in hope.' Over an infant pressed to his mother's bosom, thus moralized the severe but affectionate reformer; 'That babe, and everything else which belongs to us, is hated by the Pope, by duke George, by their adherents, and by all the devils. Yet, dear little fellow! he troubles himself not a whit for all these powerful enemies; he gaily sucks the breast, looks around with a loud laugh, and lets them storm as they like.' There were darker seasons, when even theology and polemics gave way to the more powerful voice of nature; nor, indeed, has the deepest wisdom anything to add to his lamentation over the bier of his daughter Magdalene. 'Such is the power of the natural affection, that I cannot endure it without tears and groans, or rather an utter deadness of heart. At the bottom of my soul are engraven her looks, her words, her gestures, as I gazed at her, in her lifetime, on her death-bed. My dutiful, my gentle daughter! Even the death of Christ (and what are deaths compared to his?) cannot tear me from this thought as it should. She was playful, lovely, and full of love.""

EDUCATE YOUR DAUGHTERS. WHEN residing among the Choctaw Indians, I held a conversation with one of their principal chiefs respecting the successive stages of their

progress in the arts and virtues of civilized life; and, among other things, he informed me that at their first start they fell into a great mistake -they only sent their boys to school. They became intelligent men; but they married uneducated and uncivilized wives; one uniform result was, that the children were all like the mother; and soon the father lost his interest in both wife and children. "And now," said he, "if we could only educate one class of our children, we would choose the girls; for when they become mothers they would educate their sons." This is to the point, and it is true. No nation can become fully and permanently civilized and enlightened when the mothers are not, to a good degree, qualified to discharge the duties of "the home-work of education."-Rev. S. Dyer.

A PRIZE FOUND BY READING A BIBLE

THE following was published in French newspapers: A poor shepherd, of the environs of Yvetot, father of a large family, for whose wants he provided with very great difficulty, purchased last summer, from a dealer in old furniture, an old Bible, with a view to occupy his leisure evenings during the present winter. Sunday evening, as he was turning over the leaves, he noticed that several of them were pasted together. He immediately set himself to work to separate those leaves with great care; but one can scarcely form a conception of the surprise of the man, when he found, thus carefully enclosed, a bankbill of five hundred francs. On the margin of one of the pages were written these words:-"I gathered together this money with very great difficulty; but having none as natural heirs but those who have absolutely need of nothing, I make thee, whoever shall read this Bible, my heir."

SWIFT'S LAST LINES.

SWIFT, in his lunacy, had some intervals of reason. On one occasion his physicians took him with them to enjoy the advantages of fresh air. When they came to the Phoenix Park, Dublin, Swift remarked a new building which he had never before seen, and asked, "What was it designed for?" To which Dr. Kingsbury answered, That, Mr. Dean, is the magazine for arms and powder, for the security of the city." Oh, oh!" says the Dean, pulling out his pocket-book, "let me take an item of that. This is worth remarking; 'my tablets'—as Hamlet says 'my tablets; Memory, put down that."" Which produced the following lines, being the last the Dean ever wrote:

"Behold a proof of Irish sense!

Here Irish wit is seen;

When nothing's left that's worth defence,
We build a magazine."

He then put up his pocket-book, laughing heartily at the conceit, and clinching it with "When the steed's stolen, shut the stable door."

HOW TO MAKE SLEEP REFRESHING. 1. TAKE sufficient exercise in the open air during the day.

2. Eat light suppers, always two or three hours before retiring.

3. Avoid tea and coffee, and unnatural stimulants.

4. Retire early. All animals, except those that prowl all night, retire to rest soon after the sun

goes down. The early hours of sleep are the most sweet and refreshing.

5. Eschew feather beds; sleep on hair or cotton mattresses, with a light covering of bedclothes.

6. Be sure and have your room well ventilated. It is well known that the Duke of Wellington, now a hale old man, is accustomed to sleep on a hard narrow pallet; and we believe the couch of her Majesty is also of the simplest possible construction. It is reported that the Duke justifies the narrowness of his resting-place, on the plea that when a man wishes to turn, it is then high time to turn out. We seldom hear the laborious peasant complain of restless nights. The indolent pampered epicure, or the man who overtasks his brain and denies himself bodily exercise, is liable to sleeplessness.

THE COMMON WATCH.

THE Common watch is in many of its parts a very ill-constructed machine. The train of wheelwork which transmits the motion of the mainspring, for example, is contrived on principles so faulty that they would be scouted by every practised mechanician. Yet there can be no doubt that any attempt to introduce a better machine would utterly fail as a commercial enterprise. Long used methods and ingenious engines have been specially provided to fashion and cut every one of the minuter parts which go to compose the existing instrument. Mr. Dent, in a lecture delivered at the Royal Institution, stated that every watch consisted of at least 202 pieces, employing probably 215 persons, distributed among forty trades-to say nothing of the toolmakers for all of these. If we were now materially to alter the construction of the watch, all those trades would have to be relearnt, new tools and wheel-cutting engines to be devised, and the majority of the workmen to begin life again. During this interval, the price of the new instrument would be enormously enhanced. We should again hear men speak, like Malvolio, of "winding up their watches," as a token of magnificent wealth. Thus, in our complicated state of society, even machines in process of time come to surround themselves with a circle of "vested interests" which embarrass all our attempts at improvement.Edinburgh Review.

THE DYING DRUNKARD.
STRETCH'D on a heap of straw-his bed!
The dying drunkard lies;
His joyless wife supports his head,

And to console him tries:

His weeping children's love would ease
His spirit but in vain :-
Their ill-paid love destroys his peace;
He'll never smile again.

His boon companions-where are they
Who shared his heart and bowl,
Yet come not nigh, to charm away
The horrors from his soul?
What have gay friends to do with those
Who press the couch of pain?
And HE is rack'd with mortal throes;-
He'll never speak again.

CHATHAM ON DISSENT.

IN the debate in the House of Lords on the Bill for the Relief of Protestant Dissenters, May 19, 1772, the Earl of Chatham spoke very warmly

in favour of the Bill. In replying to one of the bishops who had spoken a greal deal of the dogmas of foreign colleges, he said, "There was a college of much greater antiquity, as well as veracity, which he was surprised he never heard so much as mentioned by any of his lordship's fraternity; and that was the college of the poor, humble, despised fishermen, who pressed hard upon no man's conscience, yet supported the doctrine of Christianity both by their lives and conversations superior to all; but, my lords, probably I may affront your rank or learning, by applying to such simple, antiquated authorities; for I must confess there is a wide difference between the bishops of those times and the present."

THINGS LOST FOR EVER.

LOST wealth may be regained by a course of industry; the wreck of health repaired by temperance; forgotten knowledge restored by study; alienated friendship soothed into forgiveness; even forfeited reputation won back by penitence and virtue. But who ever again looked upon his vanished hours, recalled his slighted years, and stamped them with wisdom, or effaced from Heaven's record the fearful blot of a wasted life?-Mrs. Sigourney.

A HINT RESPECTING THE CHOLERA, AND OTHER INFECTIOUS DISEASES. A PILGRIM, says the fable, met the plague going into Smyrna. "What are you going for?" "To kill 3,000 people," answered the plague. Some time after they met again. killed 30,000," said the pilgrim. swered the plague, "I killed but 3,000-it was fear killed the rest."

NOVEL READING.

"But you "No!" an

Opinion of Dr. Hawes.-No habitual reader of novels can love the Bible, or any other book that demands thought, or inculcates the serious duties of life. He dwells in a region of imagination, where he is disgusted with the plainness and simplicity of truth, with the sober realities that demand his attention as a rational and immortal being, and an accountable subject of God's government.

Opinion of Dr. Wayland.-It is manifest that our moral feelings, like our taste, may be excited by the corruption of our imaginations, scarcely less than by the reality. These, therefore, may develope moral character. He who meditates with pleasure upon fictions of pollution and crime, whether originating with himself or with others, renders it evident that nothing but opposing circumstances prevents him from being himself an actor in the crime which he loves. Let the imagination, then, be most carefully guarded, if we wish to escape temptation, or make progress in virtue.

A REPROOF.

A SCOTCH geologist being in the country on the Sabbath, and having his pocket hammer with him, took it out and was chipping the rock by the wayside, for examination. His proceedings did not escape the quick eye and ready tongue of an old Scotch woman.

"What are you doing there, mun ?" "Can't you see? I am breaking a stone." "Ye're doing mair than that; ye're breaking the Sabbath, mun."