well-known voice of his mate reach his ear, the wings are closed, and he drops to the earth with the rapidity of a stone. What a beautiful and touching picture have we here of cheerfulness and conjugal affection; it is impossible to witness it without feeling its beneficent influence. The presence of a cheerful spirit has been compared to "a sweet sunshine that awakens a secret delight in the mind;" happy, indeed, are they who, like this joyous bird, can rise with alacrity, amid the cloudy atmosphere of adversity, upon the bright pinions. of Hope. True cheerfulness and contentment are a wellspring of happiness-a treasure well worth the best efforts we can make to secure it; and it is within the reach of all. The love of home, another of the cardinal virtues, is exemplified in the habits and characteristics of the dove. It is an instinctive feeling possessed by many of the lower animals; the dog, sheep, and cat, evince the ruling influence of this passion; but the dove, especially the carrier-dove, or pigeon, discovers this wonderful faculty in a preeminent degree, and under circumstances the most remarkable.

From the earliest ages, doves have been regarded as emblems of gentleness and innocence; poets have celebrated their praises, and frequent mention of them is made in Holy Writ. The dove was the messenger sent forth from the Ark, to ascertain whether the waters had subsided from the earth; and returning with an olive branch in her mouth, she became, henceforth, the emblem of peace. Even our Saviour took occasion to enjoin it upon his disciples to become in the midst of enemies, "wise as serpents and harmless as doves ;" and the highest honor was conferred upon this gentle creature, when it was made the type of the Holy Spirit, and thus became the symbol of all that was pure, peaceful, and holy. The cooing of doves is a plaintive and expressive sound, which, it has been fitly said, harmonizes well with the subdued murmuring of brooks, and the sighing of the zephyr in the quiet and sequestered spots which these birds frequent.

"Deep in the wood thy voice I list, and love
Thy soft complaining song-thy tender cooing;
Oh! what a winning way thou hast of wooing!
Gentlest of all thy race-sweet turtle dove."

The instinctive love of home, characteristic of this bird, has been turned to good account among mankind from an early period, and their importance as letter-carriers is well known. The plan adopted is as follows: The bird is first transported to the place from which any letter is to be conveyed, and with a perception altogether unaccountable and wonderful, the aërial letter-carrier speeds its way direct to its former home. A regular system of posting was once established in the East by this means; lofty towers having been erected by the Turkish government, at the distance of thirty miles apart, and each of these was provided with a due supply of pigeons, under the management of sentinels, whose business it was to receive the winged messengers, and transmit the intelligence they brought by others. The message or letter was written on a very thin slip of paper, and inclosed in a small gold box, almost as thin as the paper itself, which was fastened to the neck of the bird. This expedient has been adopted, even down to within a late date, for the more speedy transmission of important news, in various parts of Europe, and in our own country; the electric telegraph has, however, since superseded their use. Here we close our remarks about the winged and walking things of earth, whose characteristic developments are so suggestive of moral instruction to "the paragon of animals ;" and although the lessons they teach are fraught with deepest interest, and cannot but reflect a beneficial influence, yet it is to be feared but too many are found inaccessible to their power, and inaudible to their teaching.

In fine, after all that has been adduced on the subject, we must leave the reader to determine the respective limits of reason and instinct; having nothing further to offer to his aid, excepting the lines of Prior, who thus sums up the whole

case:

"Evil like us they shun, and covet good;
Abhor the poison, and receive the food.
Like us they love or hate; like us they know
To joy the friend, or grapple with the foe.
With seeming thought their action they intend,
And use the means proportioned to the end;
Then vainly the philosopher avers

That reason guides our deeds, and instinct theirs.
How can we justly different causes frame,
When the effects entirely are the same?

Instinct and reason how can we divide?

'Tis the fool's ignorance and the pedant's pride."

If the subordinate animals are happy in their allotted measure of intelligence or instinct, it is almost more than can be affirmed of "imperial man," for, with his increased mental acquisitions, does he not too often add to his infelicities? If this be not true, why did one of our poets suggest :

"If ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise?"

And if we suppose the poet to be the most liberally endowed with the imaginative faculty, why is he usually so poorly clad, and so poorly domiciled?

THE "odor of sanctity" which attaches to the office of the Christian ministry has ever claimed and received the deference of mankind. The ancient seers, prophets, and patriarchs who were commissioned to make known the will of the Supreme, under the impulse of a direct inspiration, were regarded as supernaturally endowed, and their utterances deemed oracular. Of this illustrious order of priesthood were Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Isaiah of the ancient world; and in riper times, the Divine Redeemer with his Apostles. A commission divinely authorized and invested with such moral grandeur, demands a corresponding elevation of character-intellectual, moral, and religious-in those who assume its functions; and the world naturally looks for these accessories.

"A parson," writes George Herbert, "is the deputy of

Christ for the reducing of man to the obedience of God." He farther quaintly adds, "His apparel is plain, but reverend, and clean without spots or dust; the purity of his mind breaking out and dilating itself, even to his body, clothes, and habitation." This remark of Herbert probably originated the saying that "cleanliness is next to godliness."

Some regard the clerical profession with a blind, superstitious reverence-these are the victims of priestcraft. There are others, with equal absurdity, who deem it the asylum of iufatuation and indolence-these are the skeptical and profane. A third class are those who appreciate its worth, and who venerate the sacred office, regarding it as Heaven's expedient for securing the moral elevation and happiness of the race—an institution of the highest importance to man's present and eternal well-being. The history of the Pulpit is fertile of interest. It has spoken in tones of melting tenderness to the penitent, thundered its denunciations against the prevalence of vice; to the one it has brought down "airs from heaven," to the other "blasts from hell." All nations and climes it has sought to reclaim, anneal, and bless and many of the mighty minds of all times have yielded willing obedience to its teachings and its claims. It has triumphed through the long ordeal of persecution-all the mightier for the mastery it has achieved over the malice of its foes.

It is not necessary for us to analyse the various types of the clerical character-the ascetic and monkish, the devout and devoted, or the ludicrous and the hireling. Each has left its impress, and, with the exception of the latter, has achieved much for the good of mankind. We do not however include in our category the Jesuitical monk, any more than the hireling; both are the negation of all that is good. There are further subdivisions however among the pure types, such as the cheerful and the morbid, A recent writer on the subject observes: "The spiritual heroism of Luther, the religious gloom of Cowper, and the cheerful devotion of Watts, are but