ON RICHES.

Do not be over-anxious about riches. Get as much of wisdom and goodness as you can; but be satisfied with a very moderate portion of this world's good. Riches may prove a curse as well as a blessing.

I was walking through an orchard, looking about me, when I saw a low tree laden more heavily with fruit than the rest. On a nearer examination it appeared that the tree had been dragged to the very earth by the weight of its treasures, and that its very roots had been pulled out of the ground.

"Oh!" said I, gazing on the prostrated tree, "here lies one who has been ruined by his riches."

In another part of my walk, I came up with a shepherd who was lamenting the loss of a sheep that lay mangled and dead at his feet. On inquiry about the matter, he told me that a strange dog had attacked the flock, that the rest of the sheep had got away through a hole in the hedge, but

that the ram now dead, had more wool on his back than the rest, and the thorns of the hedge held him fast, till the dog had worried him. "Here is another," said I, "ruined by his

riches."

At the close of my ramble, I met a man hobbling along on two wooden legs, leaning on two sticks.

"Tell me," said I, "my poor fellow, how you came to lose your legs."

"Why, sir," said he, "in my younger days, I was a soldier. With a few comrades I attacked a party of the enemy, and overcome them, and we began to load ourselves with spoil. My comrades were satisfied with little, but I burdened myself with as much as I could carry. We were pursued, my companions escaped, but I was overtaken, and so cruelly wounded, that I only saved my life by the loss of my legs. It was a bad affair, sir; but it is too late to repent it now."

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"Ah, friend," thought I, "like the fruit tree, and the mangled sheep, you may date your downfall to your possessions: it was your riches that ruined you."

When I see so many rich people, as I do, caring so much for their bodies, and so little for their souls, I pity them from the bottom of

my heart, and sometimes think there are as many ruined by riches as by poverty. "Give me

neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain," Prov, xxx, 8, 9.

ON

GIN-DRINKING.

LISTEN! listen! for one hour's attentive hearing is better than two hours' thoughtless talking.

What would the gin-drinker say, if, in passing along the street, he were to be suddenly dragged into a dirty, close, disagreeable hole; to have his mouth forced open, and a poison poured therein, so strong as to deprive him not only of the use of his limbs, but of his reason; and afterwards to be left to all the dangers of accident, robbery, and ill-usage? No doubt he would bitterly complain of such an outrage, and yet he acts in this outrageous manner against himself every time he visits a gin-shop, and drinks to excess. If other men used the gin-drinker as ill as he uses himself, they would be sent to the tread-mill, at least, for their pains.

What would the gin-drinker say, if in his absence from home, some scoundrel were to rob his house of furniture, food, and comforts, leaving his wife and children destitute and afflicted? Why,

he would cry aloud for justice against the man who had robbed him of his property. And yet,

he is acting the part of this thief himself, for by habitual gin-drinking he robs himself and his family continually.

What would the gin-drinker say to the man who made it his business to go from one place to another, blasting his reputation, and spreading the report that he was idle, wasteful, disorderly, riotous, a brawler and a drunkard? No doubt he would be filled with rage against such a libeller, and yet, he goes about himself, and proclaims all this, and ten times more, by gin-drinking, every day of his life. These things are bad enough, but the gin-drinker is not satisfied in doing even evil by halves. It is not enough to render himself and those around him miserable in this world, but he is industrious in blotting out all hope of happiness in the world which is to come. There are many ways to misery, but gin-drinking is one of the nearest.

If you happen to be an honest and diligent workman, with plenty of work to do; if you possess the respect of your master, and the good-will of your fellow workmen, and have taken a fancy into your head, all at once, to get rid of your industry and your honesty, to lose the respect of your master, and the good opinion of your shop