PENCILED PASSAGES.

FROM VARIOUS AUTHORS.

WITH what object do you read? A simple question, but one that many never pause to answer. If they did, it is very possible that the answer would not be gratifying to their self-respect or even to their vanity. As a preface to our gatherings for the present month here are, from Dr. Hawes's Lectures, a few

HINTS ON PROFITABLE READING.

It is often said that man does not know his weakness. It is quite as true that he does not know his strength. Multitudes fail to accomplish what they might, because they have not due confidence in their powers, and do not know what they are capable of accomplishing. Hence they yield their understanding to the dictation of others, and never think or act for themselves. The only use they make of reading is to remember and repeat the sentiments of their author.

This is an error. When you sit down to the reading of a book, believe that you are able to understand the subject on which it treats, and resolve that you will understand it. If it calls you to a severe effort, so much the better. The mind, like the body, is strengthened by exercise, and the severer the exercise, the greater the increase of strength. One hour of thorough close application to study does more to invigorate and improve the mind, than a week spent in the ordinary exercise of its powers. Call no man master. Yield not your minds to the passive impressions which others may please to make upon them. Hear what they have to say examine it, weigh it; and then judge for yoursolves. This will enable you to make a right use of books: to use them as helpers, not as guides, to your understanding; as counselors, not as dictators, of what you are to think and believe.

THE CENTRAL GLORY OF THE UNIVERSE.

DR. GUTHRIE says, with no less of truthfulness than of beauty:

Here at the cross is the place in the great universe, from which God and his attributes may be best beheld and studied. It corresponds to that one spot in a noble cathedral lying right beneath the lofty dome, where the spectator, commanding all the grandest features of the edifice, is instructed to look around him if he would see the monument of its architect. I scale bartizan or tower to embrace at one view the map of a mighty city. Or I climb the sides of some lofty hill to survey the landscape that lies in beauty at its foot. And had I the universe to range over, where should I go to obtain the fullest exhibition of the Godhead? Shall I soar on angel-wings to the heights of heaven, to look on its happiness and listen to angels' hymns? Shall I cleave the darkness, and, sailing round the edge of the fiery gulf, listen to the wail and weep over the misery of the lost? No; turning from the sunny heights and doleful regions, I would remain in this world of ours, and traveling on a pilgrimage to Palestine, would stand beneath the dome of heaven with my feet on Calvary. On that consecrated spot, where the cross of salvation rose, and the blood of a Redeemer fell, I find the center of a spiritual universe. Here the hosts of heaven descended to acquaint themselves with God in Christ. Here, concentrated as in a burning focus, his varied attributes flow and shine.

THE TRUE MAGNET.

HERE is a simple illustration practically applied, and worthy to be pondered by those who would "preach not themselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord." It is from that veteran minister, JOHN ANGELL JAMES:

The power of the magnet gains nothing from the gilder's or the graver's art; its attraction lies in itself, and is diminished by foreign accretions. So it is with that greatest of all magnets, of which Christ spake when he said, "And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me." We may draw men to ourselves by genius, eloquence, eccentricity, but we can draw men to Christ only by the attraction of the cross.

DEPARTED SPIRITS.

THE truth of the adage that there is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous is well illustrated by the absurd fooleries of rapping and table-turning, attributed to the denizens of the other world. On this subject, and more especially with reference to the spirits of the departed, WASHINGTON IRYING says:

My mind has been crowded by fancies concerning these beings. Are there indeed such beings? Is this space between us and the Deity filled up by innumerable orders of spiritual beings, forming the same gradations between the human soul and Divine perfection, that we see prevailing from humanity down to the inerest insect? It is a sublime and beautiful doctrine of the early fathers, that there are guardian angels appointed to watch over cities and nations, to take care of good men, and to guard and guide the steps of helpless infancy. Even the doctrine of departed spirits returning to visit the scenes and beings which were dear to them during the body's existence, though it has been debased by the absurd superstitions of the vulgar, in itself is awfully solemn and sublime.

THE PURITANS OF NEW ENGLAND

Have had many defamers, and, perhaps, as many eulogists. Of the latter, none have spoken with more truthful eloquence than E. P. WHIPPLE, one of their illustrious descendants:

The Puritans! there is a charm in that word which will never be lost upon a New England ear. It is olosely associated with all that is great in New England history. It is hallowed by a thousand memories of obstacles overthrown, of dangers nobly braved, of sufferings unshrinkingly borne in the service of religion and freedom. It kindles at once the pride of ancestry, and inspires the deepest feelings of national veneration. It points to examples of valor in all its modes of manifestation; in the hall of debate, on the field of battle, before the tribunal of power, at the martyr's stake. It is a name which will never die out of New England hearts. Wherever virtue resists temptation, wherever men meet death for the sake of religion, wherever the gilded baseness of the world stands abashed before conscientious principle, there will be the spirit of the Puritans. They have left deep and broad marks of their influence on human society. Their children, in all times, will rise up and

call them blessed. A thousand witnesses of their courage, their industry, their sagacity, their invincible perseverance in well-doing, their love of free institutions, their respect for justice, their hatred of wrong, are all around us, and bear grateful evidence daily to their memory. We cannot forget them, even if we had sufficient baseness to wish it. Every spot of New England earth has a story to tell of them; every cherished institution of New England society bears the print of their minds. The strongest element of New England character has been transmitted with their blood. So intense is our sense of affiliation with their nature, that we speak of them as our "fathers." Though their fame every where else were weighed down with cal

umny and hatred, though the principles for which they

contended, and the noble deeds which they performed, should become the scoff of sycophants and oppressors, and be blackened by the smooth falsehoods of the cold and the selfish, there never will be wanting hearts in New England to kindle at their virtues, nor tongues and pens to vindicate their name.

THE DEAD ARE OURS.

THE thought is not new, but was never uttered in more fitting language than by the author of "Quiet Hours:"

What God takes from us it is always gain to lose. He gives back to us our friends more deeply, more tenderly, more sacredly, after they have been taken from us by death. When they become wholly his, they become more intimately ours. The intimacy before death pertains more to the flesh and its senses; after death it pertains more to the spirit and its inmost affections. It is as though God gave them to us out of his own bosom, with the holiness and fragrance of the Divine nature added to them. By death they become too chaste, too heavenly, for our light moods and our common hours; they visit us only in our holiest moments. They act upon us, therefore, as motives to prayer, watchfulness, and retirement of spirit. They greatly befriend our best interests. As the Lord

before his death was "with" his friends, but afterward "in" them; so our holiest friends help us the more when they put off flesh and are no more seen.

SEEING THE INVISIBLE.

JOHN FOSTER, speaking of the faith by which "the Invisible appears in sight," thus meets an objection sometimes urged against the doctrine:

If it were a thing which we might be allowed to imagine, that the Divine Being were to become manifest in some striking manner to the senses, as by some resplendent appearance at the midnight hour, or by rekindling on an elevated mountain the long-extinguished fires of Sinai, and uttering voices from those fires, would he not compel from you an attention which you now refuse? Yes, you will say, he would then seize the mind with irresistible force, and religion would become its most absolute sentiment; but he only presents himself to faith. Well, and is it a worthy reason for disregarding him, that you only believe him to be present and infinitely glorious? Is it the office

of faith to vail or annihilate its object? Cannot you reflect that the grandest representation of a spiritual and Divine being to the senses would bear, not only no proportion to his glory, but no relation to his nature, and could be adapted only to an inferior dispensation of religion, and to a people who, with the exception of a most extremely small number of men, had been to

and, in this respect at least, she resembles the Nazarene who went about doing good:

Tell me not of the trim, precisely-arranged homes where there are no children, "where," as the good Germans have it, "the fly-traps always hang straight on the wall;" tell me not of the never disturbed nights and days, of the tranquil, unanxious hearts where children are not; I care not for these things. God sends children for another purpose than merely to keep up the race; to enlarge our hearts; to make us unselfish, and full of kindly sympathies and affections; to give our souls higher aims, and to call out all our faculties to extended enterprise and exertion; to bring round our fireside bright faces, and happy smiles, and loving, tender hearts. My soul blesses the great Father every day that he has gladdened the earth with little children.

THE BRITISH PULPIT.

AN Edinburgh reviewer thus comes to the defense of the clergy of the present day; and, albeit with a little touch of the satirical, insinuating not only the characteristic faults, but the remedy:

Malignity itself cannot accuse our pulpits and theological presses of beguiling us by the witchcraft of genius. They stand clear of the guilt of ministering to the disordered heart the anodynes of wit or fancy. Abstruse and profound sophistries are not in the numthem of lulling the conscience to repose by any siren ber of their offenses. It is mere calumny to accuse songs of imagination. If the bolts of inspired truth are diverted from their aim, it is no longer by enticing words of man's wisdom. Divinity fills up her weekly hour by the grave and gentle excitement of an orthodox discourse, or by toiling through her narrow round of systematic dogmas, or by creeping along some low level of school-boy morality, or by addressing the initiated in mythic phraseology; but she has ceased to employ lips such as those of Chrysostom and Bourdaloue. The sanctity of sacred things is lost in the familiar routine of sacred words. Religion has acquired a technology, and a set of conventional formularies, torpifying those who use and those who hear them.

FORGIVENESS.

A BEAUTIFUL gem of oriental literature is quoted by Sir William Jones from the Persian poet, Sadi:

The sandal-tree perfumes, when riven,
The axe that laid it low;

Let man, who hopes to be forgiven,
Forgive and bless his foe.

The National Magazine.

OCTOBER, 1857.

EDITORIAL NOTES AND GLEANINGS.

TO PLEASE EVERYBODY is a task difficult in all cases; in the editorial management of a periodical, impossible. Indeed, if an editor succeeds in pleasing himself, it is quite as much as he has a right to expect, and in a great many instances it is more than he is able to accomplish. Let not correspondents wonder, then, if their wishes are not always complied with, nor readers think it a strange thing if occasionally they meet with an article or a paragraph that is not exactly in accordance with their own taste. The editor shares the affliction with

them, but relieves himself by reflecting that it takes all sorts of people to make up a world, and that in the circle of his readers there is almost every variety of taste and prejudice. We have frequent illustrations of this fact. By the same mail we have had letters applauding and censuring the same article. Occasionally a subscriber is so sensitive as to threaten

discontinuance because of a few lines which do not exactly square with his own notions; and now and then a correspondent pours upon us a phial of wrath because of the rejection or abbreviation of his article. In the general, however, we are on the best of terms with all our patrons, in which category we include those who write for us, and those who read what is written. The great mass have too much good sense to take offense where none is intended, or to expect from an editor the impossibility of always pleasing everybody.

WANTON DESTRUCTION OF LIFE. The cele

brated botanist, Pursh, in one of his rambles in the Western wilderness, took a long nap under the grateful shade of a large tree, far away from the dwellings of men. On awaking he saw, to his unutterable horror, a large rattlesnake coiled up within a few feet of him. The botanist started up and quietly proceeded, unharmed, upon his journey. But, said one, to whom he related the adventure, did you not return and kill the snake? No, indeed, was the calm reply. He spared my life, and I could not find it in my heart to take his. God made us both. This little incident was recalled by a statement in one of the country papers that a Mr. Aiken had shot a beautiful swan somewhere in the State of Michigan, which the editor chronicled as a feat worthy of commendation. The Albany Register, copying the statement, comments upon it on this wise:

"We do not think Mr. Aiken did a thing to boast of in shooting that beautiful swan.' What had that swan done to him; what wrong had it committed; what harm to any living or dead thing, that he should take away its life? It was trespassing upon nobody's possessions. It was where it had a perfect right to be. It was in its own domain, and its charter was given it by the Deity himself. It was just where nature intended it should be, where its instincts taught it to go. It was a harmless bird. It interfered with the rights of no living thing. It was not a bird of prey. It had

nothing to do with carnage. It simply floated upon the river, a buoyant and beautiful thing, one of the ornaments fashioned by the great Creator to beautify

and adorn the waste of waters. By what right, then, did Mr. Aiken take away its innocent life? Whence did he derive authority to slaughter that beautiful bird with a ruthless and cruel hand? Shame on Mr. Aiken! It was a wanton shedding of innocent blood. Shame on every man who kills without purpose, slays without necessity, any of the harmless and beautiful things of God! It was a cowardly thing in Mr. Aiken to steal like a thief upon the security of its victim. and then, like an assassin, strike it to death in an un

guarded moment. It was a savage and inhuman act

in Mr. Aiken to kill that beautiful bird. An honesthearted man would not have done it. Shame on Mr. Aiken! Nature and humanity cry, Shame upon him!

SUICIDE IN FRANCE.-M. Lisle, a member of the Imperial Academy of Medicine of France, has written a very able work on suicide, in which he conclusively proves that, so far as his investigations are concerned, they are far from corroboratory of the opinion of Montesquieu and the national Gallic belief touching the mortal ennui and the suicidal monomania of England. It appears from his statement that there were in France, from 1836 to 1852 inclusive, 52,126 suicides, or a mean of 3,066 a year; the numbers rising steadily from 2,340 in 1836, to 3,674

in 1852. From 1827 to 1830 the mean number had been only 1,800 a year. Before 1836 the inhabitants; in 1836 it was one for 1,420. proportion was one suicide for every 17,693

In

In 1852 it had risen to one for 9,340. 1838 and 1839 England had one suicide for every 15,900 inhabitants; France, one for every 12,489. Between London and Paris, for markable, the figures being, for London, one in the same years, the difference is yet more re8,250; and for Paris, one in 2,221. This is surely a sufficiently distinct contradiction to the generally received opinion.

The north of France is the most prolific in suicides; nearly half of the whole number belongs to the north, which has increased its own ratio by one third. The north has one in 6,483; the east, one in 13,855; the south, one includes Paris, has risen with frightful rapidin 20,457. The department of the Seine, which ity; but Paris and Marseilles, and all large centers, are the foci of suicides to a very striking extent. Russia stands the lowest of European states in the scale, her suicides being only one in 49,182; while Prussia has one in 14,404; Austria, one in 20,900; New York, one in 7,797; Boston, one in 12,500; Baltimore, one in 13,650; and Philadelphia, one in 11,873.

Climate has not much to do with the matter. tion is one in 38,882; from 54 deg. to 64 deg., In latitude from 42 deg. to 54 deg. the proporone in 56,577. Yet the last figures include much more rigorous, damp, uncertain, and joyMoscow and St. Petersburg, and represent a less climate than the first. Certainly the low condition of civilization between these latitudes influence the statistics to the full as much as any other assigned or assignable cause: but that mere temperature and climate have little to do with the question is proved by the average number of suicides occurring in the different months of the year of France, which are highest in the sunniest, brightest, and most enjoyable seasons. We cannot refrain from giving the table entire; it opens a view so The list is the average of seventeen years' very different from the one popularly received. computation.

For January, the mean number of these seventeen years gives 3,761; for February, 3,529; for March, 4,423; for April, 4,872; May, 5,436; June, 5,722; July, 5,517; August, 4,652; September, 3,959; October, 3,845; November, 3,282; December, 3,227.

In age, the rate increases gradually from under sixteen up to forty, when it slowly decreases to eighty and upward. The mass occurs in middle age; but there has been recently a noticeable increase of suicides by children, which are now sevenfold what they were thirty years ago for children under sixteen years of age, twelve times as many for youths from sixteen to twenty. Esquirol says:

One youth leaves a writing before killing himself, in which he bitterly blames his parents for the educa tion they have given him; another blasphemes God and society; a third kills himself 'because he has not enough air to breathe with ease:' two young men of letters, at the age of twenty-one each, suffocate themselves with charcoal, because a theatrical piece which they have composed together has not succeeded; a child of thirteen hangs himself, and leaves a document beginning: 'I bequeath my soul to Rousseau, and my body to the earth; one of twelve hangs himself for rage at being only the twelfth in a school exercise where he expected a better place; and another, of thirteen, hangs himself in a cell where he was unjustly

confined."

What a painful mass of ill-regulated passion

and misdirected life lies in those few lines!

THE QUEEN AND THE QUAKERESS.-We take the following amusing account of a visit paid by her late Majesty, Queen Charlotte, while staying at Bath, a celebrated watering place, from an English periodical. The time spoken

of was the summer of 1815:

"The waters soon effected such a respite from pain in the royal patient that she proposed an excursion to a park of some celebrity in the neighborhood, then the estate of a rich widow lady belonging to the Society of Friends. Notice was given of the queen's intention, and a message returned that she would be welcome. Our illustrious traveler had, perhaps, never before any personal intercourse with a member of the persuasion whose votaries never voluntarily paid taxes to the man George, called king by the vain ones. The lady and gentleman who were to attend the royal visitants had but feeble ideas of the reception to be expected. It was supposed that the Quaker would, at least, say "Thy Majesty,' Thy Highness,' or 'Madame.'

"The royal carriage arrived at the lodge of the park punctually at the appointed hour. No preparations appeared to have been made; no hostess or domestics stood ready to grect the guest. The porter's bell was rung; he stepped forth deliberately with his broad brimmed beaver on, and unbendingly accosted the lord in waiting with, 'What's thy will, friend?'

"This was almost unreasonable. Surely,' said the nobleman, 'your mistress is aware that her majestygo to your mistress and say that the queen is here.' "No, truly,' answered the man, 'it needeth not I have no mistress or lady; but my friend Rachel Mills expects thine. Walk in.'

"The queen and the princess were handed out, and walked up the avenue. At the door of the house stood the plainly attired Rachel, who, without even a courtesy, but with a cheerful nod, said, How's thee do, friend? I am glad to see thee and thy daughter. I wish thee well. Rest and refresh thee and thy people, before I show thee my grounds.'

"What could be said to such a person? Some condescension was attempted, implying that her majesty came not only to view the park, but to testify her esteem for the society to which Mistress Mills belonged. Cool and unawed, she said, 'Yes, thou art right there. The Friends are well thought of by most folks; but they need not the praise of the world; for the rest, many strangers gratify their curiosity by going over this place, and it is my custom to conduct them myself; therefore I will do the like by thee, friend Charlotte. Moreover, I think well of thee, as a dutiful

wife and mother. Thou hast had thy trials, and so has thy good partner. I wish thy grandchild well through hers.' [She alluded to the Princess Charlotte.]

"It was so evident that the Friends meant kindly, nay, respectfully, that no offense could be taken. She escorted her guests through the estate. The Princess Elizabeth noticed in the hen house a breed of poultry hitherto unknown to her, and expressed a wish to possess some of these rare fowls, imagining that Mrs. Mills would regard her wish as law; but the Quakeress merely remarked, with her characteristic evasion, purchased in this land or other countries, I know of They are rare, as thou sayest; but if they are to be few women likelier than thyself to procure them with ease."

"Her royal highness more plainly expressed her desire to purchase some of those which she now beheld. "I do not buy and sell,' answered Rachel.

"Perhaps you will give me a pair ?' observed the princess.

"Nay, verily,' replied Rachel Mills, 'I have refused many friends; and that which I denied to my own kinswoman, Martha Ash, it becometh me not to grant to any. We have long had it to say that these birds belonged only to our house; and I can make no exception in thy favor.""

EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.-Lord Brougham gives it as his opinion that the child learns more the first eighteen months of its life than at any other period; in fact, settling its mental capacity and future well-being. Dr. Babbington states the period of the first nine years as the seed-time for life. The Roman Catholic

priest wants the child for the first seven years of training, when its character is molded for time and eternity. If the early training of the child is of such paramount importance, should not those who naturally have the care of infants

and young children, mothers and nurses, be thor oughly instructed themselves before undertaking this great work of educators? Who will

establish a school for children's nurses? It is more needed in our country than institutions for idiots.

Robert Browning is the fortunate possessor of one of the two locks of Milton's hair now in existence. They have fallen into the right hands. Both originally belonged to Leigh Hunt, who divided his treasure with Browning, asking in exchange a lock of Mrs. Browning's and his hair. It would be difficult to decide on which side the compliment was most delicate and fitting. Milton's hair came to Hunt from Dr. Johnson's family, with a lock, also, of the astute critic's, who received it directly from the descendants of the republican poet himself. Its genuineness is beyond impeachment, and it has been always in the keeping of great and kindred souls; so that, both from its origin and subsequent associations, I look upon this relic as one of the most precious and suggestive that exists of the material existence of one of earth's noblest souls.

A SHREWD DECISION of ALI, CALIPH OF BAGDAD. In the Preliminary Dissertation to Richardson's " Arabic Dictionary," 2 vols. 4to, 1806, the following curious anecdote is recorded:

"Two Arabians sat down to dinner: one had five loaves, the other three. A stranger passing by desired permission to eat with them, which they agreed to. The stranger dined, laid down eight pieces of money, and departed. The proprietor of the five loaves took up five pieces, and left three for the other, who objected, and insisted on having one half. The cause came before Ali, who gave the following judgment: 'Let the owner of the five loaves have seven pieces of

money, and the owner of the three loaves one; for, if we divide the eight loaves by three, they make twentyfour parts; of which he who laid down the five loaves had fifteen, while he who laid down three had only nine; as all fared alike, and eight shares was each man's proportion, the stranger ate seven parts of the first man's property, and only one belonging to the other; the money, in justice, must be divided accordingly."

STAR-GAZING MADE EASY.-The Scientific American gives a very simple mode of examining the satellites of the planet Jupiter. On a clear night take a looking-glass, and, either at the window or out of doors, so place it as to receive the impression of the planet. By a close examination of the planet as reflected in the glass, all its satellites will also be observed, provided none of them are eclipsed. It is rather

lites can thus be seen, while they cannot be seen with the naked eye, that neither Venus nor the Moon can be seen as distinctly by reflection as they can by observing them with the naked eye.

"The Rev. M. Baillargeon, Curé of St. Nicholas, before a single soul perished, gave absolution to all the unfortunate passengers. He was in his own parish on the opposite shore of the St. Lawrence, observed the danger in which the lives of those on board were, and pronounced the absolution."

SUITING THE ACTION TO THE WORD.-The latest pulpit anecdote we have seen is the following, illustrative of the manner in which the celebrated preacher, Spurgeon, in London, attracts attention:

"Upon one occasion, he told the assembled multitude that the way to hell was smooth and easy, like this,' said he; and he straightway opened the pulpit door, put his foot over the banister, and slid down, as you have often seen little boys do. He then stopped for a moment, and said, 'But the way to heaven is hard, like this;' and pulled himself up again, which was rather difficult; but the congregation received this practical illustration with great applause."

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DEATH IN LIFE.-The following is from an article by Oliver W. Holmes, in the last number of the North American review:

"If the reader of this paper live another complete year, his self-conscious principle will have migrated from its present tenement to another, the raw material even of which are not as yet put together. A portion of that body of his which is to be, will ripen in the corn of the next harvest. Another portion of his future person he will purchase, or others will purchase for him, headed up in the form of certain barrels of potatoes. A third fraction is yet to be gathered in a Southern rice field. The limbs with which he is then to walk will be clad with flesh borrowed from the tenants of many stalls and pastures, now unconscious of their doom. The very organs of speech with which he is to talk so wisely, plead so eloquently, or preach so effectively, must first serve his humbler brethren to bleat, to bellow, and for all the varied utterances of bristled or feathered barn-yard life. His bones themselves are, to a great extent, in posse, and not in esse. "A bag of phosphate of lime which he has ordered from Professor Mapes, for his grounds, contains a large part of what it is to be his next year's skeleton. And more than all this, and by far the greater part of his body is nothing, after all, but water, the main substance of his scattered members is to be looked for in the reservoir, in the running streams, at the bottom of the well, in the clouds that float over his head, or diffused among them all."

INGENIOUS EXAMPLE.-The difficulty of applying rules to the pronunciation of our language may be illustrated in two lines, where combination of the letters ough is pronounced in no less than seven different ways, viz., as o, uf, of, up, ow, oo, and ock.

"Though the tough cough and hiccough plough me through,

O'er life's dark lough my course I still pursue.

BOSSUET AND MASSILLON.-The following passage from the journal of Le Dieu, illustrates the contrast between the mode of delivery adopted by Bossuet and by Massillon. The latter used to say that his best sermon was that which he knew the best. He committed accurately, and the less the memory had to exert itself, the more freedom was gained for feeling and for action. But no two of Bossuet's sermons were exactly alike in phraseology. Even when they were most carefully written, he could not feel at ease unless, by means of marginal variations, he had the choice between two or three modes of expression, from which he might select according to the state in which he saw his audience. Thus it will be seen that Bossuet conformed much more nearly than his great cotemporary to the method recommended by Fénélon, in his masterly Dialogues on Eloquence:

HOW BOSSUET PREPARED HIS SERMONS.

"He was determined in his choice of a subject by the consideration of persons, place, and time. Like the holy fathers, he adapted his instructions or his rebukes to the present wants of his hearers. Hence it was that throughout an Advent or a Lent he could only prepare during the interval between one sermon and another. Accordingly, he never understood those great Lenten courses in which it is customary to preach every day. He could not have supported the labor; so intense was his application, and so animated his delivery. When at work, he would put on paper his plan, his text, his proofs, either in French or Latin, indifferently, without troubling himself about the language, turns of expression, or figures of speech. I have heard him say a hundred times than any other method would have rendered his delivery feeble, and taken the life and force out of his sermon.

"On this unformed material he used to meditate profoundly during the morning of the day on which he had to preach, and most frequently, without writing anything additional, in order not to interrupt his thoughts; for his imagination was far more rapid than his pen.

"When master of the thoughts which had presented themselves, he fixed in his memory the very expressions ho intended to use. Then, in a meditation during the afternoon, he went over his sermon in his head, reading it with the eye of his mind, as though it had been set down on paper, altering, adding, and retrenching, as though pen in hand. Finally, when in the pulpit, and during the delivery, he followed the impression of his words on the congregation, and in an instant, mentally canceling what he had prepared, and giving himself to the thought of the moment, would press home that part by which (as the faces told him) their hearts were softened or alarmed."

THE GOLDEN TOотн.-In 1593 it was reported that a Silesian child, seven years old, had lost all its teeth, and that a golden tooth had grown One in the place of a natural double one. learned man after another wrote volumes on