Some persons are of a melancholy temperament and joy with them is a secondary experience; but they must understand that it is a thing to be aimed at. And they must not suppose that the more sober they are, the more likely they are to be useful. That is not so. 'Can everybody be free from care?' Yes, finally; not, perhaps, at once. It is a part of Christian education. It is in this direction that the liberty which God gives His children lies.

"Ought not a man to examine himself?" Yes, once in a while. But the poorest business that you can do is to stir up what there is in that heart of yours. You cannot spend your time less profitably than in rummaging in your heart to see what is there. There is little or no benefit in your analyzing yourselves. You are not fit to analyze. You do not know what you are made of. The effect of your dissecting your own feelings is to get you in perfect bewilderment, for the most part. A man ought to examine himself, but not according to the metaphysical scheme, and not in an undue proportion. No man ought to be indifferent as to which direction he is going, or as to which class of faculties he is using most. No person should be indifferent to the general proportions of his life. These things ought to be looked after; but you never get your joy out of these things. I suppose that every body ought to look after his diet, and ought to observe the laws of health; and yet, do you think it is well for a man, after eating a meal, to begin to say, 'How does this potato feel? I wonder if I have eaten too much meat to-day? I wonder if that bread is digesting?' Every physiologist will tell you that one of the worst things a man can do is to think of the functions that are going on in his body. Those functions are going on modestly and silently, and you had better let them alone. If you insist upon thinking about the liver, and about the brain, and about the circulation, and about the nervous system, you will become a fidget. There are ever so many fidgets in the Church-people who are thinking of themselves, analyzing themselves, watching themselves. It is very poor company that a man keeps when he is watching himself.

"Now, as it is possible for a man to observe generally whether he is living according to the laws of health without a minute watching of his diet and sensations, so it is possible for a man to know whether he is in the faith, and, on the whole, from month to month, in the Master's spirit and work, without this perpetual looking into himself and dissecting himself, as if examining one's self would be a reason of gladness. Why, the true idea is, that people should think but little about themselves if they want to be happy. The occasion of joy is not in you, but in the Lord. Rejoice in the Lord is the command. It is philosophy. The sense of God's goodness and love, the sense of Christ's sweet presence, His faithfulness and His sympathy-this it is that makes me confident, glad and triumphant."

THE SENTIMENTAL AND FICTITIOUS.

"It appears that th eworld is returning to its second childhood, and running mad for stories. Stories! Stories! Stories! everywhere. Stories in every paper, in every crevice, crack, and corner of the house. Stories fall from the pen faster than leaves of autumn, and of as many shades and colourings. Stories blow over here in whirlwinds from England. Stories are translated from the French, from the Danish, from the Swedish, from the German, from the Russian. There are several stories for adults, there are several stories for youthful pilgrims, and very soon we anticipate newspapers with serial stories for the nursery.

I have often questioned what Solomon would have said if he had lived in our day. The poor man, it appears, was somewhat blasé with the abundance of literature in his times, and remarked that much study was a weariness to the flesh. Then printing was not invented, and "books" were all copied by hand, in those very square Hebrew letters where each letter is about as careful a bit of work as a grave-stone. And yet even with all those restrictions and circumscriptions. Solomon rather testily remarked, "Of making many books there is no end!" What would he have said had he looked over a modern publisher's catalogue?

It is understood now that no paper is complete without its serial story, and the spinning of these stories keeps thousands of wheels and spindles in motion. It is now understood that whoever wishes to gain the public ear, and to propound a new theory, he must do it in a serial story. Hath any one in our day, as in St. Paul's, a psalm, a doctrine, a tongue, a revelation, an interpretation-forthwith he wraps it up in a serial story, and presents it to the public. We have prison discipline, free-trade, labour and capital, woman's rights, the Temperance question, in serial stories. We have Romanism and Protestantism, High Church, and Low Church, and no Church, contending with each other, in serial stories, where each side converts the other, according to the faith of the narrator.

We see that this thing is to go on. Soon it will be necessary that every leading clergyman should embody his theology in a serial story, to be delivered from the pulpit Sunday after Sunday.

Finally, all science and all art and all business will be explained, conducted, and directed by serial stories, till the present life and the life to come shall form only one grand romance. This will be about the time of the Millennium." MRS. BEECHER STOWE.

THE MOUNTAINS OF THE BIBLE.

MORIAH AND ABRAHAM ;-OR, THE HEROISM OF FAITH.

THE Voice of Heaven calls us to no such sacrifice. It is true that with the idea of atonement deeply rooted in their minds, there are nations even now who offer the fruit of their body for the sin of their soul. The fact of sacrifice is universal. Go where we may-even among the rudest and the most barbarous tribes-there is the traditional belief of expiation. The story of Abraham offering up his son, has had its counterpart in heathen mythology. Since the days of the patriarch it has been floating on the stream of time, and has found its echo in the history of all nations. But it is an offering which Infinite Love neither demands nor expects. It was enough to impress the nature and the design of sacrifice on the human mind by the example of His servant, until the profound idea received its consummation in the atoning death of Jesus Christ his Son and our Saviour. The Redeemer having offered himself once for all, and having by that one offering for ever perfected those who are sanctified, we are called to unreserved and ever-persevering obedience. Our redemption heightens unspeakably our obligations to duty; while in pursuing the path into which Heaven has introduced us, we may be called to toil, and loss, and suffering. The claims of Him who hath redeemed us may involve sacrifice, and sacrifice we must be prepared to make. We must enter into no cold, selfish, worldly calculation. There is room neither to question nor to dispute-neither to hesitate nor to pause. We have simply to bow to the will of God. Let the surrender be what it may which is required it must be made. And if a thousand difficulties beset our path, we must press through them all, and perfect our obedience up to the last possible point.

of

us,

In moving along this loftier path, one may have to sacrifice his prospects in life; another may have to give up some loved and cherished object; a third may have to urge his way through temptations, and trials, and sorrows. Our fallen humanity becomes startled and surprised. We begin to inquire where we ought to be silent, and we complain where we ought to acquiesce; but willing and loving will be the submission of our spirit, if faith is but allowed to have her own deep and far-indwelling in the soul. The confidence which she inspires is truly divine; and when we are prepared to rise out of self, and out of all that is created, into the Infinite and the Immutable, all things become possible, and every step which we take in the path of duty is like the foot-fall of a hero conscious of his strength, and certain of his victory. "This is the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith."

Nor can it be denied that this principle of faith, when it does triumph in

conflict, is followed by the deepest joy and peace of soul. Happiness is inseparable from obedience. In keeping of the Divine commandments there is great reward. There is present enjoyment as well as future honour. And the higher the ground to which our faith rises—the more heroic its character, and the more illustrious its doings, the deeper and the purer is the joy of which we are conscious. It is impossible that Abraham could ever look back to the triumph which he had achieved on Mount Moriah, without partaking the peace which passeth all understanding. More than this:-no sooner had he closed the mighty struggle than his spirit entered into a rest which deepened through life, which expressed itself in the calm tranquillity of his death, and which flowed into the everlasting sabbatism of heaven. In proportion as our will is brought into submission to the will of God, can we be conscious of inward quiet and joy. Why is it that we are not in possession of more peace and rest? Is there a true harmony between our nature and the nature of God? Does our will never rise up in opposition to His arrangements and ordinations? ours a holy and a sanctified resignation of spirit-a loving, cheerful, unreserved obedience? If we did but cordially fall in with the methods and the ways of our Father in heaven, did our submission reach the depth of a hearty acquiescence, how profound would be the calm and the composure of the soul!-Extracted from the volume entitled, "Consecrated Heights," by the Rev. Robert Ferguson, LL.D.

Is

TWO CHAPTERS OF BIOGRAPHY:

GEORGE

WHITFIELD.

WHITFIELD rose, amidst the darkness of the last century, a burning and a shining light, the prince of preachers, and the greatest evangelist of modern times.

HIS BIRTH AND EDUCATION.-Whitfield was born at Gloucester, on the 16th of December, in the year 1714; the same year in which, on the death of Queen Anne, George I. ascended the throne. His father died when he was only two years old. He went to several schools in his native city, the last of which was the grammar school of St. Mary-deCrypt. In this school, his master was careful to teach him to speak and write correctly. He was then about twelve years of age, and he says, "Having a good elocution and memory, I was remarked for making speeches before the Corporation at their annual visitation." He had soon to leave school, to help his mother in the inn which she kept. From serving in the inn, he went to Oxford to serve there, just as he was near

eighteen years old. He describes his condition whilst there. Some one had inquired after his "quality, state, condition, and circumstances." He says, "As for my quality, I was a poor, mean drawer; but, by the distinguishing grace of God, I am now intended for the ministry. As for my estate, I am a servitor; and as to my condition and circumstances, I have not of my own where to lay my head. But, my friends, by God's providence, minister daily to me, and, in return for such unmerited, unspeakable blessings, I trust the same good Being will give me grace to dedicate myself without reserve to His service." We must nɔw look upon him as serving God, which leads us to—

HIS CONVERSION.-Before his going to Oxford, and for some time afterwards, we find him greatly exercised in mind. Deep impressionsalternations between disobedience and duty, fitful praying, extreme strictness, relapses into sin, strong convictions, earnest resolutions, observance of religious ordinances, sincere inquiry, reading, religious conversation, godly associations, fasting and temptation, grievous mistakes, the spirit of bondage, wretchedness, gloom, fear, and misery. He would lie prostrate on the ground for whole days, bemoaning his state before God. He would visit the sick and prisoners in the common gaol-go to the Sacrament, and fast during the whole six weeks of Lent, touching no meat except on Saturdays and Sundays. "I abstained frequently on Saturdays also," he tells us, "and ate nothing on the other days (except on the Sabbath) but sage-tea without sugar, and coarse bread." At last he became so weak that he could scarcely creep up stairs. John and Charles Wesley, then at Oxford, were of great use to him, but a book entitled "The Life of God in the Soul of Man" did him the most good. A fit of illness brought the whole thing to a crisis. Finding him in a state of great weakness, his body so emaciated that he was equal to nothing, his head tutor sent for a physician. This caused no small triumph amongst the collegians, who began to cry out, "What has his fasting come to now?" "This fit of sickness continued upon me for seven weeks, and a glorious visitation it was. The blessed Spirit was all this time purifying my soul. All my former gross and notorious, and even my heart sins also, were now set home upon me, of which I wrote down some remembrance immediately, and confessed them before God morning and evening. Though weak, I often spent two hours in my evening retirements, and prayed over my Greek Testament, and Bishop Hall's most excellent Contemplations, every hour that my health would permit. About the end of the seven weeks, and after I had been groaning under an unspeakable pressure both of body and mind for above a twelvemonth, God was pleased to set me free in the following manner :-One day, perceiving an uncommon drought, and a disagreeable clamminess in my mouth, and using things to allay my thirst, but in vain, it was suggested to me that when Jesus cried out,-I