it to the care of him who knows what we cannot. But in as many other cases, we know a great deal better than we like to know, and close our eyes because we are determined not to perceive yet more. We know in what place the throb of passion was awakened in our bosoms; where by excited vanity our cheeks were flushed, or by restless jealously were paled. We could remember if we would, on what occasion the unholy jest escaped us, the word of falsehood stole from our lips, the frown of malevolence from our eye. We know how we were occupied when the thought of God's presence was not a pleasant thought, and we put it away from us. We know who were our companions when we blushed for our religion, laughed at the mockery of things most sacred, and sought the approbation of men in preference to that of God. We can recall, no doubt, the circumstances under which we retired unfit to meet our Father in secret prayer, and when we came there, found our thoughts too much dissipated to be recalled to devotion. If we do not, it is not because the occasions were not sufficiently distinguishable, but because we did not care about it. If it had been any other sort of evil that befell us at such times, we should remember both it and the occasion of it: and we only forget this because we felt it no evil. If our food disagrees with us we cease to eat it if the air does not suit our constitution, we remove to some other place-if our habits, companions, or pursuits lead us into temptation, excite our passions, dissipate our minds, draw off our thoughts from God, we go on to practise them just the same. The reason is plain. Sickness is an evil, and pain is an evil-but sin is no evil at all, in our estimation"; except that eternal misery is tacked to the end of it-but that we can forget for the present, and be excused for hereafter.

What may be hereafter we presume not to say-but this we say, that for the present you play a most dangerous game; you brave your Father even in your prayers, and set his omniscience at defiance: you pretend to be

sorry for sins you care not how often you re-commit, and ask his protection from dangers into which you are determined to run yourself. You would rather be allowed to fall into any temptation that may be before you, than be defeated in your schemes of life; nay, rather than be despoiled of a day's amusement. This you fully prove by taking the risk whenever the choice is with yourself. It is therefore a mere feint that you desire the Almighty to direct you right in things of which you cannot read the consequence.

And alas! since it is so the petition is begun, it matters little to proceed with it, "Deliver us from evil.”—What evil? That which we are determined to bring upon ourselves that which we choose, that which we delight in?

We are so formed and so circumstanced that whilst we remain on earth, a variety of temptations must assail us, and into many evils we must necessarily fall. The utmost precaution on our part cannot prevent them; and though God might, if he thought proper, avert them all, he does not, because he chooses to try us, and to prove us, and to show us what is in our hearts. If he allowed us not sometimes to fall, we should very soon presume on our own strength, exult in our perfection, and forget the hand that upholds us. Sometimes, therefore, he rejects the first half of the petition, that he may grant the second. He lets our evil propensities take their way, interferes not between us and the temptations of the world, or suffers the evil spirit to whisper false counsels in our ear. This he does, not that he delights in our disgrace, but that he may teach us what we are, and how much we have need to go to him daily, for his daily aid against our enemies and against ourselves. But in this evil which he permits, he leaves us not to perish. Whether the evil be the sin itself, or some temporal punishment sent to correct it, he makes haste to deliver us. By redeeming mercy he delivers us eternally, by his forbearing pity and sanctifying grace he delivers us now. As soon as he has forced the tear of penitence he wipes

it off-as soon as he sees the blush of shame upon our cheek, he kindly proffers us the kiss of peace. From all the dangers incident to the station of life in which his providence has placed us, he will assuredly deliver us; from all the peculiar temptations that beset us in the path of duty he has promised to defend us.

All temporal evil is the consequence of sin, and therefore may be included in the petition; but spiritual evil is undoubtedly the primary meaning. We may understand it both ways, either as a deliverance from our sins or from the chastisements they bring upon us. He knows, our heavenly Father knows, that the sin itself is by far the greater evil; and if we have the hearts of children, he knows that we think so. He will not spare the chastisements, therefore, when it is needful to correct the sin; and if we estimate things as we ought to do, we shall` not wish he should. This is a consideration which the pious mind will never overlook in moments of affliction, and perhaps it is that from which, above all others, the most consolation may be derived. The evil is heavy indeed, and hard to be borne-but perhaps if our wishes had been indulged and our feelings spared, it had led us into temptations against which we have not strength to stand-we should have fallen into sin, and sin is a greater evil far than that which we endure, and in the issue would cost us more poignant sorrow. Can we be else than

satisfied?

We are aware that to the greater number this is mere fiction and no truth; because to them sin is no evil and no sorrow. We can but refer them back to the words of their petition. If it were an honest one, it were perhaps the most indubitable test of a truly Christian spirit, for it would imply a hatred and a dread of sin above all other evils, that never existed but on Christian principles; and a willingness to go through any thing rather than commit it, which was never felt but by the devoted child of God. But, repeated as the most of us repeat it, it is a bold confession of what we ought to feel, without an effort or a

desire to feel it. It is not true that we desire to be kept from temptation, and as far as human eye can scan, it is not reasonable to expect we shall be delivered from the evil.

INTRODUCTION

TO

THE STUDY OF NATURE.

BOTANY.

(Continued from page 53.)

CLASS 5.- PENTANDRIA.

OUR example Plate 7, is of an elegant shrub found only, we believe, on the sea-coast, and that not generally, but confined to peculiar spots. Cultivated, we may see it covering the fronts of houses, and growing to a large size in shubberies. Our wild specimen was gathered on the East Cliff at Hastings. The flower is a long, slender spike of very pale pink blossoms-examining one, we find it to contain five Stamens and three Pistils, from which we place it in the fifth Class, third Order, Pentandria Trigynia. The Calix is divided into five, and it has five petals, the capsules have one cell, and the seeds are hairy. The stems are slender, nodding, red and glossy, and they are clothed with scales. The leaves are extremely small, beautifully covering the slender branches, so as to give to the whole a very light and feathery appearThe Stamens are of rather a deeper pink than the Petals, and nothing can surpass the lightness and enegance of the plant altogether. From this description we cannot doubt it to be the Tamarix, of which there is but one native species, Gallica, common name French Tamarisk.

ance.

We proceed with the description of our fifth Botanical Class, Pentandria, recommencing with the second Order, Digynia. A large and difficult race contained in