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APPRECIATION OF THE LIVING. Let us not forget, that if honour be for the dead, gratitude can only be expressed to the living. He who has once stood beside the grave, to look back upon the companionship which has been for ever closed, feeling how impotent, there, are the wild love, and the keen sorrow, to give one instant's pleasure to the pulseless heart, or atone in the lowest measure to the departed spirit for the hour of unkindness, will scarcely for the future incur that debt to the heart which can only be discharged to the dust. But the lesson which men receive as individuals, they do not learn as nations. Again and again they have seen their noblest descend into the grave, and have thought it enough to garland the tombstone when they had not crowned the brow; and to pay the honour to the ashes which they had denied to the spirit. Let it not displease them that they are bidden, amidst the tumult and the dazzle of their busy life, to listen for the few voices, and watch for the few lamps, which God has toned and lighted to charm and to guide them, that they may not learn their sweetness by their silence, nor their light by heir decay.- John Ruskin.

SLEEPING IN CHURCH. Some persons, who are accustomed to enjoy comfortable laps in church, would have fared badly had they lived in he days of Queen Elizabeth of England. Drowsy hearers lid not come off so easily as they do now. On the ontrary, every person who went to sleep during divine ervice, was required on the Sunday following, immeditely after the reading of the Gospel, to stand up in the

middle alley," and with a loud voice read a formal onfession. As record was made of such cases, we find the »llowing confession to have been made by John A psland, f Witcham, who, it seems, was one of those sleepy-heads f his day :-"Good neighbours, I acknowledge and >nfess I have offended Almighty God, and by my evil sample you all; that I used to sleep in the church, for hich I am most heartily sorry; and I ask. God and you

all, most heartily, forgiveness for the same, promising with God's help, never to offend hereafter in the like again." The church officers afterwards certified that John had, “done his penance," but whether he kept awake afterwards the historian does not relate.

Lost! lost! lost!

A gem of countless price,
Cut from the living rock,

And graved in Paradise ;
Set round with three times eight

Large diamonds, clear and bright,
And each with sixty smaller ones,

All changeful as the light.
Lost !-where the thoughtless throng

In fashion's mazes wind,
Where thrilleth folly's song,

Leaving a sting behind;
Yet to my hand 'twas given

A golden harp to buy,
Such as the white-robed choir attune

To deathless minstrelsy.
Lost ! lost ! lost !

I feel all search is vain;
That gem of countless cost

Can ne'er be mine again.
I offer no reward,

For till these heart-strings sever,
I know that heaven-entrusted gift

Is reft away for ever.
But when the sea and land

Like burning scroll have fled,
I'll see it in His hand

Who judgeth quick and dead.
And when of scathe and loss

That man can ne'er repair,
The dread inquiry meets my soul,

What shall it answer there ? Sigourney.

THE YOUTH THAT WAS HUNG. The sheriff took out his watch, and said, “ If you have anything to say, speak now, for you have only five minutes to live." The young man burst into tears, and said, “I have to die. I had only one little brother : he had beautiful blue eyes, and flaxen hair, and I loved him ; but one day I got drunk, for the first time in my life, and, coming home, I found my little brother gathering strawberries in the garden, and I became angry without a cause, and killed him at one blow with a rake. I did not know anything about it until the next morning, when I awoke from sleep and found myself tied and guarded, and was told that, when my little brother was found, his hair was clotted with blood and brains, and he was dead. Whiskey has done it. It has ruined me, I never was drunk but once. I have only one word more to say, and then I am going to my final Judge. I say it to young people, Never-never-nevertouch anything that can intoxicate!” As he pronounced these words, he sprang from the box, and was launched into an endless eternity.

HONESTY. A little boy in America, whose sister was sick, and the family in want, found a wallet containing fifty dollars. The temptation was great to use the money ; but he resolved to try to find the owner, and his mother strengthened him in the resolution. When the owner found it, and learned the circumstances, he gave the fifty dollars for the comfort of the family, and took the boy to live with him. That boy is now a prosperous merchant in Ohio.

WORDS AND THE HEART. God hears the heart without words, but he never hears the words without the heart.

MACAULAY ON THE “DESERTED VILLAGE.” A poet may easily be pardoned for reasoning ill; but he cannot be pardoned for describing ill, for observing the world in which he lives so carelessly that his portraits bear no resemblance to the originals, for exhibiting as copies from

real life monstrous combination of things which pever were and never could be found together. What would be thought of a painter who should mix August and January in one landscape, who should introduce a frozen river into a harvest scene? Would it be a sufficient defence of such a picture to say that every part was exquisitely coloured, that the green hedges, the apple-trees loaded with fruit, the waggons reeling under the yellow sheaves, and the sunburnt reapers wiping their foreheads were very fine, and that the ice and the boys sliding were also very fine? 'To such a picture “ The Deserted Village” bears a great resemblance. It is made up of incongruous parts. The village in its happy days is a true English village. The village in its decay is an Irish village. The felicity and the misery which Goldsmith has brought close together belong to two different countries, and to two different stages in the progress of society. He had assuredly never seen in his native island such a rural paradise, such a seat of plenty, content, and tranquillity as his “ Auburn." He had assuredly never seen in England all the inhabitants of such a paradise turned out of their homes in one day and forced to emigrate in a body to America. The hamlet he had ! probably seen in Kent; the ejectment he had probably seen in Munster ; but by joining the two, he has produced i something which never was and never will be seen in any part of the world.--Essay on Goldsmith in the Encyclope dia Britannica.


B patient, B prayerful, B humble, B mild,
B wise as a Solon, B meek as a child,
B studious, B thoughtful, B loving, B kind;
B sure you make matter subservient to mind.
B cautious, B prudent, B trustful, B trne,
B courteous to all men, B friendly with few.
B temperate in argument, pleasure and wine,
B careful of conduct, of money, of time;
B cheerful, B grateful, B hopeful, B firm,

B peaceful, benevolent, willing to learn,
B courageous, B gentle, B liberal, B just,
B aspiring, B humble, because thou art dust;
B penitent, circumspect, sound in the faith,
B active, devoted; B faithful till death;
B honest, B holy, transparent and pure,
B dependent, B Christ-like, and you'll be secure.


A MARTYR FOR CHRIST. A martyr was asked, whether he did not love his wife and children, who stood weeping by [him. “ Love them !" said he, “ Yes, if all the world were gold, and at my disposal, I would give it all for the satisfaction(of living with them, though it were in a prison ; yet in comparison with Christ I love them not."

ARCHBISHOP USHER. Archbishop Usher and Dr. Preston, two eminently pious and learned men, were very intimate, and often met to converse on learning and general subjects; when it was very common with the good archbishop, to say, " Come Doctor, let us say something about Christ before we part.”

Of Archbishop Usher it is said, that he was of so sweet a temper, that he was never known to do an ill office to any one, or to be revenged of any one who injured him.

ARCHBISHOP CRANMER. It is said of Archbishop Cranmer, that the way to have him as a friend, was to do him an unkindness.

A PERSECUTED CHRISTIAN. “What great matter,” said a heathen tyrant to a Christian, while he was beating him almost to death—"What great matter did Christ ever do for you ?” “Even this," answered the Christian, " That I can forgive you, though you use me so cruelly.” (This is religion of the genuine kind, may God give us more of it).

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