heen, would very well know what to do with such a thing; and delighted should we be to transmit it to his hands.

Clogheen is situated in a mountainous region, in that disturbed and distracted county, Tipperary. The Protestant portion of its inhabitants, especially of the poorer class, may be said to have been almost overborne by the vast preponderance of Romanists. Amongst many other discouragements known to us, the parish church, an old damp and dilapidated building, stood about two miles out of the town; attendance in winter, and at evening service was not alone inconvenient, but frequently dangerous. Under these circumstances, with the permission of the diocessan, and of the magistrates, divine service has been performed in a large room over the market-place. This building is now about to be fitted up for other purposes, and it has become absolutely necessary to seek funds to erect a church. The present rector has been in charge of the parish about three years, and it has pleased God to vouchsafe a manifest blessing upon his labours.

The almost expiring embers of Protestantism have been re-kindled, the children are collected for scriptural instruction. The attendants at church, and the number of communicants, are very considerably increased, and it is confidently expected that the con-gregation, when a suitable place of worship is erected in the town, will amount to four hundred! It would require an intimate, and almost local knowledge of the difficulties with which the united church of England and Ireland established in that country has, at this moment, to struggle; to estimate the importance of such a nucleus of Protestant and Christian

strength and light, in the midst of darkness that may be felt. To any one well acquainted with these circumstances, it seems little short of miraculous, that the Protestant faith has not long since been rooted out of this and similarly situated parts of Ireland. The good hand of our God has been upon it, and doubtless he has been pleased to say, "Destroy it not, for a blessing is in it." Yes, a blessing which we trust and believe, will break forth on every side, and make "the wilderness to rejoice and blossom like the rose."

As the wind serves to increase and blow up the flame, so do the windy blasts of affliction augment and blow up our graces. Grace spends in the furnace, but it is like the widow's oil in the cruse, which did increase by pouring out. The torch when it is beaten burns brightest; so doth grace when it is exercised by sufferings. Sharp frosts nourish the good corn; so do sharp afflictions grace. Some plants grow better in the shade than in the sun, as the bay and the cypress; the shade of adversity is better for some than the sunshine of prosperity. Naturalists observe, that the colewort thrives better when it is watered with salt water than with fresh: so do some thrive better in the salt water of affliction: and shall we be discontented at that which makes us grow and fructify more?-Watson.

THE TWO BURDENS.

SELF-WILLED man, and as ignorant as he is selfwilled, is for ever engaged in a strange conflict with his Maker. The object of his contention is to get possession of a burden, safe nowhere but in the Almighty's keeping; and no sooner does he in any degree draw it upon himself, than he sinks, crushed beneath its ponderous weight. If, therefore, he finds it impossible to support the entire pressure, we yet behold him earnestly applying his shoulder to the labour, as if to assist His might, "who fainteth not, neither is weary."

This burden, which man so earnestly desires to bear, is the care and anxiety of his worldly condition. A heavy one truly, and altogether the property of his Maker, and when man laid hands upon it, he grasped at what it was clearly not the divine purpose to have ever made over to his creature's hands, seeing He hath neither proportioned it to their strength, nor fitted their shoulders to its support.

The man is a thief who dares to touch it! But to the fainting pilgrim, too ready to sink in his up-hill passage through this tiresome wilderness, Jesus once proposed a burden in exchange for this insupportable one. "Take," he said, “my yoke upon you, and ye shall find rest to your souls." An easy yoke, truly, a meek though strong confidence in his Father's love. So lightly does this burden press upon man, that we

may say of it, it provides him wings, and forces him to use them, furnished for, and presented to him, by that merciful High Priest, who knows his frame, and full well remembers that he is but dust.

Of a truth, in bearing this yoke he is conformed to the image of its Giver; and whilst the pilgrim bows his neck, and prays, Oh, fit on me thy pleasant yoke, -even then does he discern that all they who believe DO enter into rest; the rest of confiding love, of patient and assured hope.

The provision of present rest is then from harassing doubt alone; but there is a land where the inhabitants do rest from their labours; yes

There the weary and the weepers come,
And they cease to wail and weep.

For each poor pilgrim then, who bears Christ's easy yoke, there yet remaineth a rest, and truly that rest shall be glorious.

WHEN a Christian goes into the world because he sees it his call, yet while he feels it is also his cross, it will not hurt him.-Newton.

ANECDOTE.

MR. FERRAR'S attachment to the established church, and reverence for ecclesiastical discipline, was a remarkable feature in his character. He had also antipathies as strongly marked, perhaps, as these commendable predilections. He had conceived a hearty detestation of the Roman mass, and this out of his pure affection to God's honour and worship, which he, having resided some years in popish countries, observed to be mortally wounded by the idolatrous adoration of that which he thought many persons could not, and did not believe to be the body and blood of Christ. On one occasion, in the honest and uncompromising indignation of his heart, he said, ' that such a sacrifice profaned the very place wherein it was celebrated;' upon which one of the company replied, 'Why, sir, what if mass should be celebrated in your house without your leave or knowledge, what would you do?' 'I will tell you a story' said he; A peer of France, who had long been a pensioner of Spain, being discovered, and flying for refuge to the Spanish court, the king, upon his arrival, instantly dispatched his secretary to a certain duke and grandee of Spain, entreating him to lend a palace of his for the accommodation of the fugitive nobleman. Tell the king,' said he, 'my house shall ever be at his majesty's service;' and when the secretary was returning to court with this