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need to have infallible evidence that they are not grievously mistaken, and wresting his words to get rid of their force against their wild and unlicensed imaginations.

A. C.

REFORD MUST BE GRADUAL. MANKIND are more frequen: ly swayed by prejudice than by reason. Reason has a clear eye; but prejudice is blind, and either clings tenaciously to old doctrines and time-worn systems, or gropes forwarde l in imminent danger of stumbling upon the dark mountains of error. Hence new systems* generally meet with more opposers than alvocates; and hence, too, bad systems and false doctrines, on their first promulgation, gain as many proselytes as those that are genuine and useful. We need not wonder, then, that philosophers have been imprisoned, statesmen banished, poets starved, Apostles beheaded, and that the Saviour of men was crucified ; while dupes and impostors have been countenanced, honoured, and even deified. Nor need we be astonished that every successful improvement in science and the arts has gained its popularity only by slow degrees. That reformer, therefore, who would succeed, must not attempt, at once, any great innovation. They who have long groped in the darkness of a dungeon, cannot bear to be suddenly ushered into the full glare of a noon-di:y's sun. -Kirkham.

SORROW FOR THE DEAD. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal—every other affliction to forget: but this wound we consider it a cluty to keep open—this afdiction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother tlint would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that woull willingly forget the most tender parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closed upon the remains of her he most loved, and he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal, would accept consolation that was to be bought by forgetfulness ? No! the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul! If it has its woes, it has it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection; when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the

* An old system revived is new to strangers to it.-H.

dars of its loveliness—ho would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud even over the bright hour of gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would exelange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No! there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song! There is a recollection of the dead, to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh the grave! the grave! It buries every error-covers every defect -extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb that ever he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him!

But the grave of those we loved—what a place for meditation! Then it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy; then it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene -the bed of deaths, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities—the last testimonies of expiring love—the feeble, fluttering, thrilling, O how thrilling ! pressure of the hand—the last fond look of the gazing eye, turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence—the faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection!

Ave, go to the grave of buried love and meditate! There settle the account with conscience for every past benefit unrequitted—every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being who can never-neverreturn to be soothed by thy contrition !

If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent—if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth-if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee—if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one uumerited pang to that true heart that now lies cold and still beneath thy feet; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul—then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pout the unavailing tear, more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing.

Then weave thy chaplet of Howers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile tributes of regret; but take warning by the bitterness of this thy contrite affliction over the dead, and be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living.-W. Irving.

Be kind to each other!

Let falsehood assail not,
The night's coming on,

Nor envy disprove-
When friend and when brother

Let trifles prevail not-
Perchance may be gone!

Against those ye love!
Then 'midst our dejection,

Nor change with to-morrow,
How sweet to have earned,

Should fortune take wing,
The best recollection

But the deeper the sorrow,
Of kindness-returned !

The closer still cling!
When day hath departed

Oh, be kind to each other!
And memory keeps

The night's coming on,
Her watch broken hearted,

When friend and when brother
Where all she loved sleeps!

Perchance may be gone!


PATERNUS had been accustomed to i capacity for rational entertainment were call together his descendants to cele | found at rest in the arms of sleep. brate the anniversary of his birth, which Parternus sat in the old fashioned happened to be on the first day of the armed chair, in which his own grand year. On these occasions he was wont father had sat, and the fondest object to recite to his children and grand of his youthful affection, and the children the most interesting incidents comfort of his old age, sat by his side, of his life, and to deduce such moral in the very chair on which she had lessons as the occasions suggested and often sung to repose her first born the exigencies of the times required. son. Thus placed, they all sang a He was now entering upon his eightieth hymn of thanksgiving, after which the year, and the wife of his youth had old patriarch with a clear and tremulous more than completed her seventy-sixth. voice, thus began: He had assembled the eight families of “Kind and indulgent Heaven has his sons and daughters, and two fami- | once more brought us all together under lies of his grand-sons, amounting in the roof of our ancestors, and surroundall to seventy-five souls, and all resi ed us with his guardian arms, and with dents of the county in which he favours more than we can tell. I have lived. The old mansion of his grand yesterday completed my seventy-ninth father, and the large dining hall, year, hallowed be his name! and yet the scene of this happy new year, continue to enjoy both health of body was filled with the prattling objects and vigour of mind. But my withered of his parental solicitude and affec face and hoary locks admonish me that tion. The affectionate greetings of soon I must go the way of all the earth the little cousins, uncles, and aunts, and sleep with my good forefathers. I and the little exploits of the young am glad to see my children and my talkers and walkers imparted much grand-children all around me on this gaiety and cheerfulness to the scene. my birth day; and now that I am perAfter they had all refreshed themselves mitted to see and salute so many of the with the libera) collations which the objects of my dearest affection, I wish season afforded, and had retired from to make this opportunity an occasion of the festive table, they were arranged, inculcating one lesson upon all of you, according to seniority, around the cheer which I have often suggested to you ful fire, which a fierce north wind had before, but now from new consideramade most comfortable. Meanwhile tions and more mature reflections. But the prattling of the little ones had been to do this with the most advantage, I lulled to repose, and all who had not will give you the history of our family

for three generations, which is as far family, and are yet alive in the memory back as I am able to trace it. This I of many of our neighbours in this have often purposed to do, and have vicinity. Sixty-three persons of our occasionally given to some of you some family, including my grandfather and sketches of it, but have never done it grandmother, my own father and mother, fully, nor eren partially, to all of you. uncles, aunts, and cousins, are enrolled I do this not to gratify your pride, nor in the church books of our parish, as to inflame your worldly ambition; for in having lived and died members of the our history there is nothing, or very little, family of God; and there are yet living, adapted to cherish the former or aug. including those here present, of our ment the latter. 'Tis true that both my family, eight-five persons professing father and my grandfather attained to godliness. But why, you will ask me, the distinction of a good name, and left do I make these enumerations and go to me the rich inheritance of an unspot into these details? I will answer you. ted integrity, which I have endeavoured It is to open to your view the instrument to transmit unimpaired to you. They and source of all this good, from which were respected in their day for their I am to draw my moral, and which I am virtues; and their industry and christian about to present to you all as my new morality obtained a patrimony which year's gift-and, perhaps, my last new afforded themselves a competence, and year's gift to my dear offspring. All gave to their children a good and useful, the Christian excellence and Christian though not a learned education. I had happiness possessed and enjoyed in our two brothers and one sister who shared family can be traced to the mother of my father's inheritance with me; and my grand-father, and through her to I, being the eldest, inherited this farm another disciple of our glorious Master and the old mansion, which, for the and Redeemer. The history of my same reason, my father inherited from | great grand-mother is briefly this :my grandfather, who obtained it by his | Her father was a wild and profligate own industry and some little aids which | character, whose vices brought him a distant relative extended to him. immaturely to the grave at the age of Our family has, indeed, become numer twenty-seven. Her mother pined away ous. My sister left behind her eleven and died heart-broken and disconsolate, children, and my two brothers have leaving behind her two daughters, my together more descendants than I hare. great grand-mother and her sister, the But it is neither the number, wealth, former aged two years, and the latter nor political respectability of our family four, when they lost their mother. A on which I have any desire to expatiate; kind and amiable Christian lady, Mrs. but the moral virture and Christian Richardson, daughter of the pious and excellence of many of your relatives learned William Tindal, took my great which I desire to lay before you for the grandmother, when two years old, into purpose which I have supremely in her own family, and brought her up, view. Of my grand-father's family when a proud and unfeeling aunt, seven brothers and three sisters lived Mrs. Stockton, refused the trouble. and died members of the kingdom of Her sister fell into the hands of another Jesus Christ. My grandmother was re aunt, who had no more religion, but a puted to be the most eminent Christian little more humanity, and a good deal in her vicinity in her day, and is said more natural affection than Mrs. Stockto have been a sort of mother to the ton. She brought her up after her own whole church in Hellensborough on the heart and example: and having married banks of the Humber. My grandfather an officer in the army, she accompanied was proverbially a just and pious man, him to the Indies, where, in a few and some of you have seen and known years, she died. Concerning her de. both my father and mother. Their scendants I have no information. virtues are known, and, I trust, appre “ To return to Mrs. Richardson. ciated by the elder branches of my | This amiable lady, like Job, the case

which she knew not she sought out.' | shall always be my daughter.' Thus She spent the greater part of her time in speaking, she fell upon her neck, and ministering to the saints, and in acts of embracing her, said, ' The Lord bless Christian sympathy and tenderness. you, my daughter, and keep you from Tradition has informed me that she evil, and make you a mother to many was one of the most diligent matrons as I have been to you! This prayer, in her day in educating her family in said the venerable Paternus, while the the knowledge of the sacred scriptures. tears were rolling down the furrows of Her husband was a barrister of some his wrinkled face-this prayer has been note, but not a Christian himself, he answered as certainly as I live; for this left the management of his daughters very Mary was in her nineteenth year entirely to his wife.-She is said to married to him who was the progenitor have read the scriptures to her children, of all those families of which I hare accompanied with her prayers, in her own told you, and from whom we are all closet; and so soon as they could un descended. I can trace our history no derstand the meaning of the most farther back, and I am glad that so far familiar language, she imbued their I can trace it with perfect certainty, minds with the knowledge of God and through channels the most authentic.his Son Jesus Christ. She was wont to Behold, then, the source of all our nointerrogate them on the subjects which bility, of all that has given respectability she read to them; and so soon as they to our family, and religion and happicould read, she induced them, by every ness to so many now living, and so sort of allurement, to read and commit many already dead. I have now, my to' memory many passages of the evan dear children, told you the history of gelical history and of the devotional our family, and I hope you will each of part of the Old and New Testaments. you preserve it with as much fidelity She brought up my great grand-mother and accuracy, and transmit it to your as one of her own children, and it is families with as much precision as I said that she did not know that Mrs. now give it to you. Richardson was not her own mother “But now for the moral. You will, until she was in her sixteenth year. no doubt, have seen that all the good, She is, moreover, said to have shed religious and moral, which our family many tears of sorrow when she heard, has enjoyed, has been instrumentally for the first time, that she whom she derived to us from the piety of Mrs. had always called mother was not her Richardson. Had my great grandmother, but her benefactress. Mrs. mother fallen into the hands of her who Richardson said to her, ' Mary, Do you took charge of her sister, how different not love Jesus Christ?' 'I do,' she in all human probability, would have replied. "Why do you love him?' she been our lot at this day! 'Tis true she next asked her.- Because I believe was but the instrument in the hand of that he loved me and died for me,' she our Heavenly Father; but he always rejoined. "Well, then, was it not I works by means; and what a scheme who made you acquainted with him, who of benevolence is that which honours first taught you who he was, and what. and rewards the instrument as though it he had done for you; and if you have had been the author of so much good! been born again, as I trust you are, I am And such most certainly is the scheme your mother in the Lord; and although of divine philanthropy. Now let me not your natural parent in the flesh, I present this matter to you in another am your mother in a relation and sense light. If it be true, as it most undearer then nature knows, and more questionably is, that all human beings durable than time itself. Weep not, my will be rewarded according to their dear Mary; I am your mother, you are | works, how great will be the reward of my daughter in the Lord; and I trust those who, like the Christian matron, that as I have hitherto been to you a | the benefactress of our family, have mother, I will so continue, and that you originated a cumulative system, which,

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