and leaves no time for useless repinings; the hard pallet and scanty fare are received with cheerfulness, and enjoyed in comfort, while many, whose opulence renders corporal labour unnecessary, and whose indolence precludes that which is mental, pine under the heavy pressure of dejected and discontented spirits, which probably would be removed by the stimulus of exertion.

This miserable state of degrading idleness, will, I trust, ever remain unknown by experience to you, my dear children; but bad habits so easily and imperceptibly steal upon us, that I feel it my duty to observe every thing that in the course of possibilities may lead you astray.

Our success in every pursuit depends not merely in our abilities, but on a due arrangement of time, and in giving to each period that particular occupation which best suits it. The morning is usually considered as the season best calculated for study; the head, refreshed by rest, is then more clear, and equal to application. Besides, in the natural order of things, those of most moment should be first dispatched: for if the earlier hours be past in trifles, it is extremely difficult to recal the attention afterwards to subjects of a more serious nature. The power of collecting the thoughts and fixing them on any point at will, is invaluable, but is never the offspring of chance; on the contrary, few things are more difficult to acquire; but if you are happy enough to gain it, and have judgment in directing it into a proper channel, your improvement must necessarily be great and rapid. I have long been persuaded, that fixed stated hours for certain occupations, and rigidly adhering to the arrangement, is the only good method of advantageously employing the day. But, in the execution of this plan you must be careful to allow for each pursuit sufficient time to make a daily progress: attempting too many things in one morning induces versatility

of character; and is a mental dissipation which must not be indulged beyond a certain degree.

There is a most destructive habit, against which I cannot too earnestly guard you,-that of removing from one employment to another, without doing any thing of consequence in any. Let me earnestly beg of you to improve with the seed-time of life, that the product may be an easy and abundant harvest, not of new accomplishments, but of useful information and of solid virtuous habits. Then may you hope to pass through life and discharge its duties with the respect of others, and the approbation of your own consciences. Above all, forget not the paramount claims of religion; unaffected piety is especially graceful in youth; should you be spared to reach old age, it will smooth the decline of life, and it will prepare you for the endless joys of eternity.

LETTER XXIX.

From a Sailor at Plymouth, to his Wife in London. Dear Betty,-We are just returned from our cruise

gave up the hight.

against the French, and have brought along with us a number of prizes. The last ship we took was a pretty large one, and we had some tough work before we made her strike colours to the flag of Old England. Her Captain was a brave fellow, and it was only after he was severely wounded that the crew

I have a good deal of prize money to get, but it will

not be paid for some time yet. In the meantime I send you an order, by which you will receive at the pay-office in Broad Street, six months wages which are due me. We sail again for the Mediterranean in a few days, but I beg, my dear wife, you will not be uneasy about me, as I hope the war will soon be over, and then I shall return home to spend the rest of my days with you. Kiss little Mary for me, and believe me to be,

Your ever loving Jack.

LETTER XXX.

From a young Woman, a Servant in London, to her Parents, desiring their consent to Marry.

My dear Father and Mother,-I have sent this to inform you, that a young man, a cabinet-maker, has paid his addresses to me, and now offers me marriage. I told him I would do nothing without your consent, and therefore have sent this by William Jones, your neighbour, who called on me, and will inform you particularly of his circumstances.

He has been in business about two years, and is well liked by his neighbours, and getting into good employment. I think I could live extremely happy with him, but do not choose to give him my promise until I have first heard from you: and ever remain,

Your affectionate daughter.

LETTER XXXI.

The Parents' Answer.

Dear Child,-We received your letter by Mr Jones, and the character he gives of the young man is so agreeable, that we have no objection to your marrying him ; begging that you will seriously consider the duties of that important state, before it is too late to repent. Consider well with yourself, that according to your conduct to each other, you must either be happy or

D

miserable as long as you live. There are many occurrences in life in which the best of men's tempers may be ruffled, on account of losses or disappointments; if your husband should at any time be so, endeavour to make him as easy as possible. Be careful of every thing he commits to your keeping; and never affect to appear supe rior to your station; for although your circumstances may be easy, yet whilst in trade you will find a continual want of money for many different purposes. It is possible some of your more polite neighbours may despise you for a while, but they will be forced in the end to acknowledge, that your conduct was consistent with the duties of a married state. But, above all, remember your duty to God, and then you may cheerfully look for a blessing on your honest endeavours. May God direct you in every thing for the best, is the sincere prayer of, Your loving father and mother.

LETTER XXXII.*

To a Son at a Distance.

My very Dear --It fills my heart with thankfulness, to be assured that my dear children are on this day withdrawn from worldly occupations. fancy to myself, my dear, my very dear, (for dear at home, becomes very dear abroad,) calling up before his mind's eye the images of absent friends, and I am encouraged by a better feeling than vanity, to cherish the hope that your old father has a place in them. Even were it a common day, (a week-day, as it is termed,) writing to you at such a distance, when the thought that, perhaps even at the very moment in which I am addressing you, you may be no more, the thoughts and feelings of my heart should naturally be of a serious colour; and when in relation to all my friends present or absent, my mind on this Wilberforce to a Son.

day is conversant with their highest interests, it must be peculiarly so in communicating with a very dear child, who is perhaps a thousand miles off, and of whom I have not heard for several weeks. Whilst thinking of your geographical track, if I may so term it, I am led to the idea of your spiritual track, your track home, as it is phrased on the globes in the line that describes the voyages of our great circumnavigators. My mind has been the rather drawn to this reflection by yesterday's having been the birth-day of our beloved, and, I confidently hope, sainted Barbara, already joined by our sweet little grand-child. There is something very affecting to my mind in this way of considering life, as a voyage in which "track out" and "track home" designate its opposite periods of youth and old age. Oh what cause have I for gratitude in the blessed influences of the Divine Spirit, which has directed your course, and kept you from the rocks on which many, alas! make shipwreck! And he will still, I trust, watch over, and guide, and guard you even unto the end; and if it be consistent with the Divine will, maybe spared to see you engaged in that most dignified of all services, that of superintending the best interests of your fellowcreatures, and guiding and guarding them through this dangerous world to the haven cf everlasting happiness and peace, to the rest that remaineth for the people of God. May God bless you.-I am ever,

Your most affectionate Father.

LETTER XXXIII.

From a Father to a Son.

My dear Boy,-I stop at a friend's house in London, solely to write you a few lines; sincerely concerned at my having been so engrossed by a host of callers, as not to have a single quarter of an hour secure from interruption, to converse by pen and ink with my very dear