he cracks his whip, and loosely gives the rein. He appears to be wholly unconscious of his imminent peril. Abrupt cliffs hang over his head, and deep, awful ravines open on each side of his path. His situation becomes still more dangerous; right ahead a frightful gulf presents itself to his eyes, now beginning to open. With the rapidity of lightning he approaches the dreadful brink; on the coursers fly Now he sees his danger, and strives to check them It is in vain; they have had the rein too long; their blood is up. With a fearful bound, over the precipice they go; horses and driver are dashed to atoms against the rocks, and are seen no more. Ancient philosophers used to compare human passions to wild horses, and the reason of man to the driver, or coachman, whose business it was to control and guide them at his pleasure. But many men have more command over their horses than they have over themselves. This is a melancholy truth. Their proud chargers are taught to stand still, to gallop, to trot, and to perform, in short, all kinds of evolutions with perfect ease; while the passions run away with their rightful owners; they will not submit to be guided by reason. It is of far more importance that a man should learn to govern his passions than his horses. Our passions, like fire and water, are excellent servants, but bad masters. Horses, to be useful, must be governable; but to be governable, they must be broke in betimes, and thoroughly. So with the passions, otherwise their power will increase over that of reason, and in the end lead to ruin.

Philosophy may do much in enabling us to govern the passions; religion, however, can do more. It is said of Socrates, who had a wretched scold for a wife, that one day, when she was scolding him at a

great rate, ne bore it very patiently, controlling himself by reason. His unruffled composure enraged her still more, and she threw a bowl of dirty water in his face. Then he spoke. "It is quite natural," said he, smiling, "when the thunder has spent its fury, and the lightning its fires, that the teeming shower should descend."

But religion is more easily obtained than philosophy, and it is far more powerful. It imparts a gracious, influential principle that enables whosoever submits to it to govern his passions, and even to love his enemies, and thus to conquer them.

Many have conquered kingdoms, who could not conquer themselves. Thus Alexander, who, being a slave to his passions, slew Clytus, his most intimate friend. And, notwithstanding the laurels that have been woven for the conquerors of ancient and modern times, the Almighty himself has prepared a diadem of glory for the self-conquered, bearing in letters of heavenly light this inscription: "He that ruleth his own spirit, is better than he that taketh a city."

Madness, by nature reigns within,
The passions burn and rage;
Till God's own Son, with skill divine,
The inward fire assuage.

We give our souls the wounds they feel,
We drink the poisonous gall,

And rush with fury down to hell,
But heaven prevents the fall.

Dr. Watts.

Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your la bor for that which satisfieth not? Isa. Iv. 2.

VAIN PURSUITS.

The truant urchin has forsook the school,
To learn betimes how best to play the fool;
O'er hedge and brake, beneath a burning sun,
With breathless haste, he perseveres to run;
His folly's cause is pictured to the eye:
The object what ?-A painted butterfly.

At length outspent, he grasps the trembling thing,
And with the grasp, destroys the painted wing;
Chagrined he views, for that once beauteous form,
Nothing remains, except a homely worm.

So larger children leave important deeds,
And after trifles oft, the truant speeds;
And if by toil he gains the gaudy prize,
Alas! 'tis changed-it fades away, and dies.

THE foolish boy, leaving the useful and delightful pleasures of study, runs after a pretty butterfly that has attracted his attention. On he runs, through brake and brier, over hedges and ditches, up hill and down dale; the sun, at the same time, pours

down its burning rays upon his uncovered head. See how he sweats, and puffs, and toils! "Tis all in vain -just as he comes up with the prize, away it flies far above his reach. Still he follows on; now it has settled upon a favorite flower. He is sure of it now; he puts forth his hand. Lo! it is gone. Still he pursues on and on he runs after the glittering insect. Presently it alights, and hides itself within the leaves of the lily of the valley. For awhile he loses sight of it; again he discovers it on the wing, and again he renews the chase. Nor is it until the sun descends the western sky, that he comes up with the object of his laborious race. Weary of the wing, the butterfly seeks shelter for the night within the cup of the mountain blue-bell. The boy, marking its hiding-place, makes a desperate spring, and seizes the trembling beauty. In his eagerness to possess it, he has crushed its tender wings, and marred entirely those golden colors. With deep mortification, and bitter regret at his folly, he beholds nothing left but a mere grub, an almost lifeless worm, without form and without loveliness.

This emblem aptly shows the folly of those who, whether young or old, leaving the solid paths of knowledge, of industry, and of lawful pleasure, follow the vanities of this life. Corrupt and unbridled passions and vitiated tastes lead, in the end, to ruin.

The way of transgressors is hard, as well as foolish and vain. To follow after forbidden objects is far more laborious than to pursue those only that are lawful. It is said of wisdom, that all her ways are ways of pleasantness, that all her paths are paths of peace.

The mind of the youth who is in pursuit of vanities, or of unlawful pleasures, is ever raging, like a tempest. Now up, now down-he knows nothing

of true pleasure, nothing of solid peace. The object
he desires and pursues so ardently mocks him again
and again.
"To-morrow,” he says to himself, "will
give me the object of my wishes." To-morrow
comes-once more it eludes his grasp. Now he be-
comes uneasy, then impatient, then fretful, then
anxious, and then desperate; now he resolves at all
hazards to seize upon the prize-it is his own; but
ah! the flowers have faded, the beautiful colors
have disappeared; the angel of beauty is transformed
into a loathsome object. His eyes are opened; and
alas! too late, disappointed and remorseful, he learns
the truth of the maxim, that "it is not all gold that
glitters."

"Man has a soul of vast desires;
He burns within with restless fires:
Toss'd to and fro, his passions fly
From vanity to vanity.

"In vain on earth we hope to find
Some solid good to fill the mind;
We try new pleasures, but we feel
The inward thirst and torment still.

"So when a raging fever burns,
We shift from side to side by turns;
And 'tis a poor relief we gain,

To change the place, but keep the pain.

"Great God! subdue the vicious thirst,
This love to vanity and dust;
Cure the vile fever of the mind,
And feed our souls with joys refined."

Dr. Watts.