professional man must go on, whatever his income. An unfortunate ambition has already crowded the learned professions to more than repletion. The aggregate income is inadequate, if properly distributed, to the comfortable support of those engaged in them, while some, enjoying, from their reputation and skill, an amount much above their wants, leave a greatly larger number without the means of decent support.

The life of a farmer or artizan ought not to be regarded as beneath an honorable ambition. He, who by prudence and skill is successful in these, occupies a higher social position than the unsuccessful professional man. And even want of success does not subject him to that severe mortification and to the deprivations which are felt in the more ambitious walks of life. With health and strength he can, at least, command the necessaries of life, and lie down at night with no anxious cares.

But though the desire for professional life is too prevalent and brings evil to many, in its mischievous action on the heart, it is not to be compared to the evils of the love of office and of looking forward to official preferment. That parent or friend who has waked up such an ambition in the child has done him a greater evil than to have robbed him of an estate. The number of offices compared with those having capacity to fill them must always be small. And in general the attainment of them is no evidence of intellectual or moral worth. On the contrary the aspirant must generally abandon all independence of opinion and action, and become the tool of a party, or the demagogue of a faction. He must pander to every appetite and flatter every prejudice, and submit to every caprice of those whose support he seeks, be they few or many.

Of all who now enjoy office, from the President of the United States to the lowest that our laws have established, ninety-nine, probably, in a hundred would have passed a vastly happier and more virtuous life had they been content with a private station. They have sold their happiness, and too frequently their very souls for office.

Fathers-mothers-set your faces like a flint against this ambition in your children-rebuke every attempt to enkindle it

teach those to whom you have given life that independence, virtue, self-respect, are better than all the titles and offices that men can give that the race of ambition for popular or official favors must be with naked limbs through thorns and brambles, and amidst snares and gins and pit-falls-a race in which there is nothing to gain but much to lose. Teach them that better ambition, to look down with pity on all the scramblers for office, and to seek a surer happiness here, and a ten-fold better prospect of happiness hereafter, in the quiet walks of private life amidst domestic virtues and all the kindly influences of home.

Your very agreeable present, and the manner in which it was received, will never be forgotten; it is the first "jeu d'esprit" of the kind I have ever met with. I regret that it was not in my power to acknowledge your kindness personally before I left your city;-but what shall I now render to you for this benefit? I have, I confess, scarcely anything within my gift. If I could transmit to you the garment of salvation, I should indeed be able to recompense you fully; though not half so fully, as if you received it from the Author of Salvation; this is a gift which is enhanced by the dignity of the Giver, and He has therefore reserved it to himself to bestow it. This gift, however, will not

This letter was addressed to a highly esteemed friend in Baltimore. Mr. S. was in the habit of wearing a coat of the ordinary cut and fashion, and his friend, though not a professor of religion, yet one who greatly respected it, and loved and entertained its ministers, believing that the dress of the Methodist Preachers should, as far as practicable, be uniform, presented him with a single-breasted coat, such as was generally worn by them in the days of Wesley.

be yours in the same way that your gift became mine, for He requires that you shall ask in order to receive it, and has only promised His Holy Spirit to them that ask Him. My coat indeed becomes me well, it fits me better than any coat I ever had, and its texture is super-excellent:-but, my dear friend, the garment I would recommend to you would become you still better, and would fit you and adorn you more than any garment you ever wore; as to its texture, it is emphatically said to be "fine" not comparatively so, but positively "fine," and that alone is "fine, clean and white!" I could have dispensed with your present, inasmuch as my former dress would have fully answered all the purposes for which it was intended; but my dear friend cannot dispense with the garment I am recommending him, for the man who has it not will be turned out from the marriage supper, and cast into outer darkness! My friend went to great expense to procure me this substance, and after all it is perishable, as he will perceive if I should live to see him again.—But the garment of salvation is as new after fifty years wear, as on the first day; it is of imperishable materials; and it will, notwithstanding, be given without money and without price! Indeed, if God were to fix a price upon it, that very price, no matter how great, would lessen its value! It is said of one of the ancient painters, that although he bestowed immense labor on every one of his productions in the fine art, he always gave, away his performances, and being asked the reason of it, he replied, "they are above all price!" This is indeed the case with the gift of God. He gives away, lest his blessings should deteriorate in the eyes of the purchasers, by the value annexed thereto; but although he gives, he gives freely, and is much more willing to give than we are to receive. He bestowed immense labor to perfect for us this finished work. The agony and bloody sweat, the cross and passion, the death and burial, the glorious resurrection and ascension, and the coming of the Holy Ghost! The former of these the price, the latter the purchase and now he gives the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him! "Oh, Lamb of God! was ever pain,

Was ever love like thine!"

But, my dear friend, why do I thus carry on the figure? Suffer me to speak freely, sincerely, lovingly, on this subject.—What is the cause-why, amid all that kindness that you ever show, and delight to show to the meanest of the servants of my Lord,-why, oh why is it, that you have not so fallen in love with the "Altogether Lovely," as to give Him full possession of your heart? You give him your money,-you give your tongue to speak upon his goodness;-your feet are employed in tracking the way to his sanctuary; and you delight to be seated among the flock of Christ. But then, your heart! "Oh! my son, my son," says God, "give me thine heart!" Seek the kingdom of God first, rather, and bring every other consideration into a state of inferiority. Let me ask you, my dear brother (for such I call you in anticipation, and from my very soul)--is He not worthy of your heart? The language of angels is, "Thou alone art worthy."-He has purchased you at the price of blood, and he claims you as his own. Will you continue to resist the claim? Has he not long been striving with you to yield yourself a willing sacrifice? Though he could force yet he prefers submission; he would honor you by proposing himself to your choice. He is an honorable lover! He woos; he entreats; he supplicates; he stoops to ask your love! Can you keep Him out any longer? Oh! no! your heart says no! Then answer him this moment

"Come in, come in, thou heavenly guest,

And never hence remove!

But sup with me, and let the feast

Be everlasting love!"

Oh! yes, when you have once tasted His love, you will want it to be everlasting. May the Lord God encourage and incline you in this pleasing surrender, and may He hear my prayers on your behalf!

Do let me hear from you at a leisure moment, and believe me to be, my dear friend, Yours sincerely,

JOHN SUMMErfield.

Original.

FILIAL IMPIETY.

WE not unfrequently hear it remarked by foreigners, in contrasting American and English Society, that in our country the crime of Filial Impiety prevails to an excessive degree. They tell us that disobedience and rebellion in the domestic circle are as frequent as theft and robbery in the community at large; and that if we would inquire into the extent of this species of crime with the statistical accuracy with which we investigate the extent of others, we should find filial impiety to be one of the vices of our age. It is impossible that such a charge should fall gently upon our ears. If it is false, we must be prompt to deny it; and if true, blush at the disgrace it attaches to us. That is but a morbid patriotism which would frown at the exposure of a foible peculiar to our country. To confess our defection, whether individual or national, is the part of wisdom, as well as generosity --and should be done both in honor of truth, and in the hope of melioration. However unwelcome it may be, we cannot wholly deny the charge brought against us. Parental authority is not so effective in this country as in England: The full extent of filial disobedience and waywardness may be exaggerated or underestimated; but cases occur often enough to suggest the inquiry whether there may not be something in the spirit of our institutions, which tends to filial impiety. It cannot be admitted that the tendency of liberal institutions in a virtuous community is to corrupt men, or render them unthankful; but we can easily conceive how genuine liberty, in a corrupt society,may degenerate into licentiousness, or a false idea of liberty become itself a demoralizing agent. As the republicanism in which our fathers founded this government is too rapidly tending to democracy and agrarianism; so the republican influences of social and domestic government are giving way before the power of this contagion.

There is a spirit of illaudable independence pervading the minds of the rising generation, which threatens serious injury to our social system. At a very early age, the youth of our times