ence between the benevolence of principle, and the benevolence of feeling, than young Christians who have not fully considered the subject are aware of. Principle, looks first to God. She sees Him engaged in the work of promoting universal holiness and happiness. Not universal holiness, merely as a means of happiness, but holiness and happiness; -for moral excellence is in itself a good, independently of any enjoyment which may result from it. So that principle has two distinct and independent, though closely connected objects, while feeling has but one. Principle decides deliberately to take hold as a co-operator with God, in promoting the prosperity of his kingdom;-which kingdom is the prevalence of perfect holiness and universal enjoyment. She does not then rush heedlessly into the field and seize hold of the first little object which comes in her way. She acts upon a plan. She surveys the field. She considers what means and resources she now has, and what she may, by proper effort, bring within her reach; and then aims at acting in such a manner as shall in the end promote, in the highest and best way, the designs of God. She feels too, that in these labours she is not alone. She is not a principal. She is endeavouring to execute the plans of a superior, and she endeavours to act not as her own impulses might prompt, but as the nature and character of his great designs require.

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Principle is very different from feeling. She is steady and persevering. She has in mind, one great object, the universal establishment of the kingdom of God. This is what she lives for, and she is steadily pressing on in the accomplishment of her work. When she attempts to do good in any particular case, it is not to relieve herself from pained sensibilities, but to promote the great cause: and when, accordingly, the acuteness of her feelings have been blunted by time and use, she goes on more vigorously and with more energy,-not less. Her impulse is from within. It is a deliberate, a fixed, and a settled desire to please God, to co-operate in His plans, and to promote human happiness. This is a steady principle, which leads her to seek work,—not merely to do what is obtruded upon her.

Principle acts upon a plan. She makes it a part of her business to look all around her, and see in what ways and how extensively she can have any influence on the character and happiness of human beings. Then she considers what objects

ought to be aimed at, and what is their comparative value, and how long life may be expected to endure. With all these elements in view, she forms wise and systematic plans, extending as far as her influence can be made to extend. In a word, she feels that she has a great work to do, and she endeavours to make arrangements for doing it systematically and thoroughly.

Principle aims, too, as I have before intimated, at promoting goodness as well as happiness. She looks upon men as moral beings, not merely sentient beings, and aims at promoting their moral excellence as well as their enjoyment. In fact the former attracts far the greater portion of her regard, for it is not only a good in itself, but it is the only sure foundation of happiness.

And once more, principle engages in her work as a child of God, and a co-operator with Him. She feels at all times, therefore, a sense of filial dependence. She puts forth her hand to be led, and goes wherever her Master calls. She reports regularly to Him, too, acting solely as his obedient and dutiful child.

[From a modern Author.]

ROSE H.

MR. B. being obliged to leave home for a few weeks in the early autumn, requested me now and then to visit one or two of his sick parishioners, who, he said, would esteem the visit a great privilege. One individual, he informed me, interested him very much. She was the only daughter of a farmer's widow. She had been engaged, with the full consent of her parents (her father was then alive), to be married to a young man, a respectable miller, who had met with an accident from which he did not recover, having died within a week. The circumstance had taken place nearly three years before; but it still continued to prey upon her spirits. She had never mentioned his name since the unfortunate occurrence, even to her mother, or alluded to the subject in any way. Constitutionally delicate, she was evidently much injured by the blow; and was now beyond all question in a rapid decline. She had received a good education, superior to most persons of her rank, by which she had not failed to benefit. "You will

find Rose said Mr. B., "in a very sweet frame of mind; and I am sure you will be pleased with the visit."

A day or two after Mr. B.'s departure, I walked to the cottage where the invalid resided, and I found that my visit was not only expected, but anxiously looked for. I had sent word that I would call the day before, but I was prevented. Here let me remark, by the way, that it is always as much as possible to be avoided, that invalids should be disappointed as to a promised visit. The sick chamber is lonely enough, and illness is trying enough, without such a disappointment: and I would impress upon my clerical brethren especially, the importance of being exceedingly punctual in fulfilling their promise of being present at the appointed time. Cases will occur, indeed, when it may not be in their power to do so; but punctuality, in this part of their duty especially, is of the utmost importance.

On entering the small neat room where Rose was sitting beside her mother, who was dressed in widow's mourning, I was much struck with the sweet placid smile upon her countenance, although it was but too obvious that deep-rooted disease was wasting her frame, and that she was not long destined for this world. A Bible was lying on a little table,

with a small selection of hymns.

"Mr. B. mentioned that you would call upon me,” said Rose, smiling. "It was very kind of him to think of me, and of you to take the trouble to come so far; but, Sir, you don't know how kind Mr. B. has been to my dear mother and myself. Oh, he is quite a blessing to the parish, I can assure you."

"I shall be glad," I replied, "if I can be of any service to you: and I shall have great pleasure in sometimes calling to see you. I hope that you will soon be better, and that you will regain your strength before the winter."

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My dear mother expresses the same hope; but I feel convinced I shall never be better in this world," was her answer. "I feel I must soon leave it, and my only earthly anxiety is about my poor mother; for when I'm gone, there will be no one to attend her."

"Don't think of me, Rose, love," said the weeping mother. "Perhaps you may get round again; and, at all events, God will protect me. Think what we owe to His goodness already. Why should we distrust?”

The scene was most touching. I felt quite overpowered, and could not reply. At length, Rose broke the silence, and said, "You do not know, Sir, how much I am obliged to Mr. B. You can't conceive what I feel for his kindness. O, Sir, I trust that, through eternity, I shall look back with gratitude that he came to be our minister. If I know anything at all about religion, it is all owing to Mr. B.,-I mean humanly speaking."

"How so?" I asked; "I dare say he instructed you in all the doctrines and duties of Christianity; and I am glad to find that you value the ministrations of our Church." To speak the truth, I did not exactly approve of all Mr. B.'s sentiments; neither altogether of his mode of acting in the parish. I had no doubt but that he was an excellent man, with the very best intentions; nay, in a difficulty, I wished to have his counsel; I esteemed him highly; I knew him to be an eminent scholar and a thorough gentleman; but there was a something which I could not define, even to myself, that made me shrink from being on very intimate terms with him, even had he desired it. I was anxious, therefore, to know what were the peculiar obligations under which the invalid lay to the vicar. "O, Sir," Rose answered, "when Mr. B. came to be our vicar, I was a thoughtless giddy girl. I was very fond of dress, and gaiety, and folly of every sort. I spent most of my time in reading silly novels, and never opened my Bible. I laughed at all that was serious, and used to delight in making game of all serious people; and no one used to ridicule Mr. B.'s sermons more than I did. When he first came to the parish, people were very much opposed to him. They could not bear his preaching, for it was too searching. They called him half a Dissenter; and yet I did not know how it was, that he had not been here a year in the living, before the dissenting meeting was thinned of half its members, and the Wesleyan preacher never came at all. He called at our house one day, and said that he was going to have a Sundayschool; and asked my father to support it, and to get the labourers to send their children. He said the school would not cost much, as three or four young women had offered to teach the children for nothing. Father was a good-natured man, and said he would not oppose it; and so"

"Don't fatigue yourself, dearest Rose," said her mother. "O, I am anxious to tell about Mr. B. Well, Sir, the

Sanday-school was set on foot; and I one morning went there from curiosity, or rather to laugh at what was going on. When I went in, Mr. was speaking to the children, and calling upon them to dedicate the morning of their days to the service of their Maker. In church, the same morning, he spoke much to the same effect, and preached in an especial manner about the love of the Lord Jesus Christ in dying for poor sinful children. I never could forget that sermon. I think I hear every word of it now. I tried to laugh myself out of it, but I could not. O, Sir, I have often thanked God I that day went to church. I think God himself led me to go, for I had intended going to see a young friend some miles off."

I was much struck with the artless simplicity with which she spoke. I perceived that she was excited and fatigued, and begged her to say no more at present. She appeared to me, I confess, to be somewhat of an enthusiast, and I ascribed the ardour of her expressions to her state of health. I expressed my satisfaction at what she had stated, and begged that she would allow me to read from a small volume I generally carried with me on my visitation of the sick. She gladly consented; and after I had read some few passages which I thought would comfort her and her mother, and also a prayer, I was about to leave, when I remarked how different were my feelings from what they had been in the sickroom of the wretched Mr. L.

Rose immediately answered, "O, Sir, I have often thought of that poor man, and yet God, who knows the heart, can alone judge. He may, Sir, have found mercy at the last. O, Sir, the mercy of God is boundless! Where should we be if it were not for that mercy! We are guilty lost creatures in his sight."

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"Yes," I replied, we are all sinners; but Mr. L.'s case was one of more than ordinary guilt. Let us draw a veil over it."

I left the cottage, resolved to go again, as soon as my other duties would permit. I did so in a few days, and found that a wonderful alteration for the worse, as far as her bodily health was concerned, had taken place. She was in bed, unable to get up, and, from what the medical attendant had told me in the morning, could not survive many days, if indeed many hours.

When I drew the curtains, a faint smile crossed her pale