their subjects at unity among themselves, striving about nothing, but which should serve God best, and do most good in the world.

The following beautiful Lines were written by a young Lady, only 15 years of age, on reading the assertion from a titled, and eminently distinguished Poet, that "Woman was devoid of sense; and that she never did any good, without it was to lead to evil." The mild, but severe castigation, if it ever fell under the Poet's eye, he must have admired, and revered.

OH! why say that Woman is faithless and light,—

And that wisdom alone to thy sex is confined; That her heart is as false as her beauty is bright,

And her loveliness lies in her face,-not her mind.

Remember, 'twas Woman first lulled thee to rest ;

Remember, 'twas she that first over thee hung,That thou slept'st thy first sleep on a Woman's fond breast; And thy first infant accents were caught from her tongue.

She guided thy steps in thy infantine years,—

She anxiously watched where thy careless feet strayed ; She hush'd all thy wailing,—she dried all thy tears; And delighted, she saw thy young genius displayed.

And is not fair Woman the sweetness of life,

With man she divides her enjoyments and cares;
The friend or the sister,-the daughter or wife,
Alike in his pleasures or sorrows she shares.

She is like the fair woodbine, that wreathes round the oak,
That derives its support from the tree's noble stem;
And though it be scathed by the lightning's dread stroke,
Still weaves of its flowerets in rich diadem.

'Tis Woman supports, and consoles man's decline,—
She drops o'er his woes the pure pitying tear ;
And her love, like a tendril, still round him will twine,
A tendril that time cannot wither or sear.

'Tis she that will watch the last life-drop depart,

From the cheek where her smile has so often removed The dark cloud,-then will feel the last throb of the heart, And weep o'er the corse of the being she loved.

She will freely confess, she is weaker than thee—

But her weakness should move, not thine anger, but love; Oh, thou should'st remember those moments, when she, Hath cheer'd thee, and seem'd like a form from above.

To thee for instruction, and strength she must cling,
For she does not pretend to be wise as thou art;
Her impulses flow from affection's warm spring,—
Her feelings are not from the head, but the heart.

Then why say she only by malice is stirred ?

No! even her failings from kindness descend; Oh, revoke the rude sentence, recall the harsh word, And Woman, henceforth, shall be ever thy friend. Mary Ann Brown,

GREGORY the Great, upon these words, (He shall teach you all things,) saith, "That unless the same spirit is present in the heart of the hearer, in vain is the discourse of the doctor; let no man then ascribe unto the man that teacheth, what he understands from

the mouth of him that speaketh, for unless he that teacheth be within, the tongue of the doctor that is without, laboureth in vain."

THE finest theory never yet carried any man to Heaven. A religion of notions which occupies the mind, without filling the heart, may obstruct, but cannot advance, the salvation of men. If these notions are false, they are most pernicious; if true and not operative, they aggravate the guilt; if unimportant though not unjust, they occupy the place which belongs to nobler objects, and sink the mind below its proper level; substituting the things which only ought not to be left undone, in the place of those which ought to be done; and causing the grand essentials not to be done at all. Such a religion is not that which Christ came to teach mankind.

All the doctrines of the Gospel are practical principles. The Holy Scriptures were written-the Son of God was not incarnate-the spirit of God was not given, only that Christians might have right views, and possess just notions. Religion is something more than mere correctness of intellect, justness of conception, and exactness of judgment. It is a life-giving principle. It must be infused into the habit, as well as govern in the understanding; it must regulate the will, as well as direct the creed. It must not only cast the opinions into a right frame, but the heart into a new mould. It is a transforming, as well as a penetrating principle,

It changes the tastes, gives activity to the inclinations, and, together with a new heart, produces a new life.

Christianity enjoins the same temper, the same spirit, the same dispositions, on all its real professors. The act, the performance, must depend on circumstances which do not depend on us. The power of doing good is withheld from many, from whom however, the reward will not be withheld. If the external act constituted the whole value of Christian virtue, then must the author of all good, be himself the author of injustice, by putting it out of the power of multitudes to fulfil his own commands. In principles, in tempers, in fervent desires, in holy endeavours, consist the very essence of Christian duty.

Nor must we fondly attach ourselves to the practice of some particular virtue, or value ourselves exclusively on some favourite quality; nor must we wrap ourselves up in the performance of some individual actions, as if they formed the sum of Christian duty. But we must embrace the whole law of God in all its aspects, bearings, and relations. We must bring no fancies, no partialities, no prejudices, no exclusive choice, or rejection, into our religion, but take it as we find it, and obey it as we receive it, as it is exhibited in the Bible, without addition, curtailment, or adulteration.

Nor must we pronounce on a character by a single action really bad, or apparently good; if so, Peter's denial would render him the object of our execration, while we should judge favourably of the prudent economy of Judas. The catastrophe of the latter, who

LL

does not know?-while the other became a glorious martyr to that Master whom, in a moment of infirmity, he had denied.

MANY of Lord Chesterfield's maxims would make a young man a mere man of pleasure; but an English gentleman should not be a mere man of pleasure. He has no right to such selfish indulgence. His ease, his leisure, his opulence, are debts due to his country, which he must ever stand ready to discharge. He should be a man at all points; simple, frank, courteous, intelligent, accomplished, and informed; upright, intrepid, and disinterested; one that can mingle among freemen; that can cope with statesmen; that can champion his country and its rights, either at home or abroad. In a country like England, where there is such free and unbounded scope for the exertion of intellect, and where opinion and example have such weight with the people, every gentleman of fortune and leisure should feel himself bound to employ himself in some way towards promoting the prosperity or glory of the nation. In a country where intellect and action are trammelled and restrained, men of rank and fortune may become idlers and triflers with impunity; but an English coxcomb is inexcusable; and this, perhaps, is the reason why he is the most offensive and insupportable coxcomb in the world. The squire would often hold forth in this manner to his sons, when they were about leaving the paternal roof: He used to have them with him in the library, which is hung with the portraits of Sydney,