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the line, and many, provided for the purpose with paper and pencil, note it down, and hurry off to spread the tidings in the more distant quarters of the metropolis. Within the hall, equal anxiety prevails, but every thing is conducted with the greatest order and decorum. The motto of those outside is "Work!" of those within, "Watch!" How anxiously every eye and ear are turned to the electors, as they come up to their respective polling-places. A nod of recognition, or a good-natured grimace, expressive of pity or displeasure, is all that passes between the friends of the candidates, and those who vote for or against them. There is no undue influence, no persuasion, no intimidation resorted to by either party,—the freeman feels himself to be a free man, and glories in it. All that the poll clerks have to do is to watch themselves, and watch their colleagues-to be careful that all the votes are registered in their proper columns, and that each column is added up correctly.

And now a fresh announcement of the poll takes place. The candidates are within one vote of each other! All the spare hands upon the hustings are sent off to bring up voters; tremendous excitement prevails on both sides, and each of the aspirants for parliamentary distinction is fully confident of suc


Both cannot be returned, but both exert themselves with equal energy; and send out their emissaries with more peremptory orders than ever to bring up halt, blind, and ailing, from every street, lane, court, and alley of the great city. Though two-thirds of the constituency have already voted, electors still pour in, and the popular candidate gains so rapidly on his opponent, that when the next exhibition of the poll occurs he is some hundreds in advance. But this temporary advantage so far from damping the ardor of the other party, seems to stimulate them to yet greater exertion. Determined in their opposition, not one stone is left unturned; and up to the very latest moment their messengers and agents are running to and fro, hoping against hope, but fully resolved not to relax their efforts till the clock strikes four, and the poll-books are closed!

Such is but a faint picture of a city election-a proceeding, it is true, in which many of the worst passions of our nature are called into exercise, and yet one wherein lessons of high importance, even to the christian spectator, are involved. It is well

when, with all the holy calmness of a believer in the gospel, we can live in the world, without being of it, a contingency expressly provided for in the word of God. We may not only harmlessly, but profitably look out upon the stir of the great Babel, gaining knowledge and experience, and stimulus to useful action, from the scene; and retiring to our own chambers, to sit in judgment on our own hearts, feel, and with all sorrow and humility of mind confess, that the children of the world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. If He who is emphatically "the Just One," could see any thing in the unjust steward, deserving of commendation, and set forward his wisdom at once as an example and reproof to us, what shall we say to that spurious charity which takes cognizance of nothing beyond the narrow pale which circumscribes the atmosphere of its own morbid dreams?

It is indeed the christian only who can read the page of providence aright, as day by day, the God of providence inscribes it; He does so for the special use of those who go into the sanctuary of spiritual communion for light and love to glorify, and to explain the mystic tablets. Like good old Asaph, we are staggered till we do this; but then the vista opens, and lets in a flood of radiance that warms while it enlightens, and when it finds a tongue, exclaims in reverential wonder-" HE HATH DONE ALL THINGS WELL!"

Many analogies highly important and interesting to the christian may be gathered even from a circumstance so essentially worldly as a contested election for parliamentary representatives— the singleness of aim-the concentrated energy-the unwearying vigilance-the shrewd adroitness-the steady perseverance-of both parties, cannot but awaken feelings of a wholesome character in the breasts of their fellow antagonists,-those who have a conflict, and a race of more momentous interest set before them in the gospel. If they who seek honor of men, act thus to obtain worldly distinction or emolument, shall not we who have an incorruptible crown held forth to us in the word of God, run with equal ardor, labor with equal energy, manifest the same vigilance; and, forgetting all beside, press forward to the mark for the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus?

And what, indeed, is the whole business of the christian's life

but an election? True, it is after all, an “election of grace,” dependant on the will of God alone, who sheweth mercy; and not contingent on the efforts of him who willeth, or of him who runneth. So neither are such temporal proceedings as we have been here speaking of. What would be thought of that candidate who could sit down in sullen moodiness of mind and say— "I want assurance; I want comfort; I want such an insight into things as shall satisfy me that I must succeed; and then, but not till then, will I ask one vote, or breathe one word upon the subject?" How such a character would dishonor both his friends and the cause they were contending for; how he would be over-stepping his proper sphere, and losing, or at all events risking the loss, of all he wished for. And yet that man can no more command success, than the drowsy, dreaming, moping professor of the gospel, can make a bargain for heaven; especially while he refuses to set so much as one step forward on the way?

Really it is a sight at which hundreds of professors may well blush—this resolute and steady working towards an object comparatively insignificant, by men on whom, perhaps, they look down with mingled pity and contempt. Does it not ring its unwelcome challenge in the ears of such, and say, in terms of thrilling power—“ What dost thou here, Elijah!" Here, in the desert of your own unfed but hungry thoughts, lulled by the whispers of the "juniper tree," into a lethargy of soul; and drowsy with the very fragrance that would stimulate others to labor and travail in the work of vital christianity?

The caged bird may sing, but you never hear him in all his might and sweetness till he is set free. It is then that he breaks forth, as if he had learned music and motion from an angel, passing through the air on his ministries below." Action and liberty put a new song into his mouth, and with every quivering of his wings, he gets nearer and nearer to the heaven of his affections. The idle professor is a bird self-caged; let him come out into the world, and he will soon put off the spirit of heaviness for the garment of praise; he will soon feel a blessedness, even in the fellowship of His Master's sufferings—little, as at most his own will be, when compared with those of the Man of Sorrows.

The secret of God's tabernacle is no place to slumber in. He

grants us audience for "a little moment" only. He spreads the covert of His wings above us till his indignation towards the world without is over-past; and then he sends us forth again, radiant with the splendors of the holy mount, to watch and work, and suffer, if needs be, for the word of God, and for the testimony of Jesus Christ.


Those men who have lived nearest to heaven have always done most work on earth. It has been well said of Whitefield, "had he been less prayerful, he would have been less powerful. He was the prince of preachers without the veil, because he was a Jacob within the veil. His face shone when he came down from the mount, because he had been long alone with God upon the mount. It was this won for him the title of ́Seraphic'— not in the scholastic, but in the angelic, sense of the term. he was a human seraph, and thus burned out in the blaze of his own fire. What then? He often ascended in it, as the angel of the covenant did in the flame of Manoah's sacrifice; and always 'did wondrously' when he descended. He was often at the throne, and always so near it that, like the apocalyptic angel, he came down clothed with its rainbow." Yet where was the man who worked like this apostle of Great Britain? He knew the use of prayer, and felt its sweet, transporting influence more than most men; but he knew also that the closet was only the armoury of Christ's soldiers. He went there to fit himself for the battle-field; and then, with all the singleness of eye and aim; with all the fearless perseverance, the concentrated energy, the ready tact, of one determined to "endure hardness," he came into the world again to watch for souls as they who must give account to God.

My dear young readers, you are perhaps desirous to be great men-great in the noblest sense of the word, by connecting yourselves with Him who is God over all, blessed for evermore. Activity of mind and body, watchfulness, and prayer, are the grand requisites for effecting this end. Read, see, think, and work, with all your heart, soul, and strength. I do not speak of prayer as an item only in this scheme of discipline and duty--it must be an influence, pervading, directing, glorifying all the others" praying always with all prayer and supplication in the spirit." Follow in the footsteps of the world so far as industry,

and resolution, and bodily service are concerned, if the church of God be lacking in the zeal required of it; but, rather, look to Him who lived his own injunctions; that of you it may be said at last, "Blessed are they who follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth!"


(From the Montreal Register.)

DAVID NAUGHAN, an Indian boy, was about eleven years of age when he died. He was attentive to his lessons at school, read the Bible with care, and understood much of what he read. He seem pleased with every fresh acquisition to his knowledge; he enjoyed much any experiment made to illustrate a subject, spoke about it when he left the school, and, if possible, repeated it before his school companions. Indeed he always listened with marked interest to any instruction given, but to none did he listen with more attention than that of religion. He was a promising plant, and we hoped to raise him into usefulness, but a bitter blast nipped him in the bud—he withered, drooped, and died. "As for man his days are as the grass; as a flower of the field so he flourisheth, for the wind passeth over it, and it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more."

The death of our little Indian boy was hopeful and instructive. He spoke with modest sweetness of his faith in Christ, and his good hope, through Him, of entering the Paradise of love. He spoke of death without fear, and of a future state with ardent conviction and strong desire. He addressed his parents with much affection, and told them not to weep for him, but to trust in Jesus, live a holy life, and pray much to God that they might meet again in a better world. He exhorted his brothers and sisters, above all things, to attend to the salvation of the soul; and distributed among them the few articles that were at his disposal. He sent for the children of the school, his former companions, and urged them to attend the school regularly, for the advantages which they enjoyed there, and to remember to pray to Jesus who could alone save them. About an hour before his death, the person who had been sitting up with him all night being about to leave, David thanked him in the most affectionate manner for his kind attention. Life, now flickering

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