fun, and constancy or inconstancy in love are sung everywhere. He is the beau idéal of a careless, utterly brave, jovial hero. We weep over his troubles, admire him in the storm, rejoice with him on shore, and tremble for him in the battle. And what is the best of all this is the fact that Jack knows we do so. When he fights he knows that all the nation is looking on, and that he will receive the love, sympathy, and applause of every one. To this end Dibdin's book of Sea Songs has more than any other thing contributed, But, beyond improving nations, books have improved the human race. "It is a blessed thing,” says an author, "to write books which shall abate prejudices, and unlock the human heart, and make the kindly sympathies flow." Blessed indeed! and such writers are more than kings and priests; for they rule over loving and willing subjects, and they minister within the sacred precincts of the heart itself. "Of all priesthoods, aristocracies, and governing classes at present extant in the world,” wrote Carlyle, “there is no class comparable, for its importance, to the priesthood of the writers of books." It is true that this priesthood is of no Church, and is not in orders; but it is not the less important on that account. What a power does a writer hold who addresses every week, or every day, or month, a larger congregation than a hundred churches could hold! There are many writers of the present day who address as many, nay, more than the number indicated, if we put it at its largest.

This importance of the priesthood of letters is carried yet further if we remember that the words of a preacher fall on our ears and are often forgotten, while those of the writer remain. Ink-stains are difficult to get out there is nothing

so imperishable as a book. "They shall outlive the brazen monuments of kings," said the young Shakspere of his own verses. "I have built a monument," said Horace, "which is more lasting than brass,” or bronze, or iron. And it was on account of their transmissive qualities that Lord Bacon likened books to ships. "If," said that wise man, "ships are to be commended, how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships, pass through the vast seas of Time, and make ages so distant participate in the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions one of the other!" Dear, precious indeed are books; great are the good writers thereof; but at the same time these latter are to be held accountable as stewards for the right use of their rich talents. Wonderfully beautiful, therefore, is that prayer in Bailey's Festus-a prayer which, let us hope, many people will repeat—

"Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which
Men are and ought to be accountable.

Grant this, we pray Thee, that all they who read

Or utter noble thoughts may make them theirs,

And thank God for them, to the betterment
Of their succeeding life."

GOING ABOUT DOING GOOD.

MONGST the many occupations which man indulges in, there is one which calls for our unmixed praise and admiration, but which is nevertheless far from being an unmixed benefit. That occupation forms the title of this essay: Going about Doing Good. There are hundreds, nay, thousands of people who try to do so, and who are unhappy unless in this pursuit. When Captain Burton and others made an attack on the missionaries of West Africa, asserting that they did much mischief, that the Christianized savage was infinitely worse than the savage left to his native faith, or to Islamism, and also said that the missions were supported merely by a few foolish enthusiasts, he was answered that the enthusiasts were neither foolish nor few, or, if foolish, certainly not few. Not only hundreds, or thousands, but hundreds of thousands subscribe to our missionary societies. The poor man gives his penny, and the rich man his pound, to turn the savage benighted heathens into Christians. The missionary-box is not only found in "serious families:" it is to be seen in numerous houses of general public resort. Children are

sent from house to house to collect money for missionary purposes; and the Wesleyan body alone gathers the large sum of £344,000 a year for the same object. It is plain, therefore, that a great number of people try to do good in that one way.

Again, in the matter of relieving beggars in the street, there are dozens of poor people who spend a portion of their income in giving to those who are poorer than themselves. Of this they hold no account; but, if they did, the percentage on their incomes would be found to be a large one. Beggars live upon persons almost as poor as themselves; and it has been said, "If it were not for the poor, the poor would perish." The late passenger in the street, the poor mechanic going home from his daily toil, the artisan's wife who prizes every halfpenny of her small income, alike give money to the beggar in the hope of doing good. The wise and wary doubt this: the satirical may quarrel with it.

"The ceaseless penny drops;

A penny to a beggar to bribe God;

To let us keep in comfort our stuff'd chair,
To stave the feeling off of too much ease."

But nobler feelings than this poet has attributed to his brother man actuate most of us. Why we give is, that we want to do good. We are, perhaps, too careless in our method; we do not look deeply enough into the cases that come before us; but we obey a Divine impulse when we seek to do so. And any one who has worked with a charitable object will be astonished at the kindness of people, at the readiness of the much-abused British Public to do good

when it is within its power. Only let the name of a wellknown man be prominently placed to a charity, and at once people will most readily subscribe. Is any one's house burnt down; does any workman suffer from a fire and lose his tools; is any poor woman rendered suddenly a widow; is any real and genuine case of distress brought before the public, whether in theatre, workshop, tavern, or chapel-and the money will flow in easily and readily. In the winter, when the bitter weather reminds us that many of our poorer brethren are shivering in the cold, or are perhaps dying in the streets, the public opens its purse-strings. An appeal is made by some clergymen for the poor of their district, for refuges or soup-kitchens, and through one paper alone (the Times) some thousands of pounds are given. During the whole winter, in one refuge, nearly 200 houseless poor are fed and lodged in warmth and comfort, and are given a wholesome, if a scant, breakfast before being again sent to face the cold. Lords and bishops—that is, lords spiritual and temporal-vie with each other in visiting these places and in trying to do good. They find, as the poet says, a "luxury" in doing so. They find a secret ease and pleasure in making others happy, a pleasure which increases with every act. Many people believe-and the writer is one of them-that the penny, shilling, or pound thus given is never missed; and in connection with this it is curious to notice that, to the subscription lists of nearly all charities, we may almost always see the same names. When a man holds the character of being charitable, active secretaries soon find him out. He sends five pounds to the "Incurables," and in a month afterwards his name figures as the donor of two pounds to the "Incom