learned every thing which had transpired at home, up to the time he had enlisted and left the village. Edwin sought to direct the dying man to the only Source of hope and peace, and before his death, which occurred in a few days after, he expressed his sorrow for his past life, and imputed all his misery to an unnatural love of spirituous liquors, which had been formed at his father's table. In humble dependence upon the Saviour's merits, he breathed his last.

Edwin continued to state, that on his return to Madras, he found his relation dangerously ill, who, feeling his approaching end, and as he had no kindred but Edwin, he made over to him by will the whole of his vast possessions, as a reward for his services and sobriety, and shortly afterwards died. Edwin now determined to embrace the first opportunity to return to his native land: his object in visiting India had been more than realised, and he therefore longed for nothing so much as the company of his only earthly friends, the inhabitants at the parsonage. One of the Company's ships shortly after sailed, in which he ́embarked, and after a pleasant and speedy passage, once more trod the English shore. As no means were afforded of sending notice of his arrival, he had hasted to announce it himself, and hoped, as he said, that the alarm he had caused by his sudden appearance would be pardoned by Clara, for which favour he pledged himself to seek her happiness all the days of her life.

The last official act which Mr. Buckingham performed in the village church, was the celebration of the nuptials of Molesworth and his daughter, with whom he retired to a mansion purchased by his son-in-law, and enjoyed such felicity in his declining days, as his early and long maintained habits of piety had formed a foundation for.

Upon the place he had left, " Ichabod" seemed to have been written. The inhabitants dwindled away,- the cottages fell into ruins, the church became dilapidated, and its pathways were choked up with rank weeds; "the Plough," which had been the means of such extensive evil, shared the fate of the other habitations; the sign swung creaking by one hinge in the howling blast, the window frames were demolished, and part of the roof had fallen in. On every part of the once happy and flourishing place the results of intemperance were impressed, and until this day it remains a DESERTED VILLAGE.

IN attacking a practice so common as smoking, I am fully aware that I am exposing myself to the censure of all ranks and conditions of men; but as facts are stubborn things, and speak more forcibly the language of conviction than the finest logic, I shall confine myself to a simple narrative founded on facts.

John Wilson was the son of industrious and honest parents, who brought up a large family in credit and comfort, and who gave them all the education the village school could supply; that is to say, they learnt to read, to write, and "cast accounts," and this knowledge satisfied all but the hope and pride of the father and mother, John, who soon outstripped the village schoolmaster in his acquirements, and gave fair promise of being, as Mrs. Wilson predicted, a greater man than the minister; and when their means failed of procuring him further instruction, his thirst of knowledge was rather suppressed than quenched, as whenever opportunity offered, he gladly returned to the fountain from which he could alone draw delight.

John was put to one or two trades, but, much to the surprise of his disappointed parents, he was returned on their hands as too stupid to learn either to weigh figs or raisins, or to retail tapes, and he was soon considered an

almost useless member of a family where each contributed their mite to its support.

At length John's fondest hopes were realized; he was noticed by the worthy minister, who meeting him in a field with a book in his hand, which appeared to engross the whole of his attention, inquired into the nature of his studies. John coloured, looked confused, and acknowledged it was an old Eton Grammar he had bought at a book-stall, when he went with his father to market.

The learned are generally pleased with those who wish to learn, and the worthy Mr. Mason inquired if he would like to learn Latin.

John's eyes glistened-it was the height of his ambition. "Better than any thing in the world,” he exclaimed in a tone of rapture. The good pastor smiled, and said, "The desire of knowledge, like other affections planted in our natures, will be very apt to lead us wrong, if it be not well regulated; and the best knowledge that we can acquire is that of God and our own soul."

John's eyes fell in disappointment to the ground.

Mr. Mason saw it, and added-"Know thyself' is one of the most useful precepts in the whole moral system: among the heathens it was held in the highest veneration. Thales the Milesian is said to be the first author of it, who used to say, 'That for a man to know himself, is the hardest thing in the world;' and among the Christian world this self-knowledge should be held still higher, as human nature is the same now as it was then: the heart is deceitful, and the necessity of watching, knowing, and keeping it, the same; and we can acquire this knowledge, John, without Latin."

"Yes, sir," said John, colouring to the ears at his presumption, but determined to gain his point if possible; "but Latin does not prevent a knowledge of ourselves, or of our Bible."

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No," replied Mr. Mason, "but whatever you may think, Latin, and Greek too, are easier learnt, than that knowledge of ourselves the Bible presents to our view. In that revelation which God hath been pleased to give us, as our guide to duty and happiness, we learn the depravity of our nature, our utter alienation from God, and there, as in a glass, we may survey ourselves, and know what manner of persons we are. Other knowledge is very apt to make us vain: this will keep us humble."

"It may be so," said John, sorrowfully, "but I think I should never be vain of whatever I may acquire, though I fear it will be little indeed."

"Well," said the clergyman, "I see you are hard to be convinced; so call on me to-morrow, and we will talk a little more on the subject."

John was all sanguine expectation; he slept but little that night, and at an early hour was in the study of the vicarage, gazing in rapturous wonder on the folio volumes that crowded the shelves, and wishing he could but read them all. The interview was most propitious to his views, and ended in his becoming the pupil of the worthy clergyman, who not only instructed him in the classics, but, of what was of far more importance, in his duty to God and man; and for five years John enjoyed the advantages of excellent tuition, and eventually became a preacher of the gospel in a dissenting chapel. This was not exactly what his pastor had planned; nevertheless he put no stumbling block in his way, and Wilson soon became a popular preacher, and for years he conducted himself with that circumspection and Christian love and zeal which adorned the gospel he professed. Among his occasional hearers was a gentleman of fortune, who merely went to chapel as he did to the theatre, to be amused, for Mr. Wilson was a fine orator, and he admired oratory; and after hearing him a few times he sought his society, and as he indulged in a cigar and glass, the young preacher was soon induced not to look singular, and to take just one glass, one cigar.

A few weeks after this acquaintance was formed, Mr. Mason called on his old pupil, and on entering his little parlour, looking much surprised, he exclaimed

"I smell tobacco-do you smoke, Wilson?"

"I now and then take a pipe."

"And a glass?” added Mr. Mason.

"Not always."

"The one generally accompanies the other," replied the aged pastor.

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Perhaps so, my dear sir, but I find that a pipe composes the mind and soothes the feelings."

"And, John," said Mr. Mason solemnly, "the mind never wants composing in health by artificial means but when it is discomposed by improper causes, or the feelings soothing but when they should not be irritated. A throne

of grace should supply the Christian's composing drugs, and the fountain of his Redeemer's blood his soothing draught. Beware how you commence a bad habit."

you are

'Really, my respected sir, I cannot think so seriously of so harmless an indulgence, though I would not differ from you willingly even in this trifle, but I think prejudiced against what I consider a very innocent recreation to the mind; that prince of eloquence and of ministers, Robert Hall, the great preacher, Mr.

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Stop, you cannot quote higher authority, Wilson, for the support of your cause," said Mr. Mason, interrupting him; "and I doubt not but both those great men took strong opiates to render their very existence bearable, for both were afflicted with the most excruciating pains, attendant on distressing and incurable diseases; and surely you will not tell me that remedies which are necessary for allaying a racking disease, are to be resorted to in health and strength-if so, take your laudanum."

Wilson smiled-" I can sleep without laudanum."

"Ay, and you can compose your feelings without tobacco, or there's something wrong that ought not to be soothed but cauterised. You have been my pupil, Wilson, in the classics," said Mr. Mason affectionately, "let me now instruct you in human nature. We are easily led into wrong, and

'The first, once past, leads on to more,

And that proves fate which was but choice before.'

A stone on the edge of a hill propelled once forward, stops not until it is at the bottom.

"Dear sir," interrupted Wilson, "I assure you I care little about smoking; I now and then take a pipe, but can do without it almost as well as with it: I seldom drink, and then one glass."

Men

"Almost, and seldom, two fatally ominous words! Almost will become always, and seldom regularly. Smoking and drinking are sworn companions; let me beseech you, Wilson, not to make them yours. Consider, a minister of church or chapel is a public character. seek happiness in a variety of ways, and, succeeding but seldom in their pursuit, they look to their pastors, when disgusted with the phantoms of fame, pleasure, or ambition, to set them right, and show them the ways of wisdom, and the paths of peace. We are the servants of a 'God of