me how my father once likened that tree to the Christian. He told us that it is mentioned by Josephus to have been the custom in old times to hang heavy weights upon them; but no sooner were these weights removed, and in some instances with the burden still there, they again sprang up towards heaven. "So it is," said he, with the true Christian, although bending, it may be, for a time beneath the heavy burden of affliction.

""

"The palm tree," continued he, "grows in the wilderness and the desert place, and the traveller is glad when he sees it. In like manner the believer stands apart from the world, and the Christian pilgrim, travelling Zion-ward, rejoices to meet with such, and goes on his way refreshed and comforted. The sapling of the palm tree cannot be bent, as most other young plants may, and thus it is with the youthful Christian, firm in faith."

I forget what more he said. I was wondering whether it was indeed impossible for the young Christian to be turned aside from his upward path.

"Fear not," replied my father, in answer to these doubts; "if they be indeed trees of the

Lord's planting, and looking to him for strength, he will take care of them; he will never suffer them to be moved."

One day, when we were lamenting over our few books, the most of which we already knew by heart, my father mentioned that the Duke of Wellington, during a campaign in India, had but two, the Bible and Cæsar's Commentaries.

"I wish we had Cæsar's Commentaries," said I. “I am glad that we have the Bible," observed my brother.

"Right," said my father. "There is nothing like the Bible, William; and, after that, we are told that a man or a boy-for it is all the same -ought to make himself his chief reading; and that he must not skip a hard page when he comes to it, but try and make out its true meaning. The earlier, too, this study is begun the better." "I am afraid that I should find nothing else but hård pages," said I.

"Very likely," replied my father.

"I think," observed William, "that we must come to a great deal that we would wish to see not only corrected, but blotted out."

"And what must be done with those pages, William ?"

"We must take them to Jesus, father."

"Yes, that is the only way. And it is written for our encouragement, I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy trangressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." "*

"After all," said I, after a pause, "it is a hard study."

"Most persons have found it to be so, my boy; but it is a very necessary one, nevertheless, and I do not believe that there can be much real improvement going on where this is neglected. Unlike all other kinds of knowledge, it teaches humility rather than pride."

"But the worst of it is that one meets with the same things over and over again.”

"What sort of things, John ?"

I hardly know how to describe them-vain dreams, as William calls them, impatient longings, discontent, irritability, and so on.”

"Compare this list," said my father, "with the fruits of the Spirit, as mentioned in the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians, 'love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.""

*Isaiah xliii. 25.