BRINKBURN PRIORY.

BRINKBURN Priory, in Northumberland, dedicated to St. Peter, was founded in the reign of Henry I., by William de Bertram, Baron of Mitform, who established there Black Canons, or Canons Regular of the order of St. Augustine. The baron endowed the priory with lands out of his wastes. Now tradition tells us that, on a certain occasion, a Scottish army which had made an incursion or inroad into England, in returning homeward passed near to Brinkburn without observing the priory. The monks congratulating each other in having escaped that pillage with which the neighbourhood had been visited, in their excess of joy, set about ringing the bells. This imprudence proved to them an unfortunate affair; for the Scots, not being out of hearing, immediately turned back and plundered the place.

As the chemist extracts medicinal properties from the varied plants that flourish around him, so a wise man endeavours to gain profit from the varied events which become known to him. What think you of the conduct of the monks of Brinkburn Priory? Do not their infirmities remind you of your own? Have you never cried out too hastily, thinking that you had escaped a dangerous temptation, or overcome a besetting sin; bringing upon you by your

unguarded security, and untimely and imprudent exultation, the very evil which had almost passed by?

Whether this is your case or not, with sorrow and shame I confess it to be mine. Again and again, like the Brinkburn monks, have I proudly rejoiced in deliverance from faults and infirmities, and again and again has the enemy come in like a flood, overwhelming me with confusion, and leaving me in the deep waters of trouble and despondency. Say what we may, do what we will, there is no safety but in dependence on God, and lowliness of mind. It would do us no harm to repeat every day in the year, and every hour in the day, that too neglected text, "God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble," James iv. 6.

ARE YOU READY?

THE gates of the burial-ground of Bunhill-fields were open; a hearse and four hores stood near, with a long line of mourning coaches, and a coffin, covered with a pall, was conveyed to the silent tomb. As the mournful procession moved slowly through the gateway, the passer-by was obliged

either to cross the street, or to wait till the mourners had entered the burial-ground. At this moment, a working-man, with a paper cap on his head, in crossing the street, accosted a companion whom he met with the words, "Are you ready?" As he spoke, he turned a significant glance on the funeral procession, and gave a shrug with his shoulder, by which I understood he meant to inquire if his companion was ready to be carried to the grave. The question was put in a lightheated, thoughtless spirit; and his companion replied, "Not yet!" The question and the reply occupied my reflections for some time after; and I thought to myself, How many there are among us, were the same inquiry to be made, who would answer, "Not yet!"

I well knew a minister, a man of unusual talents, and of great integrity, who, after preaching the gospel more than thirty years to a large congregation, met with a serious accident, which placed his life in danger. He thought that he was about to enter into an eternal world, but, alas! he was not ready! I heard him declare from the pulpit, with great humility, this fact. "Yes," said he, "often as I have urged you to prepare for death, I acknowledge with shame that I was not ready!"

Are you ready? is a heart-searching question; for no one can be ready to leave this world until he has a well-founded hope of a better, a hope that rests on Christ, and on Christ alone. Are you ready?

THE ROBIN AND THE SPARROW.

Whether, O Lord, we gaze around

On earth, or air, or sea;

Some proof of love may still be found,
To lead our hearts to thee.

MANY years ago, a robin built her nest among the pipes in the middle of an organ, in the orchestra of a public garden. The organ was played upon many hours in the course of each day by different persons who visited the gardens, as well as on public nights, but the little trembler deserted not her nest. I saw her repeatedly, with distended breast, sitting over her eggs when the full power of the organ was called forth, joined with the voices of public singers; but, faithful to her trust, she maintained her position, and the clamour was ineffectual to drive her from her charge.

Is there nothing, Christian, to be learned from the poor bird? Hast not thou, also, something committed to thy care, which it behooves thee never to forsake? If God has been gracious to thee, if thou hast the hope of eternal life through the merits of thy Redeemer, does it not become thee to hold fast thy profession in godly sincerity? to bear the clamour and resist the temptations of the world, and to endure to the end?

Let the red-breasted bird re

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THE ROBIN AND THE SPARROW.

mind thee of thy mercies, and strengthen thy desire to retain them.

A sparrow built her nest inside a pump, that stood in my father's garden: the iron-rod communicating with the bucket passed through the centre of the nest. Some of the eggs were broken before the nest was discovered, the others were hatched. It was a novel sight, when the top of the pump was removed, to see the little prisoners huddled together in their gloomy abode. One or two of the young ones were crushed by the working of the pump-rod; the remainder, surrounded by difficulty, danger, and death, were not abandoned by the parent bird, but at last, winged their way to fairer prospects.

Have not Christians, also, a Parent, a heavenly Parent, who will not forsake them in tribulation, danger, and death? God is faithful to his people, and what he has promised, he is able to perform, Rom. iv. 21. "Fear ye not, therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows," Matt. x. 31.

THE SWALLOWED BIBLE.

IN the days of my boyhood, my father told me that he knew an old man who had swallowed a Bi