ted upon.

man will look back on seasons of adversity, and acknowledge that it was good for him to have passed through them. When you had given up all hope of fine weather, you were suddenly surprised with a ray of sunshine. Thus are some of the heaviest storms of life suddenly dispersed; not in the time and manner that we had expected, but in such a way as we could not have calculaYou did therefore, at last, view the grounds, and climb the hill; but it was late in the day, with wet shoes, and in haste. Just as we are often not permitted to arrive at the summit of our desires until the decline of life, when it can be possessed but for a short time, and when our capacities for enjoyment are greatly weakened. You reached the Belvidere, and had an indistinct view of the five counties: but that circumstance, which you had so long anticipated, disappointed your expectations; and as for the cathedral, it was not to be seen at all. Thus, when we are permitted to reach the height of our wishes, the result is sure to disappoint us. Our imaginations had painted it too gaily; and our chief satisfaction arises, not so much from the success of our scheme, as from some simple circumstance attending it, like the fine glowing sunset, which was unthought of in our calculation.

You were cheered by the sudden fineness of the evening, and the late accomplishment of your hopes: but, like the chastened tranquillity of age, your cheerfulness was of a very different character from the lightsome, joyous spirits of the morning.

After all, though you had some entertainment upon the whole, yet, if you had the offer of going over the same events to-day, you would not feel disposed to accept it. Now, this is what I, and every one, I believe, of my age, must say of our day's pleasure. Could our youth be renewed like the eagle's; yet we should decline the offer, if it must be upon the condition of living over

again all the vicissitudes and anxieties, all the sorrows and sins of the past. Wearied even with pleasure, you were glad to set off on your return home. The evening was chilly and dark; and you were more disposed to sleep than to converse. This, as you see in your poor old grandfather, is not unlike the condition and infirmities of old age.

Thus far our comparison is pretty exact; and well will it be for us if it need not stop here! The sight of home at last, gave you, perhaps, more true pleasure than any thing you had seen in the day. And there are some who can say the same of the long home to which they are hastening. All are, more or less, weary of life and need rest yet, how many shrink from, and at last come short of it. You had a kind father to receive you, and a comfortable home; and the companion you dropped at the commencement of your journey, was ready to welcome your return. And if it should be thus with us at the end of the day of life, it will signify little indeed, what accidents befall us by the way. "In our Father's house are many mansions.' “There is a rest remaining for the people of God." And there, many dear friends who are gone before await our arrival. They regret not that they were stopped short in their course, but, like your friend, rejoice that they got safe home so early, and thus escaped all the misfortunes of the road.

Your day's pleasure is now over and you all feel that the little accidents which disconcerted you yesterday are of no consequence at all to-day. You can now smile at its misfortunes; and as for its pleasures they are past, and are now nothing to you. But suppose you had found no home to return to; or an uncomfortable one, exposed to the weather, and filled with bad quarrelsome company! Of how much greater value is the smallest convenience and comfort you enjoy here, because it is to last for years. than all the pleasures of that

one day put together! Or suppose that from morning to night it had been one continued storm; suppose you had not been able to reach the place of your destination at all; that many instead of one of your company had been left behind ;--that your carriages had broken down, and every other misfortune had befallen you that can be imagined ;--what then? your day's pleasure would have been spoiled, it is true; but it was only a day, and now all is over. Now, this is just the state of the case with regard to time and eternity; only the comparison falls far short of the truth. They who, devoted to the pleasures of this life, take no care to ensure an entrance into that rest, act infinitely more unwisely than you would have done, if, for the sake of enjoying that one day's recreation, you had left your house to be overrun with robbers, or destroyed by fire; knowing, that upon your return at night, you would have no shelter, no home, no father to receive you.

But is it true, that our youthful hopes are so fallacious, that there are so many drawbacks to our pleasure, and that there is so large a mixture of pain? What does this teach us?--first, not to give life a wrong name: after all, it is not a day of pleasure, but a day of business. We came into life not to please ourselves, but to do the will of Him that sent us; and especially, "to work out our salvation with fear and trembling." Again, we should learn hereby "not to set our affections on things below :" it is to teach us this lesson, which we are slow to learn, that so many trials are allotted us. Our Heavenly Father does not willingly afflict and disappoint us. He does it in mercy, to wean us from the world to which we cling. We should also learn by the disappointments attending our schemes, not to desire to order our own lot in life; since we cannot foresee how they will succeed, nor what will most promote our welfare, Let us leave it to Him, who sees the end from the

beginning, and who will then cause "all things to work together for our good." Above all, let us learn to care less for the things of time, and more for those of eternity. Do not our years pass like "a tale that is told?" "Let us therefore fear, lest a promise being given us of entering into His rest, any of us should seen to come short of it."

Thus grand-papa concluded his discourse; which, thinking it might prove instructive to others as well as to ourselves, I have, as I promised, transcribed for the perusal of the reader.

V.

FASHIONS FOR OCTOBER.

"Be clothed with humility," and have "the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price."

THIS is the most graceful, becoming, and, at the same time, novel costume that has ever solicited public patronage. The mantle is of the most exquisite hue and delicate texture; tastefully decorated with the above-mentioned costly brilliants; and will be found to unite every advantage of utility and elegance. This dress is suitable to all seasons, and is considered equally becoming to the young and the old. It possesses extraordinary durability; is less liable to take a soil than any other material, and retains its freshness and novelty to the last. It falls over the person in the most graceful folds; and is so adjusted as to veil every blemish, and set off the least favourable figure to the best possible advantage. The colour usually preferred for this costume is invisible green, which casts the most delicate shade upon the whole form, and produces an effect indescribably agreeable and prepossessing. Nothing can be more tastefully

imagined, than the ornament with which this mantle is finished; and although this jewel is pronounced by the best judges to be of immense value, it may be obtained upon very reasonable terms. It is so delicate in its hue, and so chaste and simple in its workmanship, that it has been mistaken, by unskilful observers, for an ordinary pebble but connoisseurs instantly recognize it, and allow it to be "more precious than rubies." Notwithstanding the many recommendations it possesses, this dress has never become common, although universally approved. It was once worn as a royal robe, and has ever since been held in high estimation and general use, among the subjects of the great Prince who first introduced it.

The figurative language of the Bible will always allow of the most plain, and practical interpretation. When our Lord, for instance, relates the parable of the merchantman seeking goodly pearls, who sold all that he had to obtain one of great price, we are not to regard it as an entertaining fable. Its meaning is plainly this,-that eternal life is of such incalculable value, that it is infinitely worth while to part with every thing that must be sacrificed to its attainment. The merchant sold his all to gain one pearl; for, by this means, he would abundantly enrich himself: he acted wisely therefore, for" the children of this world are, in their generation, wiser than the children of light In like manner, whatever we may resign of present pleasure or advantage with a view to our eternal welfare, will prove so unspeakably advantageous in the end, that nothing but the grossest blindness and inattention to our own interests, could make us unwilling to do so.

The language of the apostle Peter, quoted above, is no less plain and practical in its import. The apparel he recommends, is no fancy dress which we are not real