praiser made too high an estimate. And at harvest-time it appeared, not only that the treading down had done no injury, but that on the parts most trodden, the wheat looked best, and bore the heaviest ears. And the money, of which I was unjustly in possession, has been troubling my conscience, and I shall not feel at ease until I see it again in the possession of him to whom it belongs, and from whom, against right and justice, I have been withholding it."

The Earl listened to these words with deep emotion, then approached Tom, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said, “Have you any family, Tom ?"

"One son," he answered with joy; "may God preserve him.”

"Yes, may God preserve him to you," said the noble Earl; "for it would be a pity that so honest a father should not leave his principles as a heritage to his children. Listen, Tom," he proceeded; "this money shall be yours, and, as a reward to such unusual honesty, I add fifty pounds more to it. Put it out at lawful interest, and when your son attains his majority, and wishes to settle, give it to him as an outfit, and tell him where it comes from, and how you came by it."

Tom did not wish to accept it, but the Earl forced it on him so urgently that he had to yield.

All honor to honest Tom and to the noble Earl.

Tom's son had a valuable outfit, but a still more valuable inheritance was that which his father doubtless gave him, namely, the principle in which he was trained, of a steadfast adherence to honesty.

Tell the story to your children, and teach them to follow the example, and follow it yourself. Even if honesty seldom receives such a reward from men, it has always still a double reward, which no man can take away,—that of your own conscience, and that which the Lord will never fail to give to the good, the true, and the honest.

W. O. v. H.

If you wish to go to heaven, have as little to do with philosophy as possible. Ships loaded at the head always steer badly.

What to some is a source of good, is to others the occasion of evil. What at one time excites pleasure, may at another cause sorrow. Blessings may come in disguise. The things we covet might be our ruin.

Who has not watched the fond mother, pressing her infant to her bosom? As she gazes upon his innocent face, her heart is full of joy. She pictures the happy future, when in manhood he shall be her comfort and her pride. She hopes he may be great and good, and already imagines every hope realized. Her unwavering and undying love suffers no fear to arise. Her visions are all of joy-ber dreams are peace. But time, that everrunning stream, hastens onward. It carries her babe speedily through boyhood and youth, and ere she thinks, he enters upon the duties of life. In the pursuits of life, he is forced from his home, from the shelter of his early days. Home influences are removed, new dangers arise, untried temptations beset his path, and in an evil hour he falters, falls. 'Tis then his mother's heart is tried; 'tis then she knows the bitterness of grief. Her hopes are blasted-her desires unrealized. With what sad dejection she now reviews the past, the sunny past, whose lingering light is all that remains, to break the overhanging gloom. How she wishes that in infancy her son had died, so as to have saved him from this crushing shame, and her from this fearful, consuming agony. Rather would she see him a lifeless corpse, than a staggering inebriate. More willingly would she walk to his grave, than to behold him thus fallen. To her the future is now as dark and portentous, as it once was bright and promising. She knows the power of habit, she sees the strength of appetite.

With nought left to comfort, she bows to her sad condition, looking only to death for relief. But despair not; all is not lost, that is in danger.

Sometimes when clouds have overcast the sky, and all is dark and cheerless, the sun suddenly darts his cheering ray to enliven the face of nature. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." That son, like another Prodigal,

arises-returns-reforms. Where once was sorrow, now is rejoicing. That mother long made to mourn, now weeps for joy. Like the Roman mother, she proudly points to her son, saying, “This is my jewel." A new world opens to her delighted vision. Former sufferings are forgotten-the past is blotted from existence. In the fulness of her joy she recalls not his once cold neglect; thinks not upon his cruel deeds. Her full heart cannot contain its emotions. In every look and in every word, she speaks her inward

peace.

Would that all who mourn o'er erring sons might thus rejoice.

PICTURES.-A room with pictures in it, and a room without pictures, differ by nearly as much as a room with windows-and a room without windows. Nothing, we think, is more melancholy, particularly to a person who has to pass much time in his room, than blank walls, and nothing on them; for pictures are loopholes of escape to the human soul, leading it to other scenes and other spheres. It is such an inexpressible relief to a person engaged in writing, or even reading, on looking up, not to have his line of vision chopped square off by an odious white wall, but to find his soul escaping, as it were, through the frame of an exquisite picture, to other beautiful, and perhaps, Idyllic scenes, where the fancy for a moment may revel, refreshed, and delighted. Is it winter in your world?—perhaps it is summer in the picture; what a charming momentary change and contrast! And thus pictures are consolers of loneliness; they are a relief to the jaded mind; they are windows to the imprisoned thought; they are books; they are histories and sermonswhich can be read without the trouble of turning over the leaves.

temper is one of the greatest blessings of this life. It may be regarded as a jewel of inestimable value. Its influence is salutary upon ourselves. The benefits it confers upon others are almost boundless. We are, generally, too indifferent with regard to the coldness or bitterness of our intercourse with one another; we too often forget the influence which a querulous or petulant disposition exerts upon ourselves. We do not sufficiently consider, how much a happy spirit is the evidence of a noble nature, and how great its power for good over those with whom we are brought into contact! It is our imperative duty, to cultivate a contented, happy disposition, to acquire equanimity of temper, an even and tranquil frame of mind for every position of life. The virtue, which we recommend, whilst it is opposed to all moroseness, impatience, and fretfulness, has, on the other hand, no sympathy with levity, unbecoming gayety, foolish jesting, or with what is inconsistent with the dignity of a rational being.

Cheerfulness is a trait of character, susceptible of high culture. Even when it exists by nature in a feeble state, it may be greatly strengthened. For the want of exercise, the opposite tendency is often powerfully developed. Some men seem constitutionally sullen and peevish. They are misanthropic, and are disposed to look continually upon the dark side of life. These proclivities may, in a great measure, be corrected, and, by the proper appliances, the incubus thrown off. A petulant, dissatisfied spirit slowly and insidiously creeps upon us, and, unless successfully resisted, becomes incrusted into a habit. Before we are aware, it takes possession of our nature, and, as years pass by, indurates into obstinacy and irritation. If the habit once become fixed, it is difficult to conquer its power. It carries within the seeds of growth. It will increase and multiply. It will prove as a canker to the soul. If we make the effort, however, we need not despair of the result.

The conflict may be protracted, but success is certain. "The achievement is glorious, and blessed is he who attains it!" The improvement of our character should be our earnest and constant aim. Although we may have many an inward contest, we should not desist from the struggle. "In the tendencies least marked and least visible in life," it has been remarked, "we have most to strive with. It is in the depth and retirement of the soul, that the great battle must be fought. It is with resistant forces, that come never to the surface." Yet with the proper exertions, victory is ours, and the sequel will show that we have lived to some purpose.

We referred to the influence exercised by this temper upon the individual himself. The discontented spirit is always unhappy. At every step, in his progress through life, he looks upon things through a false medium. As he travels onward, all he sees is barren. Every occurrence is an occasion of complaint. No society is adapted to his taste; no character suits him; no efforts win his approbation; no condition satisfies his wishes. Always desponding, always dissatisfied, always disappointed, always finding fault, whether adversity frown, or prosperity smiles, he is the same discontented and unhappy creature, and appears to take delight in asserting that the earth is more full of evil than of good. The world, in his judgment, abounds with imperfections, and he loves to dwell upon these imperfections. Suspicious and misanthropic, he reposes no confidence in his fellow-men. How can such a one be happy? Whither can he flee for enjoyment or relief? There is no refuge for his spirit. His peace of mind must necessarily be disturbed all the time. Whithersoever he goes, his unfortunate disposition accompanies him. This feeling, too, grows upon him, until it becomes morbid. The tendency of habitual despondency is most disastrous. The health is undermined, and life is shortened. Our energies are destroyed, and the strength of our mental faculties broken down. The proper direction of our thoughts is impaired, and all unity of pur

*Coelum, non animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt.-HOR.

pose dissipated. Cheerfulness of disposition exerts a favorable influence upon mind and body. Under its influence our intellectual powers are made to act with greater clearness and vigor; efficiency is imparted to all our efforts, and our usefulness is greatly increased.

But, as already intimated, the cultivation of a cheerful spirit is worthy of our attention on account of its influence upon others. There is something infectious in a happy disposition, which may be communicated to all who come within its reach. We are creatures of sympathy; and we have, in a high degree, the power to render one another happy or unhappy. You have often seen and felt the influence of a bright face in the family. What a charm it has exerted at the fireside, and upon all the members of the household! How it has dispersed every cloud, and spread a clear light all around, penetrating the whole surface of existence, and giving even to the dinner of herbs an unrivalled sweetness. You have witnessed, too, the influence of an opposite spirit. You have seen silent and sullen indifference convert luxury into the food of misery, and send a chill over the assembled group. How often has it thrown gloom, where there ought to be light; withered the half-formed smile; silenced the half-spoken word, and robbed life of its loveliness, and frozen in the soul all generosity and frankness! What a gall does such a nature cast into the cup of pleasure! How it fills to the full the measure of our wretchedness, bruising the heart, and embittering existence; transforming home into a prison, and freedom into slavery! Such a being seems to destroy rather than create; to live for the purpose of showing how much an individual may mistake the object of life, and how much misery he may inflict upon another, without receiving any benefit or pleasure himself. If we could behold the pain which we thus occasion, we would be amazed and terrified. Under this influence, we may commit sins, the guilt of which we may not fully realize, until many days and years have elapsed; sins of unkindness, of which we may repent, but which we can never forget; sins, for which we may weep, till the foun

tains of our tears are dry, but which will never fade from our painful recollection. Even when our bodies are sleeping in the grave, and our bones are in ashes, we shall live in the remembrance of survivors. Just as our kind or harsh expressions will still linger upon the ear, so our benign or clouded countenances will be seen again and again, and exert an influence for good or evil.

But indulgence in the spirit which we condemn, is sometimes justified on the plea of constitutional infirmity, want of health, previous training, or wrong example. Some assign, in extenuation of their course, great provocation, which could not be resisted. But all such reasons are inadequate for these unhappy and bitter moods. They furnish no real ground for this perversion of life. Men should learn to exercise control over their disposition and temper.

One fruitful source of this evil is, that many persons entertain erroneous views of life. They make a mistake in giving to their thoughts the gloom of melancholy, in throwing a sombre hue over all their reflections. There is, doubtless, much misery in the world, but we too often forget that it is chiefly brought upon us by our own want of consideration, and aberrations from duty. Moreover, if we are sometimes called to drink the cup of sorrow, and encounter difficulties and trials, how infinitely do our pleasures transcend the miseries we experience! Paley tells us, "That after all, this is a happy world," and who will call into question the truth of the sentiment? Life has been given us by our Maker as a blessing, designed for our benefit. We should regard it as a great and a good possession, good, not only as the means of fitting us for another and a higher state of existence, but as good in itself as a path conducting to another country, but still a pleasant path, strewn with many flowers. We should not cherish views of life dishonoring to our Creator, unworthy intelligent beings, and, in their tendency, destructive to our usefulness and fatal to our happiness. God is no tyrant, but a Father of infinite love, who would make his children happy, who gives to them every facility and assistance for this purpose, whose

"tender mercies are over all his works," and who "preserveth all them that love Him."

Religion possesses a hallowed power which will enable us to subdue the complainings of our spirit, to be cheerful under all circumstances, in every relation and vicissitude incident to this life, and to go forth bravely in the discharge of duty. Paul said, that he had "learned in whatever state" he was, "therewith to be content." It is most probable, that he had naturally a disposition as prone to impatience as others, but taught in the school of Christ, he had acquired valuable lessons, which he daily sought to put into practice. The philosopher of old, who lost his library which he had been all his life collecting, exclaimed-" My books have done me little service, if they have not taught me to live happily without them!" So our religion is of little service to us, if those precious truths drawn from the Word of God, which holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, do not exert upon our life their proper influence. Trust in God, and his promises will make us happy! There is peace in believing. The enlightened and devoted Christian patiently endures his lot, and bows with humble resignation to the dispensations of God's providences. Amid all the external losses and the inward trials, which he may be called to bear, he is able to " possess his soul." Calmly acquiescing in the appointments of Heaven, he gratefully recollects that "He, who strikes has power to heal," and that comfort is never denied to those who reverently pray, "Not my will but thine, O Lord, be done!" He feels that his afflictions are intended for his highest good, and that they will work out for him "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." "If you would witness the power of the Gospel, go with me to yonder narrow lane. There lives a poor humble woman, of whom the world knows nothing. She has but learning enough to spell out God's promises, but she knows his will. She is a wife, but (oh, what misery!) a drunkard's wife. Brutal in maniac fury, he comes from the hell of the tippling shop, to make, if he could, his home, another. Idle himself, he seizes upon and wastes her

little earnings; blows, and worse than blows, cruel, unholy, shameless words his only return. She is a mother, and gather as closely, as she will, her little ones around her, she cannot save them from their father's vio

THE PUBLIC POOR.

BY LEWIS L. HOUPT.

"Be honest poverty thy boasted wealth;

So shall thy friendships be sincere though few,
So shall thy sleep be sound, thy waking cheerful."

tongue and foul example. Yet she never murmurs. Her brow is as calm as an angel's. Her tears flow fast when she hears the language of the Comforter. Her prayer is fuller of thanksgiving than mourning, save when she mourns for sin. She is meekly patient, resolute in every duty, firm against all temptation, and kind of speech and act. What gives her this valiant virtue? Is it not the influence of the Gospel ?" This power may be ours. This control over ourselves may be gained by all. The "same mind" which was in our Divine Master, when he sojourned upon the earth, his followers should possess. Then would they be as "the salt of the earth," exercising a conservative influence, as "the light of the world," radiating holiness all along their path.

If we aspire to the purity and bliss of which our nature is susceptible, our life must be a perpetual exhibition of the spirit acquired by communion with Him who has left us a perfect example of excellence. Thus will we enjoy the Father's gracious protection while here, and hereafter we will mingle in the pure society of the redeemed in Heaven. God will smile upon our efforts, and strengthen us in our endeavors to become wiser and better, with every successive day, and ere long He will take us up to dwell amid the glories of his own eternal beneficence.

THE HIGHER JOY.-We are told that the angelic choir chanted a morning psalm, when the heavens and earth, at the fiat of the Almighty, sprang from the deep. Oh, I am sure the morning stars sing together, and all the sons of God begin to shoutyes, that a morning psalm resounds 'mid heaven's arches, when a poor sinner, through the new birth, becomes a child of God, a new citizen of the heavenly Jerusalem! Tholuck.

word!—how ofttimes fraught with wretchedness and guilt. Many persons seem to have imbibed the idea, that poverty must necessarily be associated with squalor, filth, and rags. It is true, we see much of this amongst the degraded beings that hang upon the outskirts of our cities, peopling damp cellars, or clustering in garrets, often famishing for bread; but this is usually the result of drunkenness and idleness, on the part of the individuals themselves, and merits not the name of poverty.

There are, however, in every community those who, by misfortune, have been reduced to want; scores of females, who maintain a scanty subsistence by the use of the needle, and who, in times of sickness, which alas! are not unfrequent, are reduced to the very extremity of destitution; but still they complain not: the outward world wags on in its busy routine, and knows not, and indeed, cares not, that some poor soul is famishing, or that children are freezing in the midst of plenty and affluence.

It may be, that their destitution has been entailed upon them by the excesses of those upon whom they were dependent; and perhaps their last cent has gone to defray the expenses of a decent funeral, for one who, having robbed their life of all its pleasures, has at length sunk, unhonored and unwept, into a drunkard's grave, leaving a wife, worse than widowed, and children, more than fatherless. There have been, there still are many such. “The poor ye have always with you," said the Saviour.

Honest poverty does not beg in our streets, or clamor at office doors and alleygates; it does not throng our thoroughfares and with uneasy whine ask for a penny-too often but a pretence for committing some petty theft.

On the contrary, it is often found shivering at home, whilst the chill fingers ply the busy needle; it is found, poorly fed and poorly clad, watching beside the sick couch