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to proceed; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a beam of the rising sun, that streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining full upon the dial-plate, made it brighten up as if nothing had been the matter.

When the farmer came down to breakfast, he declared, upon looking at the clock, that his watch had gained half an hour in the night.

MORAL.

"Take care of the minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves," is an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be " weary of well doing," from the thought of having much to do. The present moment is all we have to do with in any sense: the past is irrecoverable; the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient use to the moment is the trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have to take but one step at a time, and this process continued, would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours.

Thus in looking forward in future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last; if one could be borne, so can another, and another.

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Even in looking forward to a single day, the spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labours, the trials of temper and patience that may be expected. Now, this is unjustly laying the burden many thousand moments upon one. Let any one resolve always to do right now, leaving then to do as it can ; and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong. But the common error is, to resolve to act right after breakfast or after dinner, or to-morrow morning, or next time; but now, just now, this once, we must go on the same as ever

It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered person to resolve, that the next time he is provoked he will not let his temper overcome him; but the victory would be to subdue temper on the present provocation. If, without taking up the burden of the future, we would always make the single effort at the present moment, while there would, at any time, be very little to do, yet, by this simple process continued, every thing would at last be done. It seems easier to do right to-morrow, than to-day, merely because we forget, that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. Thus life passes with many, in resolutions for the future, which the present never fulfils.

It is not thus with those who, "by patient continuance in well doing, seek for glory, honour, and immortality:" day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task to which the requisite measure of time and strength is proportioned; and thus, having worked while it was called day, they at length "rest from their labours, and their works follow them."

Let us then, "whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollecting that now is the proper and accepted time."-Jane Taylor.

LIFE COMPARED TO A RIVER.

RIVER, River, little River,

Bright you sparkle on your way,

O'er the yellow pebbles dancing,

Through the flowers and foliage glancing,

Like a child at play.

River, River, swelling River,

On you rush o'er rough and smooth,

Louder, faster, brawling, leaping

Over rocks, by rose-banks sweeping

Like impetuous youth.

River, River, brimming River,

Broad and deep, and still as Time;

Seeming still-yet still in motion,

Tending onward to the ocean,

Just like mortal prime.

River, River, rapid River!
Swifter now you slip away;

Swift and silent as an arrow;

Through a channel dark and narrow,

Like life's closing day.

River, River, headlong River,
Down you dash into the sea;

Sea, that line hath never sounded,

Sea, that voyage hath never rounded,

Like eternity.-Anon.

HOW TO FURNISH A HOUSE.

If you are about to furnish a house, do not spend all your money, be it much or little. Do not let the beauty of this thing, and the cheapness of that, tempt you to buy unnecessary articles. Nothing is cheap that we do not want. Buy merely enough to get on with at first. It is only by experience that you can tell what will be the wants of your family. If you spend all your money, you will find you have purchased many things you do not want, and have no means left to get many things which you do want. If you have enough, and more than enough, to get every thing suitable to your situation, do not think you must spend it all, merely because you happen to have it. Begin humbly. As riches increase, it is easy and pleasant to increase in comforts; but it is always painful and inconvenient to decrease. Neatness, tastefulness, and good sense may be shown in the management of a small household, and the arrangement of a little furniture, as well as upon a larger scale; and these qualities are always praised, and always treated with respect and attention. The consideration which many purchase by living beyond their income, and of course living upon others, is not worth the trouble it costs. The glare there is about this false and wicked parade is deceptive; it does not in fact procure a man valuable friends, or extensive influence.

Mrs. Child.

FEATS OF DEATH.

I HAVE passed o'er the earth in the darkness of night;
I have walked the winds in the morning's broad light;
I have paused o'er the bower where the infant lay
sleeping,

And I've left the fond mother in sorrow and weeping.
My pinion was spread, and the cold dew of night,
Which withers and moulders the flowers in its light,
Fell silently o'er the warm cheek in its glow,
And I left it there blighted, and wasted, and low;
I culled the fair bud, as it danced in its mirth,
And I left it to moulder and fade on the earth.
I paused o'er the valley, the glad sounds of joy
Rose soft through the mist, and ascended on high,
The fairest were there, and I paused in my flight,
And the deep cry of wailing broke wildly that night.

I stay not to gather the lone one to earth,

I

spare not the young in their gay dance of mirth, But I sweep them all on to their home in the grave, I stop not to pity—I stay not to save.

Lucretia Davidson.

ON CLEANLINESS.

CLEANLINESS may be recommended under the three following heads: as it is a mark of politeness; as it produces affection; and as it bears analogy to purity of mind.

First, it is a mark of politeness; for it is universally agreed upon, that no one unadorned with this virtue can go into company, without giving manifest offence. The different nations of the world are as much distinguished by their cleanliness, as by their arts and sciences. The more they are advanced in civilisation, the more they consult this part of politeness.

Secondly-Cleanliness may be said to be the foster mother of affection. Beauty commonly produces love, but cleanliness preserves it. Age itself is not unamiable, while it is preserved clean and unsullied: like a piece of metal constantly kept smooth and bright, we look on it

with more pleasure than on a new vessel that is cankered with rust.

I might further observe, that as cleanliness renders us agreeable to others, it makes us easy to ourselves; that it is an excellent preservative of health, and that several vices destructive both to body and mind are inconsistent with the habit of it.

In the third place, it bears a great analogy with purity of mind, and naturally inspires refined sentiments and passions. We find from experience, that through the prevalence of custom the most vicious actions lose their horror by being made familiar to us. On the contrary, those who live in the neighbourhood of good examples, fly from the first appearance of what is shocking, and thus pure and unsullied thoughts are naturally suggested to the mind by those objects that perpetually encompass us, when they are beautiful and elegant in their kind. Addison.

FEMALE PIETY.

"Tis sweet to see the opening rose
Spread its fair bosom to the sky;-
'Tis sweet to view at twilight's close,
The heaven's bespangled canopy.
'Tis sweet, amid the vernal grove,

To hear the thrush's fervent lay,
Or lark, that wings his flight above,
To hail the dawning of the day.
But sweeter far is maiden's eye,

Uprais'd to heaven in pious prayer;
When bath'd in tears she looks on high,
What sacred eloquence is there!

O! sweeter far, that sacred name,

"MY FATHER!" utter'd by her tongue :
And sweeter, when her heavenly flame
Ascends in pious, holy song.

O, sweet when on the bended knee,
Her thoughts, her spirit, mount above,
In pious, deep-felt ecstasy,

To realms of everlasting love!--Anon.

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