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much physical self-indulgence. Count the hours allotted to sleep. Are they not more than is needful, more, even, than is healthful? Could you not redeem some of them? The celebrated Dr. Doddridge mentions, in his "Family Expositor," that to his habit of early rising the world is indebted for nearly the whole of his works. A student, who had passed his examination at the Divinity Hall, called upon the late Dr. Andrew Thomson, of Edinburgh, for the purpose of submitting his certificate, and of obtaining the doctor's signature. The young student was directed to call for it on the morrow. "At what time?" "Any hour after six o'clock in the morning." The student resolved to take the doctor at his word. The morning had scarcely dawned ere he bent his steps towards Melville Street, the place of his residence, and as soon as the clock had struck six he rang the bell and inquired if he could speak to Dr. Thomson. The servant directed him to enter, and, upon the door of the study being opened, the doctor was seen seated at his writing-desk; and on being applied to for the certificate, took it off the table and presented it to its owner. It had been previously examined and signed. Well," said the student to himself, "this is a sermon to me on redeeming the time."

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Then look, dear reader, at the time you spend in dress, in meals, in empty amusements, in light conversation; might not some of these precious moments be easily redeemed and turned to better account? “A penny saved," says the old proverb, "is a penny gained;" and so every minute saved from self-gratification is a minute gained for God's glory.

And do you want motives that shall stimulate you to redeem the time? Think of eternity; of its nearness. "The night cometh in which no man can work." Think of the solemn account which you will have to give, at the judgment-seat, of the precious time which has been committed to your charge. A native

NEVER CROSS A BRIDGE TILL YOU COME TO IT. 57

evangelist in China often put this question to himself, "What shall I say to Jesus when I see Him as He is, if I waste his time and neglect his work now ?"

But think especially of Christ's redemption. When He redeemed you with his own blood, that redemption reached to all that you are and have; all your joys, all your sorrows, all your talents, all your opportunities, all your time. Oh, let his love constrain you to live, not unto yourself, but unto Him who died for you, and rose again! Let the time which He has redeemed for you be henceforth redeemed by you for his service.

C. C.

NEVER CROSS A BRIDGE TILL YOU
COME TO IT.

IN approaching the Notch of the White Mountains from one direction, the traveller finds himself in the midst of conical hills, which seem to surround him as he advances, and forbid further progress. He can see but a short distance along his winding road; it seems as if his journey must stop abruptly at the base of these barriers. He begins to think of turning back his horse, to escape from hopeless enclosure among impassable barriers.

But let him advance, and he finds that the road curves around the frowning hill before him, and leads him into other and still other straits, from which he finds escape simply by advancing. Every new discovery of a passage around the obstructions of his path teaches him to hope in the practicability of his road. He cannot see far ahead at any time; but a passage discovers itself, and he advances. He is neither required to turn back, nor to scale the steep sides of towering hills. His road winds along, preserving for

miles almost an exact level. He finds that nothing is gained by crossing a bridge before he comes to it!

Such is often the journey of life. How much of its toilsome ruggedness would be relieved by careful attention to the above admonition-Never cross a bridge until you come to it; or, to express the same counsel in a form that does not involve the charge of a Hibernicism-"Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God; and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep (garrison) your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

New York.

N. T.

EVENINGS WITH THE EDITOR.

EVENING THE FIRST.

A STUDY.-Books and Papers scattered about in admirable disorder.

Persons Present.

AN OLD LADY ...... Dress rather antique.

MRS. MARCHMONT.. Mother of the following young Persons :—

EMMELINE..

AUGUSTUS

MARTEN

LEONTINE..

THE EDITOR.........

Soi-disant "Young People."

According to EMMELINE-" mere Children."

Reposing in solemn dignity in one of Eliza Cook's "Old Arm Chairs.'

Aug.

Now, Mr. Editor, we mean to be very severe upon all the authors.

Emm. No, not severe; only impartial, as critics ought to be. Ed. Will you not

"Be to their faults a little blind;

Be to their virtues very kind" ?'

Aug. Indeed, we shall be no such thing. It will be good for the people who make books that we should state our candid opinion.

Emm. And then those who write for our class will better understand what kind of style and matter is most suitable to young people.

Old L. Older people, Emmeline, must know better what your books ought to be than such inexperienced children as you

are.

Emm. I really must differ with you. In these days young people form opinions for themselves, and I have certainly formed one myself, which is decidedly unfavourable to a large portion of what is called juvenile literature.

Ed. Indeed; may we know what it is?

Emm. Why, some writers treat us as if we were babies, and wanted very childish writing.

Aug. And some as if we were antiquarians; judging from the dull, musty stores they furnish "for our improvement," as they call it.

Old L. I cannot agree with you, Augustus. It was only yesterday you condemned the "Expostulation with Young Persons on Levity of Mind," written by my excellent friend, Dr. Dryasdust.

Aug. I should think I did. Such a stupid book; like the author's name, dry as dust! The writer evidently had never been young himself, and had no sympathy with the natural exuberance of youthful spirits and feelings. I hope, Mr. Editor, you won't admit any papers by Dr. Dryasdust into your Magazine.

Ed. I believe there is not much fear of my doing so.

Emm. Because if you do, I shall conscientiously skip_them. Mrs. Mar. Conscientiously; that is scarcely the word. Emm. Yes mamma, I used it purposely. It does me harm to read cold, heavy, dry papers, which seem to prove that the writer does not possess a heart. I get so indignant, that I think it better to skip over such articles.

Ed. And for that reason they must be excluded from our pages; because I want all the contributions to be perused, and unless this be secured, it is useless to insert them. So there will be no skipping articles.

Mar. Then Leontine won't be put in.

Leo. Put me in, who will put me in?

Mar. Why, Teny, you know yesterday mamma called you a skipping article.

Ed. Now, Marten, we have not time to make puns; we must get through these books which are to be reviewed.

Emm. Here is one which quite meets my view of young people's books, and to which I give my very warmest approbation; it is Elizabeth Wetherall's WIDE, WIDE World.

Ed. What is it about?

Emm. About a little girl, whose mother is obliged to leave her amongst strangers; at least, to the care of an aunt who is an entire stranger to poor little Ellen.

Ed. Does she like her aunt?

Emm. Oh, no, nobody could like Miss Fortune. I would not have lived with her for any consideration; she was so rude, unfeeling, and clearly could not comprehend her little niece.

Ed. I suppose then the book is an account of Ellen's early trials.

Emm. It is so, and she comes off triumphantly; and makes "her rushlight" -as she calls her Christian character-shine very brightly.

Ed. Is it a religious book then ?

Emm. Very religious, and yet not dull. Its religious character increases the interest of the story. Mark this, if you please, Mr. Editor.

Ed. It is worth marking, my dear; and I wish all storymakers would mark it too, as a guiding principle.

Mrs. Mar. I never remember reading any story where the lovely character of religion was brought out more beautifully, and yet with perfect simplicity and truth. The book is so natural that we seem, as we go on, to become actually acquainted with the characters introduced. I am sure I shall always consider honest Mr. Van Brunt as one of my personal friends.

Ed. Now, Augustus, has your severe censorship found anything to object to?

Aug. Of course. Do you expect any book to be faultless? I object to the painful way in which the separation of mother and daughter is described. There is a minute anatomy of the feelings which gives one the heart-ache. The detail is so sorrowfully graphic, that I seem as I read it to make the narrative my own realization.

Ed. That is an indication of great power on the part of the authoress; but it is a power which ought to be very carefully and sparingly exercised.

Mrs. Mar. So I think. Painful emotions should not be awakened by a story-book. With this exception the work is admirable—the engravings (by Harvey) are well conceived.

Old L. What Emmeline read to me about the domestic habits in America appeared exceedingly instructive, as well as entertaining.

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