1 DR. CHALMERS AMONG THE CHILDREN. He was childlike in his simplicity:—though in understanding a full grown man-he was himself a child in many things. Coleridge says, every man should include all his former selves in his present-as a tree has its former years' growths inside its last— so Dr. Chalmers bore along with him his childhood, his youth, his early and fult manhood into his mature old age-this gave himself, we doubt not, infinite delight-multiplied his joys, strengthened and sweetened his whole nature, and kept his heart young and tender, and in tune:-it enabled him to sympathize, to have a fellow-feeling with all, of whatever age. Those who best knew him, who were most habitually with him, know how beautifully this point of his character shone out in daily, hourly life. We well remember long ago loving him before we had seen him-from our having been told, that being out one Saturday at a friend's house near the Pentlands, he collected all the children and small people-the other bairns, as he called them—and with no one else of larger growth, took the lead to the nearest hill-tophow he made each take the biggest and roundest stone he could find, and carry-how he panted up the hill with one of enormous size himself-how he kept up their hearts, and made them shout with glee-with the light of his countenance, and with all his pleasant and strange ways and words-how having got the breathless little men and women to the top of the hill, he, hot and scant of breath-looked round on the world and upon them with his broad benignant smile -how he set off his own huge 'fellow'-how he watched him setting out on his race-slowly, stupidly, vaguely at first, almost as if he might die before he began to live-then suddenly giving a spring and off like a shot-bounding, tearing-how he spoke to the big 'fellow,' upbraided him, cheered him, gloried in THE AFFLICTED BROTHERS. him, all but prayed for him-how he joked philosophy to his wondering and ecstatic crew, when he (the stone) disappeared among some brackens-telling them they had the evidence of their senses that he was in; they might even know he was there by his effects, by the moving brackens, though himself unseen; how plain it became that he had gone in, when he actually came out! how he ran up the opposite side a bit, and then fell back, and lazily expired at the bottom-how to their astonishment, but not displeasure-for he 'set them off so well,' and 'was so funny,' he took from each his cherished stone, and set it off himself! showing them how they all ran alike, yet differently; how he went on 'making,' as he said, 'an induction of particulars,' till he came to the Benjamin of the flock, a wee wee man, who had brought up a stone bigger than his own big head; then how he let him set off his own, and how wonderfully IT RAN! what miraculous leaps! what escapes from impossible places! and how it went further up the other side, and by some fine felicity remained there! THE AFFLICTED BROTHERS. SOME months ago, when on a visit to some friends in a northern county, I was pained to observe two boys in the family, just rising in their teens, who were unable to walk from lameness, to which they had been subject from childhood. They appeared to be of a thoughtful turn of mind, and fond of reading. Their parents were pious, and had, for many years, displayed attachment to real religion. On all these accounts, after my visit, I often thought about them, and at length found time to write them a letter, reminding them of the design of God in sending afflictions, and hoping that they would be led to put their trust in Jesus Christ for salvation from sin, and then their infirmities would be turned into blessings. Soon after this I received a letter from one of them, from which I extract the following. And I hope it will lead my young readers to think of their souls, their sins, and their Saviour. "I am much obliged to you, sir, for your kind concern about our welfare. I hope I shall follow your advice, and become truly pious. It is true we have been much afflicted; but it is all for our good. We can see some good that it has done us already. It is true we have been deprived of the use of our limbs, and have had little strength to work for our living like other boys; but we have had more opportunities for learning than many, which, if we had been well, we might have missed. If we had had the use of our limbs all our lives, we might have got among bad companions, and run into sin. But blessed be God, when he afflicts us, he does not do so for ever, but in time removes his afflicting hand from us. It is so with us: we have been afflicted the greater part of our lives; first, when we were infants, we had a deal of sickness; and then, about the age of eight, we were taken with this lameness, which has continued eight years, but which we hope will in time be removed entirely. We have been brought to the brink of the grave by it, but God has in mercy spared us, for which we are thankful. We are considerably better at present. My brother goes without a stick in the house, but uses them when he goes out of doors. I hope he will dispense with them entirely, as I have done. I have been worse than he; but now, blessed be God, I can walk some miles. I hope I do love Christ; he is deserving of my love, and I can never repay the love he bore to me. But my heart is so wicked, that many a time I despair of being forgiven. I sincerely thank you, sir, for your kind and sympathizing letter, hope you are in good health, and wish you every success with your useful works." THE Grayling or Umber, is of a very elegant form; the body is less deep than that of the trout, though longer; the head small; the circles of the eyes are silvery, speckled with yellow; the mouth is of a middle size, and the upper jaw the largest. The teeth are very minute, seated in the jaws and roof of the mouth, and feel like a fine file; the head is dusky, the covers of the gills are of a glossy green, yet when in prime perfection, these parts are blackish; the back is of a dusky green, inclining to blue; the sides are of a fine silvery gray; when first taken, however, they seem to glitter with spangles of gold, and are marked with black spots irregularly placed. The side line is nearly straight; the scales are large, and the lower edges dusky, forming straight rows from the head to the tail, which is much forked; the large fin is spotted, the other fins are plain. It is supposed that this fish feeds mostly at the bottom. The Grayling haunts rapid and clear streams, particularly such as flow from mountainous countries: it is found in those of Derbyshire, Shropshire, and Yorkshire. In Lapland, where it is very common, the inhabitants use its entrails, instead of rennet, to make the cheese, which they get from the milk of the reindeer. The stomach is hard and thick. The Grayling seldom exceeds sixteen inches in length; yet one was taken near Ludlow about half a yard long, and weighing four pounds six ounces; and near Shrews bury one was caught which weighed full five pounds. It is from the swiftness of its motion that it derives its name of Umber. These fish bite during the whole of cool, cloudy days; but the preferable time in spring and summer is from eight until twelve in the morning, and from four until sunset in the evening; and from September to January in the middle of the day. Worms, insects, and water snails are their principal food. They spawn in April and May. From September to January is the season at which they are in the greatest perfection. They are very voracious, rise eagerly at the fly, will pursue the bait after they have missed it several times, and thus afford great amusement to the angler. The ancients believed that the oil obtained from them would obliterate freckles and marks of the small-pox. CRUELTY AND KINDNESS-OR THE TWO LADS. A SHEEP beside a stream was feeding, To and fro on mossy bank, There they ate, and there they drank- They were pleased and happy creatures. All the bright and sunny day That little lamb did skip and play, Who fondled it with love most deep, A little boy not nine years old |