long observed, and which at length gained his entire confidence. Lord - thought and talk

ed of Christianity like many more who have it yet to learn, but he was constrained to admire its effects in his servant Lucius. He saw in him evident marks of the fear of God, the consolations of the gospel, the truth it enjoins, and the devotion it inspires. But while it beheld all this as a singular matter of fact, maintained and exercised in a house like his, he was equally struck in observing that Lucius was one of the most humble and attentive of his domestics, and no less eminent as a servant than as a saint. The unbelieving lord continued, while he lived, to advance and vindicate the Christian servant, and, dying, bequeathed a solid testimony to his virtues. To Lucius the servants also looked as to a common friend or brother: he instructed them, he assisted them, he reconciled them; he was their example; and if there were any more foolish and profligate than the rest, he had the honour of their reproach. I need only to add, that I mention this fact, as well as the former, to shew how honourable a part such servants sustain in society; to shew that true religion is the same in every age; to exhibit the fruits of genuine Christianity wherever it is found; and to encourage servants to higher aims than they úsually entertain."

"Lydia," continues the same author, "is the servant of a small family, whose mistress I lately visited after a long illness. 'Sir,' said she, 'the girl who has just left the room is a greater comfort to me than I can express. She watches me

ection of a daughter, and the care of When my complaints make me peecontrives something to soothe me. I rve her taking pains to discover what to my comfort, and often am presente thing I wished for, before I can exwords. I live without suspicion, for her to be conscientious even to scrumy chief complaint is, that she takes care of me, that I cannot make her cient care of herself.'-I have observ. I, her attention at church, as well as ting upon you.

servant,' continued she, is a Chrisin my late distress, afforded me her s well as her tears. Her parents were to give her any education; but she has erself to read, and frequently reads the to me. Now and then, while she is her heart is too full to be quite silent assage; and then she drops an expressio, accompanied with such simplicity and , as bring to my mind those words, I ee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, u hast hid these things from the wise and and hast revealed them unto babes. In esteem her one of the most valuable gifts received from an indulgent Providence, ver could have supposed that so much of mfort depended on the faithfulness and a poor servant.'

ter saying some things to encourage this girl, as I passed her in going away, I

not help caring also to muself How mu

better do these retired virtues deserve recording, than those splendid mischiefs which historians call up all their eloquence to adorn!"

SOLDIERS.

The Praying Soldier.

DURING the late unhappy commotions in Ireland, A private soldier in the army of Lord Cornwallis was daily observed to be absent from his quarters, and from the company of his fellow soldiers. He began to be suspected of withdrawing himself for the purpose of holding intercourse with the rebels, and on this suspicion, probably increased by the malice of his wicked comrades, he was tried by a court martial, and condemned to die. The marquis, hearing of this, wished to examine the minutes of the trial; and, not being satisfied, sent for the man to converse with him. Upon being interrogated the prisoner solemnly disavowed every treasonable practice or intention, declared his sincere attachment to his sovereign, and his readiness to live and die in his service-he affirmed, that the real cause of his frequent absence was, that he might obtain a place of retirement for the purpose of private prayer, for which his lordship knew he had no opportunity among his profane comrades, who had become his enemies merely on account of his profession of religion. He said he had made this defence on his trial, but the officers thought it so improbable, that they paid no attention to it. The marquis, in order to satisfy himself as to

f his defence, observed, that if so, he acquired some considerable aptness rcise. The poor man replied, that, y, he had nothing to boast of. The en insisted on his kneeling down, and oud before him: which he did, and th his soul before God with such cofluency, and ardor, that the marquis by the hand, and said he was satisfied an could pray in that manner who did the habit of intercourse with his God. nly revoked the sentence, but received This peculiar favour, placing him among onal attendants; where, it is said, he inues in the way to promotion.

ding the above, every serious mind will o reflect on the remarkable intervention dence in behalf of this man of prayer; is the most prominent feature in the n character. He could not live without though he thereby exposed himself to icion and hatred of his associates, and dangered his life; but the God who, like he served, knew how to deliver him in lous hour; and not only heard his prayt made the exercise of this duty itself the f his deliverance.-O, how does this rethose who live without prayer, though ave every opportunity for retirement, unnd unsuspected!

sanecdote also does real honour to the chaof the illustrious marquis and to the Brition, who can boast of commanders warmched to that religion and piety which so

many, in the present day, treat with contemptu

ous scorn.

The Reformed Soldier.

A Soldier not long since, becoming visibly religious, met with no little railing both from his comrades and his officers. He was the servant of one of the latter. At length his master asked him, "Richard, what good has your religion done you?" The soldier made this discreet answer: "Sir, before I was religious, I used to get drunk; now I am sober. I used to neglect your business; now I perform it diligently." The officer was silenced, and seemed to be satisfied. For so is the will of God, that with well-doing ye may put to silence the igno1 Peter, ii. 15.

rance of foolish men.

SUBMISSION TO GOD'S WILL.

HOWEVER dark and mysterious the dispensations of Divine Providence may appear to us, it becomes us to resign ourselves to the sovereign pleasure of Him who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will. Let us consider how little we know of the Divine plans. "A Providence occurs," says one; "it strikes us, we endeavour to explain it—but are we certain that we have seized the true meaning? Perhaps what we take as an end may be only the way ; what we take as the whole may be only a part; what we deprecate may be a blessing, and what we supplicate may be a curse; what appears