think neither of the souls of their patients, nor of

their own.

We were speaking of books, and of the great influence they had over the minds of their readers, when the doctor unhesitatingly gave it as his opinion, that young people should be permitted to read what books they pleased, good and bad, without restriction, to enable them to form a correct judgment respecting them.

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Young persons,' said he, "who are not allowed to do this, are sure to form very cramped and precise notions."

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Well," thinks I, "the doctor gives his physic to those who want it, and why should not Old Humphrey? a little dose on this occasion cannot hurt the doctor, and if it should do him no good, perhaps it may do some to the young people around me," for they very naturally thought a good deal of what fell from the lips of their medical friend.

"Let us see," said I, "how your principle would work in common life; for my notions, I must confess, are so 'cramped and precise,' that I prefer, as a guide in such matters, the experience of a thoughtful parent, to the inexperience of a thoughtless child. What say you to allow your own children to meddle with your own drugs, and to let them taste, without restraint, your

powders and potions, to enable them to form a correct judgment of their influence? The first packet might be magnesia, which could not do them much harm; but if the second happened to be arsenic, which is not very unlike it, they would most probably be poisoned. If, instead of going to the substances, they went to the liquids, the first phial might have in it tincture of rhubarb, but the second might contain prussic acid, which, would cause immediate death.

"There is certainly a difference between books and the contents of the apothecary's shop, and it is this that the one is medicine for the body, and the other for the mind. Books and medicines are both influential, and the prussic acid, which destroys the life of the body, is not more deadly than the bad books that poison the principles of the soul."

I tried to say this kindly, but am rather fearful that my natural quickness of temper in some degree got the better of my prudence; for the doctor made me no reply, and the young people seemed more disposed to talk with their medical friend than to listen to my observations.

It is something, however, to sow good seed, it may not all fall in stony places, but spring up when least expected, and bring forth fifty and a hundred-fold. "In the morning sow thy seed,

and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good," Eccles. xi. 6.

ON THE COURSE OF

A ZION-BOUND PILGRIM.

I HAVE had a communication from my kind Christian friend Simeon, in which he has set forth the different stages through which a pilgrim has to pass before he shakes off the dust of earth from his feet, and wears a crown of glory on his brow. I have read it over with some interest, and copy down a part of it, thinking that you may get some good from its perusal, and perhaps be able to ascertain by it, at what stage you have arrived. The following

are his observations :-

"I do think there are many, who, in their ignorance, suppose that by their deeds they shall be saved. In the ears of such it must sound like hard language to say, that a man may fast and pray, and, like David, offer up continual praise, reading God's word, and attending his holy ordinances, and yet labour in vain. Such can hardly believe that a man may endow hospitals by dozens, and build churches as huge as St. Paul's, or St. Peter's, and not be a whit nearer heaven than before.

P

"But what a lamentable state of ignorance, of utter blindness of heart, to be in such a case! How different it is when the scales are removed from the eyes of the spiritually blind! The heart is then seen in all its deformity, its deceitfulness, its blackness, and its rebellion. When the word of God is understood, it pierces to the joints and the marrow, laying the bosom bare, and exposing the exceeding sinfulness of the human heart. Now, when you meet with such a case as this, Humphrey, how do you deal with it? Do you go to work with the hatchet and sledge hammer of the law, breaking the already broken bones of the terrified sinner, or do you pour into his wounds the balm and the oil of the gospel of peace? Do you point him to the lightning and thunder of Mount Sinai, to complete his despair, or to the garden of Gethsemane, and the uplifted cross on Calvary, to melt him to contrition? In a word, do you weigh him down by buckling the back-breaking load of his sins on his shoulders, or give him a refreshing draught of the brook of God's promises by the way, that he may lift up his head?

"It seems to me, Humphrey, in such a case as this, better to avoid extremes, and neither to afflict willingly, nor to heal the wound too soon. Let the affliction bide awhile, haply it may be sanctified; and sanctified affliction is a valuable