THE COUNT DE BUFFON AN EXAMPLE OF PATIENCE.

The career of the Count de Buffon presents a most remarkable illustration of the power of patient industry, as well as of his own saying that Genius is patience.' Notwithstanding the great results achieved by him in natural history, Buffon when a youth was regarded as of mediocre talents. His mind was slow in forming itself, and slow in reproducing what it had acquired. He was also constitutionally indolent, and being born to good estate, it might be supposed that he would indulge his liking for ease and luxury. Instead of which, he early formed the resolution of denying himself pleasure, and devoting himself to patient study and self-culture.

For forty years of his life Buffon worked every morning at his desk from nine till two, and again in the evening from five till nine. His patience and diligence were so continuous and so regular that they became habitual. His biographer has said of him, 'Work was his necessity, his studies were the charm of his life, and towards the last term of his glorious career he frequently said that he still hoped to be able to consecrate to them a few more years.' He was a most patient, conscientious worker, always studying to give the reader his best thoughts, expressed in the very best manner.

He was never wearied with touching and retouching his compositions, so that his style may be pronounced almost perfect. He wrote one of his greatest works not fewer than eleven times before he was satisfied with it, although he had thought over the work about fifty years. It ought also to be added, as a further proof of his patient endurance, that Buffon wrote and published all his great works while afflicted with one of the most painful diseases to which the human frame is subject.

ON RESIGNATION.

There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there;

There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,

But has one vacant chair.

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforted.

Let us be patient! these severe afflictions

Not from the ground arise,

But oftentimes celestial benedictions

Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapours;
Amid these earthly damps,

What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers

May be heaven's distant lamps.

Resignation to the will of God is true magnanimity. But the sure mark of a base spirit is

to struggle against and to censure the order of Providence. True, the darts of adverse fortune are always levelled at our heads. Some reach ourselves, and some fly to wound our neighbours. The winter brings cold, and we freeze. The summer returns with heat, and we melt. The inclemency of the weather disorders our health, and we are sick. Here we are exposed to wild beasts, and there to men more savage than the beasts; and if we escape the inconveniences and dangers of the air and the earth, there are perils by water and perils by fire. This established course of things it is not in our power to change; but it is in our power to assume such a greatness of mind as becomes wise and virtuous men, and as may enable us to encounter the accidents of life with resignation, and to conform ourselves to the order of Nature, who governs her great kingdom, the world, by continual mutations. Let us

submit to this order; let us be persuaded that whatever does happen ought to happen, and never be so foolish as to expostulate with Nature.

The best resolution we can take is to suffer what we cannot alter, and to pursue without repining the road which Providence, who directs everything, has marked out to us; for it is enough to follow, and he is but a bad soldier who sighs and marches with reluctancy. We must receive the orders with spirit and cheerfulness,

and not endeavour to slink out of the post which is assigned us in this beautiful disposition of things, whereof even sufferings make a necessary part. Let us address ourselves to God, who governs all, as Cleanthes did in those admirable verses :

Parent of nature! Master of the world!
Where'er Thy providence directs, behold
My steps with cheerful resignation turn.
Fate leads the willing, drags the backward on:
Why should I grieve, when grieving I must bear;
Or take with guilt, what guiltless I might share?

RABBI MEIR, or the Man OF RESIGNATION.

Rabbi Meir sat during the whole of the Sabbath-day in the public school instructing the people. He was learned, wise and just, and was much beloved.

During his absence from his house two sons died. They were youths of great promise, and the father's heart was set on them.

Their mother, full of sorrow, bore the dead bodies of her sons to her bedchamber, laid them upon the bed, spread a white covering on them, and fell down at their feet to pray.

In the evening Rabbi Meir came home. 'Where are my two sons?' he said. They are not far off,' replied the mother; but come, sit down, and give God thanks for His goodness.' She reached him a goblet; Rabbi Meir

praised the Lord at the going out of the Sabbath. He drank of the cup, and asked again, 'Where are my sons, that they also may drink of the cup of blessing?'

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They are not far off,' said the mother, and she then placed food before him, and he ate, drank, and was merry.

When the wife saw her husband's heart was gladsome, she said, 'Rabbi, I have a question for thee; wilt thou hear?' 'Ask on, wife of my bosom,' said the Rabbi; 'I will resolve thee.' 'A few days ago,' said the wife, ‘a merchant entrusted some jewels to my custody, and now he demands them again; should I give them back again?'

'Woman, what askest thou? What! would'st thou not return to every one his own; art thou slow to do what is right?'

No,' she replied. 'Come with me; I will show thee where the jewels are.' She then led him to the chamber, and stepping to the bed, took the white cloth from the dead bodies-'Here are the jewels!'

'Ah! my sons, my sons!' said the father, and he lifted up his voice and wept. The mother also turned away her head and wept. At last she took her husband's hand and said, Rabbi, didst thou not say that we must be ready to restore what is given to our keeping? "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken. away."'