dination to the high, immortal interests of the soul! Let it never be forgotten, that all apparent sacrifice required in this is real gain. The entire man is so made, as best to perfect his physical as well as mental organization in the pure atmosphere of virtue. There is, in their harmony of action, a genial intercourse and sympathy between the material and spiritual nature. But, if the spirit be neglected, the flesh is like a hard-working machine, from whose journals and bearings the oil is withheld, so that it is soon consumed with its own friction. Thus, to the argument of the soul's, then, is added that of more invigorated bodily health-we might add, of growing wealth and happiness: and surely, all these ought to be sufficient to overcome the strongest natural proneness to Intemperance and its attending vices.

Yet, the vice of moderate drinking, as the term goes, is a habit to which the world has been wedded, until it has grown hoary with age; and to call upon it now to shake this habit off, as vile and immoral in its tendency, is like asking the silver-haired husband to thrust from his arms the wife whom he has cherished as the partner of his youth and his age, on the charge of real corruption and infidelity, to which his blinded sense will not yield credence. Though you show him that his wife is a sorceress, who has all through life been mingling slow poisons with his meats and drinks; and though you point out the crippled limbs, and the mental infirmities which she has brought upon him; the paralysis of body and the blight of soul; yet incredulous perhaps, will he cling to her still, and be loath to yield her up. In such a case, all persuasion and argument having failed, there might be some query upon how strong proof of her wicked

designs, and his blind affection, the law might interpose its strong arm, and stay her deadly purpose. Taking alcohol, however, for this false jade-in whose embrace the wide world has grown old, the proof against her would seem to be abounding, sufficient and superabundant. And we may here add, the confidence of the bridegroom in his perfidious bride is shaken. We look with glowing hope and heartfelt pleasure, at the developments and changes of the last quarter of a century. That period back, and how few were bold enough to raise the standard of total abstinence! If they had done so, the opposing voice of public opinion would have shouted them down.

THE HERMIX AND THE PIIGHER.

BY MRS. ST. SIMON.

HE who bids adieu to the world, and retires into the wilderness, does not for that reason become a saint; for so long as the inclination to evil dwells in the heart, temptation from without is easily found and sin is committed.

Experience taught this to the man of whom an old story gives account. This man was by nature prone to sudden bursts of passion, but instead of seeking the cause of this fault in himself, he cast the blame upon the man who excited him to anger, and he thought—

"If this is so, the world is an injury to me, and it is better that I should leave it, rather than lose my soul."

He withdrew, therefore, into the wilderness, and built himself a hut in the midst of a wood, close by a spring; and the bread that he ate was brought daily to him by a boy, who had been directed to place it upon a rock, at a distance from the hut.

And thus all went well for several days, and he thought that he had become the most mild and even-tempered man in the world.

One day, he went, as usual, with his pitcher to the spring, and placed it so that the water might run into it. But as the ground was stony and uneven, the pitcher fell over. He placed it upright again, and more carefully than before; but the water, which spouted forth irregularly, overturned it a second time. Then he angrily seized the vessel and dashed it violently upon the ground, so that it broke in pieces.

He now remarked that his old anger had broken forth again, and he thought—

"If that is the case, the wilderness can in no way profit me; and it is better that I try to save my soul in the world, by avoiding that which is evil, and practising that which is good." And he returned again into the world.

Observe there are evil inclinations which may be conquered by avoiding the occasions which call them forth, and there are others which must be vanquished by resistance. But to perform either, we need not fly from the world, but from ourselves only.

HE RETIRED MERCHANT.

A LONDON merchant engaged in Mediterranean commerce, had successfully prosecuted his business and amassed, what all merchants desire, an ample fortune. His, indeed, was a princely one. He had purchased a large and beautiful estate in the country, and had built and furnished a splendid mansion in town, on the Surrey-side of the river, and now that he was verging towards sixty, he concluded to retire and enjoy the remnant of his life in peaceful leisure.

He negotiated for the sale of his abundance-making business, and sold it for another fortune. He then retired. He was a bachelor. He had his halls, his parlors, dining rooms and drawing rooms, his library and cabinets of curiosities. The floors were covered with the most mosaic specimens of Brussels or of Turkey carpetings-the furniture was of the most complete and exquisite selections-the walls with splendent mirrors and with classic paintings were adorned—and fine linen decorated all.

Carriages, horses, grooms and servants, were at his command. Books, pictures and engravings were at hand to interest him. The daily and the weekly papers, and the periodicals, brought to his table all the news of the great world, and his friends and his acquaintance paid him homage. How happy must the man be, who has all this!

He was not happy. He had no aim, no motive. The

zest with which he read the papers when he was a merchant, he had lost, now he had ceased to be engaged in commerce. A storm, a fleet, a pestilence along the Mediterranean shores, was full of interest to him before, because he had investments there. Now, they were of no consequence to him. The views and aims of government, were watched by him before, with searching scrutiny, because his destiny was bound up with theirs. The parliamentary debates were of the greatest consequence before, as indicating British policy; but that to him now ceased to be an object of importance.His fortune was achieved his course was run-his destiny fulfilled.

Soon, every thing and place appeared to him, one uniform and universal blank. His beautiful apartments were unused -his carriage and horses unemployed-his books unread— his papers were unopened-his meals untasted—and his clothes unworn. He had lost all enjoyment of his life, and contemplated suicide.

Saturday night arrived, and he resolved on Sunday morning early, before the busy populace were stirring, he would make his way to Waterloo bridge, and jump, or tumble off, into the river.

At three o'clock, he set out on his final expedition, and had slowly reached the bridge, the shadows of the night protecting him from observation, when a figure stood before him. Amazed at being seen by any one, he turned out of his path, when the figure crouching low before him, revealed a tattered, miserable man, bearing his head in abjectness. "What are you doing here," inquired the retired merchant.