badness of the food is sometimes, on such an occasion, the source of contented mirth and drollery; but bad manners can never please. The heart dislikes them more than the palate dislikes sour bread or stale meat. Good manners will freshen the meat and sweeten the bread. Moreover, good manners are of far more importance at home than they are abroad. It is usual for people to put on their best manners to strangers. This is wrong. Our best manners should be worn every day at our own firesides. Let strangers be contented with something less refined. What is it that alienates wife from husband, husband from wife, parent from child, child from parent, and makes brother and sister quarrel, and ultimately dislike one another? If you trace these evils to their real source, you will probably find it some apparent trifle, which is first disapproved of, then disliked, then hated, and hated the more, because, in attempting to correct it, it is the more persisted in. Wherever there is a want of will to please, an indifference to the feelings of our comates, and satisfaction in doing that which we have found to annoy them, there is the beginning of the domestic strife; brother parts with brother and finds another companionsister becomes alien from sisterwife sets up an interest of her own, and plots against her husband-and re-union becomes impossible by the train of offences which follow in we have alluded, for they are merely a peculiar class of bad habits, and form only a part of the whole system of rudeness which is too prevalent amongst all classes. But they are by far too important to be overlooked in the question of good manners, and even of good morals, which are nothing more nor less than good manners which we enjoy. Love and friendship can only last while good manners last. The lover and mistress show their best to one another. They do not put on their common attire when they meet, but array themselves in all their charms; and what charms are more beautiful, or more bewitching than those of good behaviour? When they begin to cool, they begin to neglect the rules of etiquette. The lover divests himself of his chivalry, and therefore, of his dignity and beauty-the spell is broken. The mistress finds it give way, and frets and loses her regard for him. She now cares not what he thinks of her. She will beautify herself before him. She does so. He makes another discovery-he sees a deformity; another breakage takes place, the illusion vanishes, and the two parties, once so devoted, so polite, are now rude, vulgar, and even coarse, to each other. DR. CUMMING ON NOVEL READING. Or all mischievous habits this is the If I may refer to personal experience, worst. Many minds cannot do it. I may add, I tried long ago to read a novel, but could not finish it for the simple reason that in the most I felt at every sentence haunted unexceptionable ofall, I mean Scott's, with a sense of unreality: "This is not real; it is not truth." Romance is very different from poetry. I can read true poetry, because it glories in bringing up hidden thoughts, in laying bare delicate links and affinities that lie in the silent depths of nature, waiting for the master mind to bring what are to us airy nothings into a body and a shape. But the mere novel, which is a tale worked up into the appearance of a reality, and full of vapid and spurious excitement, is not natural or wholesome food. The habit of novel reading is most injurious to real religion. It is exactly to the mind what drinking alcohol all day is to the body. And the consequence of a long indulgence in novel or romance reading is that mental or moral delirium tremens which, in its despair and its agony, flees either to the atheism of Voltaire, or sends for the advice of Cardinal Wiseman. Unquestionably of all habits, that of novel and romance reading tends most to shake the mind, to dispossess it of its equilibrium, and to make it ready for the reception of the next new crochet, or the wildest pantheism and infidelity. The Fragment Basket. OBSERVANCE OF THE SAB- imperfect merits, in that increase of ВАТН. The Romish bishop of Frejus and Toulon, France, has recently issued a pastoral letter upon the observance of Sunday; in which he records the reflections made by another French bishop during his visit to the Protestant city of Amsterdam. The following is an extract:-" As for the men, not one in all that country ever seems to dream of gathering the grass already cut and spread under the pale rays of a doubtful sun, and which, under a clouded sky, the rain menaces to succeed every instant. This confidence in Divine Providence, does it often deceive the inhabitants of this land? Is it very prejudicial to their interests? Their prosperity must reply to this question, and leaves no doubt about it. St. Augustine said of the ancient Romans, that God desired to repay certain national virtues long practised by that people, and for this cause he gave them the empire of the world. May we not think the same to-day of those Protestant populations holding faithful the great law of the Sabbath, in spite of their deplorable defection upon so many other points-that they also receive from the sovereign justice of God, a remuneration proportioned to their fortune, public and private, and material blessing, so generally noted among them?” VERIFICATION OF A A young lady residing in Hanover-street, Boston, retired to bed at her usual hour, and in her usual happy frame of mind. After having fallen asleep, she had a dreadful dream or vision. She dreamed that her brother, who was in the western part of New York, was killed, and his body horribly mangled in death. This dream seemed so vivid and real, and it impressed her mind so forcibly, that she woke, and even rose from her bed and walked her room, weeping in great anguish. Another lady, who was sleeping in an adjoining chamber, was awakened by her wailings, and going into the room to ascertain the cause, found her sitting in a chair weeping. The lady endeavoured to soothe her fears, and finally persuaded her to retire once more to bed, and try to forget the dream. The next Monday morning the young lady received a telegraphic dispatch announcing that her brother, Mr. Wise, a brakeman on the Western Railroad, had fallen from the cars on one of the freight trains near East Chatham, New York, and had been run over and instantly killed. The accident happened at about two o'clock on Sunday morning, precisely about the time of the dream. GOD OUR DAILY And by this, [daily received grace,] a Christian learns that his strength is in God; whereas, if his received grace were always party enough, and able to make itself good against all incursions, though we know we have received it, yet being within us, we should possibly sometimes forget the receipt of it, and look on it more as ours than as his; more as being within us, than as flowing from him. But when all the forces we have, the standing garrison, are by far overmatched, and yet we find the assailants beaten back, then we must acknowledge him who sends such seasonable relief to be, as the psalmist speaks, a very present help in trouble, Psa. xlvi. I.—Leighton. WHICH IS THE FOOL? A gentleman, in the habit of occasionally using intoxicating drinks, took up an able temperance address, and sat down in his family to peruse it. He read it through, without saying a word, when he exclaimed: "The man is a fool, or I am!" He then read it again, and when again he had finished it, a second time he exclaimed, "This man is a fool, or I am!" A third time he read it with still greater care. “I am the fool!" said he, and never tasted a drop of ardent spirits afterwards. USEFUL HINTS. Be reserved, says William Penn, but not sour; grave, but not formal; bold, but not rash; humble, but not servile; patient, but not insensible; constant, but not obstinate; cheerful, but not light; rather be sweettempered than familiar; familiar rather than intimate; and intimate with very few and upon good grounds.-Prisoner's Friend. CHRISTIAN WARFARE. Poetry. Oh, speed thee, Christian, on thy way, And to thy armour cling: With girded loins the call obey, That grace and mercy bring! There is a battle to be fought, A crown of glory to be sought, The shield of faith will blunt the dart The glowing lamp of prayer will light FAITH. How blest the man, whose faith sincere And in celestial atmosphere What though affliction marks his road, He looks in confidence to God With Faith's discerning eyes. From that high eminence to see Life's troubles round him roll, Disturbs not his serenity. Nor moves his steadfast soul. So he who climbs the mountain high, Though far below him clouds are rent, The Children's Gallery. TOUCHING STORY. side; I took my Devisme rifle, and A drunkard, who had run through cocked it. I also cocked the reserve his property, returned one night to one barrelled rifle, and left it in the his unfurnished home. He entered man's hands, after havingencouraged its empty hall-anguish was gnawing him, and told him to hand it to me at his heart-strings, and language is the moment I had fired twice. The inadequate to express his agony as first lion having vaulted upon the he entered his wife's apartment, and lower steps of the rock, he stopped ; there beheld the victims of his appe- I was just going to pull the trigger, tite, his lovely wife and darling when he turned to look at his comchild. Morose and sullen, he seated rade. This movement presented me himself without a word; he could the shoulder so advantageously that not speak, he could not look upon I no longer hesitated. He fell, roar. them. The mother said to the little ing at the discharge, tried to get up, angel by her side, "Come, my child, but fell down again. Both shoulders it is time to go to bed;" and that were broken. The second lion was little babe, as was her wont, knelt already at the foot of the rock, his by her mother's lap, and gazing tail up; he received the first shot a wistfully into the face of her suffer- little behind the shoulder, when ing parent, like a piece of chiseled about ten paces from his companion; statuary, slowly repeated her nightly he was staggered for a moment, but prayer, and when she had finished, soon recovered himself, and, with a the child (but four years of age) prodigious spring, reached the very said to her mother: "Dear ma, may rock on which I stood. To take the I not offer up one more prayer?" rifle out of the hands of the trembling "Yes, yes, my sweet pet, pray." Arab, to aim at the lion's temple, to And she lifted up her tiny hands, fire and kill it on the spot, at a disclosed her eyes, and prayed: "Otance of barely four paces, was done God! spare, oh spare my dear papa!" and accomplished in less time than That prayer was wafted to the throne it takes me to write it down.—M. of God. It was heard on high-it | Jules Gerard. was heard on earth. The responsive "Amen!" burst from that father's lips, and his heart of stone became a heart of flesh. Wife and child were both clasped to his bosom, and in penitence he said, "My child, you have saved your father from the grave of a drunkard. I'll sign the pledge." A CRITICAL MOMENT. SCARCELY had the Arabs quitted the place of discussion to reach the position I had assigned them, as one of observation, than a lion came out of the wood and made right towards me-a second followed at about a distance of fifty paces. I was seated on a rock which commanded the position, and which could only be reached by steps intersected with crevices. The Arab was by my CHINESE WORSHIP. THE Chinese worship the spirits of their ancestors on the occasion of a festival, called "the feast of the tombs." They suppose that spirits in the eternal world eat, drink, and sleep, and need money, as we do in this life. Large supplies of food are provided, and gongs and drums are beaten to give notice to the hungry ghosts that the feast is ready, and that they are welcome to feed on the savory fumes. In order to send money to them, they burn paper covered with gold and silver leaf, which they say is thus turned into real money, passing with the smoke into the invisible world. They also cut paper into the shape of coats and other garments, houses, chairs, tables, fans, pots, and jugs, and various other things, and feel quite satisfied their friends receive the benefit of what is sent them. The dishes of food which they offer them seem full to overflowing; but, in reality, the middle of each dish is filled with coarse paper and stalks of vegetables, with the provisions thinly scattered over the top. When a missionary asked them why they tried to cheat the spirits of their departed friends, they said that the ghosts knew no better, and by this means they made a little go a great way. SECRET OF BEING LOVED. WILLIAM Wirt's letter to his daughter on the "small sweet courtesies of life," contains a passage from which a deal of happiness might be learned: "I want to tell you a secret. The way to make yourself pleasing to others is to show that you care for them. The whole world is like the miller at Mansfield, who cared for nobody, no, not he, because nobody cared for him.' And the whole world will serve you so, if you give them the same cause. Let every one, therefore, see that you do care for them, by showing them what Sterne so happily calls the small, sweet courtesies in which there is no parade; whose voice is too still to tease, and which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate looks, and little kind acts of atten. tion, giving others the preference in every little enjoyment at the table, in the field, walking, sitting, or standing." A WORD TO BOYS. SOME one has said :-"Boys, did you ever think that this great world, with all its wealth and woe, with all its mines and mountains, its oceans, seas, and rivers, with all its shipping, steamboats, railroads, and magnetic telegraphs, with all its millions of men, and all the science and progress of ages, will soon be given over to the boys of the present age-boys like you, assembled in school-rooms, or playing without them, on both sides of the Atlantic? Believe it and look abroad upon your inheritance, and get ready to enter upon its possession. The kings, presidents, governors, statesmen, philosophers, ministers, teachers, men of the future, all are boys, whose feet, like yours, cannot reach the floor, when seated on the benches upon which they are learning to master the monosyllables of their respective languages." Printed by William Tyler, Bolt-court, Fleet-street. |