Whose virtues, like the stars, unseen by day,
Though numberless, do but await the dark
To manifest themselves unto all eyes-
She who first won me from my evil ways,
And taught me how to live by her example,
By her example teaches me how to die,

And leads me onward to the better life!

Sheriff (without). Giles Corey! Come! The hour has struck!

Corey.

Here is my body; ye may torture it,
But the immortal soul ye cannot crush!

"The word," that is, wife; she was going to be put to death with her husband.

2 Tornado of fanaticism, religious frenzy or madness sweeping over the minds of men like a "tornado," or fearful tempest.

I come!

3 If I deny, if I say I am not guilty
of witchcraft (for that was the
charge brought against him).
4 Where ghosts, &c. Witnesses were
permitted to say against the pri-
soner what they had learned from
"ghosts" that had appeared to
them for the purpose.

ADVICE TO PARISHIONERS.

[The writer of the following paper, the Rev. Sydney Smith, was a clergyman famous for his wit and humour, combined with a genuine love of all that was noble and good. The "Advice to Parishioners was written in a humorous vein to render it more palatable and, consequently, more serviceable.]

F you begin stealing a little, you will go on from little to much, and soon become a regular thief; and then you will be hanged or sent over seas; and, give me leave to tell you, transportation 1 is no joke. Up at five in the morning, dressed in a jacket half blue, half yellow; chained on to another person, like two dogs; a man standing over you with a great stick; weak porridge for breakfast; bread and water for dinner; boiled beans for supper; straw to lie upon; and all this for thirty years; and then you are

hanged there, by order of the governor, without judge or jury. All this is very disagreeable, and you had far better avoid it by making a solemn resolution to take nothing which does not belong to you.

Never sit in wet clothes. Off with them as soon as you can. No constitution can stand it. Look at Jackson, who lives next door to the blacksmith: he was the strongest man in the parish. Twenty different times I warned him of his folly in wearing wet clothes. He pulled off his hat and smiled, and was very civil, but clearly seemed to think it an old woman's nonsense. He is now, as you see, bent double with rheumatism, is living upon parish allowance, and scarcely able to crawl from pillar to post.

I will have no swearing. There is pleasure in a pint of ale, but what pleasure is there in an oath? A swearer is a low, vulgar person. Swearing is not fit for a tinker or a razor-grinder, much less for an honest labourer in my parish.

I must positively forbid all poaching; it is absolute ruin to yourself and your family. In the end you are sure to be detected-a hare in one pocket and a pheasant in the other. How are you to pay ten pounds? You have not ten pence beforehand in the world. Daniel's breeches are unpaid for; you have a hole in your hat, and want a new one; your wife, an excellent woman, is lying ill; and you are, all of a sudden, called upon to pay ten pounds.

I shall never forget the sight of poor Cranford, hurried to Taunton gaol-a wife and three daughters on their knees to the justice, who was compelled to do his duty and commit him. The next day, beds, chairs, and clothes sold, to get the father out of gaol. Out of gaol he came; but the poor fellow could not bear the

sight of his naked cottage, and to see his family pinched with hunger. You know how he ended his days. Was there a dry eye in the churchyard when he was buried? It was a lesson to poachers. It is, indeed, a desperate and foolish trade.

Observe, I am not defending the game laws, but I am advising you, as long as the game laws do exist, to fear them, and to take care that you and your family are not crushed by them. And then smart, stout young men hate the gamekeeper, and make it a point of courage and spirit to oppose him. Why? The gamekeeper is paid to protect the game, and he would be a very dishonest man if he did not do his duty. What right have you to bear malice against him for this? After all, the game in justice belongs to the landowners, who feed it, and not to you, who have no land at all, and can feed nothing.

I don't like that red nose, and those blear eyes, and that stupid downcast look. You are a drunkard. Another pint, and one pint more; a glass of gin and water, rum and milk, cider and pepper, a glass of peppermint, and all the beastly fluids which drunkards pour down their throats. It is very possible to con

quer it, if you will but be resolute.

I remember a man in Staffordshire who was drunk every day of his life. Every farthing he earned went to the ale-house. One evening he staggered home, and found at a late hour his wife sitting alone, and drowned in tears. He was a man not deficient in natural affections: he appeared to be struck with the wretchedness of the woman, and with some eagerness asked her why she was crying. "I don't like to tell you, James," she said, "but if I must, I must; and truth is, my children have not touched a morsel of

anything this blessed day. As for me, never mind me ; I must leave you to guess how it has fared with me. But not one morsel of food could I beg or buy for those children that lie on that bed before you; and I am sure, James, it is better for us all that we should die, and, in truth, I wish we were dead."

"Dead!" said James, starting up as if a flash of lightning had darted upon him; "dead, Sally! You, and Mary, and the two young ones, dead? Lookye, my lass, you see what I am now-like a brute. I have wasted your substance -the curse of God is upon me—I am drawing near to the pit of destruction-but there's an end; I feel there's an end. Give me that glass, wife." She gave it him with astonishment and fear. He turned it topsy-turvy; and, striking the table with great violence, and flinging himself on his knees, made a most solemn and affecting vow to God of repentance and sobriety.

From that moment to the day of his death he drank no fermented liquor, but confined himself entirely to tea and water. I never saw so sudden and astonishing a change. His looks became healthy, his cottage neat, his children were clad, his wife was happy; and twenty times the poor man and his wife, with tears in their eyes, have told me the story, and blessed the evening of the 14th of March, the day of James's restoration, and have shown me the glass he held in his hand when he made the vow of sobriety.

It is all nonsense about not being able to work without ale, and gin, and cider, and fermented liquors. Do lions and cart-horses drink ale? It is mere habit. If you have good nourishing food you can do very well without ale. Nobody works harder than the Yorkshire people, and for years together there are

many Yorkshire labourers who never taste ale. I have no objection, you will observe, to a moderate use of ale, or any other liquor you can afford to purchase. But I am certain that you cannot afford even a moderate amount; every penny you spend at the ale-house comes out of the stomachs of the poor children, and deprives the wife of useful clothing.

Even if your wages do admit of a little indulgence at the beer-house without leaving your wife and children uncared for, how much wiser would it be to save up for a rainy day-to lay by for sickness and old age. Perhaps you say, "Oh, I only spend threepence a day in beer, and about a penny in tobacco!" Well, if so, you are in the moderate class of drinkers; but have you ever thought what such a small sum, if only saved, would, in the course of a few years, amount to? That fourpence a day might make a world of difference in your declining years; instead, perhaps, of the poorhouse and a pauper's grave, it would help to make your last days peaceful and happy. The following table will show, by the logic of figures, what a power there is in small savings long continued: