ers.

Such is one of the anecdotes which a French writer has related of the early life of Martha Biget, whose subsequent career of benevolence corresponds with the promise of her childhood. During the bloody scenes of the French Revolution, she lived at Besançon, and her house was a place of refuge for old or sick people and children. She lived on brown bread and milk, in order to have more to give away. On the 23rd of March, 1805, a fire broke out in a small village near Besançon. Sister Martha (as she was commonly called) hastened to the spot, and did what she could to bring aid to the sufferA cottage, inhabited by a woman and two orphan children of whom she had charge, burned so rapidly, that despite of Martha's tears and entreaties, no one would venture to enter it. She offered everything she possessed as a bribe, but in vain. At length, feeble woman as she was, she rushed herself into the burning ruin, and, aided no doubt by the Divine assistance on which she relied, succeeded in rescuing the three helpless inmates. On another occasion, in 1807, while occupied in gathering medicinal herbs on the bank of the river Doubs, she heard a loud splash near her: it was a child of nine years old, the son of a poor shepherd, who had fallen into the water. Martha, without knowing how to swim, jumped in after him, and succeeded in rescuing the drowning child. Prisoners of war always excited her most active sympathy. There was at Besançon a sort of dépôt of sick and wounded prisoners, bolonging to almost every country in Europe. Martha worked for them, begged for them, and nursed them in their illness. Many a stout fellow was, through her kind offices, restored to the friends who wept for him on the banks of the Tagus, the Oder, or the Volga.

During the years 1813 and 1814, France was desolated by the horrors of war. Sister Martha braved all the dangers of the battle-field, to carry succour to the wounded, whether friends or enemies. She has been seen to approach them under the very mouth of the cannon, and after the bloodiest actions were ended, her place was in the field-hospitals. On one occasion, in 1814, the duke of Reggio met her, and said: "I have long been familiar with your name, madame; for whenever my soldiers are wounded, their first cry always is, 'Where is our sister Martha ? '

Shortly after this period she received what, to a disposition like hers, was the sweetest reward: she succeeded in obtaining the pardon of a poor conscript who had deserted, and who had been led out to be shot. Sister Martha, however, was not left without worldly honours. In 1801, the Agricultural Society of Besançon presented her with a silver medal, on which was inscribed, Homage to virtue. In 1815, the war minister sent her the decoration of a cross; and the same year the emperor of Russia sent her a gold medal. The king of Prussia caused one of his ministers, prince Hardenberg, to write her a letter of thanks for the care she had bestowed on the sick and wounded Prussian prisoners, and the letter was accompanied by an offering of one hundred pieces of gold. The emperor of Austria and the king of Spain sent her decorations. On his restoration to his throne,

The famine of 1817 exhausted all the treasury of presents which sister Martha had received. She found means, however, to distribute gratuitously to the poor, two thousand portions of soup every day. When the return of abundance put an end to the sufferings of the people, and when war had given place to peace, sister Martha retired to end her days in peaceful obscurity, and died on the 29th of March, 1824, aged seventy-six years.

How sweet it is to contemplate a career of benevolence in contrast with a life of selfishness. Especially delightful is it to do so when kindness flows from Christian principle, and is the fruit of love to God, the only motive which can be regarded with favour by the great Searcher of hearts.

THE LATE CENSUS.

II. FAMILIES AND HOUSES.

THE number of the male population, found and distinguished on the morning of March 31, 1851, was 10,386,048, and of the female 10,735,919: the women and girls thus exceeding the men and boys by 349,871. But as a number of the men were abroad with the army, or at sea, the females at home in Great Britain were in excess of the males by 512,361. This disparity in the proportion of the sexes at home was the greatest in Scotland110 females to 100 males; the least in England and Wales-104 females to 100 males. Fifty years ago, when the first regular enumeration of the people was taken, the proportion of the sexes was nearly the same. Thus, in 1801, there were 103,353 females to every 100,000 males, and in 1851, there were 103,369 females to the same number of the other sex.

The inhabitants of Great Britain were returned in 1801, with tolerable exactness, at 10,917,433; and consequently the return for 1851, of 21,121,967, shows that since the commencement of the present century, or after the lapse of fifty years, the nation has grown numerically stronger, nearly in the proportion of two to one. The Irish have entered the country in great numbers in the interval, settling in the metropolis, the sea-ports, and the manufacturing towns; but at the same time, a more considerable number of the purely British race have poured out of it, as emigrants to different parts of the world. During the five decennial periods, the average annual increase was about 147,518; 197,852; 216,150; 224,473; and 235,200. The annual rate of increase was the greatest in the interval from 1811 to 1821. Since that period, though the population has vastly augmented, the rate of increase has declined, owing to emigration, and the epidemics which have affected the public health, as influenza, cholera, and other diseases. Supposing the rate at which the people have multiplied through the five decennaries to continue uniform, there will be at the lapse of another half century, or in the year 1901, nearly forty-two millions of persons within our borders.

According to the English life-table, half a generation of men of all ages passes away in thirty years, and more than three in every four of their number die in half a century. It is hence inferred,

orphan and charity schools, amounting to 573, contained 46,731 inmates. The aggregate is 2017 public edifices in Great Britain, with 295,856 per

sons.

The occupiers of barges and vessels employed in the inland navigation, who slept on board their craft on the night of March 30th, and of sea-going vessels in port, amounted to 64,672.

In addition, the houseless class, comprising gipseys, beggars, strollers, vagabonds, vagrants and outcasts of various descriptions, with some honest and unfortunate people, numbered 18,249, of whom 9972 slept in barns, and 8277 in tents in the open air. But it was obviously impossible to enumerate accurately unsettled individuals, and the return may be regarded as below the actual number.

The man was anxious to sell his fish-that was evident. It was not so evident that we, that is, my housekeeper, speaking for herself and sundries, cared to have fish for dinner.

"How am I to know they are fresh ?" says the housekeeper.

"Look at the gills, ma'am," says the fish-man; 'they'll tell you. They were caught last night, and a'most alive when I put them in the basket. I wouldn't tell you a story.'

"I don't think we want fish to-day," said the housekeeper, doubtfully, but indifferently.

"I've just sold two shillings-worth at the clergyman's," replied the man, in a tone that plainly said, "There! you can't possibly help buying after that." It had its effect too.

"Well, what is the price ?"

"Six a shilling: beautiful full roes; look, ma'am."

"They were offered eight for a shilling last week."

"Yes, ma'am; I sold nine for a shilling last week; but that isn't this, you see, ma'am. I assure you the housekeeper at the clergyman's bought them, just now, six a shilling, without saying a word."

to the advertising columns, my eye catches a list of subscriptions to the Indisputable Benevolent Society. The first name on the list is Mr. A., who gives fifty pounds; the second is Mr. B.: he also gives fifty pounds; and Mr. C. does the same. Now there is a moral certainty that if Mr. A. had contented himself with giving twenty-five pounds, the Indisputable Benevolent Society would have lost two other twenty-fives in the diminished subscriptions of Messrs. B. and C.

A short time since, a young and ardent friend of ours undertook to obtain donations to a certain amount to defray the expenses of a Sunday-school. It was some time before she could get a name to begin with; but, once started, she got on famously. "It is all very good-yes, yes, an excellent object," said Mr. S.; "but-what does Mr. T. say to it? How much has Mr. U. given? I don't see any names on your card; what do you come to me first for ?" We may at once set Mr. S. down as an imitator.

A few days ago we called on our friend Frank K. He sat shivering in his study, with his hands benumbed and blue with cold, and a handsome chimney-board before his grate.

"Dreadful cold," he said, "for June; more like January."

"Very true. Why don't you take a run, and warm yourself?"

"I can't, you see. I must stick to work to-day, I have so much to do: though I can scarcely hold my pen."

Then why, in the name of common sense, don't you light your fire ?"

Why, it would look so. A fire in June!" But you say it is as cold as January." "And so it is. But then, you

by a fire this time of year."

"Yes, somebody does," said I.

see, nobody sits

"For instance,

I put a light to my fire this morning before I sat down to write.'

"You did?" exclaimed Frank, joyously, and with sudden alacrity springing from his seat; "then I will too." And no sooner said than done.

It would be very easy to multiply illustrations which would go to prove that the world is made up of leaders and followers, and that there are more followers than leaders. Go to a public meeting, for another instance, and you will find, in nine cases out of ten, where a speaker is "loudly ap plauded," that the applause begins with a solitary cheer, and gradually rises to a climax as one imitator after another chimes in with the chorus of claps. But for the adventurous leader who set the example, the wit or sprightliness of the speaker might have been lost to the intelligent audience.

It is not long since that we-that is to say, the present writer and his friend-read a book of many pages, and having come to the end, pronounced it emphatically and unhesitatingly "a stupid thing." Who conld have written it? We turned to the title-page, and, lo! it proved to be the work of a favourite and popular writer. It was amusing then to feel how irresistibly we veered round, and how sagely we found out that there was 66 something in it" after all. And when, soon afterwards, a review of the same work came before us, lauding it to the skies, we wondered what spirit of dulness

had come over us that we did not at once perceive its beauties. So much for following the leader.

To do as others do, and to think as others think, seems to be the rule: to think and to act for one's self seems to be the exception. Best so, perhaps, on the whole, and in matters of small moment. And yet there is a danger-a danger of laziness. To think requires an effort, and when we can get another to think for us it saves trouble. A danger of cowardice. To be singular in thought or action, exposes to ridicule. We don't like ridicule; we are afraid of it. A danger of folly. Folly has its leaders, and they have their imitators-shoals of them.

It is not well when we follow even a multitude to do evil. It is not well for a youth to begin to break the sabbath, to treat the Bible with neglect, and his parents with contempt to walk in the counsel of the ungodly, and stand in the way of sinners, and sit in the seat of the scornful -because others do these things. It is not well for a man to waste his time, ruin his character and prospects, sap the foundation of his health, and consequently shorten his life, and eventually lose his own soul, because others do so. But it is well to "be followers of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises"-well, to walk in His footsteps, whose life is our best example, whether we walk there alone or in company.

It is well, too, to cultivate and encourage in ourselves a certain independence of mind which, while it will keep us from being singular for singularity's sake, will take us, in little things as well as in matters of higher moment, and once for all, out of the catalogue of servile imitators. Seeing, however, that there are so many imitators in the world, and that every person, while a follower of some, is also a leader of others, it is well to "walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise."

THE MOTTO OF THE SUN-DIAL. THERE are probably still many persons who, although belonging to a past generation, still linger among us, and may happen to remember the sun-dial which some time since stood upon the Middle Temple, and whose singular motto was accustomed to give such peremptory advice to those who looked up into its face for information respecting the flight of time. The building of which it was so useful an adjunct and ornament has been now for years razed to the ground, and with it has perished the useful monitor in question. To those who have never seen it, or heard the curious history of its origin, the account may not be unacceptable.

We no longer require sun-dials to mark the hour. In these days of improvement, there is scarcely a street in the great metropolis that does not afford the public the means of ascertaining the progress of time; while by night as well as by day the towers of our churches supply us with ample opportunities of measuring the advance and departure of that possession which is bestowed upon all, but which so few know how to use as they ought. But at the period to which we are referring, illuminated clocks were unknown; and if one of these trans

parent time-keepers had suddenly shone forth upon the darkness of our forefathers, the fabled Cyclops himself, that "monstrum, horrendum ingens," could not have produced more amazement with his immense solitary orb of vision. Clocks of any kind were then rarely seen in public, and the people generally were content to learn the hour of the day from the face of a sun-dial, when and where it was possible for them to do so. Great was the boon, therefore, conferred by any individual or public body who undertook to place one of these instruments of horology where it could be easily approached, and loud were the encomiums passed upon the Honourable Society of Benchers, when, in their generosity, they determined to erect one, and that too of an horizontal form, upon the walls of the Middle Temple, where it appeared to be particularly required.

The order was given to the most celebrated manufacturer to prepare one worthy the Society and the place. In due course the instrument was constructed, and all was ready for its public exposure, with the exception of that without which no sun-dial would be considered complete, namely, a suitable and appropriate motto. In order to be furnished with this, the manufacturer was desired to wait upon the benchers at the Temple, on an appointed day and hour. It so happened that, being unable to attend in person, he sent his foreman, a plain, matter-of-fact man of business. When he came, according to instructions, he was surprised to find that the benchers had separated without at all recollecting either the appointment or the motto. He found there only one learned member, who appeared to know little and care less about the entire affair, and who had manifestly been annoyed about something or other just at the moment when the man was ushered into his au gust presence. The foreman was very abruptly asked what he wanted.

"Please, sir," said the man, a little confused at the mode in which he was addressed, “my master sent me for the motto."

66

Motto, motto-what motto? I know nothing of a motto," said the bencher.

"The motto for the sun-dial, please, sir," said the man, "which your honours promised to have ready."

"I told you," said the honourable bencher, “I know nothing about any motto, or sun-dial either. You should have been here much sooner. I cannot be delayed by you any longer. Begone about your business."

The man, abashed, at once withdrew, and returned to his master, who was anxiously waiting for the promised inscription.

'Well, John," said he, "have you seen the gentlemen ?"

were adorned with a first-rate sun-dial, on which stood out, in large and attractive letters, the sage and appropriate motto

"BEGONE ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS."

A capital motto it was too! God has given every man his work, and the time to do it in; and happy are those who can always make the hour and its duty go hand in hand.

CURIOUS PETRIFACTIONS.

THE seashore on the coast of Syria is almost entirely void of attraction for such as love the study of conchology; but few specimens of shells are to be obtained, and these few are small, uninteresting, and imperfect, being almost invariably broken from the force with which they are dashed by the waves against the shingly beach of these parts. This is more particularly the case with Alexandretta, where the only things ever washed up to gratify curiosity, with one single exception, may be said to be huge logs of wood, decayed branches of trees, and an occasional old shoe, thrown overboard by some reckless mariner, on whose huge foot it had seen good service. One solitary exception, however, there is to this state of things, which is quite a treasure-trove to curiosity-hunters; though, singularly enough, it is only to be procured at a certain season, while sometimes a period of two or three years will intervene between the times of its emergement from its dark ocean-home.

It was in the month of August, 1844, that, whilst taking our customary evening stroll along the beach at Alexandretta, our attention was first attracted by the appearance of numerous little stones, which, from their bright polish, had evidently been freshly washed up by the sea, and out of which grew innumerable little flowers, almost all of an uniform height and size, and consisting simply of the stem, about an inch and a half in height, and the flower, in shape and size resembling the wild forget-me-not. There were no leaves, neither were any signs to be seen of little fibrous branches. We gathered as many of these as we could conveniently carry; and, strange to say, though the flowers were of very fragile texture, scarcely one out of the many specimens we collected had been at all injured, or was in any respect imperfect. On examining these submarine plants the following day, we found the matter on which the flowers had sprung up to consist of fragments of shells, pebbles, sand, gravel, and what had every appearance of having been small twigs of thorns and other bushes; the whole of which, however, had in process of time become cemented together, or, rather, the various substances had run into one another, and every particle of it, the flowers and their stems included, was in a most perfect state of petrifaction. On breaking some of the stones with a hammer, the whole interior displayed the same variety of amalgamated substances as the exterior, being covered with veins that indicated not only the form, but the marks, and even the colour, of the various particles of this petrifuginous composition; while in some instances, a small fibrous way was left to indicate where the roots of the little plants had pene

trated, probably in their pristine state of vegetation. The flower and the stem were like alabaster, and were easily reduced to the finest powder. A minute inspection of the flower, and the exact similitude it bore, in all respects except colour, to the common wild forget-me-not, has often led me into vague and unsatisfactory speculations on the hidden productions of the fathomless ocean, during which I have wondered whether the bottom of the sea produces as great a variety of weeds and plants as the wide earth we live upon!

Many of these petrified flowers we kept for years under a glass-case. In August, 1845, (the year following our first discovery of these submarine flowers,) we searched in vain for them; they came not; but in August, 1846, they were as plentiful as before, after which they were seen no more till late in the same month of 1849.

THE BEST MAINSPRING.-Love to Christ is a motive equal to all emergencies. There is a ruling passion in every man's mind, and when every thing else has lost its power, this ruling passion retains its influence. When they were probing among the shattered ribs for the fatal bullet, the French veteran exclaimed: "A little deeper, and you will find the emperor." The deepest affection in a believing soul is the love of its Saviour. Deeper than the love of home or kindred, deeper than the love of rest and recreation, deeper than the love of life, is the love of Jesus. And so when other spells have lost their magic, when no name of old endearment, no voice of on-waiting tenderness can disperse the lethargy of dissolution, the name that is above every name, pronounced by one who knows it, will kindle its lost animation in the eye of death. There is a love to Jesus which refuses to let a much-loved Saviour go, even when the palsied arm of affection is no longer conscious of the benignant form it embraces. Love to Jesus is religion. Love to Jesus is essential and vital Christianity.-Life in Earnest.

A BILLION.-Few people have any conception of the stupendous sum which is designated by this term. Some writer having stated, in an article headed "What becomes of all the Pins ?" that millions of billions of pins must vanish, nobody can tell how, or where, in the course of a year, 'Euclid," a correspondent of the "National Intelligencer," shows up the absurdity of the assertion in the following style: "I think, sirs, the author of that article thought little of what he was saying, when he said that millions of billions must vanish in the course of a year. Many pins, undoubtedly, vanish every year; but any mathematician will demonstrate to us that a single billion has never yet been manufactured. A billion, according to Noah Webster, is a million of millions''-a number so vast, I say, that the human mind has not the capacity to comprehend it. A manufactory making one hundred pins a minute, and kept in constant operation, would only make fifty-two millions five hundred and ninety-six thousand per annum, and would require nearly twenty thousand years, at the same ratio, without a single moment's cessation, to make that number called a billion."