On this day Mr. M. being much better, and apparently needing nothing but quiet, Dr. Milnor went on a visit to Southampton. After his departure, finding Mr. M. to be still improving, I concluded to take a ride and visit the remaining scenery which I was so anxious to see. I formed the plan of going, in the first place, from Newport to Brading. This would take me over the road which Mr. Richmond travelled from his house at the latter place to visit the Dairyman's Daughter. Newport is very near the centre of the island, and Brading lies nearly east of it, about eight miles distant.

Newport is situated in a lovely plain, and the road towards Cowes, immediately after leaving it, crosses a steep ascent. The hill whose summit you then gain is not of a conical form, but stretches along several miles to the eastward. It is called Arreton Downs, and forms the northern boundary of the beautiful valley in which lie the village and church of Arreton, and the cottage of the dairyman.

I rode along the ridge of this hill for a mile or more, when I came to the part which overhangs the village of Arreton. Here I dismounted, and took from my pocket "The Dairyman's Daughter." I wished to see if Mr. R. had described in this tract a scene so lovely as that which was then spread before me. I had not to search long, for his description is like the mould in which the sculptor casts his models - there is one image which corresponds to it, and but one. You may imagine, but I cannot describe, the feelings with which I read the following passage:" At that moment the first sound of a tolling bell struck my ear. It proceeded from a village church, directly beneath the ridge of a high hill, over which I had taken my way. It was Elizabeth's funeral knell. The sound was solemn; and in ascending to the elevated spot over which I rode, it acquired a peculiar tone and character. Tolling at slow and regulated intervals (as was customary, for a considerable time previous to the hour of burial), the bell, as it were, proclaimed the blessedness of the dead which die in the Lord; and also the necessity of the living pondering these things, and laying them to heart. It seemed to say, Hear my warning voice, thou son of man: there is but a step between thee and death. Arise, prepare thine house; for thou shalt die, and not live.' The scenery was in unison with that tranquil frame of mind which is most suitable for holy meditation. A rich and fruitful valley lay immediately beneath; it was adorned with cornfields and pastures, through which a small river winded in a variety of directions, and many herds grazed upon its banks. A fine range of opposite hills, covered with grazing flocks, terminated with a bold sweep into the ocean, whose blue waves appeared at a distance beyond. Several villages, hamlets, and churches, were scattered in the valley. The noble mansions of the rich, and the lowly cottages of the poor, added their respective features to the landscape. The air was mild, and the declining sun occasioned a beautiful interchange of light and shade upon the sides of the hills. In the midst of this scene, the chief sound that arrested attention was the bell tolling for the funeral of the Dairyman's Daughter."

I rode slowly along for several miles in sight of this scenery, which would have attracted me by its beauty, even without the delightful associations with which it is now inseparably blended. After leaving these downs, I crossed another hill of still greater elevation, from whose summit the traveller beholds the ocean on the east, and the verdant coast of Hampshire (separated by a narrow strait from the island), on the north. On my arrival at Brading, I made another visit to the churchyard, stood for the last time by the grave of Little Jane, and viewed with deepest interest the parsonage, whose walls had been hallowed for so many years by the prayers, the praises, and the holy conversation of Legh Richmond. I gazed, too, for a

few moments, in silent meditation, upon the green where Little Jane and her companions assembled to receive his instructions; then reluctantly mounted my horse, and set out for Sandown Bay, the chief object of my journey.

My course was now in a south-easterly direction. Wishing to ascertain the exact road over which Mr. Richmond was accustomed to pass in his frequent visits to the spot whither I was going, I accosted an old man who was resting upon a green bank by the road-side. He gave me the information I sought with so much cheerfulness, and manifested so obliging a disposition, that I was induced to regard him more attentively, and pause awhile to pursue our conversation. His grey hairs and relaxed limbs, which seemed to need repose, indicated a more advanced period of life than I should have attributed to him from his apparently robust frame and healthy countenance. His features gave evidence, I thought, of a sound and intelligent mind. You will easily anticipate my first question," Did you know Mr. Richmond?""" I did," was his reply, "and often heard him preach." I endeavoured to ascertain the impression made upon him by hearing the word of God from one of his most faithful ministers; but I could gather nothing from his remarks which assured me of his being more than a "hearer of the word." He spoke in exalted terms of Mr. Richmond, saying, that he had never heard such a preacher, and never expected to hear one like him again. In the conclusion of our conversation, he spoke of the extreme difficulty of getting work, greater than he had ever known before, and the consequent hardships to which persons in his class of life were exposed. I could not but remind him, that his time for earthly labours was nearly at an end, and that he was called to the service of One who required his constant services, and would never suffer his servants to want. I gave him a trifle in parting, happy that it was in my power to assist one apparently so deserving. He had excited, too, a peculiar interest in my mind, from being as it were a link which brought me in close connexion with his former venerated minister.

I must not linger on the road which led to the Bay, but take you as directly as I can to the point, which you will perhaps think I am long in reaching. Mr. R., you will observe from "The Negro Servant," rode thither" over a lofty down or hill," terminating at the sea in a "tremendous perpendicular precipice." This down is now enclosed and cultivated, and I was under the necessity of skirting along its western base, instead of passing over its summit. The road which I followed brought me to the bay shore, about half a mile eastward of Mr. Wilkes's cottage, where we were the preceding day, and perhaps the same distance westward of the spot which I was seeking.

I rode along the beach until I came to the "small cove" described in the tract. When visited by Mr. Richmond, nearly thirty years ago, "its shore consisted of fine hard sand;" but during the period which has since elapsed, it has been covered with a coarse gravel, if I may so term the particles of hard chalk which have been washed into pebbles by the action of the sea. There were around me large masses of this substance, as well as rocks of other descriptions, which had fallen in abundance from the overhanging cliff above. There was one other circumstance, and only one, in which a change has taken place since the period referred to in the tract. The limpets, which then adhered to the rocks, and furnished so apt an illustration to the disciple and to his teacher, are no longer to be found. After looking round upon the "fragments of rock, chalk-cliffs, and steep banks of broken earth," which met my eye, and comparing them with the description of Mr. Richmond, I made fast my bridle in the cleft of a rock, seated myself upon another, and spent some time in reading the tract. Sel

dom have my feelings received such mingled impressions of delight and awe; I was shut out from human intercourse, and even screened from human sight. The advancing tide rolled forward, with a roaring, hollow sound, and threatened to overwhelm me beneath its surges; but I knew that its bounds were fixed, and that its Maker had appointed the limits which it could not pass. How striking an exhibition is this of the wisdom and power of Him whom the sea obeys, and has obeyed, day after day, for ages past! He has set for it "bars and doors, and said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." (Job, xxxviii. 11.)

After enjoying my situation for some time, I looked around for some practicable way of ascending the cliff; but so steep was the declivity, that I feared to make the attempt. Immediately over my head was the "perpendicular cliff, white as snow, and stupendously lofty and large." A little more westward, it sloped into "a more gradual declivity of many-clouded earths, interspersed with green patches of grass, and little streams of water trickling down the bank, and mingling with the sea at the bottom."

But even this it seemed to require more nerve and activity to climb than I possessed. I looked anxiously for "the rude staircase, formed by fishermen and shepherds' boys in the side of the cliff;" but, to my great disappointment, it could not be found. I twice attempted to ascend; but finding the difficulty fully as great as I had anticipated, and fearing the effect of so much fatigue on my feeble frame, I as often relinquished the attempt. My anxiety to gain the down from which Mr. Richmond descended, was, however, so great, that I made a third effort, and succeeded. After ascending the bank a few yards, I discovered the steps cut in the earth, and which had been hitherto concealed from view by the long grass with which they were covered. Up these I toiled, and at last reached the top of the cliff. What was my disappointment to find myself at the base of a second hill, which hid from The every thing, except that which I had already seen. This, too, I ascended; and when I gained the top, what a prospect opened before me! In front was the boundless ocean. On the right was Sandown Bay, sweeping round in a beautiful curve of nine or ten iles, and lined with a luxuriant valley, which extended two or three miles in depth, until it was terminated by a high range of hills from the north. On my left was the channel which separates the island from Hampshire, and Portsmouth in the distance. I never saw a prospect' which appeared, at the time, so magnificent; and never do I recollect to have had my feelings excited to such a degree of enjoyment by natural scenery.

It was with great reluctance that I quitted this delightful spot, and returned to the beach. I then remounted my horse, and rode to a small inn, near the village of Shanklin, to obtain rest and refreshment, which, by this time, were much needed, both by my horse and myself. After dinner, I took my way homewards by a road which passed the dairyman's cottage. It was a secluded and private road, bounded on both sidee by green and beautiful hedges, and often shaded by overhanging trees. When I reached the cottage, I found some of Mr. Wallbridge's children before it, and, accosting them, entered, to make the family a second visit. I had now more time than on the previous day to examine this lowly dwelling, more interesting to me than the palaces of kings, and to indulge the pleasing reflections which its associations occasioned. I conversed for a short time with Mr. Wallbridge, and looked over Elizabeth's Bible, which had in it her name in her own handwriting. Mr. W., who seemed pleased with the interest of American travellers in his sister, took me again to the chamber in which she breathed her last. I then made another visit to her grave, and returned to Newport, having

made a circuit of about twenty miles. I never, in so small a space, beheld such a variety of beautiful scenery: never was scenery more beautifully or accurately described, than this was by the pen of Richmond; and seldom, if ever, I presume, has the interest of such scenery been increased by such associations.

I am sure that you will sympathise with me in my deep interest for the scenes of Mr. Richmond's labours. The portraits which he has drawn in his tracts have been regarded with interest by thousands, in almost every part of the globe; multitudes have been charmed with the beautiful and unaffected features of the Christian, and have sought, by Divine grace, to be transformed into the same image. They will pass down to posterity as representations of humble piety in the nineteenth century; not more interesting for the subjects portrayed, than for the master's hand by whose instrumentality they shall be had in "everlasting remembrance." No one, surely, can contemplate these characters in any circumstances, without some impression; how deep must that impression be amid the very scenes in which they moved, and in sight of the surrounding objects, with which Mr. Richmond has enlarged and adorned his pictures! We were all deeply affected, and the tracts formed the chief subject of conversation during our common visit. The greater part of them we read aloud at the different places to which they refer. I was truly thankful that my steps had been directed to the Isle of Wight, instead of Switzerland, as I at first proposed; for I would not exchange the gratification, and, I trust, spiritual_improvement, which I received, even for a view of the magnificent scenery of that romantic land. This is but a part of the fabric which will be dissolved, when the elements shall melt with fervent heat; when the earth, and the things that are therein, shall be burnt that is consecrated by the footsteps of holy beings, who will live in the favour of Him who created the earth, with its beauteous decorations, FOR EVER.*

up

The Cabinet.

PERSONAL PIETY.-As our disease is personal and moral, so must the remedy revealed be equally personal and moral. The truths of the Gospel become saving, that is, effectual to deliver us from the state in which they find us, only as they are brought to bear upon ourselves. The seed is given, indeed, from heaven, but it is only as it takes root in the heart of man, and springs up in his character, that it can expand into everlasting life. And hence the infinite importance of personal piety, as that without which all knowledge of Christian truth, and all attempt at Christian duty, will be ineffectual. There are, indeed, three grand classes of religious meditation; the meditation, namely, on what has been done for us, what must be done in us, and what should be done by us; and these classes may be verbally distinguished into doctrinal, experimental, and practical: but they are inseparable in fact; for all true doctrine, experience, and practice, are one and indivisible. And the connecting link, say rather the assimilating life, which effects this unity, resides in the middle term--the experience of what must be done in us. Only personal piety (and by the word experience, we mean personal piety in all its parts) brings down general doctrine into individual application, and quickens notions into principles. And only personal piety can supply the life, the feeling, and the energy, by which consistent practice can be either fully purposed, or successfully pursued.-Rev. Thomas Griffith.

If these remarks are somewhat highly wrought, the enthusiasm is directed to interesting objects; and English readers, it is hoped, will not be too severe upon American raptures, where English topics are their theme.

SELFISHNESS.It is the selfish principle necessarily engendered by making this world our all, and God nothing, which is the prime, and ultimate, and incurable error of the infidel school. In one word, selfishness is the principle of genuine infidelity, disinterestedness the virtue of pure Christianity. — Archdeacon Hoare.

"BLESS THE LORD, O MY SOUL, AND FORGET NOT ALL HIS BENEFITS."-Happy are those who cannot live without praising God! Of them it may emphatically be said, that they live in the vestibule of heaven. When the period of dissolution arrives, they will have nothing to do but to step from time into eternity. Their journey will be short and straight, as the arrow's flight, to the bosom of their God, to the mansions of eternal bliss.-Howels.

UNIVERSAL APPLICATION OF SCRIPTURE.-I am led to conclude that an identity of moral character has pervaded the whole human race ever since the fall of Adam; that the descriptions of man in a state of nature and in a state of grace, respectively, which were applicable to him eighteen hundred years ago, are equally applicable to him now; and that, in general, whether we look to doctrines or to precepts, scarcely a passage can be pointed out in the whole New Testament, which does not, either directly or indirectly, either specifically or by analogy, concern us at this present time. This opinion, however, does not in the least degree militate against the necessity of being well versed in the history of the Jews, their various sects, their national customs, their popular prejudices, their prevailing errors, in order to gain an accurate and comprehensive view of the writings of the four Evangelists. So also, in the interpretation of the Epistles, it is essentially requisite that we should be acquainted with the general scope of each respectively, the particular occasion upon which it was written, the erroneous opinions which it was intended to combat, or the evil practices which it was intended to condemn : these, and other collateral circumstances, will be borne in mind by the judicious expositor. Nevertheless, since there is, as has been before observed, a striking degree of uniformity in the general features which both sin and error assume in all ages of the world, we may safely infer, that whatever was written at the dictation of the Holy Spirit in the apostolic era in reprehension of the one, or in confutation of the other, will be strictly applicable, mutatis mutandis, to professing Christians in these days.-Archdeacon Browne.

DUTY OF MASTERS.-If you have the superintendence of servants, consider this as another appointed means of usefulness. You admit them into your family, and justly consider yourself entitled to their time and labour; neglect not, then, to give a portion of your's for the good of their immortal souls; read to them, talk to them, lend them books, pray with, and for, them; arrange your family concerns, so that they may have time, and especially on the Sabbath-day, for holy exercises; and, above all, shine before them by a bright and holy example, and endeavour by your meekness, kindness, and gentleness, to win them into the ways of pleasantness and the paths of peace.— Hints to Five Classes.

THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH. However slightly treated, or passed over by the world, and classed with things of man's contrivance, the Christian Church is a sublime object of contemplation. When we consider from what origin it rose; against what interests it has prevailed; from what clouds it has emerged; what comforts it has diffused; what moral changes it is continually effecting, we are constrained to say, This has God wrought; this is God's building.-Bp. J. B. Sumner.

CHRISTIAN SECURITY." Simon, Simon, Satan hath desired to winnow thee as wheat;" here is our toil: "but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not;" this is our safety. No man's condition so sure as ours. The prayer of Christ is more than sufficient both to strengthen us, be we never so weak; and to overthrow all adversary power, be it never so strong and potent. His prayer must not exclude our labour: their thoughts are vain who think that their watching can preserve the city which God himself is not willing to keep. And are not those as vain who think that God will keep the city for which they themselves are not careful to watch? The husbandman may not, therefore, burn his plough, nor the merchant forsake his trade, because God hath promised, "I will not forsake thee." And do the promises of God concerning our stability, think you, make it a matter indifferent for us to use, or not to use the means? to pray, or not to pray, "that we fall not into temptation?" Surely, if we look to stand in the faith of the Son of God, we must hourly, continually, be providing and setting ourselves to strive. It was not the meaning of our Lord and Saviour in saying, "Father, keep them in thy name,” that we should be careless to keep ourselves. To our own safety, our own sedulity is required.-Hooker.

FORGIVENESS. I do not understand the spirit that can obstinately retain offence. Life is too short, and, above all, too uncertain, for the steady retention of displeasure. But there are higher principles than such as arise from our transitory pilgrimage here; and when I read the precepts of that ever-blessed Saviour, through whom we are reconciled to God, I cannot comprehend how a Christian can continue unforgiving. No representations of offence given, can change the word of God, or obliterate the command which enjoins forgiveness, on the tremendous alternative, that they who do not forgive will not be forgiven.... My fears for those who retain a spirit of unforgiveness are overpowering. I could not myself pray to God, or ask his pardon for my transgressions before I go to bed at night, with any comfort or with any hope of being heard, unless I were conscious that I did, from my heart, forgive as I asked to be forgiven. -Bishop Sandford.

THE LOSS OF NATIONAL CHRISTIANITY.-With the removal of the Gospel of Christ must be the departure of whatever is most precious in the possession of a people. It is not merely that Christianity is taken away,-though who shall measure, who imagine the loss, if this were indeed all?-but it is, that God must frown on a land from which he hath been provoked to withdraw his Gospel; and that, if the frown of the Almighty rest on a country, the sun of that country's greatness goes rapidly down, and the dreariness of a moral midnight fast gathers above it and around it. Has it not been thus with countries, and with cities, from which, on account of their impieties and impurities, the candlestick has been removed? The seven churches of Asia-where are the cities whence they drew their names ?-cities that teemed with inhabitants, that were renowned for arts, and which served as centres of civilisation to farspreading districts? Did the unchurching these cities leave them their majesty and prosperity? did the removal of the candlestick leave undimmed their political lustre? Ask the traveller who gropes painfully his way over prostrate columns, and beneath crumbling arches, having no index but ruins, to tell him that a kingdom's dust is under his feet; and endeavouring to assure himself, from the magnitude of the desolation, that he has found the site of a once-splendid metropolis. The cities, with scarce an exception, wasted, from the day when the candlestick was removed, and grew into monuments-monuments whose marble is decay, and whose inscription devastation-telling out

to all succeeding ages, that the readiest mode in which a nation can destroy itself, is to despise the Gospel with which it has been entrusted; and that the most fearful vial which God can empty on a land, is that which extinguishes the blessed shinings of Christianity. -Ree. H. Melvill.

Poetry.

ECCLESIASTICAL SKETCHES.

(Selected from Wordsworth's Poems.)

I.

THE TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE.

Now to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,
In dusty sequestration wrapt too long,
Assumes the accents of our native tongue;

And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook,
With understanding spirit now may look
Upon her records, listen to her song,

And sift her laws-much wondering that the wrong,
Which Faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly brook.
Transcendent boon! noblest that earthly king
Ever bestowed to equalise and bless,

Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!

But passions spread like plagues, and thousands wild
With bigotry, shall tread the offering
Beneath their feet,-detested and defiled.

II. CRANMER.

OUTSTRETCHING flameward his upbraided hand (0 Ged of mercy, may no earthly seat

Of judgment such presumptuous doom repeat!) Amid the shuddering throng see CRANMER stand! Firm as the stake to which with iron band His frame is tied; firm from the naked feet To the bare head, the victory complete ; The shrouded body, to the soul's command, Answering with more than Indian fortitude, Through all her nerves with finer sense endued, Till breath departs in blissful aspiration: Then, mid the ghastly ruins of the fire, Behold the unalterable heart entire,

Emblem of faith untouched, miraculous attestation! *

"WHEN SHALL WE MEET AGAIN?"

BY CAROLINE BOWLES.

"WHEN shall we meet again?"- My friend,

An awful question thine!

"When shall we meet again?"- Not ours The secret to divine.

Not ours to lift the veil, perchance
In tender mercy drawn;

Oh! could we look beyond, would hope
Still lead us cheerly on?

Should we behold two living friends,
Long sunder'd, met at last

In the far distance?-or appall'd

Our shuddering glances cast

For the belief in this fact, which is also alluded to in

another page, see the contemporary historians.

O DAY most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next world's bud, The endorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood;

The couch of time; care's balm and bay;
The week were dark, but for thy light;
Thy torch doth shew the way.

The other days and thou
Make up one man, whose face thou art,
Knocking at heaven with thy brow;
The working days are the back part,

The burden of the week lies there,
Making the whole to stoop and bow
Till thy release appear.

Man had straightforward gone
To endless death; but thou dost pull
And turn us round, to look on One
Whom, if we were not very dull,

We could not choose but look on still
Since there is no place so alone
The which He doth not fill.

Sundays the pillars are
On which heaven's palace arched lies;
The other days fill up the spare
And hollow room with vanities.

They are the fruitful beds and borders
In God's rich garden; that is bare
Which parts their ranks and orders.
The Sundays of man's life
Threaded together on time's string
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal glorious King.

On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope; Blessings are plentiful and rife,

More plentiful than hope.

EDUCATION AND CRIME.-Lord Abinger, in his charge to the Leicester grand jury at the spring assizes, complained that education, as at present conducted, had increased instead of diminished crime. "In looking at the calendar," he said, "he perceived the proper descriptions of the education of the prisoners- those who could read and write well-those who could read and write imperfectly-and those who could not read at all. In the list there were only three persons who could not read and write, out of a calendar of twenty persons; and the doctrine which was lately promulgated was-'give the poor education, and you destroy crime.' This had not turned out to be the case with the calendar before the court; for he found that most of the desperate robberies and burglaries were committed by persons who could read and write well. Now, although he never would discourage educating the lower classes of society, he would still boldly affirm, that education, if not founded on religious and moral principle, instead of becoming a blessing to the poor, would in the end turn out a curse. To give a sound education to the poor, moral and religious instruction must accompany it. - the receiver must be well made to know not only the moral duties he has to perform, but also the religious ones. Education without religious instruction would not control the strong passions of the human race; and he had only again to repeat, that the various calendars throughout the circuit had plainly convinced him that it would be far better to leave the poorer classes of the community in ignorance, than to give them an education which had not for its groundwork our revealed and blessed religion."

THE SIEGE OF ROCHELLE.-During the siege of the Protestant city of Rochelle, under Louis XIII. and Cardinal Richelieu, the inhabitants endured great miseries before they yielded to an honourable capitulation the terms of which were, however, far from being kept by their enemies. One of the many touching incidents of the siege is recorded by Merivault. "He gives the name of the parties chiefly concerned," says Smedley; " and the narrative is marked by an air of truth, which renders its authenticity undoubted. During the height of calamity among the Rochellois, some charitable individuals, who had previously formed secret magazines, relieved their starving brethren without blazoning their good deed. The relict of a merchant, named Prosni, who was left with the charge of four orphan children, had liberally distributed her stores, while any thing remained, among her less fortunate neighbours: and whenever she was reproached with profusion and want of foresight by a rich sisterin-law of less benevolent temper, she was in the habit of replying, 'The Lord will provide for us.' At length, when her stock of food was utterly exhausted, and she was spurned with taunts from the door of her relative, she returned home destitute, broken-hearted, and prepared to die together with her children. But it seemed as if the mercies once displayed at Zarephath were again to be manifested; and that there was still a barrel and a cruse in reserve for the widow, who, humbly confident in the bounty of Heaven, had shared her last morsel with the supplicant in affliction. Her little ones met her at the threshold with cries of joy.

During her short absence, a stranger, visiting the house, had deposited in it a sack of flour; and the single bushel which it contained was so husbanded as to preserve their lives till the close of the siege, Their unknown benefactor was never revealed; but the pious mother was able to reply to her unbelieving kinswoman, The Lord hath provided for us.'"Smedley's History of the Reformed Church in France, vol. iii. p. 193.

RACHEL'S GRAVE.-The day following, we rode towards Bethlehem, which stands about six miles south from Jerusalem. Going out at the gate of Joppa, and turning on the left hand by the foot of Mount Sion, aloft on whose uttermost angle stood the Tower of David (whose ruins are yet extant), of a wonderful strength and admirable beauty, adorned with shields and the arms of the mighty. Below, on the right hand of the way in our passage, is a fountain, north of which the valley is crossed with a ruinous aqueduct, which conveyed water unto the Temple of Solomon. Ascending the opposite mountain, we passed through a country hilly and stony, yet not utterly forsaken of the vine, though only planted by Christians, in many places producing corn, here shadowed with the figtree, and there with the olive. About a mile further west of the way, and a little off, stands the sepulchre of Rachel (by the Scripture affirmed to have been buried hereabout), if the entireness thereof do not confute the imputed antiquity, yet kept perhaps in repair by her offspring, as a monument of venerable memory. Below it, on the side of a mountain, stands the ruins of that Rama, whereof the prophet Jeremiah speaks.Sandys's Travels.

We attend to truths as we find them suitable to some existing want of our soul. "It has happened to myself," says a clergyman, "that a parishioner, who suddenly became ill, without hope of recovery, confessed, I know no more of these things than a child.' I answered, Why, you have regularly come to Church; and I have spoken plainly enough to you, and you seemed to listen.' 'Yes, sir; and if you were to speak the same words now, I should understand them; but it is one thing to listen, and another to heed: I wish to understand you now.'"-Rev. T. Griffith.

MINISTERIAL FAITHFULNESS.-The conduct of a curate, in the reign of Louis XIV., merits high respect and commendation. It is related in the Memoirs of Madame de Maintenon, that one day Madame de Montespan, the mistress of Louis, requested to receive the sacrament from the minister of a village in which she was residing; but this excellent man refused her request, addressing her in these energetic words, "What, madam! you who are a scandal to all France! Go, madam, and first renounce your guilty habits, and then come to this holy rite!" Madame de Montespan went away in a state of furious indignation, and vented her complaints to the king, who consulted on the subject Bossuet and Montauzier; the former of whom he respected for his learning, as much as he esteemed the latter for his virtuous inflexibility. Bossuet, however, did not hesitate to commend the curate, for a courage which most probably he would not have dared to exercise himself, although, it is true, he did remonstrate occasionally with his royal master; and Montauzier remarked pointedly, that Madame de Montespan should have thanked the curate for having spared her the responsibility and peril of sacrilege.

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