This answer was rather unexpected, or seemed to be so, for Mr. Masham made no reply for a little space; and when he spoke again all he said was, "Well ?"

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Well, the result proves that the complaint was a just one, Mr. Masham. Excuse me I will not detain you long," he added; for, at this part of the conference, the younger gentleman took out his watch-as a hint, probably, that he wished to be moving on. "I will not detain you long; but I wish to tell you honestly (not from vulgar prejudice) that you are, unintentionally I am sure, doing much harm by the way in which your works are conducted. Years ago, sir, there was not a more healthy spot in all the neighbourhood than Auburn; but I am sorry to find it is not so now."

"And you attribute the change to my works, doctor?"

"There cannot be a doubt of it; for the water of the river, which the inhabitants are obliged to use for all domestic purposes, is manifestly injurious to health, whereas it was once as pure a stream as ever flowed: and the atmosphere is frequently so deteriorated by poisonous fumes, when the wind sets our way

"But, I tell you, doctor, that my workmen are healthy enough," said the gentleman, impatiently.

"Possibly. The fact is, I suppose, your raw materials (as you would call them), while in a quiescent state, may be innoxious; and, when in a state of transformation and combination, are probably so shut up in furnaces and retorts as to do no evident harm to those around. If you could only confine or neutralize the gases which escape from yonder chimney--"

Oh, I know all about that very well, doctor," interposed the manufacturing chemist; "and I dare say you will go on to tell me that by doing this, that, or the other thing, I might confine or neutralize those gases. But I may as well say, at once, that I have no money to throw away on new-fangled experiments. I bought the place and built the works; and they are mine; and-no offence, doctor-I have yet to learn that a man may not do what he likes with his own."

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But, pray excuse me, Mr. Masham," urged the pertinacious but still polite physician, "if I say that that is the real matter in question. There are some things, sir, which, we all know, money cannot buy. You bought the land on which your works are built, and your money built those

works. You buy the materials which your skill converts into more money; and you buy the labour which obeys your commands; they are, therefore, to some considerable extent your own. That is admitted, sir."

"They are altogether my own," returned Mr. Masham, angrily; for he did not like being lectured. "And being my own, I shall do what I like with them," he added.

"We cannot, or ought not, to do, even with what is altogether our own, what would be injurious to others," argued the physician, earnestly, yet mildly. "Only think where such a principle will land us. A powerful man with a deadly or dangerous weapon in his hand might threaten my life with that weapon as he swings it over my head, and tell me that the bludgeon is his own, and therefore that he may do what he likes with it."

"I do not think that is a very polite comparison, or illustration, doctor," said the other gentleman, impatiently.

"Pardon me again; I am very far from wishing to be unpolite, but I think that the illustration is to the point: for, if such a case should occur, and the man would give me time to remonstrate, I should naturally tell him that though the bludgeon might undoubtedly be his own, he could claim no ownership of my ease and comfort, or life and health; and therefore I should beg him to put his weapon to some other use which would not interfere with these possessions of mine.

'Now, sir," continued the physician, "admitting that all which you have mentioned are absolutely your own, I must plead that you cannot or should not do what you like with them, independent of other considerations. For instance, the running water of this river is not your own, therefore you ought not to pollute it: the atmosphere around you is not your own, consequently you have no right to render it impure: the health and comfort of the people at Auburn are not your own; therefore you—

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Doctor," said the gentleman, you must excuse my remaining any longer in your company, and my cutting short your lecture. I am not accustomed to being lectured: and-I wish you a very good morning." So saying, Mr. Masham walked hastily away.

The matter did not end there, however: for though the retired physician was an urbane and peaceable man, he was not the less firm in his natural disposition. time the matter was taken into a court of law;

In due

and it

being clearly proved that Mr. Masham's works were really injurious to the people who lived in his neighbourhood, he was compelled to take proper means for removing or abating the mischief. So he found, to his great mortification and disgust, that a man cannot always do what he likes with what he conceives to be his own.

Reader, this little history has a moral well worth your (and my) serious consideration. We are all of us, perhaps, too much inclined by natural disposition to act like the selfish and self-important man of whom I have spoken, and proudly to put the question, sometimes to others, but oftener to ourselves, in our own hearts, "May I not do what I like with my own?" If we are Christians, this evil propensity of our nature is kept in check by the power of Divine grace, and by the precepts of the gospel, which tell us that we are to look not on our own things or interest alone, but also on those of others, and which teach us that we ourselves are not our own, because we belong to Christ; and that, as regards our short-lived possessions in this world, we are only stewards of the manifold grace, or mercy, of God. Christians, therefore, have no need to be told, as some new thing, but only to be gently and affeetionately reminded that they should not, must not, cannot do (in the common acceptation of the words) "what they like with their own;" that they dare not, if they would, pollute the stream of human happiness, or infect and taint the moral atmosphere of God's mercy.

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There are some, however, with whom (alas!) such considerations have no weight. Their inward thought is, Our lips are our own: who is lord over us?" And not their lips only, but all things else, in body, or spirit, or earthly good, are looked upon by them as their own; and their cry is, May we not do what we like with our own?" There is the man of wealth. He has money at his command, and can spend it as he pleases. He spends it to the debasement of himself, and of all with whom he comes in contact. He pleads, "My money is my own; and may I not do what I like with my own?"

Here is a man who has influence. He uses that influence in the encouragement of vice and the depression of true godliness. He takes up the same argument, and says, "My influence is my own; and may I not do what I like with my own?" Following him is one who has many talents-large

mental resources. He employs them in perverting truth and exalting falsehood: in making good appear to be evil, and evil good. He leads souls astray, and rejoices in the havoc which he makes, while he echoes the proud question, May I not do what I like with my own?"

Then comes one who calls time his own.

He kills it in idleness, folly, and sin; and thus is a blighting curse to those around him. Tell him of the evil he is working, and the thought of his heart is, "My time is my own; and I not do what I like with my own?"

may

The answer in each and every case is plain and simple: "God requireth that which is past." "What hast thou that thou didst not receive? Now if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it?" In other words, it is not your own, therefore your boastful inquiry comes to nothing.

Reader, the only way in which we can rightfully do what we will with those things which seem, for a time, to be our own, is to make God's will concerning them our will also. Cultivating this spirit, and seeking to have it enlarged and increased and strengthened by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit of God, we may, at length, arrive at that happy disposition which should mark every true believer, enabling us to say, "I can and will do what pleases me with that which is not my own, but God's; since what is His will is mine also."

Then, even in sorrow and suffering-if such should be your lot, reader-you will be enabled to say, "Father, not as I will; but as thou wilt:"

"If Thou shouldst call me to resign

What most I prize-it ne'er was mine;
I only yield thee what is thine :
Thy will be done."

MARRYING IN HASTE TO REPENT AT LEISURE.

T was a bright May morning; the slanting beams of the early summer sun came through the latticed windows of the little cottage, and danced and

flickered among the jugs and basins on the trim little dresser which Kate Wilson was busily occupied in "righting up," her usual Monday morning's work. But for a wonder Kate's dusting proceeded very quietly; her cheerful voice did not as usual chime in with the

ticking of the eight-day clock in the corner, or the merry song of the thrush as in his wicker cage, outside the open door, he rejoiced in the brightness of the summer morning. Kate went on with her work with a very absent preoccupied look on her pretty, cheerful face, till having reached the last shelf, she spoke out somewhat abruptly, "Mother, Tom Shaw wants us to be asked in church next Sunday."

"Dear me! what next?" exclaimed the startled mother, dropping, in her dismay, the teacup she was wiping, while she turned towards her daughter with a look of the greatest surprise.

"Well, I suppose we'll be asked twice more and then married, mother," replied Kate coolly.

"Kate! answer me seriously," returned her mother, stooping to gather up the broken fragments; "you don't surely mean you're thinking of marrying that young Tom Shaw, that you haven't known much more than a month, and who hasn't borne the best of characters for steadiness; it's only your fun, Kate?"

"It's no fun at all, mother; he's asked me these five or six times to have him, and I've made up my mind to take him he'll be steady enough when he's a home of his own."

"And do you mean, Kate, that you'll marry Tom Shaw, and give up John Hall who's loved you these three years, and who you was so fond of before that meddling chap come to the village?"

"Mother! I can't bear John Hall; I never did like him much; but he bothered me so, I let him walk with me sometimes. Tom's twice the man he is, and he earns better wages too, least ways he will in Bristow, where he's had a good place offered him, and that's why he's in a hurry to get settled, because he'll soon have to move there."

The tears gathered in the good mother's eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks, "You were always a wilful girl, Kate," she said; "if you will have your own way in this matter and give up a good, honest, sober man like John, for one you know next to nothing about, mark my words, you'll marry in haste, to repent at leisure.' I won't talk any more about it now; stop till father comes home, and we'll see what he'll say to it;" and with trembling hands she resumed her household duties.

Well might the mother's heart be sorrowful, for Kate was her only child and very very dear to her. She had in