water, all smiling in the beauty of summer sunshine and all presenting objects, which teemed with historical associations connected with the Revolutionary struggle, from the ruined batteries which crowned the memorable heights of Dorchester to that famous hill in Charlestown which was the theatre of one of the most brilliant and terrible scenes, which mark the early period of the War of Independence.

It will be long before I shall forget these delightful boating excursions in the harbor of Boston.

F.

PROFESSION, NOT PRINCIPLE.

BY T. S. ARTHUR.

From The Subordinate."

"PROFESSION is not Principle." I learned this years ago, and have seen it verified hundreds of times since. Who has not? Neither is profession religion. How often, too, have I proved this. The best men I ever knew were those who made few professions. The internals with them were pure as well as the externals.

I take no pleasure in making the exposures which follow, but where truth may do good I never hesitate about telling it. It is always painful to perceive a deviation from profession in those who make a show of religion. Christianity has suffered more from the irregularities of its pretended friends, than the assaults of its open enemies. There are thousands who have taken upon themselves no vows, who are purer in heart and more upright in actions than many, very many who press forward to the altar. This is a sad truth.

T

A few doors from my residence, when a boy, lived a Mr. a boot maker. He was a member of the

Church, and a loud professor. Regularly every morning and evening he assembled his family for worship, and in the private meetings of the church members, he prayed loudest and longest of any. I often observed him during the services of the

church on the Sabbath, and was forced to remark the air of piety and devotion which he exhibited. At first I was led to believe him a good man, but a little introduction into the secrets of his business transactions, as I grew older, convinced me that he made religion a means of securing worldly emolument and honor, rather than heavenly riches and divine honors. It was only necessary to ask his apprentices his character to understand something of his claims to religion. A really good man is rarely, if ever, the subject of abuse by those under him, but they spare not the pretender to virtues which he does not possess.

Mr. T, was one of those who profess to consider heavenly riches as infinitely more valuable than sordid gold, but who, by all their actions illustrate the truth of the remark with which we started, that "profession is not principle." He was not content with working his apprentices hard, and keeping them poorly clad and poorly fed, but he gained his penny whenever he could, no matter who lost the penny or to whom it most belonged. I will give an example of his dealing in this latter respect.

A colored drayman had brought him a load of leather from a house far down town. After the leather was unloaded, the following dialogue took place.

"Well, old fellow, (and the drayman was old—at least sixty) what 's to pay?"

"Three fips, sir."

"Here's a 'levy. I never pay but a 'levy a load. You can't take me in."

"Indeed, massa, can't take less than three fips. That's the reg'lar charge, and I always gits it."

"Nonsense!—here take your money, and do n't stand palavering there."

"Can't, indeed, massa. You knows that aint enough."

"You black nigger! do you mean to say that I want to cheat you?"

"No, massa; but three fips is the reg'lar charge for a load, and I can't take less. I could n't make a livin', at a 'levy."

"Well I'm not going to stand fooling here with you. If you do n't take this, you'll get nothing."

"Can't take it, massa. All or none, is my rule. I wont cheat by asking too much, and I wont be cheated.”

"Then you get none.”

“Well, I can give you three fips if you are sufferin'." And the independent old fellow got on to his dray and drove off.

I was standing at the door at the time, and witnessed the whole proceeding. The unjust man turned away as the dray rattled off, but I could see no compunction on his hard face.

A few days after, I witnessed a similar scene, which I will also describe. Another drayman brought him a barrel of flour and a keg of butter from the wharf. As usual the eleven penny piece was tendered.

"The price is three fips, massa," said the negro, smiling. "Nonsense!-here take your money; think I don't know the

price?"

"Indeed indouble, massa! dat 's too little.'

"Here, aint you going to take your money? You'd better." Massa, if I had plenty of money, and what I'd call plenty aint much, I would n't care about a fip. But my old 'oman's been sick now three months, and I 've got five little children, and sometimes I can't hardly git enough for 'em to eat. A fip would buy a loaf of bread, and that would go a good ways." "Here's your 'levy, if you are going to take it. If your wife is sick, that 's no reason why you should be an extortioner. If you are in want, beg, but do n't cheat."

The poor negro said no more, but took the little piece of money and went off. I witnessed this scene too. How my young hot blood, did boil.

On that same evening I heard him, at a public prayer meeting, in the church, address the good and holy Lord, and with vain repetitions, make a long prayer, as if he were to be heard for his much speaking, instead of for his pure heart and upright purpose. How can such men read the Word of the Lord, and

then hope to be received hereafter into the heavens, where love to the neighbor is pure and perfect?

They were a

Mr. T- -, had five apprentices. Each one of these he had taken from the alms house, because, as he said, parents and friends were always troublesome to a master. cowed, spiritless, and, if they were to be believed, a half starved set. Their clothes were poor and dirty, and they were ashamed to appear at church on the Sabbath day, or to go into decent company. At meals, they were allowanced in many articles, such as butter, meat, &c. at breakfast and supper times; and in bread at dinner time. A single slice of bread was all each received during dinner. Potatoes were very good. The boys were loud in their complaints out of doors, but dared not say much within.

In so large a family as that of Mr. T there was a good deal of sewing to do, and out of charity the work was taken from a seamstress who had sewed for the family sometime, and given to a poor widow woman with several small children. Ostensibly only was this charity. Really, it was to save a few more pennies. How could this be? some one will ask. Let me sketch a little scene; premising that this poor woman's husband was just dead, and she left helpless and friendless, with no apparent means of support. Besides, she was in very feeble health. By accident Mr. T— situation, and at the suggestion her case to him, told his wife charity to give her some sewing.

had heard of her distressed of the individual who named that he thought it would be

"I think it would indeed," says Mrs. T

Our sewing costs us a great deal," responds the careful husband, "and in this thing we may benefit ourselves as well as do a deed of charity. No doubt this poor woman is rather an indifferent sewer in comparison to Miss R, and therefore her work will not of course be worth so much. And she will no doubt think one half the price Miss R. gets a good one." "No doubt," chimes in the frugal partner.