on error. Pitiable and perilous is the condition of such persons. They have reared a fabric on a slender base; and when the rains fall, and the winds blow, and beat upon that fabric, well will it be if the fall thereof be not great. The difficulties attending truth, which are often imaginary, however they may be shunned, will most likely be thrown into the way of the student during some period of life. Better at once place the objections in juxtaposition with the arguments, that the force of the former may be diminished or destroyed by the superior power of the latter, than to bear the hazard of the desultory and unanticipated assaults of the objector. It is as unnecessary as it is imprudent, to expose constantly our established principles and settled convictions to the fury of every pretending champion of opposition. To avoid the occasion and the consequences of such warfare our young people must proceed with care in their pursuit of knowledge, and subject the operations of the intellect to the habitual control of honest principle.

Independence, like every thing else of superlative value, is to be acquired and possessed only on the brink of danger. It is a principle surrounded with peril, but of immense importance in the formation of that vigour of spiritual manhood to which we ardently wish to see our young people aspiring. The absence of this principle is the chief occasion of that tame servility that has so often placed multitudes at the mercy of any aspiring demagogue. Christian churches, in common with civil societies, have been torn to pieces by reckless adventurers, to whom the multitude have resigned their independence. We are not ignorant that this principle has often been the ostensible, and the abuse of it the real ground of the pretensions of such leaders. But only the absence of it in others could have secured their ascendency and consequent success. Such evils, therefore, are not to be prevented by taxing or proscribing independence, but by encouraging and directing it in all.

A stronger infusion of honest independence would render the memof every community proof

alike against the subtle and the random sallies of the designing declaimer.

Let us be understood. For independence we are not to mistake what often assumes the name. We have seen honest hearts wounded and superior merit insulted under the sanctions of a spirit arrogating this name. It is a source of grief and wonder that many who would not willingly scandalize so noble a principle are inadvertent enough to desig nate by this term a vulgar insolence which defies the common courtesies of civilized life, and that too where we expect to see the law of Christian kindness. By independence we mean, not the insufferable self-conceit of the pigmy, who sees in himself a prodigy of excellence, and in all others fit objects of contempt; nor the barbarous scurrility of the churl who claims the right, not only to say what he thinks, and to think what he wishes, but to insult or malign as he lists the person or reputation of the unfortunate victim of his displeasure. Genuine independence is a principle growing out of a just appreciation of the duties and interests, of the rights and responsibilities, which are the common inheritance of our nature. It seeks no monopoly of privilege, but freely cedes what it claims. It gives manhood to the character, and to the spirit a dignity and force befitting its destination.

The full development of the mind requires constant effort. He who would not wish to be dwarfed or crippled must decline the offers of those who would release him from the labour of thought and selfdirection. A clear understanding should be accompanied by a judg ment unfettered. No help should be rejected that aims not at superseding the power and right of selfguidance. Experienced travellers who have trodden the same path in the present or in past ages, may contribute by their counsel to our safety and success. But cruel would be the kindness that would save us the

labour of travelling for ourselves. The mightiest minds on earth need help in their conflict with folly and wrong, while the feeblest can suffer no greater wrong than to be relieved of the necessity of helping them selves.

We are not now echoing the extravagances of those whose independence rejects all that is ancient, and questions whatever is established. It is, doubtless, the duty of all to think and act on the authority of personal conviction. The judgments of the mind should neither be sold to interest nor ceded to authority. Flattery should not win, nor terror force. There are, however, many truths, in the reception of which we must, at least for a time, rely on the investigations of others, or otherwise remain in perpetual uncertainty. Nor does true inde pendence require, at any time, an indiscriminate renunciation of all things so received. Opinions formed or doctrines adopted prior to actual investigation should not carry captive the heart. Otherwise, they assume the character and force of prejudice. It is a pitiable resort of peevish declamation to deny as false or erroneous whatever may be derived from our ancestors. have better means of judging of truths and principles, but our superior facilities may only enable us to arrive with more certainty at the same conclusions. This will not

We may

certainly be the case. So far, however, as the circumstances of education and interest in which we are placed resemble theirs whose faith we inherit, are we likely to arrive at the same result. We may be more or less honest or careful, and these, with other circumstances, may influence our decision either for or against that of our fathers. It is, therefore, obviously the province of wisdom to hold fast that we have until evidence make manifest the better claims to credence of whatever else may be offered.

The most pitiable servility is not unfrequently mistaken for independence. Men whose independence is the perpetual theme of declamation may be seen riding on every "wind of doctrine," or tossed about by every tempest of controversy. Let not young people mistake incessant change for independence. It is no part of this noble principle pusillanimously to resign our mental acquisitions. Effort more manly and independent is often required to withstand the inducements to change than tamely to desert our post. True independence scorns not, but seeks and solicits all help that may be fairly rendered. But it will yield nothing of its dignity as a return. Let it ever be kept in mind, that no consideration should be regarded as an equivalent for the surrender of the mind's independence.

"I once heard," says one, something like an altercation between a farmer and his son and servants. Some one had informed him that the cattle had broken into the corn-field, and were making great ravages. His servants were ordered to make haste and to turn them out, and repair the breach. How came they in there?' says one; Which way did they get get in? cries another; It is impossible, the fences are good,' says a third. Don't stand here talking to no purpose,' cries the farmer, with increased earnestness; they are in the field destroying the corn. I see

them with my own eyes. Out with them speedily, and put up the fence.' As I approached him he began to be more calm. Your pardon, sir; these fellows have quite vexed me. They make one think of a minister's sermon on the origin of sin, spending his time needlessly, inquiring how it came into the world, while he ought to be exhorting us to drive it out.' 'Your observation is just,' said I, 'and your directions to your servants contain sound orthodox doctrine,a good practical improvement to the discourse we have heard to-day."

Ir is the duty of mothers to sustain the reverses of fortune. Frequent and sudden as they have been in our own country, it is important that young females should possess some employment by which they might obtain a livelihood, in case they should be reduced to the neces sity of supporting themselves. When families are unexpectedly reduced from affluence to poverty, how pitifully contemptible it is to see the mother desponding or helpless, and permitting her daughters to embarrass those whom it is their duty to assist and cheer!

"I have lost my fortune," said a merchant as he returned one evening to his home; "we can no longer keep our carriage. We must leave this house. The children can no longer go to expensive schools. Yesterday I was a rich man; to-day there is nothing I can call my own.'

"Dear husband," said the wife, "we are still rich in each other and our children. Money may pass away, but God has given us a better treasure in those active hands and loving hearts."

"Dear father," said the children, do not look so sober. We will help you to get a living."

"What can you do, poor things?" said he.

"You shall see, you shall see," answered several voices. "It is a pity if we have been to school for nothing. How can the father of eight children be poor? We shall work and make you rich again."

"I shall help," said the youngest girl, hardly four years old. "I will not have any new things bought, and I shall sell my great doll."

The heart of the husband and father, which had sunk within his bosom like a stone, was lifted up. The sweet enthusiasm of the scene cheered him, and the nightly prayer was like a song of praise.

They left their stately house. The servants were dismissed. Pictures

and plate, rich carpets and furniture were sold, and she who had been mistress of the mansion shed no tears.

"Pay every debt," said she, "let no one suffer through us, and we may be happy."

He rented a neat cottage and a small piece of ground, a few miles from the city. With the aid of his sons he cultivated vegetables for the market. He viewed with delight and astonishment the economy of his wife, nurtured as she had been in wealth, and the efficiency which his daughters soon acquired under her training.

The eldest one instructed the household, and also assisted the younger children; besides, they executed various works, which they had learnt as accomplishments, but which they found could be disposed of to advantage. They embroidered with some taste the ornamental parts of female apparel, which were readily sold to a merchant in this city.

They cultivated flowers, sent bouquets to market in the cart that conveyed the vegetables, they plaited straw, they painted maps, they executed plain needlework. Every one was at her post busy and cheerful. The cottage was like a beehive.

"I never enjoyed such health before," said the father.

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And I was never so happy before," said the mother.

tinguished female seminary, and the second took her place as instructress to the family.

The dwelling, which had always been kept neat, they were soon able to beautify. Its construction was improved, and the vines of the flowering trees were replanted around it. The merchant was happier under his woodbine-covered porch in a summer's evening, than he had been in his showy drawing-room.

"We are now thriving and prosperous," said he, "shall we return to the city?"

"O no!" was the unanimous reply.

"Let us remain," said the wife, "where we have found health and contentment."

"Father," said the youngest, "all we children hope you are not going to be rich again; for then," she added, "we little ones were shut up in the nursery, and did not see much of you or mother. Now we all live together; and sister, who loves us, teaches us, and we learn to be industrious and useful. We were none of us happy when we were rich and did not work. So, father, please not be a rich man any more."

THE following singular anecdote of Archbishop Sharp is related in Prince Hoar's "Life of Granville Sharp, Esq." "It was his lordship's custom to have a saddle horse attend his carriage, that in case of fatigue from sitting, he might take the refreshment of a ride. As he was thus going to his episcopal residence, and was got a mile or two before his carriage, a decent well-looking young man came up to him, and with a trembling hand and a faltering tongue presented a pistol to his lordship's breast, and demanded his money. The archbishop, with great composure, turned about; and looking steadfastly at him, desired he would remove that dangerous wea pon, and tell him fairly his condition. Sir, sir,' with great agitation, cried the youth, 'no words, 'tis not a time; your money instantly.' 'Hear me, young man,' said the archbishop, you see I am an old man, and my life is of very little consequence; yours seems far otherwise. I am named Sharp, and am archbishop of York; my carriage and servants are behind. Tell me what money you want, and who you are, and I will not injure you, but prove a friend. Here, take this; and now ingenuously tell me how much you want to make you independent of so destructive a business as you are now engaged in.' 'O sir,' replied the man,

CC

'I detest the business as much as you. I am-but-but-at home there are creditors who will not stay; fifty pounds, my lord, indeed would do what no tongue besides my own can tell. Well, sir, I take it on your word; and, upon my honour, if you will in a day or two call on me at -what I have now given you shall be made up to that sum.' The highwayman looked at him, was silent, and went off; and at the appointed time actually waited on the archbishop, and assured his lordship his words had left impressions which nothing would ever destroy.'

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Nothing more transpired for a year and a half or more; when one morning a person knocked at his grace's gate; and with a peculiar earnestness desired to see him. The bishop ordered the stranger to be brought in. He entered the room where his lordship was, but had scarcely advanced a few steps before his countenance changed, his knees tottered, and he sank almost breathless on the floor. On recovering, he requested an audience in private. The apartment being cleared, My lord,' said he, you cannot have forgotten the circumstances at such a time and place; gratitude will never suffer them to be obliterated from my mind. In me, my lord, you now behold that once most wretched of mankind; but

now, by your inexpressible huma nity, rendered equal, perhaps superior, in happiness to millions. O my lord,' (tears for a while preventing his utterance,) 'tis you, 'tis you that have saved me, body and soul, 'tis you that have saved a dear and much-loved wife, and a little brood of children, whom I loved dearer than my life. Here are the fifty pounds; but never shall I find language to testify what I feel. Your God is your witness; your deed itself is your glory; and may heaven

THERE is a disease peculiar to this class of individuals which seems to be gaining ground, and which, unless something be done to stay its progress, may prove somewhat serious. To describe it is rather a difficult matter, as it manifests itself in a variety of ways, according to the constitution of the patient, or the peculiar circumstances in which he may be placed.

It is worthy of remark, however, that it never proves fatal; and very rarely attacks the every-Sunday teacher; but the alternate teacher frequently suffers by it. It generally attacks him on the Saturday evening previously to his teaching day, but sometimes not until the Sunday morning; in that case, perhaps, a message will be sent to say that he cannot attend. Possibly this may arrive half an hour or an hour after the class has been supplied with a scholar from the select class; or the scholars squandered about the school, consigned to the care of other teachers, who had quite enough to do before.

at school on the Sabbath, he will sometimes be surprised to find these very individuals making their mar kets just in their ordinary way. Should he attend chapel on the Sunday morning, it is very probable he will see those, who could not be at school because of this disease, seated in their pews comfortably enough. This disease is never of long duration, for those most subject to it are always ready to resume their labours on the Monday morning. It is never severe in its attacks. Sometimes it occasions a slight pain in the head, at other times a similar one in the bowels; sometimes it makes its appearance in the mouth, affecting the teeth and gums, at other times in the eyes, causing these organs to feel somewhat dull and heavy.

I have known it make its appear ance in the lower extremities of the body, as in the legs, feet, and even in the toes.

Perhaps the greatest amount of suffering the patient endures, is a very slgiht degree of mental anxiety, occasioned by the thought of a neglected class of young immortals; but another thought soon sets his mind at rest on this subject, it is this, that his class, even if there should be half a dozen in a similar position, will be a mere nothing upon the shoulders of the superintendent in addition to his ordinary duties, which,