that dresses us gay; the more that our riper years resemble these dispositions, the more childish we are, and more worthy both of our own and others' censure.

But again; it was upon no less reason that the apostle charges us, to be children in maliciousness. Those little innocents bear no grudge; they are sooner pleased than angry; and if any man have wronged them, they soon put forth their hand for reconcilement, and offer themselves unto those arms that trespassed. And when they are most froward, they are stilled with a pleasant song. The old word is, that an old man is twice a child; but I say, happy is he that is thus a child always. It is a great imperfection to want knowledge; but of the two, it is better to be a child in understanding than a man in maliciousness.

UPON THE SINGING OF A BIRD.

Ir is probable that none of those creatures that want reason, delight so much in pleasant sounds as a bird; whence it is that both it spends so much time in singing, and is more apt to imitate those modulations which it hears from men. Frequent practice, if it be voluntary, argues a delight in that which we do; and delight makes us more apt to practise, and more capable of perfection in that we practise. O God, if I take pleasure in thy law, I shall meditate of it with comfort, speak of it with boldness, and practise it with cheerfulness.

UPON THE SIGHT OF A SNAKE.

I KNOW not what horror we find in ourselves at the sight of a serpent: other creatures are more loathsome, and some no less deadly than it; yet, there is none at which our blood riseth so much as at this. Whence should this be but out of an instinct of our old enmity? We were stung in Paradise, and cannot but feel it. But here is our weakness; it was not the body of the serpent that could have hurt us, without the suggestion of sin; and yet we love the sin while we hate the serpent. Every day are we wounded with the sting of that old serpent, and complain not; and so much more deadly is that sting by how much it is less felt. There

is a sting of guilt, and there is a sting of remorse; there is mortal venom in the first, whereof we are the least sensible; there is less danger in the second. The Israelites found themselves stung by those fiery serpents in the desert, and the sense of their pain sent them to seek for cure: the world is our desert, and as the sting of death is sin, so the sting of sin is death. I do not more wish to find ease than pain; if I complain enough I cannot fail of cure. O Thou, who art the true brazen serpent, lifted up in this wilderness, raise up mine eyes to thee, and fasten them upon thee; thy mercy shall make my soul whole, my wound sovereign. From Bp. Hall.

SKETCHES FROM REAL LIFE.-No. I.

PERSEVERE IN THE RIGHT COURSE.

OUR own past experience, and the circumstances of many around us, will teach us profitable lessons, if we will avail ourselves of them; but, alas! some look back upon their joys and sorrows, not to learn wisdom, but to shed fruitless tears, and nurture unavailing regrets while on the scenes of common life they make no observations, or notice them only to feed idle curiosity and store up materials for mischiefmaking. Let us hope, reader, that this is far from your case, and bear with me while I present a few sketches which may be amplified at leisure from your own observation.

How many an excellent plan, a good resolution, a successful beginning proves abortive for want of perseverance. Let us review the past; can we not perceive, if we deal honestly with our own hearts, that we might have been better men, and better Christians, but for the lack of perseverance. And without any want of charity, may we not revert, with a painful feeling, to some who might have been very differently situated had they persevered. But a few scenes from real life will prove more entertaining and instructive, as possessing the force of truth, than dry precepts.

Mrs. Lewis was an interesting and intelligent young female. On her marriage, which took place early in life, she formed a well conceived plan for the conduct of her household: there was to be "a place for every thing, and every thing in its place;" to every duty was allotted an

appointed time, her calculations for expenditure were exact, and, while they aimed at economy on the one hand, they were free from the charge of meanness on the other.

Mrs. Lewis was married to one ever ready to co-operate in her excellent plans. She moreover met with servants of docile tempers, willing to be governed by the wise laws which their mistress had laid down. It was a charming sight to behold one so young "guiding the house," after the direction of the apostle, with so much diligence and discretion.

Mrs. Lewis was an early riser; her servants, therefore, were no sluggards. The flame on the family altar burned brightly, for temporal affairs were so well arranged, that they never pressed upon the sacred engagement; all knew their several duties, and set about them with cheerful alacrity. The husband found his chief pleasures in his well ordered home; the wife herself enjoyed tranquillity of mind, and piety and contentment flourished around her. These were the impressions on visiting Mrs. Lewis during the first year of her married life.

Four years after I visited her again, but a great change had passed upon her and those about her: her person was neglected, her house dirty, her servants slatterns, her children ill-trained, her husband churlish, and Ichabod seemed to be written on those walls which once resounded with the cheerful hymn, the encouraging chapter, and the fervent prayer. "Ye did run well, who hath hindered you?" was the question I was ready to ask; but a few days spent under the roof of Mrs. Lewis soon explained the mystery-her excellent plans had not been persevered in.

"It is too late now," said Mrs. Lewis, in one of our familiar conversations, when advising her to re-adopt her first system; "it is too late; had I persevered from the first, my own habits, and the habits of my family, would by this time have become fixed, and we might have been, what I fondly hoped we should have proved-a holy, happy household; but I did not persevere.

"It was a rule with my venerable father," she continued, "never once, on any account, to omit family prayer; necessity might oblige him to shorten the exercise, but it was never totally neglected. Nay, when a fit of sickness and

pain confined the aged Christian to his bed, I have known him call his children around him at the usual time, and, without much speaking, commend them to God; but I allowed first one excuse, and then another to interfere, till my husband relaxed in his attention, and we both at last neglected this great duty. After this, could I expect strength from above to persevere in any other good plan? No; one duty after another was omitted, till I stopped short in all; nor have I courage now to set about retracing my steps, for accumulated difficulties would rise like Alps on Alps in my path, which must be all removed before I could enjoy my former comfort; whereas, had I persevered from the first, my well organized plan would now have worked with the precision, beauty, and power, of some admirable machine. Alas! what have I not lost for the want of perseverance ?"

Another character presents itself to my recollection that differs from the one I have sketched above, inasmuch, as she recovers herself continually, with some courage, from her relapses. The vigour with which Mrs. Pearce acts out her plans at first is subject to constant collapse, but it also prompts her to renewed exertion; she keeps up a perpetual warfare with herself; and by the grace of God will, I trust, come off at last victorious. Far from sitting down in despair, like Mrs. Lewis, every omission is deplored, and ends not in indolent repining, but in extra diligence, till restoration is, in some measure, effected.

Mrs. Pearce aims at training her children and governing her servants in the right way; and though sometimes her perseverance is ready to fail, nay, is even lost sight of for a while, she rallies her energies again, and sets herself afresh to the work, and, looking up to God with her whole heart for help, addresses herself anew to the combat.

In business also, as well as in domestic life, how many do we find fail in their different occupations for lack of perseverance. If they were so disposed, some might tell us instructive tales of their past lives, and how it came to pass that they did not persevere.

One might say, "My father was not a persevering man, and did not set me a good example." Another would tell how he was allowed, when a child, to begin whatever employments or amusements struck his fancy, and to leave

them all unfinished when he pleased. Nay, but says another idler, I was permitted to choose trade after trade, and put my father to great expense, because I did not persevere in any one of them; and since I have been a man, I have expended almost all my property in trying one new scheme after another. I began a new enterprize this year, but I am getting heartily sick of it, and shall soon turn my attention to something else; though, to tell the truth, several plodding, persevering men have made their way to respectability, by some of the concerns I discarded so hastily.

In the church of Christ how needful to a teacher of the gospel is perseverance!

A striking proof of this comes at this time to my recollection. At a village in the north of England laboured a most holy man of God, but amongst a people whose hearts remained untouched by all his clear and forcible statements of truth. His energetic and affectionate appeals, his anxious care to avoid every shadow of inconsistency, lest he should belie his profession, were unavailing. "We love vanity, and after it we will go," was the language of one and all around him. Year after year passed on, and the spirit of the preacher was bowed down and discouraged; his talents were cast as pearls before swine; his painful labours were unrequited by even the promise of a scanty harvest. He was ready to give up all for lost, and half inclined to think that he was deceived in supposing himself called to the labours of the vineyard of Christ; but still amidst all he persevered. "While I am in the field," he would say, "I will be no loiterer; " and sometimes a gleam of hope would cause him to exclaim, "Hold out faith and patience, the barren fig-tree may yet bear!" And, at last, after hope deferred had oft made the heart sick, the great Lord of the vineyard sent prosperity; the desert began to blossom as the rose; a spirit of inquiry was awakened; and first one, and then another, owned that his faithful labours, under the blessing of God, had called them out of darkness into marvellous light. The drunkard was reclaimed, the swearer taught to pray, the village green was no longer the scene of Sunday revellings, the aged sought with feeble steps the house of God, and parents led their little ones to the Sunday school; the church increased, and the gates of Zion were filled with