as mine! Can it be right in a christian to travel over pages filled with vain imaginations, swearing, and often gross obscenity, in order to arrive at some beautiful passage, which, after all, can only gratify or improve his taste?-The pearls are indeed fine, and present a great temptation; but, after all, they are not worth the diving for, or at least, the ocean that covers them is too perilous to be heedlessly encountered by so feeble an adventurer as I.-Read two chapters of the Greek Testament. What a blessing that we have sublimer and purer joys than those that are afforded by the bright, but transient flashes of unsanctified wit, or the glare of a powerful, yet polluted imagination!

Thursday. Rose at six-read one chapter of the Greek Testament.-I am engaged with my pupil four hours a day,-viz. from seven to eight, and from ten to eleven, A. M.; and from one to two, and from five to six, P. M.-My books are yet in Glasgow, and this has been an excuse for idleness. Read another play of Shakespeare's.More to disgust, and less to gratify in this, than in the last. I cannot read these plays without being injured by them.-Wrote a letter to my dear Nesbit.-Received one from my dear father.Have sat a considerable time this evening trying to make verses.-Succeeded in manufacturing one stanza. I may say, with the Rev. Thomas Scott, "God has not made me a poet."—And I hope I shall profit from his observation, that he was thankful for never having attempted to make himself one.

I almost despair of being able to introduce profitable conversation.-How difficult to fix that precise line of duty, which timorous indecision dares not approach, and which rash unthinking zeal

My very dear Craik;

Tennoch Side, June 30, 1826.

This is a solitary place.-I am all alone.-The sweets of friendship, and the joys of christian fellowship, are to me now associated with the remembrance of the days that are gone.-But yet, I am not alone;-God is here.-And should duty "command me to the farthest verge of the green earth, to distant barbarous shores," He is there too. The "communion of the saints," is, indeed, a delightful privilege; but what is it, when compared with that far higher privilege, which change of circumstances cannot affect;-even that "fellowship which is with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ." Every shifting scene of life. that passes before me, convinces me more and more, that happiness has a very slight dependence on our external circumstances. They may add to it, or diminish it; but they can neither give it, nor take it away. Mere animal gratification is enjoyed nearly equally by all classes; all are equally subject to disease; and if the rich seem to enjoy more of the good things of life than others, they only seem to do so. Luxury has deprived them of the comforts of life, and has converted its superfluities into comfortless necessaries. Even intellectual happiness, I believe, to be more generally and equally diffused, than is commonly imagined. But the truth is, there is no true happiness without the enjoyment of God's favor. How true is it, that his "His favor is life;" for without it, life deserves not the name;it is but a living death. "Immo vero, ii vivunt, qui ex corporune vinculis tanquam e carcere, evalaverunt; nostra vero qui dicitur vita, mors est,”

We are more highly favored than the ancient philosopher who wrote these words. Even here we may have glimpses of the celestial happiness. Eternal life is begun on earth. It is true, we may not walk in the freedom of spiritual enlargement, till we have put off these vile bodies; but even within their prison house there may be many an alleviation of our sufferings;-we may be freed from those fetters that galled us sore, and deprived us even of the little freedom which the bonds of a prison house might permit. We may be gaining new victories over the devil, the world, and the flesh, even while here. Let it be our earnest endeavor to maintain this holy warfare within our breasts; and while we drink freely of the fountain of life, let us not forget to present its vivifying waters to that world, which is "dead in trespasses and sins."

I have been looking over what I have written, and find it is not like a letter at all. But I need make no apologies to you. I am here, nearly eight miles from Glasgow, and have been there only twice. My pupil went there yesterday with the family; and, as there was room for me in the carriage, I went in the morning, and returned in the evening. Of course, I had not much time to see the town. I looked into the area of the college; a fine old substantial building. Their library, which was the only room I went into, does not seem to be so fine as our's.

Our's! did I The cathedral

say? But know what I mean. you is a venerable building, though somewhat disfigured by modern additions. The statue of our revered Knox stands on a neighboring hill. Glasgow is blessed with evangelical ministers in all denominations. There is an institution I

visited last night, with the plan of which I was very much pleased. It is a sort of religious coffee room. There is a large hall, where about twenty different religious institutions hold their meetings; and a reading room below, where the Reports, and other periodical publications, connected with all the religious societies of the day, are to be found. A book lay on the table, for the insertion of hints, or inquiries on any subject connected with the great interests of Christianity. In this, I found some remarks, in the hand-writing of "our excellent Chalmers." I have had an introduction to the nearest parish minister; but have seen very little of him yet. He told me, that his church was much too small for the parish,—and that he believed the greater number of his parishioners were growing up like heathens,

My very dear friend;

Tennoch Side, July 5, 1826.

I begin to feel anxious to hear from some of you, although I believe the agreement was, that I should write first. I am here as much shut out from the world, at least, from what was the world to me, as I could be in the deserts of Africa, or the islands of Japan. I write, chiefly to beg you to send me a long letter,—it is all of friendship I can now enjoy. You will not expect much from this wilderness. I have little to write about that can interest you. But why should I say so, when there is a theme, which is ever delightful to the mind of a christian, and needs not novelty to give it interest. Yes, we have a joy which the world knows not, and which no changes in our earthly circumstances can at all impair. The dearest earthly friends may be re

moved from us, but there is a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother." Here I have no christian friend; and sometimes my spirits sink very low, when I think on other days. But these are sinful thoughts. "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." Perhaps some path of usefulness may be pointed out to me; but at present, I see little probability of doing any thing, except with my pupil. I have been in Glasgow twice. I met Mr. Erskine there, as well as Mr. Ewing, &c. All are against my being a missionary, but I have heard no arguments against it that seem to me at all conclusive. What is doing in Edinburgh? Have you any intercourse with the few St. Andrian friends that are in the great city?-Alas! for our little circle. It is now sadly broken up, and we never will form a little circle again. One of our number is in the south of England, another in the north of Scotland, and all scattered abroad. The fragments of the little community are in Edinburgh. The "tria" are there;-but, alas! they are no longer "juncta in uno." But, I hope my lamentations are groundless. Have you no combinations for plans of usefulness either among yourselves, or of a more extensive nature? Something was talked of when I was in Edinburgh. Has it been accomplished? When do you go to Kirkliston? Let me hear particularly of your operations there. There will be full scope for your most strenuous exertions. Can you suggest to me any practicable scheme of usefulness? Do favor me with a long letter.

* He alludes to the St. Andrew's University Magazine,