the deed, but of their ministers they unjustly interpret the deed for the will!"

Warburton had an only child, a son. Being asked to what profession he should devote him, he said he would determine according to his ability. If he proved himself a lad of good parts, he should make him a lawyer; if but mediocre, he should breed him a physician; but that if he turned out a very dull fellow, he should put him into the Church. The boy gave such proofs of talent that he was destined for the law, but died in his nineteenth year.

About this time, Warburton became almost imbecile, and continued to take little interest in anything for several years, till, just before his death, a momentary revival of intellect took place, and he asked his attendant, in a quiet, rational tone, "Is my son really dead, or not?" The servant hesitated how to reply, when the Bishop repeated the question in a firmer voice. The attendant then answered, "As your Lordship presses the question, I must say, he is dead." "I thought so," said Warburton, and soon after expired. Cradock relates the above, but only as a report.-Life, by Watson.

"WITH THE STREAM."

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When Sherlock, bishop of Salisbury, was Master of the Temple, the Sees of Canterbury and London were vacant about the same time (1748); which occasioned this epigram upon Sherlock :

"At the Temple one day Sherlock taking a boat,

The waterman asked him which way he would float?'

'Which way?' says the Doctor; 'why fool, with the streami!' To St. Paul's or to Lambeth was all one to him."

The tide in favour of Sherlock was running to St. Paul's he was made Bishop of London.

HEATHENISH TALK.

Walpole asked Prideaux, grandson of the Dean, if he had ever seen Stosch's collection. He replied, very few of his things, for he did not like his company; that he had never heard so much heathenish talk in his days. Walpole inquired what it was, and found that Stosch had one day said before him that "the soul was only a little glue." "I laughed at this," says Walpole, "so much, that he walked off; I suppose, thinking that I believed so too."

A RHYMING CANON.

The father of Miss Seward was a minor canon of Lichfield Cathedral, and Mrs. Delany calls him “ a learned clergyman." Walpole has an amusing anecdote of the value he put upon his metrical compositions. He was travelling-tutor to Lord Charles Fitzroy, who was taken dangerously ill at Genoa. Through the remedies applied by the physician, the crisis appeared to have passed; and Mr. Seward went to his room, and began a complimentary ode to the Esculapius; but before it was finished, a relapse took place, and the patient died. The tutor, however, was so well pleased with the commencement of his poem that he finished it, despite the failure in the moral of the tale.

SCOTTISH PRESBYTERIANISM.

Professor Dalzel, of Edinburgh, used to agree with those who say, that it is partly owing to its Presbyterianism that Scotland is less classical than Episcopal England. Sydney Smith asserted that he overheard the Professor muttering one dark night in the street to himself, "If it had not been for that confounded Solemn League and Covenant we should have made as good longs and shorts as they."-Lord Cockburn's Memorials.

In comparing the performances of two competitors, one man observed, "I think our minister did weel; ay, he gars the stour flee out o' the cushion;" to which the other rejoined, with a calm feeling of superiority, "Stour out o' the cushion! hout! our minister, sin' he cam' wi' us, has dung the guts out o' twa Bibles." So, also, when a minister who had been caught in the wet, and was solicitous about going damp into the pulpit, inquired of another, "Do you think I'm dry; do you think I'm dry eneuch noo?" his ingenious colleague could resist no longer, but, patting him on the shoulder, comforted him with the assurance, "Bide a wee, Doctor, and ye'se be dry eneuch when ye get into the pu'pit." (Charles Mathews, the elder, as an old Scotch woman, used to tell this story with wonderful effect.)

RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCE.

In Scotland there is a tendency to a revolution of feeling. as regards church ornament, which is conceived by Dean Ramsay to be symbolized in a conversation overheard by a friend of his; and in which an English gentleman was asking a person, who happened to be a building contractor, what was the difference between two places of worship which were springing up close to each other-meaning, of course, the difference in the theological tenets of the two congregations. The contractor, who thought only of architectural differences, innocently replied, "There may be a difference of sax feet in length, but there's no aboon a few inches in the breadth." But, as Dean Ramsay observes, there is still room for the aspiration, in which we join, that all our religious differences could be brought within so narrow a compass.

Here is another example in a conversation indicative of this feeling, and which the Dean had overheard between an Edinburgh inhabitant and a friend from the country. They were passing St. John's, which had just been finished, and the countryman asked, "Whatna kirk was that?" "Oh," said the townsman, "that is an English chapel," meaning Episcopalian. "Aye," said his friend, "there'll be a walth o' images there." Another story is told of a Presbyterian nurse, who was taken by her mistress to church to hear a musical service, then recently instituted, and who, when asked on her return what she thought of the music, said, "Ou, it's varra bonny, varra bonny. But ou, my leddie, it's an awfu' way of spending the Sabbath." The organ was then a great mark of distinction between Episcopalian and Presbyterian places of worship.

WEATHER PRAYER.

In one of the northern counties of Scotland, the harvest work had been seriously affected by continuous rains, and the crops being much laid, wind was desired in order to restore them into a condition fit for the sickle. A minister, in his Sabbath sermon, expressed their wants in prayer as follows: “O Lord, we pray thee to send us wind, no a rantin', tantin', tearin', wind, but a noohin' (noughin?), soughin', wiruin' wind." "More expressive words than these," says Dean Ramsay, "could not be found in any language.'

WEEPING FOR WANT OF WORDS.

Dr. Pitcairn, going about the streets of Edinburgh one Sunday, was obliged, by a sudden pelt of rain, to take refuge in a place he was not often in-a church. The audience was scanty, and he sat down in a pew where there was only another sitter besides a quiet, grave-looking countryman, listening to the sermon with a face of the utmost composure. The preacher was very emphatic-so much so, that at one passage he began to shed tears copiously, and to use his handkerchief. Interested in this as a physiological fact, for which he could not in the circumstances see any sufficient cause, Pitcairn turned to the countryman, and asked in a whisper, "What the deevil gars the man greet?" "Faith," says the man, slowly turning round, "ye wad maybe greet yoursel', if ye was up there, and had as little to say."

SCOTTISH MINISTERS.

In old times, when Scottish names carried with them the moral features as characteristic of each division, the morning litany of an old laird of Coltoquhay, when he took his early draught at the cauld well was in these words: "Frae the ire o' the Drummonds, the pride o' the Græmes, the greed o' the Campbells, and the wind o' the Murrays, guid Lord deliver us." On being reproved by the Duke of Athole for taking such liberties with noble names, his answer was,— "There, my lord, there's the wind o' the Murrays!"

The Rev. Mr. Laurie of Kirkmichael, Ayrshire, was in the habit of giving an exhortation to those attending a funeral after the grave was filled up. On the last occasion that he thus addressed them, William M'Murtie, keeper of the village inn, was at the funeral, and had got something more than enough. He was on very intimate terms with the minister. William saw the trouble which it would take to replace a very large through stane" on the grave, and when the minister began to intimate that though they had now put dust to dust, yet the day was not far distant when he would assuredly rise again, "My faith," said William, "if ye ettle him to rise again, ye're no his freen' to put that stane on him, for the rest will be up and past the Clawbag wood afore he gets frae 'neath it, and the stoor shaken off again."

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An Episcopal clergyman married the widow of a blind gentleman, who fitted herself out with such a trousseau as made people wonder, for she said, "I was married to a moudiewart last, but now I am getting a husband who can see me.'

A CUNNING ELDER.

A canny Scot had got himself installed in the eldership of the kirk, and, in consequence, had for some time carried round the ladle for the collections. He had accepted the office of elder because some wag had made him believe that the remuneration was sixpence each Sunday, with a boll of meal at New Year's Day. When the time arrived, he claimed his meal, but was told he had been hoaxed. "It may be sae wi' the meal," he said, coolly, "but I took care of the saxpence mysel'."

A DOUBLE CURE.

Dr. Carlyle once, when at Carlisle, sent to invite his friend Chancellor Wedderburn to sup with him and his wife at his inn; but he learnt that the Chancellor was preparing to go to bed, as he was very hoarse. The Doctor, however, sent to say he would infalliby cure his hoarseness before the next morning. The Chancellor came, but was very hoarse. The supper was good enough, but the liquors were execrable -the wine and porter were not drinkable. They made a bowl of the worst punch Carlyle ever tasted. Wedderburn said, if they would mix it with a bottle of the bad porter, it would be improved. They did as he directed, and to their surprise it became drinkable, and they were a jolly company. The counsellor did not forget the receipt to cure his hoarseness. This was nothing more than some Castille soap shaven into a spoon and mixed with some white wine or water, so that it could be swallowed: this he took, and next morning he was perfectly cured, and as sound as a bell.-Carlyle's Autobiography.

A PIOUS JOKE.

The Rev. Dr. Alexander relates that there lived in Peeblesshire a half-witted man, who was in the habit of saying his prayers in a field behind a turf-dyke. One day he was followed to this spot by some waggish persons, who secreted