excuse for my neglecting his positive orders, and if evil should come of following them, I am not to be blamed. You say that your young master is very fond of you, and will talk with you in the stable for half an hour at a time." I hope, then, you will be very careful what you say to him, and of him. Gentlemen that are fond of horses, often shew great notice to grooms who are neat in their appearance, sensible in their conversation, and civil in their behaviour. None but a foolish, giddy, conceited youth, will abuse this freedom, and take liberties in return for such attention. A modest, prudent, humbleminded young fellow, will not forget that he is conversing, all the while, with his master, and is in the company of one whom it is his duty to honour and respect. At such times, unless you are watchful, (and "the freer the master, the more careful the man," is what you should bear in mind,) you will be apt to tell what you had better have kept in, and to say what you may afterwards wish unsaid. Be cautious, William, and then you will not be brought by your master's friendliness, either to displease him, or to disgrace yourself. When one of our young lords has been talking to me, and I have turned the conversation over in my mind afterwards, I often say to myself, "he would not have spoken so free and friendly, if he thought I should tell all he said, the very next time I went into the servant's hall." One thing I trust you will not forget. Your young master is a very steady gentleman, for all I can say; but, in passing this life, you may meet with some of a different kind: never think, then, that, because they begin a conversation, you are forced to join in it, right or wrong; or that, because they are your betters, you must laugh at what they say, however improper; or make answer to their observations, however indecent. Then, William, it must be your determination never to attempt to please man at the certainty of NO. 36. VOL. III. Bb

displeasing God. By prudent behaviour on such occasions, a steady servant may do much good to a wildish master. He may be silent: that will shew his disposition; or, if pressed to speak, may give a plain, short, modest answer, in a careful and respectful manner; so plain, that his master will at once see what he is; and yet so respectful and straightforward, that he will not like him the less for his honesty.

We shall come to town about the parliament time, and then I hope you and I shall meet as often as we did last year. I shall add no more at present, but that I wish you well,-for this world, and for the next; and shall he very glad if my advice does you all the good I desire and pray it may do. And with my kind remembrances to all friends in your family.

I am,
Your true friend,
JOHN C-

THE BEE AND THE PIGEON; OR, THE FAVOUR RETURNED.

A little Bee, one summer day,

A fountain sipp'd, her thirst to cool;
The bank on which she stood gave way,
And plung'd her headlong in the pool.

A Pigeon sitting on a tree,

Whose branches o'er the water hung,
With pity view'd the struggling Bee,
And, down, a leaf, to save her, flung.

Then happy was that little Bee,

When on the leaf her foot she set,
And found herself from peril free,

Though short of breath and dripping wet.
She brush'd the moisture from her wing,
And dried her limbs and coat of hair;
Rose from the leaf with active spring,
And gambol'd gaily through the air.

A Sportsman by the water's side,
Walk'd with his gun in quest of game;
The Pigeon on the tree he spied,

And quickly at the mark took aim.

The harmless Pigeon sat secure,
Nor dream'd of any danger nigh;
The grateful Bee could not endure
To see her kind preserver die.

She skimm'd across the flowery lawn,
And sought the foe with eager wing;
His hand had not the trigger drawn,
When deep it felt her piercing sting.
The Sportsman, smarting with the wound,
His murderous engine from him threw ;
The Pigeon, startled at the sound,
Beyond the reach of danger flew.

Thus for the leaf, that saved the Bee,
The friendly Pigeon was re-paid;

So all rewarded may we see,

Who others in distress shall aid !

UPON THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD.

In a former Number (see page 337,) I endeavoured to shew the importance of an intimate acquaintance with God, in His ways and in His works; and, as we can never reflect too often upon this exalted subject, I will now proceed to consider the never-failing store of comfort such knowledge supplies, under every calamity. The first advantage of this knowledge consists in a conviction that every dispensation of Providence must be intended for our benefit. If no other advantage arose from the study of God than this certain truth, our labours would be amply repaid; for if we could always really apply this consideration to our own case, what relief in distress, what comfort in affliction, it would yield us! As it

is of such importance to our happiness to come to this conclusion, let us see upon what grounds we are so certain of the benefit of all God's dispensations. One consideration is alone sufficient for our purpose; and, if this one consideration possessed us as fully as it ought to do, we should see the wisdom and mercy of every event which happened to us. Let us seriously consider the immense disproportion between the longest life of earthly pleasures, and the immeasurable joys of heavenly happiness! Let uş pause awhile and reflect upon countless ages spent in never-fading glory, and in bliss eternal, in the knowledge and enjoyment of God's happiness, and of His love. Let us pause awhile upon these glorious, these heart-inspiring reflections ;-and then, descend to earthly contemplations,-to earthly gratifications, -so mixed up, even in their purest state, with disappointment, vexation, and imperfection, that we always find something wanting. Let us do this, and we shall then begin to comprehend the comparative littleness of all mere human enjoyments; we shall learn to esteem them less, and consequently we shall learn to be less afflicted at their loss.

We will now consider how it can belong to the mercy, and wisdom, and goodness of God, so frequently to withdraw earthly blessings from His most faithful servants. The reason is plain. When those blessings are so dear that they withdraw the heart of man from his Maker; when they rival God in our thoughts; or when they seduce us to place too much of our affection upon things below; then, if they are. withheld, can any one deny that this is an act of real mercy, by which God draws us to himself with. cords of love? These reflections should make us very diligent and watchful over our own ways, lest, by ingratitude and neglect of God's kindness, we tempt Him to withdraw from us the light of His. countenance, and take away those comforts in which.

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we place so much delight. It is in the power of God to raise desires, or to destroy them and he may, if He sees fit, cause us to despise the very blessing we have impatiently sought; and shew us the folly of setting our heart upon human felicity; he may cast so many impediments in our way, or throw such disrelish into our cup of earthly joy, that it may at length grow insipid to our taste. Indeed, so jealous is God of our loving this world too well, that He allows perfection to nothing in it: and none can say that they enjoy any earthly good, however excellent in itself, which has not, in some shape or other, caused them anxiety, disappointment, or grief. Under these circumstances, what does wisdom direct us to do? Not certainly to chuse for ourselves, but to leave to God the choice; always being prepared for the loss of that which we have, and beseeching God that we may have the wisdom to desire those things which he shall see fit to bestow, and be contented without those things which He shall withhold.

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Whether our earthly wishes be granted or denied, abundant cause of gratitude must still remain; and, if every other cause should fail, the inestimable gift of eternal life through Christ, and the abundant pardon purchased by His death, for fallen creatures, is sufficient cause to fill the whole earth with songs of rejoicing and praise. But, if health and peace surround our dwelling, we ought to see the hand of God in our protection, and gratefully acknowledge his goodness. When we have just escaped from the effects of immediate danger, when Providence has interfered in some signal manner for our protection, and has preserved us in the midst of great and sudden alarm, we are perhaps then ready to acknowledge the hand of Heaven, and to give God the praise: but, whilst we are permitted to escape even the alarm of danger, whilst our days run on in unin