220 A WARNING ON THE UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. (For the Assistant of Education.) ABOUT a month since, I paid a visit to a young friend who had been one of my school-fellows, and with whom I parted last Midsummer. She was eighteen years of age-an orphan-an heiress-the representative of rank, wealth, and beauty. No one ever entered upon life with more sanguine or fairer prospects of happiness. Her many friends were affectionate and sincere, her wants were supplied as soon as named, and even forestalled, her slightest wish was gratified, pleasures suited to her age were provided for her, and she was permitted and encouraged to dispense charity with a liberal hand to all who needed it. She was not spoilt by prosperity or indulgence-her active kindness, her gaiety, her winning manners, won the affection of all around her; and to promote the happiness of others was her constant aim. Ever the gayest of the gay, she was the soul of mirth and joy: no dream of sorrow ever caused her to shed a tear, no forebodings of misfortune ever checked her buoyant spirit. If she sometimes wept that she stood alone in the world without one with whom she may claim kindred, that father, mother, brothers, all were gone, her tears were for those she had never known, and her sorrow was of that holy and chastened nature that exalts the thoughts and soothes the heart. To her this world was no passing wilderness-it was a valley of delight-she gathered every flower, inhaled each breath of gladness, found sources of pleasure at every step, and when she lingered, it was not to meditate on the past or the future, but to dwell on the present as the fairest, the loveliest scene. Her's was not that pale and melancholy loveliness that seems to warn us it is only a sojourner on earth, but that luxuriant glow of health and spirit which breathes of life and joy. I saw her as playful, as gladsome as when we parted. We talked over old times and old companions, our childish joys and childish sorrows. She showed me her books, her drawings, the course of reading she had drawn up, the plans she had formed for the employment of her time, for her studies, &c. "And see, dear, I have done what we so often used to talk of doing;" and she placed before me a large musick-book, into which she had copied all the airs to which words have been written in the Assistant. "You must hear my piano, for it is such a beautifully toned instrument-Mr. L- gave it to me on my birthday; so I will sing and play my favourite;" and she sang "Tell me not of friends untrue." "And now I will show you my green-house, but wait one minute;" and she ran to fetch me a cloak. "Had you not better put something on yourself, Isabel," said I, as she tied it round me. "O no: I love the wind of heaven to blow on me; you need not fear-it will not harm me; for I never take cold, or ever had I a day's illness." "We will do as we used to do, Isabel," and encircling each other's waist with our arms, we folded the cloak round us, and walked up and down the garden as we were wont to do when at school. She told me of all she meant to do this winter, of the merry Christmas she was to spend with her guar dian at her own mansion, and the happiness she hopes to diffuse among her tenantry. "Mr. L. is so very kind," said she "I never propose any thing (reasonable) which he does not accede to. Mrs. L. has written for little Mary (a poor neglected school-fellow) to spend the next holydays with us; and I hope your Mama will be able to spare you, Elizabeth—I should be so happy. I often wish - but why repeat wishes never gra tified, intentions never fulfilled. She, whose merry smile, whose merry glance cheered and gladdened every heart, is mouldering in the dust. She took the typhus fever; and her hitherto perfect state of health rendering it impossible to reduce her strength with sufficient rapidity, the day week after she was taken ill, she was laid in the grave. We hear, we read of such things-a sigh, an involuntary shudder, dismisses them from our thoughts. It happens to one of our acquaintance-of our friends, and then, alas! the impression is but transitory. Still we defer making religion our constant guide. We think we are young, and time lies before us-in sickness, in sorrow, we will seek comfort from God. But deceive not yourselves-you must worship your Creator in the days of your youth, to find him a refuge in time of trouble. And remember that life is short, that man is like a shadow that passeth away, and that in the midst of life we are in death; that we cannot say with certainty we will do this, and we will do that, for we know not if to-morrow's sun will rise for us. Whilst engaged in the pursuits, or enjoying the pleasures of this life, your souls may be required of you. Remember that after death cometh judgment, and before the throne of God a sudden death will be no excuse for commandments transgressed, duties neglected, parental commands disobeyed, parental love slighted. Then worship God in the days of your youth, and find mercy early in his sight: and watch, and pray, and be stedfast in welldoing, for ye know neither the day nor the hour in which death cometh. A HINT FOR THE DISPOSAL OF CAST-OFF APPAREL. ONE of the uses of a periodical publication is to call attention to whatever may seem worthy of it. In a small tract, written for the poor, entitled James Heselden, we met with the following remarks; and thinking them more appropriate to the rich, who will probably not see them there, we asked leave of the author to transfer them to our pages. "I cannot let slip the present opportunity of dropping a hint to those in a superior station of life, if any such should condescend to cast their eyes over this little book, to those Christians especially who view the heart as the seat of every thing that is unholy, and from their knowledge of the corruption of our nature, desire carefully to guard against every thing which may be the occasion of sin, either in others or themselves. I would address myself to such persons, and ladies in particular, whether they have not observed the increasing and prevailing love of dress among the lower orders, especially among that useful and most necessary part of the community, female servants. I would gently remind them, that one great cause of this growing evil, is the practice too generally pursued by mistresses, of giving to their domesticks their own cast-off clothes. A servant having once put on a gown worn by her mistress, can no longer be satisfied with the plain apparel suited to her purse, or rather her station-for it is to be lamented, in this point of view, that flimsy, showy dress is in reality cheaper than good and substantial articles. Is it not natural, when a servant apes to be a lady, which, in her estimation, consists chiefly in dressing like one, she should despise those in her own sphere, and seek and desire the attention of her superiors? Surely in this enlightened age, when the true principles of Christianity are every day more and more clearly understood, it becomes a necessary duty to put some check on the vanity, which the present practice of mistresses seems rather calculated to encourage. But how, some will say, can that of which you complain be avoided? Can we differ from the usual practice? How are we to dispose of our cast-off clothes? The first question is easily set at rest: if none will dare to do right because others do wrong, then they are shackled indeed; shackled in a manner which, in this age of free enquiry, can scarcely be believed possible; but as to what may be done with the clothes, I wish it were as easy to abolish the custom referred to, as it is to find out more advisable means for their disposal. Are there not among your acquaintance some well-educated and reduced persons pining in solitude, in need perhaps of the necessaries of life, debarred the society of their equals, for want of the means of making a respectable appearance? To such, how acceptable would be an annual present of half-worn articles of dress! If you fear wounding the feelings of such persons, the articles may be sent anonymously; or if you are strangers to such claimants on your kindness, commit your little wardrobe to that interesting society, supported by members of the Church of England, for assisting married clergymen with small incomes. How valuable would fine half-worn materials be to those who, with the feelings and education of gentlewomen, live on a pittance far inferior to the wages of our men-servants! If I am not mis-informed, there are many instances where clergymen have only £80 a year to subsist on. I knew a lady once, who was a pattern for a manager of a family, and whose habits of regularity and economy induced her to put every thing to its best use. She dressed handsomely and expensively without being extravagant; every thing that she put off as unwearable for herself, she laid aside in a chamber allotted to the purpose, and once a year she sorted and arranged the articles; the more common ones she would give to her nurse and lady's-maid, but the greatest part of them she sent off to a young lady of small income, whose ingenuity and industry converted them to so good a use, as to make them scarcely known again, even to the lady who sent them. Sometimes a friend, hearing of her judicious plan for using these things, would send her a considerable addition to her store, when it was a fresh pleasure to dispatch this second packet, and to think of the happiness she was conferring. REVIEW OF BOOKS. Nisbet, Biblical Researches, and Travels in Russia, &c. By THE interest with which this work is perused, will depend very much upon the mind of the reader-whether that which was the purpose of the author's travel, and of course the chief object of his attention, be a subject of interest or a matter of indifference. There are many to whom a Bible is a thing of no value. It may have sometimes disturbed their happiness, but has added nothing to it. It may have robbed them of some Sabbath hours of profit or amusement, but has never cheered their spirits or enhanced their gains. It is impossible that any one so circumstanced should care where Bibles are and where they are not-and the purpose of the expedition, and the biblical tone of it, will give them too much disgust, to admit of their liking the book, however entertaining else. There are others who, without despising the possession, hold it so common as not to need a fuss. They see Holy Bibles in every bookseller's window, and Holy Bibles upon the shelves of every library-and ever since they were born they have had so many more Bibles than were necessary, they are at a loss to conceive |