boldly for this new master, and deny the other or forget him, we may go on very successfully, perhaps happily in what seems to us an easy service-though God knows it is not always so !—to a certain point of time; when the service is done, and the last unwelcome wages are to be paid. If conscience refuse altogether to sanction this defec tion, or dread the too certain issue, there is less hope of peace; but still it may be accomplished-selfdelusion will lend itself to the task-by dint of not reflecting, not believing, and not enquiring, the mind may go to rest in its own inconsistencies, confuse the differences of profession and principle, and fancy the despised Master has no clearer sight; till the full mid-day of eternal glory burst upon us, and disclose the grossness and absurdity of our delusion.

But if we determine to be the servants of our rightful Lord, honestly, openly, and loyally, then we have much indeed to do with these the holy Preacher's words-we must take them as our study and write them on our hearts; for it is necessary, indispensable, that foregoing the opinions and the sayings of men, we come over to his mind, and judge with his judgment, and see things even as our Master sees them.

Surely it is idle to assert, that no change of heart, no altered principle, no direct separation, is exhibited in our Saviour's Sermon on the Mount, between the world in general and the people of God in particular. Words of more determined opposition could not be found, than those in which the Preacher describes what men in general are, and what his disciples must be-opinions more irreconcileably adverse could not be propounded, than those from which the principles of his disciples are required to be changed. And in this text, as having brought the opposition to its climax, he declares the absolute impossibility of holding both-"Ye cannot serve God and Mammon;" I have proved to you that you cannot hold to things so opposite-nothing, there fore, remains, but the choice between them,

But these had chosen; and the Saviour of mankind addresses them as having done so, as his own beloved disciples and the servants of God his Father. To such only the succeeding verses are addressed; to them only they are reasonable; to them only possible-nay, they are true to none others; for God does not pledge himself to the paternal maintenance and protection of another's servants-though, thanks to his forbearance and still loitering bounty, they share it yet abundantly.

THE LISTENER.-No. XXX.

THE searcher after hidden wealth has sometimes found a treasure scarcely less valuable, though not the same, as that he looked for. The blighted autumn leaf encloses a bud of future promise; and the hour of disappointment is the birth-time, not seldom, of a hope more fair than that which it extinguishes. Even so do the defeats of our baffled wisdom bequeath to us a jewel of no common price-a lesson of humility, self-knowledge, and forbearance.

Such was my reflection, as, in the closing sentence of my last paper, I alluded to that self-esteem which makes to itself an idol of the things that are its own, and desires to conform to them the things of others. And I determined to make it the subject of future admonition to those who even now are setting out on the passage of life, with these Penates in their bosoms; prepared to immolate to them every thing that is most lovely, most excellent, and most generous in human intercoursejustness, forbearance, concord, good-humour, kindness, liberality, affection, harmony, and peace.

An opposition of interests, each one's selfishness taking arms in defence of its own, is undoubtedly the source of much of the misery of life, and much of the contention with which it is distracted. But if we observe the various

sources of disunion and disagreement that break the peace of families and the harmony of society, we shall find that opposing interests are not the only, nor perhaps the most frequent cause. We see the members of a family teazing, contradicting, and annoying one another perpetually, when all their real interests are in common: we see the members of society traducing, despising, and maligning one another, when it is the interest of all to live in sociability and peace. One very fruitful source of these disorders-but I would believe not one that is irremediable, since a better knowledge and better government of our own hearts might surely correct it-is that selfesteem of which I spoke, that making of our own ideas the standard of all excellence. Hear a fable:

The beasts of the earth, and the birds of the air, and the fishes of the sea, were living once-I do not think it was in Noah's ark-in peaceful community togetherthat is, they might have been peaceful if they wouldbeing all fully provided, and secure in possession of their

own.

But peace, it appears, was not to their mind. The rein-deer, taking a walk one day to refresh himself, and being accustomed then, as now, to walk upon four legs, met with a Heron, who, as every one knows, walks upon two. "Yonder is a fine bird," said the Rein-deer to himself, "but the fellow is a block-head; why does he not go on as many legs as I do-I'll e'en knock him over to convince him of his mistake," and forthwith he ran his sturdy sides against the slender limbs of the bird; and, if he did not break them, it was no fault of his.

A frolicksome Colt, playing his morning gambles, happened to come up to a young Bullock, entangled by his horns in the thicket, who, with groans and cries, solicited assistance to release him. "By no means," said the Colt-"it is your own fault. What need you to be wearing those things upon your head -don't you see that we have none;" and kicking up his hoofs in the poor captive's face, he gallopped off.

A Magpie, wishing to improve the society of the neighbourhood, sent an invitation to some Blackbirds to dine with him in a certain wheat-field, where, at much expense no doubt, a dinner of newly-sown corn had been provided. The Blackbirds came in a full suit of black-the Magpie was dressed, as usual, in black and white; which, when the Blackbirds saw, great whisperings began amongst them. What a vulgar fellow-how monstrously unfashionable-could he not see that every body wore black-they wished they had not come-they gulped down the corn, half choking with ill-humour; two of them died that night of indigestion; the rest would ever after endure the pangs of hunger rather than alight in a field where a Magpie was feeding.

A certain Crab, cast upon the shore by the tide, and eager to regain his native element, was walking, as was his custom, sideways to the water's edge. By the way he met with an Eel in the same predicament; but he, like most other people, travelled with his head foremost. "I do not see, Sir," said the Eel, "why you should refuse to conform to the customs of the world and the habits of society-therefore I will thank you to turn about and walk like other people." The Crab maintained his right to walk as he pleased, more especially as it was the only way he could walk. The Eel persisted. A quarrel ensued-meantime the tide went out, and neither party, backward or forward, being able to reach the water, they were left to die of thirst upon the sand.

"Hear those creatures," said a pretty little Thrush, who just finishing his morning song, had alighted on a bough that overhung a bee-hive-"would you believe they take that noise for musick? The tasteless creatures! and pretend to have a concert! How I hate pretension. I will shame them into silence; "-and forthwith the Thrush resumed his loudest song. Bees, however, happening to have more taste for honey than musick, a concert the least of their thoughts, went buzzing on, totally unconscious of the rivals hip they

The

had excited. The Thrush grew wroth-they were actually trying to out-sing him-that was not to be borne -and down he hastily pounced upon the bees, as one by one they soared above their hive, and struck them to the ground with his beak; they trying in vain to pierce his close feathers with their sting-though some historians are of opinion he did not escape altogether unhurt.

"Pray, sir," said a Goat to a Sheep, as they chanced to meet one day upon the narrow path of a declivity, but just wide enough to allow them to pass"may I take the liberty of asking why you wear your hair curled while I wear mine straight?" The Sheep, not remarkable for his reasoning powers, had no particular reason to give-it answered his purpose, and if each was content with his own, there was no need of argument. The Goat thought otherwise-people ought to have reasons for what they do, and be able to explain the grounds of their conduct-and if they have not brains enough to discriminate, they ought to follow the example of those that have-therefore, to convince him that there was a reason why long, loose hair was more advantageous than close, curled wool, he should take the liberty of putting his horns into his fleece, and rolling him down the steep, which, if he had worn hair, he could not so easily have done.

It happened that a beautiful little Spaniel formed a strong attachment to a certain Rabbit he was in the habit of meeting in the beds' of his master's garden. The Rabbit felt extremely much flattered by the protection of so superior a person; but there was one subject of difference between them that was not easily to be adjusted. The Spaniel assured the Rabbit it was excessively vulgar to live upon vegetable diet-no rational creatures did so-it was food only for brutes-he hoped now he had chosen the Rabbit for his friend, he would try to acquire more genteel habits. The Rabbit modestly suggested that, beside that he had no teeth to Hh

VOL. V.