The attack of some particular epidemic essary relaxation and rational amusement, disease has such an effect on the constitu- but waste not existence in idleness and frivtion, as to secure it from future contagion. olity. It is a fact to which every one asThis physical law to a certain extent, is also sents, that nothing is more valuable than & mental law of our nature. A person who time; yet it is a truth equally obvious, that has suffered some great calamity, and still in nothing has human ingenuity been more retains his physical and mental vigor, gener-inventive, than in the art of destroying it. ally becomes, to a considerable degree. cal- Wealth, without the regulation of the delous to the ordinary vexations of life. It is sires, does not so much supply our wants, as therefore, not so much our happiness to be multiply and augment them. Wealth to exempt from misfortune as to acquire the covetousness, is like drink to a malady acspirit of endurance, that meets and over-companied with morbid thirst; the more licomes them. quor is given, the more is demanded, and Many men have two characters, the one pub-indulgence serves only to aggravate the dislie and assumed, the other private and natural; a man of integrity has only one character, which is uniform and consistent. If you wish to have a correct opinion of a person's character, view him not when he is acting a feigned part in the drama of the world, but listen to his expressions, and mark his conduet in his unguarded hours amid the commou occurrences of life.

ease.

When you perform a benevolent and generous action, seek no other witness but conscience, for if you desire public applause, you deprive it of a pure motive, and stamp it with ostentation. When another performs a benevolent and generous action, it must be favorably construed, for none can penetrate the human mind, and candor is ever disposed to assign worthy motives to worthy

deeds.

Strong desires and passions vatnally rush to the accomplishment of their aim with headstrong impetuosity, regardless equally of the counsel of experience and the forethought of prudence. As you value your

sires and passions to self-control; then contemplate the immediate and remote consequences, and, calm and reflective, you will pursue the even tenor of a virtuous course.

When a young man enters into an office, or engages in a profession, it is not present emolument, but official or professional experience, and a character distinguished for probity, which should be his chief solicitude, for these constitute the basis of future respectability, and the capital of a future fortune. It is extremely difficult to make a fair es-reputation and happiness, subdue your detimate of our own character, and we must be sensible of our errors before we can correct them. A person who is ignorant of his errors in respect to temper and conduct, is corrupted by flattery or blinded by self- A good man, if he inadvertently commits love. Eschew flattery, subdue and regulate an injury, is grieved at what he has, done, self-love, and you will be prepared to form a and hastens to redress it. If, in an unguarmodest and impartial judgment of your ded moment, by language or conquet he of any one; to hurt the feelings of another is to hurt his own, and, with manly openness, he makes an apology. But seldom, indeed is redress or apology necessary, for he habitually obviates both by his command of temper, candor in sentiment, and courtesy of deportment.

own character.

Study attentively the qualities that are most agreeable in social intercourse. It is not the show of polite manners, nor the display of profound learning, nor the brilliancy of piquant wit, that is most attractive and pleasing in company: it is the benevolence of the heart overflowing to humankind in truth, sincerity, and courtesy.

fends

Though it may be difficult to discover the connection, every action has its connectPut a proper value upon time; enjoy nec-ing and originating cause in some principle

or habit. When we carefully study the ac- Prodigality, the reverse of parsimony, by tions of a person, trace them to the mind, a reverse process, is nourished and matured. discover their principles or habits, we des- The parsimonious places on the cause-moncend again to the actions, and infer his prob- ey-his affection, which the prodigal transable conduct in any given circumstances. In fers to the effect-the pleasures it procures. general, our private and social transactions A young man accustomed to the uncontrolrequire discreet concealment; but moral con-led gratification of his desires and appetites, duct admits no disguise save the modesty gradually contracts such a habit of indul* that represses vanity and shuns applause. gence, that, though he values money, he val

The grand principle of rebuke or repri- ues it only in relation to his pleasures; and mand is to bring the offender into sympathy to this thoughtless, profligate habit of indulwith the aim of the address which is to pro-gence, many an ample fortune has been sacduce conviction, sorrow, and amendment. rificed. The guilty, when they feel self-reproach (to allay the painful feeling, if the bad habits are not inveterate), are disposed to turn from their evil courses.

Be less desirous of information than of the mental habits necessary to acquire it. Be less anxious for knowledge than for the wisdom which is its legitimate consequence. Be less solicitous for speculative wisdom, that serves for ostentatious display, than for the practical wisdom that ameliorates the heart and pervades the conduct.

A man of an exalted character would rather possess merit, for which he receives no acknowledgement, than receive praise for merit which he does not possess. Ignoble is the man in sentiment who pretends to any kind of excellence of which he is destitute, and is gratified with praise to which he has no claim.

If any person indulges in any secret delinquency, and supposes it to be concealed from the world, and should any of his friends or acquaintance incidentally treat him with Simple manners, like simple viands, are coldness or neglect, his mind reverts on itever pleasing, but our natural tastes may be self. He fears that his real character is deperverted. We may be so habituated to ar-tected, and he is mortified and grieved that tificial manners and high-seasoned food, as he is no longer thought worthy of attention to have no perception of worth under a and civility. Thus an individual of immorplain exterior, and feel no gratification in al conduct becomes his own accuser. simple food, the security of health and cheerfulness. This is the perversion of natural and moral taste.

When a man, upright in principle and firm in purpose, meets with coldness or neglect from any of his associates, he looks inIn early life a youth struggles with strait- to his own breast, and, his conscience apened circumstances; money supplies his proving, his tranquility is not disturbed. wants; hence on money he fixes his warm He then looks into society, and, in a case affection, and values it not for its use, but for such as this, which respects the courtesy of itself. In maturer years, a young man look- behavior, be allows every one to act according round on society, sees that wealth con- ing to his particular humor. A good man fers the distinctions, honours, and enjoy-rears his happiness in his own breast, and ments of civilized life; and as he ardently founds it on virtue. desires those advantages, he ardently covets Truth is simple, placid, and dignified, and the wealth from which they flow. From it must be maintained and defended in the these causes, we have the parsimonious char- spirit of its own inestimable qualities. You acter under all its various aspects, from the degrade truth when you protect it from frivmiser who denies himself the common nec-olous and captious objections, and you do it cessaries, to him who blends the savings of an injury when you lose your temper, and parsimony with the expenses of ostentation. defend it with violence and abuse.

irascible man; he is, indeed, dissatisfied when he does wrong, but not with himself; his uneasiness rankles into resentment against the person whom he has wronged.

It is painful to a man of a generous mind to decline a favour which is offered in the spirit of kindness. Between the bestower and receiver of a benefit, when they are equals, there should be a unison of feeling, Cultivate a mild demeanor, the courtesy of that the one may bestow and the other re- civility and benevolence. Offend not the ceive with the sentiment of pleasure. A lowly, for it is dastardly to hurt the feelings selfish and proud man may be willing of those who dare not resent your behavior; enough to receive a favor, but he is unwil-offend not the good, for it is shameful to proling to acknowledge an obligation. With voke those whose goodness deserves your essuch a person, hold only the common civil-teem and forbearance; offend not the bad, ities of social life. for, if you rouse their resentment, you will likely incur their hatred and ill offices.

Yield to the innocent humors of a friend as far as friendship requires, and propriety permits; gratify the reasonable wishes of a patron as gratitude enjoins, and self-esteem allows, and your conduct is honorable. But comply with their caprices, and minister to their vices by the sacrifice of your indepen dence and integrity, and you degrade your character, prove yourself unworthy of friendship, and become the slave of a master.

JEREMY TAYLOR.

BY REV. B. ST. J. FRY.

ONE unacquainted with the rise and progress of our language, would be led to infer that the literary genius of the English name was only unfolded in the poetical writings of Waste youth in a round of trivial amuse- her sons, who have attained to a fame which ments, and in age, you will be constrain- is recognized in all parts of the literary ed by habit to continue the same course, even world. And so great is the array of names after pleasure has lost its novelty and its rel-in this department of her literature, revealh. The impulse to mental improvementing a wealth of talent which has stamped must be received in early life; youth spent the language with immortality, that the in slothful ignorance is an age of intellectual prose writers are scarcely read, even by weakness, without its experience and its those who pretend to a tolerable acquaintwisdom. ance with her great literary efforts. They would be startled if told that there are

Licentious youth is disgraceful age; the licentious exhaust their powers, and are mis-names in this department, also, half forgoterable, or they reform; but what merit is there in ceasing to sin, when they can sin no more. The origin of a virtuous and happy life is derived from early years; whoever would reap happiness in the autumnal maturity of age, must plant virtue in the vernal season of youth.

ten, or at least half read, which, in another day, and with some minds even now, are treasured not less than those of Milton, Shakspeare, and Pollok. The prose of Milton is only inferior to his poetry, breathing the same lofty sentiments; Bunyan's works are more read, but, in the interest of the sub

Avoid, or treat with distant civility, a per-ject, few see the pure, lucid style that enson whose dispositions are bad, and whose velops his unfading dream; Baxter, too, manners are offensive, for after he has had an wrote with a strange earnestness and force; opportunity of doing you an injury or of- and we might place side by side with these fence, he will probably pursue you with his a score of names who have given to our rehatred. A good man when he does wrong public of letters a large support. The terse, is dissatisfied with himself, and to remove careful Butler, the nervous South, the ele his uneasiness, he atones for its cause. Not gant Addison, the oceanswell of Robert such is the conduct of an unprincipled and Hall, the heavy army-tramp of Chalmers,

*

and the simplicity of Wesley have yielded London; and it appears that in his first ef

us a mass of prose writing-a genuine eloquence in all its phases-the true foundation of our literary name for coming ages.

forts his auditory were, astonished at his sweet and sublime eloquence, particularly so, as coming from one so young. The fame of While numberless volumes of the Para- his eloquence reached the ears of Laud, dise Lost, Shakspeare, Young, and our bet- Archbishop of Canterbury, at whose request ter poetical writers are sown broadcast upon he preached at Lambeth, and through whose the land, the scholar must needs send to the instrumentality Taylor was incorporated mother country for an edition of her prose with Oxford College. Here he remained in writers. He may, indeed, find one or more a settled state, having married, till 1642. In of their most popular works in ever ibra- the great contest between Charles and his ry; as the Analogy of Buther. The Pil- parliament, Taylor sided with the King, and grims Progress of Bunyan, the Saint's at his request, published several controver Rest of Baxter, and the Holy Living and sial treaties; received the degree of Doctor Holy Dying of Taylor; but their other of Divinity at the King's command. There works, especi lly their sermons, are not read. is much obscurity about his life; but we Some of my readers may say that the taste know that he was with the army, for a of the people does not call for them. We short time, in the capacity of chaplain, was judge, rather, that they have not had an in- taken prisoner, and remained in prison. In sight of their beauties to have known their 1648 he was again settled, and married the worth. The talents of most of these writers second time, his first wife being dead; and in are devoted to religion or philosophy, and this year he published his popular work, are instructive in the greatest degree. "Holy Living and holy Dying." Visiting London in 1660, he was appointed Bishop of Down and Connor, and, at the close of the same year, a member of the Irish Privy Council. He mingled his discourses, in his new capacity, with such charity that the opposition of the Puritanical clergy softened down, and they learned to love him. His labor of love was continued near seven years. He died, after ten days' sickness, on the 13th of August, 1667, in the fifty-fifth year of his age.

Among these prose writers none, to those who are acquaiated with his works, holds a higher position than Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Down and Connor. Many of our writers may surpass him in the fields of logic and polemies; but that which gives him his character, and in which he is preeminent, is a mild, sweet eloquence, that wins upon the reader or hearer like a spell of enchantment. His writings have that tenderness and unbounded love that makes the heart to think of home and the tender caresses of mother

The English Church has presented but and sister; a garden of living beauty, filled few bishops as worthy of the station as with the choicest flowers-not the glaring Jeremy Taylor, so clothed in deep humility and luxurious splendor of the tropic, but the gentler loveliness of the north; the violet and the daisy nestled side by side, the sweet lily rippling the surface of the gentle stream, and the eglantine yielding up her incense to the passing shower.

and ceaseless charity. His mind was free from bigotry, and his pursuit of truth was with a bold, free spirit, and an acute intellect disciplined with extensive learning. His literary labors were large, as will be seen from an enumeration of his principal Bishop Taylor was born at Cambridge, works: "Liberty of Prophesying," "Life of took his degree of Master of Arts at Caius Christ," "Holy Living and Holy Dying," College, and in 1633 was admitted to holy "Unum Necessarium," "Ductor Dubitantiorde.s, being in his twentieth year of age um," "The Worthy Communicant," aud He commenced his public preaching shortly "Contemplations on the State of Man." after as lecturer at St. Paul's Cathedral in We may add to these about one hundred

sermons and several works of less importance, which occupied a large share of his time, written, like many of the works of Baxter, for the especial use of his congregations and the instructionof their children, in whom he took a deep interest.

lordship and myself have lately seen and felt such sorrows of death, and such sad departure of dearest friends, that it is more than high time we should think ourselves concerned in the accidents, Death hath come so near to you as to peck a portion from your very heart; and now you can not choose but dig your own grave, and place your coffin in your eye, when the angel hath dressed your scene of sorrow and meditation with so particular and so near an object; and therefore, as is my duty, I am come to minister to your pious thoughts,and to direct your sorrows, that they may turn into virtues and advantages." Was there ever a sweeter, more eloquent appeal made

The fame of Taylor, however, is based upon his well-known work, in two parts, "Holy Living and Holy Dying:" being a series of rules and exercises intended to deepen and carry on successfully a work of grace within the heart, and for which they are admirably calculated. They were.composed, at the suggestion or desire of Lady Carbery, the wife of Richard Vaughen, Earl of Carbery. Their residence was within the bounds of Taylor's parish, and known as to a seathed heart than this? Surely such the Golden Grove. They were his most in-language must have led it to the cross. telligent friends and patrons; and he showed his appreciation of their delicate attentions by calling "a manual for children," one of his minor works, "Golden Grove."

Both parts of the work are elegant, and filled with eloquent sympathy and appeals. to the heart, but we like the latter the best.. The heart of the Christian does not dread The work spoken of above was published the tomb, nor the thought of dying, for in separate parts, and dedicated to the Earl. "love casteth out fear." In the "general. Before the publication of the second part-considerations preparatory to death," there. "Holy Dying"-the Christian soul whose is one passage which, thongh often quoted, piety had proposed it had gone to enjoy her we would repeat again: rest in the Redeemer's bosom, and Taylor thus touchingly alludes to it in the dedica

tion:

"Nature hath given us one harvest. everyyear, but death hath two; and the spring. and the autumn send throngs of men and women to charnel-houses; and all the summer long men are recovering from their evils of the spring, till the dog-days. come, and then the Sirian star makes the summer deadly; and the fruits of the au tumn are laid up for all the year's provision, and the man that gathers them eats, and 'surfeits, and dies, and needs them not, and himself is laid up for eternity; and he that escapes till winter only stays for another opportunity, which the distempers of that quarter minister to them with great variety.

"My lord, it is your dear lady's anniversary, and she deserved the biggest honor, and the longest memory, and the fairest monument, and the most solemn mourning; and in order to it, give me leave, my lord, to cover her hearse with these following sheets. This book was intended first to minister to her piety; and she desired all good people should partake of the advantages which are here recorded: she knew how to live rarely well, and she desired to know how to die; and God taught her by an experiment. But since her work is done, and God supplied Thus death reigns in all the portions of our her with provisions of his own, before I could minister to her, and perfect what she desired, it is necessary to present to your lordship those bundles of cypress, which were intended to dress her closet, but come now to dress her hearse. My lord,both your

time. The autumn with its fruits provides disorders for us, and the winter's cold turns' them into sharp diseases, and the spring brings flowers to strew our hearse, and the summer gives green turf and brambles to bind upon our graves."