producing steady mental exertion, proceeding out of the love of it, is not to apply to any extraneous affection; but to shew a clear and undeniable example of it, to manifest that it is congenial to the mind, to let children see it in operation, and to bring them from time to time the fruits of private intellectual exertion, shewing it to them in a variety of useful and agreeable acquisitions.

He who has ever had a teacher thoroughly interested in his teachings, imbued with the very spirit of his communications and not content with the dead letter, whatever was the object of pursuit, remembers what deep impressions, what earnest longings took place in his own mind, what rapid acquirements was the happy consequence. It is on the same principle that we become so much interested in, and gain such an impulse from the biography of eminent men, for no man ever became eminent who was not earnest in his pursuits. We tread with them each step of their progress. We watch, so to speak, the very turns of their countenance. We are impatient at the obstacles which they meet, and rejoice at every difficulty overcome, as if we ourselves had gained the victory. And can we read such biography without advantage? Nay, we are urged on in our own pursuit, we strive to plant our footsteps as firmly as they, we would walk by their side and hail them as companions of our way.

On the contrary, listlessness will produce listlessness indifference will produce indifference. He who cannot rouse himself to mental exertion will certainly have no power, however strong may be children's love towards him, to call forth their intellectual affections. They will slumber drowsily around him. The most that he can do will be to excite them to temporary mental activity by the use of stimulants. The children will be in the condition of those who cannot eat till they have taken their morning dram.

In cultivating the moral affections, the foundation or the master affection is the love of what is right. There is this love of what is right in every human breast, however it may sometimes be overlaid by various other affections It always manifests itself where it has free play, as is well known to the careful observer of men and their ways. This love of what is right must be called forth. It is necessary as the guide of other and holy affections, as a restraint upon other and innocent affections that they may not become unholy. The way to call forth, enlighten and strengthen the love of right, is manifestly not by making what is right a terror, a bugbear, by calling up the baser fears of our nature, through whose medium it will appear, not in its native loveliness, but as a monstrous deformity, abhorrent to every cheerful feeling of the heart. It is in this especially clear that sympathy is the instru

ment to be employed, sympathy with the teacher's diligent, earnest and cheerful performance of duty.

The child loves his teacher because of his uniform kindness and attention to his little wants and feelings. It is a true, a holy, and a strong bond which unites them. He sees that duty is, or is not, the first thing with his teacher, the first enquiry of his mind, the first affection of his heart, in all that presents itself to be done, or to be left undone. What is the necessary impression on his mind? What the influence of human sympathy? It is not enough to preach about duty, obedience, what is right; the love of them must be manifested in the whole conduct, and especially in all that concerns the business of the time devoted to direct instruction. Occasionally, perhaps, with perfect safety, immediate appeals may be made to the social affections, to the love of parents or teachers, in favour of disagreeable or painful duty. It is but another method of calling in the aid of sympathy. It may be made to strengthen both the social affection and the love of what is right. It may quicken the affections when they are becoming dull: it may save them when they are about to be overcome by the temporary strength of some lower affection. But this must not be the ordinary method of calling in the aid of sympathy, of inducing obedience, lest social affection itself turn into disgust by its too frequent association with what is disagreeable.

Again: in cultivating the love of what is right, much patience must be manifested both in sowing the seed and in waiting for the fruits; both in making use of the occasions which present themselves, and in passing by errors in the application of the principle, and many little instances of the neglect of the minor proprieties of life. If we see a growing sense of right we have great reason to rejoice, much more than if we could lay a thousand artificial bonds upon the conduct and produce a very correct automaton.

In cultivating the sense of right, devotion to duty, and thus forming a sound moral character, around which the other moral affections may rally and find efficient support, efficient because the love of right so readily and firmly blends with the religious affections, the example of the holy Saviour cannot be forgotten, for he is the very personification of obedience-the love of what is right was an ever living and active principle within him.

The drawing forth of piety towards God is not, in the generality of children a difficult thing. There is the vast, the wonderful, the infinite to call forth their veneration-there are innumerable blessings received to call forth their love. But the affection may be chilled by untimely application to it. It may be frittered away by too frequent and familiar appeals. The veneration and the love should never be separated or rather, true love of God, as God,

as the Infinite and Eternal Father, includes veneration. There is something wrong in our notions, if we can name his name simply as one whose benefits have called forth our affections. True love of God has a deeper source than this. It is the feeling produced by innumerable ideas, whose centre is that of infinite benevolence. This matter is of the utmost importance, because on the love of God depend all the other religious affections, either for their existence or for their worth. Religions affections which have not this foundation, clearly, steadily and rationally laid, are mere religious passions, hurtful to the soul, weakening its strength and perverting its integrity.

Can any of the inferior affections be made subservient to the love of God? They are all subservient to it. They minister to it, but at an humble distance. They must not come too grossly in contact with it, else will they have a tendency to sink it to their own level, and we become epicurean worshippers.

In this again, personal example will operate most powerfully through the sympathetic influence of the social affections. In this again must sympathy be cultivated with the holy Saviour.

AMBLESIDE SONNETS.

Through slippery tracks, in moorland mosses deep,-
Through tangled brake and briery thicket wild,-
O'er walls of rock in massy ledges piled,-
A toilsome pathway up the rugged steep,-
With pilgrim staff I climbed the mountain's breast,
My eye still fixed upon its lofty crest,
My thoughts amid th' enchanting vales unseen
That smiled beneath,-with onward step I pressed
And neared its brow,-when lo! a deep ravine
Between me and my destined point of rest!
Wearied and sad, faint grew my spirit then:
Courage my heart! the race is nearly run,-
And this good staff so firm a friend hath been,
Away despair! the field may yet be won.

Conqueror I stood on that wild mountain's brow,—
A rock-built spire-two gleaming lakes between,-
And hailed the lingering beams; the richest glow
Of sunset, shed o'er Albion's loveliest scene.

Her towering heights of pride-majestic, bold-
Exulting wore their crowns of sheeny gold;
And bending o'er those crystal depths serene,
Their fairy isles and bowery margins green,
Rejoicing in their peerless beauty, smiled
As smiles a father o'er his slumbering child.
What pure delight was mine while journeying on
By those still waters in the twilight mild,

And that good staff whose aid the field had won,
Companion of the silent hour alone.

- Slow wandering by that wild romantic shore,
Trains of deep thought awoke that shadowy hour.
Scenes of the long-remembered past were there,
And of the unknown future dimmed with fear.
How oft as through life's changeful scenes we go,
O'erpowered we faint in weariness and woe!
And look for aid to combat with despair.
How oft the drooping mourner seeks to know
If here the way-worn pilgrim may obtain
A helper on the road,--a stay from heaven!
Oh! how shall earth's frail child that succour gain,
That staff of hope! I heard a voice reply,
"To Faith's high trust in God-for ever nigh—
And fervent prayer, will strengthening aid be given.'

I. L.

PRACTICAL RELIGION AMONG MUSSULMANS.

IF the same industry which has been exercised to discover the elements of falsehood in different religions, had been employed in ascertaining and recognizing the great and magnificent truths on which many of them are reared,-if, instead of seeking subjects for hate and for contention, there had been an equal anxiety to find topics of accordance and of fraternal union, how much misery would have been prevented-how much good would have been accomplished-how much progress would have been made in the paths of charity-which must necessarily lead to the wide field of truth! Who can draw a line of distinction between the fanaticism of a Mussulman, his insulting, scornful fanaticism, and that of the proud and persecuting Christian dealing out his dogmatical damna

tion? I have been living for some time surrounded by Mahometans, with whom I have journeyed in close and intimate communion for more than twelve hundred miles. I have eaten at their tables-I have slept under their roof-I have shared their enjoyments-I have talked with them on subjects domestic, social, national, moral and religious. My rule has been never to wound their prejudices or to condemn their opinions, but rather to encourage them to speak freely and unreservedly, and to cull from their thoughts and feelings and habits, fit topics for instruction and improvement.

Is there no religion in a generous hospitality? If when tired and overtaken by darkness, you reach the abode of an Arab, and he kills for you on your arrival the fattest of his lambs or kids, roasts it whole, and tears it in pieces before you, offering you the morsel which he deems the most delicious; if he staunch your bread in milk and honey, and selects for you the bits which to his eye appear the most tempting-is not the lesson he gives a religious lesson? Is not the example he teaches a religious example? If after many a weary league over burning sands, and under a scorching sun, when your tongue is swollen with drought, your eyes inflamed with pain, your limbs sinking with exhaustion, you reach in the desert some Sheikh's tomb raised over a fountain of fresh water, near which is an earthen vessel which enables you quench your intolerable thirst-will you say that the beneficent man was not a saint, or almost a saint? Will you say that he was not moved by an influence truly religious, whose last instructions were that the savings of his life should be thus charitably and perpetually employed when he had ceased to be?

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The forms of religion no doubt are considered of consummate importance among the Moslems; the discussions of the Ulemas often turn upon the most frivolous distinctions in the performance of the most frivolous ceremonial rites; a pilgrimage to Mekka is deemed alike a privilege and a duty. Yet how often have I heard the Arab proverb-'If he have been a hadgi (a pilgrim) do not therefore trust him; if he have been twice a hadgi do not therefore trust him.' No! rigid as are the claims of the Mussulman ritual, its observance will not of itself give a man a religious reputation. Its observance will add to a religious reputation, as church-going and fasting in Christendom-but something besides is required by all seriously-thinking Mussulmans.

If you would see the virtue of resignation in all its power and perfection, come to Egypt. You may watch the naked and the hungry and the houseless, and you will hear every tale of woe ending with 'Allah Kerim!' God is merciful. The poor will talk to you of wretchedness-the suffering of sorrow-you may learn in what a