the little drop of beer she drank, so that I should pass for a prudent husband, and get my own way after all.

What poor foolish creatures we are when we willingly let our vain thoughts lead us astray! Here was I, weakly and wickedly trying to deceive Madge and myself too; but I was throwing a stone in the air, that was to fall on my own pate. Well was it said, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked."

“Madge,” said I, about an hour after I got home, "I have been thinking how comfortable we have been since I became a temperance man." "Ay," says she, "that was a blessed day, John; and we can't be too thankful for it." "But, Madge," says I, "our drink now costs us two shillings a week; and if it wasn't for you and the children, poor things-if it wasn't, I say, for them and for you, mayhap I might try to do without it; and five pounds, or five guineas a year, would be no trifling matter to put by." "If it wasn't for me and the children!" said Madge, looking at me with all her eyes; "What do you mean by that, John? the children hardly ever taste it, and as for me, I did without it when I had not such good food as I now have, nor half the comforts. It will be no trouble to me, nor the children neither, and, therefore, if you think you are strong enough to bear up at your work without it, but I am sadly afraid you will not, why let us give up the drink now the barrel is out, and you can have a new coat the sooner, for your sunday one begins to look rather shabby, and we can all get a little more butcher's meat."

"Well," thinks I to myself, "never was a poor poacher caught faster in a steel trap, than I am; and what makes the matter worse is, that my trap has been set by myself." I was quite dumbfoundered: not a word had I to say for myself; so there I stood like a fool, biting the nail of my thumb, while Madge's tongue ran on, thirteen to the dozen, all in favour of the plan I had proposed. "We can try it, John, we can try it, and time enough to give it up when you find that it weakens you;" and then she rattled away about how many comforts five pounds a year would buy. Just as I had a little recovered myself, and was thinking what I could say to turn the tables a bit; just as I had drawn in my breath to stop Madge, somebody came in at the door behind me, and on turning round, who should it be but Sam Peters himself, who, knowing the

worth of the old proverb, "Strike the iron while the iron's hot," had given himself the trouble to come all the way to our house, to finish up the conversation that had been broken off between us. If you had seen me, you would have pitied me: on one side stood my wife, who knew that Peters was a waterdrinker, praising me up to the skies for my great prudence and self-denial, in having proposed to give up malt liquor, and drink water; on the other hand stood Sam Peters, expressing his great pleasure to hear of my determination: and I stood between the two like a bear baited by two dogs, but with this difference, that the baited bear expresses what he feels, but I was obliged to keep what I felt to myself. In five minutes it was settled by Madge, for I couldn't say a word against it, that no more barrels of beer, to the tune of six and twenty shillings a-piece, should darken our doors. Sam Peters said a many handsome things about me, and my decision of character, in having so resolutely adopted the plan. He told me, too, that my having been the first to propose it, showed my sincerity more than if it had been proposed by my wife, and that he did not at all doubt but that I should stick to my purpose. this, he spoke for some time on the sin of drunkenness, and said that the poverty brought about by a habit of drinking is only one of its evils. Drunkenness," said he, "shows a departure from God, and a liability to his heaviest judgments. There is a black cloud hanging for ever over the head of the drunkard; a curse attends his bed and his board, his basket and his store, his going out and his coming in." Sam then shook me heartily by the hand as a brother water-drinker, and trusted I should never repent the praiseworthy step which I had so resolutely taken.

After

Since then, I have thought a good deal on the subject of water-drinking; for though I was dragged to it like a bear to the stake, I begin to find the benefit of the plan. Never was I in better health of body than I now am; never had I greater peace of mind; for things seem to prosper around me, and that prevents our anxiety, and enables me to enjoy my sabbaths, and receive greater comfort from God's holy word than I used to do. My Madge is as lively as a bird, and as good-tempered as though no such thing as trouble ever crost her. My children are hearty as I could wish them to be; I

owe no man any thing, and let rent day come when it will, my money is ready for my landlord.

Now, all these things are much in favour of drinking water, but I don't mean to say, that it would suit every one; I only know that it suits me. Some work harder than I do, though I stick pretty close to it, too; and if a draught of beer is now and then taken by them, they will never hear me condemn them for it; but if I were to give my downright opinion on the point, I would say, that where one man hurts himself by drinking too much water, a thousand injure their health by drinking too much beer. When drinking men say they can't give up their pleasures, they seem to think that drunkenness makes a man happier than temperance; but "the proof of the pudding is in the eating." I have tried them both, and find the plain state of the case to be this-Temperance, though it costs a little at first, is a continual blessing; and drunkenness, while it gives men a short-lived pleasure, leads them on to present and never-ending wretchedness.

CONTENTMENT.

AMONG the living creatures with which man is conversant, we know of none that presents so fit an example of contentment as the Redbreast. It matters not whether the day be gilded with sunshine, or overcast with clouds, the notes of the robin salute you at every turn. If the weather be bright, you see him perched upon the topmost branch of a tree or shrub; if the rain be descending, he takes shelter under the awning provided for him by a leaf, but no change puts a period to his song as if in the little head of a robin there was a perpetual spring of joy, which outward circumstances could not influence. When we are uneasy, dull, or melancholy, we ascribe all the blame to outward cir

cumstances, and our imagination sketches many things that would make us happy, not remembering that it is the vessel, as Lucretius says of the heart, that is tainted. This is what spoils the relish of all enjoyments here; it is this tainted vessel that corrupts the wine of our choicest earthly comforts; it is the mortal poison that lurks in the heart which speedily kills by contact every flower of enjoyment. All the sweets of a terrestrial paradise, or all the glories of heaven, could not make us happy, unless

THE HUMBLE HEART.

"BUT he giveth grace," pours it out plentifully upon humble hearts. His sweet dews and showers of grace slide off the mountains of pride, and fall on the low valleys of humble hearts, and make them pleasant and fertile. The swelling heart, puffed up with a fancy of fulness, hath no room for grace. It is lifted up, is not hallowed and fitted to receive and contain the graces that descend from above. And, again, as the humble heart is most capacious, and, as being emptied and hollowed, can hold most, so it is the most thankful, acknowledges all as received, while the The proud cries out that all is his own. return of glory that is due from grace, comes most freely and plentifully from an humble heart: God delights to enrich it with grace, and it delights to return him glory. The more he bestows on it, the more it desires to honour him with all; and the more it doth so, the more readily he bestows still more upon it; and this is the sweet intercourse betwixt God and the humble soul. This is the noble ambition of humility, in respect whereof all the aspirings of pride are low and base. When all is reckoned, the lowliest mind is truly the highest; and these two agree so well, that the more lowly it is, it is thus the higher; and the higher thus, it is still the more lowly.—Leighton.

SELF. POSSESSION.

THE mildness of Sir Isaac Newton's

temper, through the course of his life, commanded admiration from all who knew him, but in no one instance, perhaps, more than the following:—Sir Isaac had a favourite little dog, which he called Diamond; and being one day called out of his study, Diamond was left behind. When Sir Isaac returned, having been absent but a few minutes, he had the mortification to find, that Diamond having thrown down a lighted candle among some papers, the nearly-finished labours of many years were in flames, and almost consumed to ashes. This loss, as Sir Isaac had no copy of the papers, was irretrievable: yet, without striking the dog, he only rebuked him, with this exclamation, "O Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done!"

JOHN DAVIS, 56, Paternoster Row, London.

Numbers in a Cover, 3d.

W. TYLER, Printer, 4, Ivy Lane, St Paul's.

much attention at this time, and many schemes were contrived for its accomplishment; and amongst others was that of a Frenchman, named St. Pierre, who proposed employing the distance of the moon from the fixed stars, in the solution of this important problem. The subject was referred to the opinion of men of science, more particularly to Mr. Flamsteed, a clergyman, who was afterwards appointed one of the commissioners of longitude, when a reward of 20,000l. was offered by the government for an easy solution of the problem.

Mr. Flamsteed, upon examining the foreigner's claims, found that the knowledge astronomers at that time possessed of the elements of the lunar motions, as well as of the positions of the fixed stars, was too scanty to enable him to determine beforehand (or predict) the place of the moon with

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The first thing to be done was the selection of a suitable spot on which to establish the observatory; in this he received the assistance of the celebrated Sir Christopher Wren, (the architect of St. Paul's cathedral,) who recommended the site of Greenwich castle, on account of its elevated and commanding situation. The castle being no longer a favourite resort of royalty, was granted by the king, with liberty to employ the materials of the old building, together with a quantity of bricks from Tilbury Fort, (opposite Gravesend,) in the new erection; towards defraying the expense of which, he granted the sum of five hundred pounds.

The old castle was accordingly pulled down, and the first stone of the present building (which was erected, we believe, from the design of Sir Christopher Wren) was laid on the 10th of August, 1675. During its erection, Flamsteed made his observations at Pelham House, then called the Queen's House, and now forming the central building of the Royal Naval Asylum. This edifice was designed by Inigo Jones, and erected by Charles I., as a residence for his queen, Henrietta, the sister of the King of France.

About a year after the commencement of the observatory, Flamsteed removed his instruments to their destination, where he continued making a series of very important observations during a period of fortyfive years. In the seventy-fourth year of his age, this eminent astronomer was removed from the scene of his labours, after a severe illness of four days, on the 31st of December, 1719; he was buried at the parish of Burslow, in Surrey, of which he possessed the living.

The results of his long and useful labours

FREE JUSTIFICATION.

In the free justification of the sinner before God, and giving him acceptance and peace of conscience, the gospel displays its power unto salvation. It comes to the penitent transgressor as a ministration of righteousness, as a word of reconciliation and peace. It opens the prison doors, and bids the captive go free. The power of the law was great, as represented in the mighty thunderings with which it was given; but, in comparison with the gospel, the law was weak, and could make nothing perfect. The power of the law was for destruction. The power of the gospel is a life-giving power. The law could only hold down the man who was down before; it could never give him life again. But the power to give life is far greater than the power to kill. The gospel is thus mighty to pass by transgressions and sins, to set at liberty the souls that are bound, and to give boldness in the presence of the King of saints to the poor captives of Satan.

When the sinner's heart is brought under the influence of the gospel by the power of the Holy Spirit, it takes away the burden of guilt; it silences every accuser; it fills the believer with the confidence of hope; it forbids every weapon to prosper which is formed against him, and condemns every tongue which rises up in judgment against his soul. The justification which the gospel gives is a perfect and entire one. The sins of a life, however accumulated, however aggravated, are biotted out in one moment, and that for ever. new and perfect righteousness is bestowed upon the pardoned sinner; and he stands before God, not only without a stain of guilt, but with a character as perfect, and a title to an inheritance of glory as entire, as if he had never transgressed against God.

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In the justification of the believer, the

OLD HUMPHREY ON CAPITAL; OR, "PLENTY MORE IN THE CELLAR."

MANY things surprise me in this wonderful world, and, among them, I am amazed at the small capital with which some people begin and carry on business. Were we to judge by the magnificent names that are given to many trading concerns, we might be led to suppose that they must produce a princely return.

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Original Establishment," "Grand Depôt," "Metropolitan Mart," and "National Institution," so amplify our expectations, that we are not, all at once, prepared to witness the slender stock, the "beggarly account of empty boxes," that too frequently compose them. We might almost think by their hand-bills, that some small grocers, who have hardly a chest of tea on their premises, had opened a regular account with the merchants at Canton.

There is a deal of outside in this world, both in persons and things.

I happened to know a civil young man, who, anxious to make his way in the world, opened a shop for the sale of cheese, butter, soap, candles, and such like things; but not possessing ten pounds of his own in the whole world, it was absolutely necessary to set off the little stock he possessed to advantage. His small shop was fresh painted, and the window well piled up with such articles as he had to dispose of. The world around him considered these articles to be his samples, while, in truth, they were his stock. All that he had, with a little exception, he crowded into his window. In a back room he had a few pounds of cheese, butter, and bacon, as well as a shilling's worth or two of eggs and other articles; but the bulk of his establishment was, as I before said, exhibited in his window. Whenever any customers came

Every now and then he ran backwards, to fetch some part of the stores he had withheld; his customers concluding, on such occasions, that he had descended to his vaults below for his supplies; for though there was in reality no cellar to the house, no one doubted the observation so frequently made by him, "I have plenty more in the cellar !" Now, I commend his anxiety to make the best of his stock; but his boasting and his falsehood cannot be too severely censured.

Alas! my friends! there are crowds of people in the world acting exactly in the same manner. They begin and carry on their concerns, of whatever kind they may be, with very little capital. They make large pretensions; they carry an air of importance, and pass for what they are not; in other words, like the vender of cheese, butter, and bacon, they crowd all they have into the window, and boldly declare, that they have "plenty more in the cellar."

Do not suppose that I am speaking of shopkeepers only, for I allude to all classes of society. Whatever may be the profession and calling of men, who overrate their means and endowments, who pass for possessors of great capital, either in goods, riches, or talents, when their resources in all are slender; who occupy imposing positions which they know that they are not qualified to sustain, they all come under the same description. You may speak of their conduct in what way you will, but if I attempt to describe it in my homely way, I shall say, that all crowd the little they possess into the window, and try to persuade people they have "plenty more in the cellar.'

Again I say, there is a deal of outside in the world. If we knew the little wisdom that is possessed by many a pompous declaimer in praise of his own understanding; and the little wealth in the pockets of many who wear rings on their fingers, and chains of gold around their necks, we should with one consent agree, that their business is carried on with a small capital; that they do, indeed, crowd all they have into the window, and strive manfully to convince the world, they have plenty more in the cellar."

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Do not think Old Humphrey severe; he would not willingly become so, for he knows too well, that in his own heart may be found the germ of every error he condemns in the conduct of others: he must,