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“Great pity he had not left us twenty years ago," replied the other; "he was a bad man."

Presently another of the townsmen met them with the same question, “ And what poor soul have you got there, doctor ?"

“Poor Mr. BM,"answered the doctor again,“ is dead.”

" Ah! indeed,” said the other; “ and so he is gone to meet his deserts at last."

6 villain !” exclaimed the man in the coffin.

Soon after this, while the pall-bearers were resting themselves near the churi h-yard, another stepped up with the old question again, “ What poor soul have you got there, doctor ???

“ Poor Mr. B-,” he replied, “ is gone."

“ Yes, and to the bottomless pit,” said the other; 4 for if he is not gone there, I see not what use there is for such a place.” Here the dead man, bursting off the lid of the coffin, which had been purposely left loose, leaped out, exclaiming, " O you villain! I am gone to the bottomless pit am I? Well, I have come back again, to pay such ungrateful rascals as you are.” A chase was immediately commenced, by the dead man after the living, to the petrifying consternation of many of the spectators, at the sight of a corpse, in all thehorrors of the winding sheet, running through the streets. After having exercised himself into a copious perspiration by the fantastic race, the hypochondriac was brought home by Dr. Stevenson, freed from all his complaints; and by strengthening food, generous wine, cheerful company, and moderate exercise, was soon restored to perfect health.

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[For the Monitor.]
William Pitt Atwater, the subject of the following lines, was a
member of the

Junior Class in Middlebury College, and supported
in part by the Education Society. He died at Castleton, Vermont,
of the consumption on the 10th of August, 1823.

BY THE GRAVE OF MY FRIEND.

'Tis night, and the Zephyrs blow softly and mild ;
The rudeness of nature is stamped on the ground;
Creation is lonely and silent and wild,
And darkness and gloom spread their mantles around,

Inquiry Have you these, humility, benevolence, and active, devotion to the will of God?

Note. Here the instructer may proceed to point out the distinguishing evidences of these traits of character. And upon all the answers he can enlarge ;-the truths contained in them he can illustrate, and apply to the hearts of his pupils. And if the Holy Spirit bless his labours, they will not be in vain in the Lord.

BIBLE CLASSES.

We are happy to learn that new associations for improvement in scripture knowledge are forming both in the country and in the city. One has recently been formed in Hopkinton, N. H. under the care of the Rev. Mr. Hatch, which uses the Reference Testament. Another has been formed in New Braintree under the care of the Rev. Mr. Fiske, which uses the Text Book. Still more recently, one has been organized in this city, called the United Bible Class of the Old South Congregation, which will recite and receive lectures from the Bible Class Text Book. This class is in addition to those classes which previously existed in that congregation, and evinces the Pastor's desire that no means of benefiting his youth should be left unemployed. In all these cases, a very gratifying success has attended the pastor's efforts to engage the attention of their young people.

SELECT ANECDOTES.

THE PLAGIARIST CONFOUNDED. A reverend doctor in the metropolis was, what is usually denominated, a popular preacher. His reputation, however, had not been acquired by his drawing largely on his own stores of knowledge and eloquence, but by the skill with which he appropriated the thoughts and language of the great divines who had gone before him. Those who compose a fashionable audience are not deeply read in pulpit lore; and, accordingly, with

those near,

such hearers, he passed for a wonder of erudition and pathos. It did nevertheless happen, that the doctor was once detected in his larcenies. One Sunday, as he was beginning to delight the belles of his quarter of the metropolis, a grave old gentleman seated himself close to the pulpit, and listened with profound attention. The doctor had scarcely finished his third sentence, before the old gentleman muttered loud enough to be heard by

6 That's Sherlock !” The doctor frowned, but went on. He had not proceeded much farther, when his tormenting interrupter broke out with, “ That's Tillotson !" The doctor bit his lips and paused, but again thought it better to pursue the thread of his dis

A third exclamation of - That's Blair !" was, however, too much, and completely deprived him of his patience. Leaning over the pulpit, 5 Fellow," he cried, “ if you do not hold your tongue, you shall be turned out." Without altering a muscle of his countenance, the grave old gentleman lifted up his head, and looking the doctor in the face, retorted, “ That's his

course.

own."

66

LOVE ONE ANOTHER." A Welsh parson, preaching from this text, “ Love one another,” told his congregation, that in kind and respectful treatment to our fellow creatures, we were inferior to the brute creation. As an illustration of the truth of this remark, he quoted an instance of two goats in his own parish, that once met upon a bridge so very narrow, that they could not pass by without one thrusting the other off into the river. 6 And,” continued he, “how do you think they acted? Why, I will tell you. One goat laid himself down, and let the other leap over him. Ah! beloved, let us live like goats."

POWER OF IMAGINATION.

Some hypochondriacs have fancied themselves miserably afflicted in one way, and some in another; some haye insisted that they were teapots, and some that they were town-clocks; and one that he was extremely ill, and

another that he was actually dying. But perhaps none of this class ever matched in extravagance a patient of the late Dr. Stevenson of Baltimore.

This hypochondriac, after ringing the change of every mad conceit that ever tormented a crazy brain, would have it at last that he was dead, actually dead. Dr. Stevenson having been sent for one morning in great haste, by the wife of his patient, hastened to his bed side, where he found him stretched out at full length, his hands across his breast, his toes in contact, his eyes and mouth closely shut, and his looks cadaverous.

66 Well, sir, how do you do? how do you do, this morning ?” asked Dr. Stevenson, in a jocular way, approaching his bed. 6. How do I do ??! replied the hypochondriac faintly; "a pretty question to ask a dead man.” “ Dead !" replied the doctor. “Yes, sir, dead, quite dead. I died last night about twelve o'clock.”

Dr. Stevenson putting his hand gently on the forehead of the hypochondriac, as if to ascertain whether it was cold, and also feeling his pulse, exclaimed in a doleful note, “ Yes, the poor man is dead enough ; 'tis all over with him, and now the sooner he can be buried the better.” Then stepping up to his wife, and whispering to her not to be frightened at the measures he was about to take, he called to the servant; “ My boy, your poor master is dead; and the sooner he can put in the ground the better. Run to C-m, for I know he always keeps New England coffins by him ready made; and do you hear, bring a coffin of the largest size, for your master makes a stout corpse, and having died last night, and the weather being warm, he will not keep long."

Away went the servant, and soon returned with a proper coffin. The wife and family having got their lesson from the doctor, gathered around him, and howled not a little while they were putting the body in the coffin. Presently the pall-bearers, who were quickly provided and let into the secret, started with the hypochondriac for the church-yard. They had not gone far, before they were met by one of the town's people, who, having been properly drilled by Stevenson, cried out, " Ah, doctor, what poor soul have you got there ?"

Poor Mr. B-," sighed the doctor, “left us last night.":

6 Great pity he had not left us twenty years ago," replied the other; "he was a bad man.

Presently another of the townsmen met them with the same question, “ And what poor soul have you got there, doctor ?"

66 Poor Mr. B answered the doctor again,“ is dead.”

66 Ah ! indeed,” said the other; " and so he is gone to meet his deserts at last."

660 villain !” exclaimed the man in the coffin.

Soon after this, while the pall-bearers were resting themselves near the church-yard, another stepped up with the old question again, " What poor soul have you got there, doctor ?"

“ Poor Mr. B," he replied, " is gone."

“Yes, and to the bottomless pit,” said the other; “ for if he is not gone there, I see not what use there is for such a place.” Here the dead man, bursting off the lid of the coffin, which had been purposely left loose, leaped out, exclaiming, “ O you villain! I am gone to the bottomless pit am I? Well, I have come back again, to pay such ungrateful rascals as you are.? A chase was immediately commenced, by the dead man after the living, to the petrifying consternation of many of the spectators, at the sight of a corpse, in all thehorrors of the winding sheet, running through the streets. After having exercised himself into a copious perspiration by the fantastic race, the hypochondriac was brought home by Dr. Stevenson, freed from all his complaints ; and by strengthening food, generous wine, cheerful company, and moderate exercise, was soon restored to perfect health.

[For the Monitor.] William Pitt Atwater, the subject of the following lines, was a member of the

Junior Class in Middlebury College, and supported in part by the Education Society. He died at Castleton, Vermont, of the consumption on the 10th of August, 1823.

BY THE GRAVE OF MY FRIEND.
'Tis night, and the Zephyrs blow softly and mild ;
The rudeness of nature is stamped on the ground;
Creation is lonely and silent and wild,
And darkness and gloom spread their mantles around,

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