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supply of their moral and intellectual wants. For the prudence, and, on the strength of these alone, building thorough fulfilment of this charity the people must be up a habit which will afterwards be sustained by their sought out instead of being waited for. Under a own experience of its benefits; and all this without system of visitors, education, both Christian and com any deviation from the general economy of things, or mon, may be stimulated onward to a far greater amount any violence done to it, whether by unnatural bribes, or by the moral suasion of philanthropists, each in bis own unnatural and higher rates of interest than they obtain assigned portion of territory assidously and aggressive throughout the country at large. ly urging it upon the families. Now it is but an ex. 3rd. It is not in the language of doubt but of tension of this principle when, beside the church and decision, that I would oppose the introduction into the school to which it is so obviously applicable, it is your system-visiting of any provision respecting the made to include also a savings' bank; for this latter supply of indigence. I would keep clear of this subinstitution comes within the same general analogy as ject altogether. The visitors individually may do as these others. It does not fall in with any strong or they please; but I feel quite assured, that by adinitting immediate appetency of nature, but rather thwarts and this as a part of the announced plan of your society, annoys it ; and ere the people will avail themselves, you would convert it into an engine in Scotland for the their indolence and love of present enjoyment must spread and increase of pauperism. Even in England, both be overcome. They must be nursed into the habits I should hope that there is no material necessity for of accumulation and foresight, for they will never ac such a regulation; and in this I think I am born out quire them spontaneously. Hence the immense good by report for Lowestoff, in which town 1768 cases of such an agency in your employ for this purpose. have been relieved by a society distribution of about Instead of waiting to receive deposits, the members of 501. In this country, I should think it vastly better this agency go forth, and at regular intervals of time, that this sum had found its way arnong the destitute to request them. . We feel quite assured that a tenfold by the countless, though hidden channels, of private greater amount of deposits on the whole will be realized benevolence ; whereas by that benevolence being made in this way of it, and I may add a hundredfold greater public, there are expectations of charitable aid enfrom that class who, as being the most sunken both in couraged which a sum so small never could realize; character and comfort, it is most desirable to recall from besides that, it raises a spirit among the popu'ation the degeneracy into which they have fallen.

adverse to those habits of economy and accupiulation, 2nd. I doubt if a stipulated premium for the deposits the establishment of which is, next to education, the will do, especially in Scotland." Indeed, I should feel a | best object of your Society great insecurity as to the final result of the whole en- If they who distrust the operations of private terprise if I thought that such a device were indispen benevolence should allege that the 501. would not have sable for the stability of the system in England or any found their way among the indigent, we on the other where. At the most, I hope it will only be required hand ask, if the distribution of this sum amongst 1768 as an initial and temporary expedient for nursing the people was at all essential to, or in any sensible degree people into an habit of accumulation, after which the promoted the well-being of the population. extraneous inducement held forth at the outset will be 4th. I have already said tbat i would not attempt found unnecessary. My own preference would be for | the formation of a society for Edinburgh, or even for making the trial without it, even from the very com The West Kirk parish : but for some given district, as mencement of the operation; for trusting to the ef. small as a trusty set of agents can thoroughly overtake, ficacy of that kindness and moral suasion wherewith the where the results, like those of an experimental garden, visitor would recommend the practice, and point out or experimental farm in agriculture, inight lead to the the good of it; at the same tiine offering a place for | suresi establishment of some great and general lesson the sure custody of their accumulated savings, and in the business of philanthrophy. I shall be exceeding. then trusting afterwards to their own experience of the ly happy to hear if my friend Mr. Paul can assist you benefit when they had become alive to the charm of in fixing upon some such locality. property, and felt both the security and the importance I'shall conclude with a translation of the four diwhich they derived from it. This does not hinder any rections in the 17th page of the Liverpool account, so visitor having the charge of twentyfive or fifty families as to exhibit my own views of what is best to be done. from trying the effect of a premium in the few ex The objects of a Society for a district in or about treme instances which might appear to require it; Edinburgh are: but this should form part of his unseen and extraordi Ist. To assist the industrious in establishing habits of nary manageinent. It should not, in my estimation, frugality and carefulness. be an ostensible feature of the system; and neither 2nd. To secure for them the benefits of all those should the allowance of a higher than the market rate medical institutions which are applicable to the diseases of interest. I should altogether despair either of a or accidents into which any of them may have fallen. general or a permanent result, if it rested on any ex 3rd. To receive weekly the deposits which they iernal or precarious support of this kind. Your ad might be enabled to make, and place them in the Dis. mirable system does not need, I think, this kind of trict Savings' Bank. For this object, and the general forcing and fostering. The great engine for its es advantages of the intercourse, it is desirable that each tablishment is the constant assiduity of visitors plying visitor should repeat his calls weekly. their new-fornied acquaintance, and at length their 4th. To take measures for securing a good and cheap friends, with the general consideration of morality and education, and to make it universal among the families.


INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. How peculiarly expressive of the character of that sacred volume, which infidels affect to despise, while many of them secretly tremble when they think of it, and humble believers study, reverence, and love, is the name which it bears; The Bible! a name derived from a Greek word, of which the simple meaning is the Book. Yes! it is, indeed, emphatically the Book : the charter of the Christian's privileges, the repository of his principles, the standard of his opinions, his counsellor in perplexities. his companion in solitude, his comforter in affliction; “sweeter to him than honey, or the honey-comb,” his "songs in the house of bis pilgrimage,” the “ lamp to his feet, and the light to his path” as he travels on through the wilderness of time to the repose of a blissful Eternity.

Nor can we fail to perceive how peculiarly appropriate is this designation, if we consider how strong the line of distinction between this and all other books, how lofty the eminence on which it stands above them all. All other books, whether good or bad, are the works, the book, the voice of man: this is the work, the book, the voice of God. For“ all Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.” Oh! never let our youthful readers count that man their friend, however he may approach them in the guise, and address them in the honied accents of friendly regard, but rather let them deem him, as they justly may, a dangerous and a deadly foe, 'who would instil into their minds the poison of Scepticism; who would undermine their faith in the supreme authority of the Bible; who would shake their confidence in the reality of its inspiration, and the truth of its statements; who would lead them to think and to speak lightly and irreverently of the Book. “ Within this awful volume lies

The mystery of mysteries.
O happiest they of human race
To whom our God hath given grace
To hear, to read, to fear, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way;
But better had they nc'er been born,

Who read to doubt, or read to scoru." As the instruction which the Bible imparts is of inestimable value, so the manner in which its lessons of wisdom are communicated is truly admirable. Such we cannot but pronounce it to be, whether we regard the simplicity, solemnity, and energy, by which it is characterized, or the remarkable variety which it exhibits in a degree which no other book has ever approached, or has ever, indeed, attempted. With what awful majesty and terrific grandeur rolls the thunder of its stern denunciations against the daring and impenitent rebel against the High and the Holy One. With what soothing tenderness, with what winning gentleness and kindness, with what persuasive encouragements, in accents and a tone sweet as a Seraph's song, does it address itself to the fears and the feelings of the humble and contrite, the dejected and desponding, and bid them touch the golden sceptre of divine and boundless mercy, and go in peace !” Sometimes, as in the book of Proverbs, it teaches by sententious aphorisms and precepts, concise but comprehensive, brief in expression, but pregnant with important meaning, and supplying ample materials for profitable

meditation. Sometimes it pours its rich and full tide of instruction in the glowing and captivating strains of poetry. “ The harp of David” is “ struck by more than mortal hands," and the sweet singer of Israel sends forth the melody of his song—not in the voluptuous strains of the worldling's song, which, while they fascinate the sense, too often tend to vitiate the taste, inflame the passions, and corrupt the heart-but in strains which, while they are rich in all the highest and finest qualities of poetry, are rich also in the impressive lessons of “the Wisdoin which is from above." The mantle of David is seen to fall upon Isaiah Jeremiah, and the other“ holy prophets," who, while they address us in the language of poetry, and “ moved,” alike, " by Holy Ghost,” speak each in his own peculiar and appropiate style. How striking, for instance, is the contrast between the elegiac plaintiveness, and pathos, and tenderness of Jeremiah, and the terrific vehemence, and grandeur, and sublimity of Ezekiel !

Much of the “ instruction in righteousness” which the Bible communicates, is conveyed in the Epistolary form; much through the medium of History; and a very large portion through that of Biography. Thus the voice of Wisdom addresses us in the Scriptures in every diversity of style, and in every variety of form, while its various lessons of instruction are as so many branches growing upon the same tree, so many flowers springing from the same root, so many streams fiowing from the same fountain—the inspiration of God.

Biographical studies as they are generally popular with those who are accustomed to read, are eminently calculated to be useful to those who are accustomed to reflect. From a thoughtful review of the recorded experience of

those who have trodden before us that path of life which . we are now traversing, many an important lesson of practical Wisdom may be derived. The rocks and shoals upon which we find they sometimes “made shipwreck," may teach us what to avoid ourselves; the ways which they found in the event to be ways of wisdom, safety, pleasantness, and peace, may teach us what to pursue. It will, therefore, be strictly in unison with the title and the object of this publication, if in its future numbers, we contemplate some of those portraits which the Scriptures exhibit to our view. For if much will thus meet our obşervation, which may be adapted to excite emulation, much will be noticed, which may well answer the purpose of a Beacon, warning us of unsuspected danger, and calling us to timely and salutary caution.



CHAPTER II. I had often sighed on my way to school on Monday mornings when I heard the hunter's shouts blended with the barking of the dogs, or the horsemen and their hounds in the distance. One Monday morning, as I was returning on my pony alone to school, and picturing to myself the hot crowded school room with my dog's eared

Livy, and sundry other books for which I had no particu| lar affection, in contrast with the breezy heath, and the

laughing sunshine which I then enjoyed, it suddenly occurred to me that I had twenty lines of Homer to say by heart that afternoon, and that I had not even looked at them. The book was in my pocket, and I took it out, the dull school-room, and the old can of the very small with the manful determination of learning the lesson at beer, and the stale bread, and the slice of single glousonce, and as fast as I could. I had scarcely repeated cester, and the going to bed at eight o'clock. Come to myself the first two lines when I heard the cry of the along, and we'll sit up till twelve, and, if you like it, yon hounds at a short distance behind me. I looked round, shall smoke a pipe. Did you ever try one? I often do. but they were not to be seen. I had often read a novel If it makes you sick, you can lay it down, but I know, I with ease on my poney, but I now found it very difficult mean to smoke.” He went on talking, and so did I, till to keep my little Homer open at the right place. Still we stopped at the squire's gate. I determined to learn, and tried not to notice the hunt, “That's a fine fellow," said the squire as we ran up the but suddenly the hare fled: past me, and in a few minutes broad steps before the door of the house, “Welcome to up came'the hounds and hunters in full chase. My Liberty Hall. We have no tom birch or horn books poney seemed to possess even less resolution than myself here! for be set off at full speed with the other horses. I was We passed the rest of the day merrily, though I must taken by surprise, and in my care to keep my seat my own I often opened my eyes widely with astonishment at book feil. For a few minutes I went forward at full the ways of that same Liberty Hall, and I heard strange speed, and gave myself up to the ardour of the chase. I conversations between the squire and his riotous comwas just thinking that I would stop, when I heard a voice panions, but all seemed to me afterwards as a confused cryivg out close to me, “ Well done, my little fellow ! dream, for what with the hard riding of that day, and the famously sate !" and now I was well pleased with myself noisy laughter, and the roaring fire, and the ale and wine that I did not care to stop. Soon after the hare was lost, and smoke, and the novelty of all the sights and sounds. and when our speed slackened, whom did I see to my about me, my head was in a whirl when I went to bed, surprise but my friend Burton, “Ah, Jack," he said, and I was quite astounded when I woke the next mornholding out his whip-handle for me to shake instead of ing in a strange bed, and felt that all the pleasure was his hand, “I've seen you all the while, but I could'nt over, and the pain to come. I was growing very stop to speak to you before. I say, you're a capital rider, melancholy when Burlon burst into tbe room, laughing and that little grey of your's is a good goer, I like her loudly, and crying out that it was time to be off to paces prodigiously, I did'nt think to meet you here.”

school. « Nay Jack, my fine fellow, you're not going ?” he said As we rode leisurely towards Farnham, we consulted at length, perceiving that I was about to leave them. together how to conceal my offence, for Burton kirew as « You must stay and see the end of the sport with us,” well as I, that my mother had forbidden my visiting at. “ You must indeed,” added Burton's uncle, the gentle | his uncle's house. It was determined that I should ride man whose applauding voice I had heard behind me. at once to the little public house where I was accustomed “We shall be happy to have you with us. But come to leave my poney, and where it was taken care of till along my boys,” he shouted, riding off. “The hare's one of my aunt's servants or neighbours come to Farufound and we mnst be off.” “Aye, come along," cried ham to ride it back. The good humoured landlord. Burton, giving my poney a sharp stroke with his whip. came to the door as I rode up. “Well, master John," Of course the poney could not resist gallopping off with he said, “just come from home I suppose ?' “ Yes," I them, and I did not chuse to think till we were riding

replied, and I felt with shame that one lie could not be quietly towards the house of the squire, Burton's uncle. | told without adding others to cover it. The landlord my mother had positively forbidden my visiting at the continued speaking, but hardly stopping to answer I house of this man, whose company she judged very unfit jumped off my poney and ran away. I entered the for me. His house was well known as the resort of the school-room just as morning prayers were over. The lowest society. A woman of doubtful character presided master was quitting the room, but he stopped when he as mistress, and there was scarcely a night in which the saw me, and asked what had prevented my coming the party went to bed sober. All this I remembered, but

day before, I felt myself colouring and about to make a while I hesitated every step took me farther from what confused answer, when Burton, who was already there, was to me the path of duty. At last I said something to

passed close to me and said nodding. “Ah, Jack ! how Burton about leaving them, but he called out at once to d'ye do ?" as if he had not seen me for days. I recalled his uncle to forbid my doing so. The squire declared, my confidence, and said boldly that “I had been ill, and with an oath, that he would not hear of it, and bade me

that my mother thought it bet:er for me to remain at hold my tongue. “You keep by his side, Dick,” said home, and—and I was going to say more when my he," and tell me, if he talks of playing the truant again." master cried out,“ Very well, John, I believe your word. Dick did keep by my side, and said in a friendly ex

| You need not stand there—I don't doubt you—You postulating tone, “My dear fellow, what is the use of always speak the truth. He passed on but I remained your going to school now ? if you had meant to do so standing where he left me, and the thought came quickly you should have gone at first, but now its near sunset. into my mind that I would go and confess the whole, Why, you have lost the whole day! You can but get a when some one seized me roughly behind by both my rowing to-morrow morning, and you know you would be arms and shaking me exclaimed, “Why man, what's the sure of one as much to night. Come along, and we'll matter, I'm afraid you are not recovered now from your have a rare time of it at the squire's ; you shall see the illness, master John! would not your mother think it hounds fed to night; and go over the stables with me, better for you to return home for another day? Why, I and you shall have a capital dinner, and a bowl of punch, never saw such a milksop," continued Burton, for it was and there'll be plenty of singing, and I'll get Tom Fowler, he who spoke. “You have a poor face indeed to get out the huntsman, to tell us all about Eclipse. Think of of a scrape. Where's the harm of an innocent, little,

white lie. Your mother's a very good sort of woman, I dare say, but she can't expect you always to be tied to her apron string, besides she does not really know my uncle, if she did, she would never have refused his invitation. Some persons have been telling stories about bim. If she knew what a good fellow he is she would have wished you to visit him, therefore, in fact, you have not committed so great a crime, since her forbidding you only proceeded from her not rightly knowing him.” I could not see the force of this argument, nor, I believe, could Burton, for in the midst of his serious and impressive reasoning be caught my vacant eye, after staring at me in silence for a little while he almost shouted with laughter, and cried, “ Ah, I'm a poor reasoner, I'm sadly puzzled, but you know what I mean of course, don't you? You know I mean that you, that I, that your mother.” “Yes, yes,"I replied, for he had pavsed, “Aye, yes,” he cried, “ I see you understand me.” I could have said, indeed I do not, I am as much puzzled as yourself. I turned away with a heavy hcart. I do not remember that I had ever told a deliberate lie before that day. I had often been deceitful and false, but I had now deliberately sinned. I felt myself a liar.

I joined in the wild merriment of Burton, but the very excess of my mirth left me afterwards the more dispirited and thoughtful. I felt as if I had become an altered creature. I had lost my self respect. I did not, for some weeks, dare to look another full in the face as I had been used to do. This may seem a strange fancy to some, but bad as I have since been, to this day the feelings I then experienced are present to my heart in all their freshness and reality. My mother, my aunt, my poor father had constantly spoken to me on the vital importance of speaking the truth at all times. I had fallen, and I knew with what a contemptuous pity I should be regarded if my conduct had been made public. My falsehood was never discovered, but it lay for a long time like a dead weight at the bottom of my heart. I could not bear to keep it unconfessed, yet I had too much care for my character, in a worldly sense, to own myself a deliberate liar. My sin was never confessed, or even mentioned till a few days ago, when I related all the circumstances to my aged mother. She smiled at the earnestness with which I described my behaviour, till she saw how deeply I grieved over it, and then laying her knitting upon the little table before her, she said very gravely, “You are right and I am wrong in the view which you have been led 10 take of this first deliberate lie. No one can trifle with his conscienee without one day or other finding that he has been putting out the light which is given to him by God himself to shew him the downward path to hell. You may date much of your past wretchedness and your past iniquity, my dear repentant son, from that early day. See how great a matter a little fire kindleth !'”

On the dangers of Philosophy. A Paper read at the morning meeting of the Society of Christian

Brothers, on Wednesday, the sixteenth of January, 1839. J. H. CHRISTIAN BROTHERS,–In these times of Philosophical research, and scientific attainments, the heading of this paper may be deemed strange; and some may be inclined to question its propriety, and to ask, what dangers can arise from enquiries into the natural sciences ?

If indeed the word be restricted to its simple meaning, the love of wisdom, and we define wisdom as the wise king does, when he prays for her that sittest by the throne of God," " for she knowelh and understandeth all things, and shall lead men soberly in their doings, and preserve them in her power.”* Then the objection will apply; but it is the modern philosophism ; that “science, falsely so called," the glow-worm meteors of which, like unto mephitic vapours, arising from stagnant pools, and kindling by electricity, serve but to lead into the dismal swamps whence they emanate, those unwise persons who follow them ;-that false wisdom, which, while its pretence is to disperse the intellectual darkness of the people, dazzles only to mislead, and instructs, only to destroy. It is against this novel illuminization of the age, that we would warn and guard our younger and unwary brothers.

It has been observed by Lord Bacon, that it is true that a little philosophy inclines men's minds to unbelief," and this is the first and principal danger to which our attention is called. “ But depth in philosophy," he adds, “ brings them back to religion, for while the mind looks on second causes, scattered, it may sometimes rest in them and go no further ; but, when it beholds them linked together, it must needs seek for a Divine cause. --But then, struck as it were with the natural tendency of the mind to scepticism, he breaks out, “The fool hath said in his heart there is no God,” it is not written he hath thought in his heart, but he rather says it by rote to himself, as that he would have it so, than that he could thoroughly believe it: for none deny a God but those who wish there was no God. Thus it appears, that it is more in the lip than in the heart.”

But it may be objected that Bacon lived in an age of comparative ignorance; and that the sciences since his day have all been cultivated with greater assiduity and success; nay, his own master mind leading the way, has pointed out the true path by which modern philosophy has attained her present elevation; the dreams of his contemporaries in astrology have long vanished before the light of astronomy, and the chimeras of his alchymists have been put to figlit by true chemical science ; nor do we wish to gainsay this assertion, as far as true philosophy is concerned ; being fully persuaded that the word and the works of God will never be found to contradict each other; and whenever discrepancy appears to exist, the fault will be in the ignorance, or the uncandid infidelity of the observer. Indeed, there is no danger to apprehend from that philosophy, which sees a God in all things, which reverently looks up to Him, which seeks to benefit man by her discoveries, and offers up her praise on the altar of a Deity. But we will now quote the opinion of a modern writer, one of the most acute minds of the age. “ It is the great mistake of many eminent philosophers,” says Sharon Turner, “ that they systematically exclude the Deity from all their reasonings on the formation and principles of things, and strive in vain to account

* Wisdom of Solomon, 9 Chap.

LORD! whatsoever sorrows rack my breast,
Till crime remove too, let me find no rest.
How dark soe'er my state, or sharp my pain,
Oh! let not trouble cease and sin remain !
For Jesus' sake relieve not my distress,
Till free triumphant grace shall repossess
The vacant throne from which my sins depart,
And make a willing captive of my heart,
Till grace completely shall my soul subdue,
Thy conquest full, and my subjection true. DEFOE,

for them rationally without Him. No failure leads them to suppose that they are wandering in bewildered darkness, from which they will never extricate themselves or their subject.

By this purposed omission they impede the progress of human science, by depriving it of the benefit which would accrue from their active minds, if these were rightly directed into the actual path of truth and light. Turning out of this, they give us in their most elaborate efforts to supersede it, nothing but a succession of butterfly fancies, which amuse for a moment, and then expire and are forgotten.”

No human intellect ever saw further into the secrets of nature than Sir Isaac Newton, nor has the world beheld many more indefatigable philosophers, than Boyle, Bacon, Tycho Brahe, and Boerhaave. Sir Wm. Jones may rank with the first scholars of any age for extent and diversity of lcarning.- Pascal can have few equals for clearness and proffundity of thought. Yet all these found their inquiries terminate in a thorough conviction of the truth of Christianity:

Philosophy introduces us into a new world, and unveils the mysteries of creation, expands our field of vision, and multiplies the objects of our contemplation, until we feel a sense of our own insignificance. And in thus hambling us, Philosophy does well; but if to these expanded views of the Majesty of the Almighty as displayed in his works, we bring our own imperfect apprehensions of his other attributes, which so commonly prevail among the iguorant and unenlightened ; then, these discoveries of the Majesty of God, will only tend to bewilder and mislead us. It is thus, that many unhappy men have been seduced into infidelity, by reasonings which they have not been able quite to comprehend, and their deductions from their own limited knowledge have bewildered them, while they have been swelled the pride of imaginary Icarning."

The force of these remarks will be obvious from the shameful abuse of the sciences by a lecturer who lately visited this city, and attempted to enlighten us on the subject of Socialism. It seemed that this poor man had acquired a superficial knowledge of many of the sciences, he had just gained that glimmering light which served to “make his darkness visible," and he attempted by agitating his feeble torch, to illuminate the dark abysses of error into which he was introducing his audience. He informed them, that he knew he was immortal, from his belief of the science of Chemistry. Then holding up a human skull to the gaze of the assembly, he attempted to demonstrate from its inequalities of surface, that the Power which formed that covering of the brain, was the author of the evil propensities of our nature. Now, indignation at such monstrous doctrine, would certainly be a prevailing feeling in our minds, and we may be inclined to invoke the spirit- the human spirit which had once animated that time-worn skull, to have been an invisible witness of the dreadful blasphemies then pronounced, the human soul, who having passed away to another state, in which it had now learned that the things which are not seen, are alone real and eternal-or let us picture to our minds, the flesh coming again upon that yellow and chapless skull, as on the dry bones in the vision of the prophet: the renewed eyes gazing with the most profound pity on the lecturer, and the tongue again loosened from the silence of the tomb, thus addressing him : Mistaken

mortal! whither art thou rushing in wilful blindness ? and whither wouldest thou lead thy fellow men ? Thou callest thy ways social happiness, and thy knowledge philosophical light; but, indeed and in sober truth, thy wretched creed sels before thee nothing but hideous deceptions. In God s beautiful creation, thou perceivest nothing but errors and the sources of evil, and calamity, and as if thy faith were anxious to conceal herself in the mire, she interrogates the reptiles, the insects, the stones, the dust, and even the corruption, into which all mortal things change, before they pass into other states of life; that they may furnish her with proofs against God. God who alone is the Eternal, the unchangeable--nothing besides is lasting, all things change, wear out, or pass into new forms,-He alone renains ever the same--and the torrent of time which carries away each succeeding age, fiorys before His eyes, and, with indignation, he sees feeble mortals, burried along by its rapid current, insult him as they pass-into his most awful presence !-into eternity! But thou, unhappy creature! wouldest reduce every attribute of thine own immortal soul to the instinct of the brute. In thy abominable worship, human woes are the incense-death is the priest-a coffin the altar, -and annihiiation the Deity.

To the Editor of the Christian Beacon.

The False Priend, Rrv. Siry-Perhaps some of your readers may be a little puzzled to understand the meaning of the title given to my letter which you obligingly admitted into the first nnmber of the Christian Beacon, “A false friend”_they will say, “can it be possible that such a traitor should be tolerated in this land of liberty-in this enlightened age? Certainly strange things come to our ears from time to time; and forebodings not loud but deep, hang heavy upon the spirits of some of the wisest and best judging in this our yet happy land. However as no immediate danger appears, I will make myself content.”

No doubt there are others who will at once understand the anomaly and say with a sigli, “Very trne, Oresimus has given a right name to the thing, but what can be done, custoin has given her sanction to | this 'false friend,' and it would be almost as much as

one's life is worth not to continue to praise that which it is usual to praise, and to recominend that which almost all speak well of.” But, Sir, I promise to prove by facts that this insincere friend who has gained so much upon the confidence, and esteem of my countrymen is just the greatest enemy that ever our nation kuew. And as soine of your readers may be anxious to be in possession of his name, I will not keep you in suspense, but announce at once, that his name is Alcohol!. He is of foreign extraction, though we have long naturalised him, he came first, I believe, from Arabia, but is now domesticated in almost every house, and introduced upon alınost every occasion. Can it therefore be wondered at that if he is “ a false friend," he is almost dangerous one?

Having now introduced the false friend by name, it is at once clear that I mean into.ricating drinks ; and I fear that the smile of contempt or the laugh of scorn will be the only effect produced upon soine, I sincerely trust very few of your readers. I do not suppose ibere

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