"No, indeed! I told her to wait until it amounted to five dollars, and then it would do her some good."

"And what did she say to that?"

Oh, nothing, only she pretended to look very melancholy, as though she were in a starving condition. But I understand all these things."

"Trick and hypocrisy and whining always seem to go with poverty. Was that the gaudy butterfly, Mrs. L

went out ?"

who just

"Yes, I do think I have never known a more worldly minded person than Mrs. L in my life. All she thinks about is dress and company. She never seems to reflect that she has a soul to save."

"Or to be lost, which it certainly will be if she does not lay aside the vanities of this world. I suppose she never said a prayer in her life."

"Not she; if you were to talk to her of praying, she would smile in your face.

"A sad condition, indeed! How the world lieth in the wicked one. The prince of this world hath many children, and she is one of them."

"And yet," continued the wife," she seems utterly insensible to her sad condition, and always changes the subject when I mention it to her."

"Of course. And she will go on, thus, hardening her heart and stiffening her neck, until she falls into the gulph of eternal ruin. It is sad to think on."

and

By eating the bread of carefulness, by grinding the poor, by over-working his apprentices, Mr. T gradually became

the owner of property. Of course he was a hard landlord. He owned two or three stores which were every now and then changing tenants, for few could stand his grinding injustice.

One of these stores had been vacant for some time, when a young man, just going into business, and who knew nothing of

his character, rented it for three hundred and fifty dollars per annum. That was the highest limit he had set himself in his close calculations of profit. He was a poor, but enterprising young man, and had been assisted into business by a few confiding and firm friends.

Not a single alteration or repair would T-put upon the house. After going to about two hundred dollars expense in fitting up the store, the young man opened for business. At the end of the first year, he found that his profits had been very fair; but there were many remnants and pieces of unsaleable goods on hand which had been paid for, these curtailed his active capital. Cheerful in prospect of his next year's business, and resolved to use even more activity and economy, he put his last quarter's rent in his pocket, and called on Mr. T—. After the money had been taken, and the receipt given, Mr. Tenquired after his business; the young man spoke of it as increasing, and said that he had done as well as he had expected. "You have no thought of moving, I suppose?"

"Oh no, the stand is a good one, and pleases me."

"Ahem! Ahem! I 've been thinking, for some time, that your rent was too low. A good stand like your's is worth a good deal more money."

"Three hundred and fifty is as much as I can afford to pay, and as much as any of my neighbors pay."

"Your neighbors pay too little, then. I must have four hundred and fifty dollars for my store for the next year."

"Four hundred and fifty!" exclaimed the young man, “I cannot afford to pay that. Besides, it is worth no more than I now pay."

There are many who can and will pay four hundred and fifty-I must get the most profitable tenants I can.

"But I have been to at least two hundred dollars expense." "That is your own look out, young man, not mine."

"So it is, and I was a fool to mention it! I see that I am yet a learner here."

Mr. T only smiled.

66 Will you not take four hundred ?"

"Not one cent less than four hundred and fifty."

The young man could do but one of two things, remove or pay the high rent. Fearing to risk another stand, and knowing that a change would be more loss to him than a hundred dollars, he reluctantly entered into contract to pay four hundred and fifty.

Another year passed, and Mr. T added fifty dollars more rent on the house. This was borne with also, for it was better than to move. But when fifty additional were demanded, under the impression that the tenant would consider it more than a loss of fifty dollars to move, he could stand it no longer, and sought another store. This store did not prove to be a good stand, which so troubled the young man's mind, that, from neglecting his business, he became unsteady, and in the end failed.

With Mr. T— it was a common practice to raise on all of his tenants a sum just large enough to make them feel that it was. better to pay it than move.

No one who knows the writer will feel disposed to accuse him of wishing to throw disrespect upon religion. How could he be so false to himself as to wish to darken the only true light that lighteneth every man that cometh into the world; which penetrates and disperses the gloom of the grave? But he is ever disposed to condemn and hold up to view all pretenders to that which they do not possess. One such man as Mr. T— does more real harm in the world than a dozen open reprobates.

And, alas! how many such there are. Who does not know a Mr. or a Mrs. T? In what religious associations are not those to be found who are willing to have faith alone, to trust in faith alone, and to esteem the goods of this world as more valuable than the goods of charity. A purified, internal love for the neighbor, a love that prompts to good deeds-combined with a calm dependence upon the Giver of every good and perfect gift, is the only religion that will make a man fit for heaven.

THE HERO WITHOUT FEAR AND WITHOUT

REPROACH.

FROM THE GERMAN OF CHR. SCHMID.

ALL frowning o'er the valley green,
Girt by dark cliff and dusky wood,
Purpled in evening's light serene,

An ancient mountain-castle stood.
See, how each lofty tower it rears,
All hoary with the pomp of years,
And clad in stately garments made
By the proud oak's ancestral shade.

In days of yore, there dwelt within
A meek and angel-hearted maid,
Untouched by care, unstained by sin,
The gentle lady Adelaide!
All shadowed by her golden hair,
With eyes so clear, so still, so fair,
She seemed, in loveliness and love,
A herald from the heavens above.

Yet swiftly past that castle's gate,

With trembling steps the wanderer hied,

The land around lay desolate

And tenantless on every side.

By thistles, thorns, and weeds alone
The earth's forsaken ways were sown ;
The castle's silent walls, I trow,
Seemed grieving o'er the waste below.

For deep within that vale of woes,

A hideous monster, night and day,
With hungry jaws that never close,
Did fiercely prowl to seek his prey;
Clad was his serpent-form, I ween,
In scaly vest of shining green,

A thousand teeth-O sight of awe!-
Were weapons in the dragon's jaw.

And once the sire of that fair dame

Had spurred his steed, and charged his spear,
(A warrior he of well-earned fame)

To battle with that beast of fear;
But spear, nor sword, nor lance avails
To pierce those adamantine scales ?
And, by the monster torn and slain,
He died a gallant death, but vain.

In grief the sorrowing mother sank,
Upon the bed of sickness thrown,
She neither spake, nor ate, nor drank,

Nor heard her child's consoling tone;
Beside her couch that maiden bright
Kept tearful watch by day and night,
Ready her own young life to give,
Her drooping mother's to revive.

With parched lips and piteous look,

The dying lady faintly cried;

Oh, bring me water from the brook

That wells beneath our mountain side!"

Silent in fear her damsels stand,

No foot is stirred at her command;

For, ah, beside that wave they know
Keeps grisly watch their dragon-foe!