in the room, apparently proceeding from under a | that having strolled forth one day, buffetted and bureau. Supposing that one of her birds had afflicted, with his little Testament in his hand, escaped from its cage, and remained in the room, he thought he would turn to the epistles where she attempted to dislodge it from its supposed concealment. No bird, however, made its appearance, but a mouse was startled from beneath the bureau, and ran to another part of the room, where it recommenced its song. It was caught and confined in a cage, which it has now inhabited about six weeks, having become quite tame, and evidently recognising individuals, by showing more familiar regard to its keeper than to strangers.

he would most easily find some precious promise, but his book was upside down; so that, without intending it, he opened on the gospels. The first text which met his eye was this: "They found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name; him they compelled to bear his cross." "You know," he added, "Simon is the same name as Simeon. What a word of instruction was here-what a blessed hint for my encou ragement-to have the cross laid upon me that I might bear it after Jesus! What a privilege! It was enough. Now I could leap and sing for joy, as one whom Jesus was honouring with a participation in his sufferings." Through all the provocations which he received, and they

"It is seldom entirely silent, except when sleeping, almost constantly emitting a low chirping series of notes, resembling somewhat the twitter produced by a nest of young birds. As the evening advances its musical disposition is more fully developed, until, usually towards mid-were many, he was enabled to act in the spirit night, its notes increase in power, compass and variety; it then frequently pours forth a gush of melody, resembling the song of a canary bird, but softer and less shrill than the notes of the feathered songster." T. S.

For Friends' Review.

CHARLES SIMEON.

(Continued from page 149.)

of that passage, "The servant of the Lord must not strive." His trials appear indeed to have been greatly blessed to him. It is touching to find him in after life, when an object of almost universal respect, and even reverence, referring to these times of affliction as a means by which he was deepened in the knowledge of himself. Besides an irritable temper, Simeon had a disposition prone to self-gratulation, as well as to excessive activity. The following incident is related by his biographer in connection with the former of these failings. He had a singular, not to say a morbid sensitiveness, about certain trifling actions. A servant stirred the fire awkwardly; Simeon turned round and hit the man a thump on the back to stay his proceedings; and soon after, some delay (occasioned by a mistake about a bridle) caused another unseemly ebullition of temper. After he was gone, the friend at whose house he had been staying, forwarded to him a note purporting to be written by the servant, expressing surprise that a gentleman who could preach and pray so well, should be angry about nothing, and not wear a bridle upon his own tongue. The letter was signed John Softly, and soon after brought the following characteristic answer:

A few months after Simeon had commenced his ministry, the incumbent of one of the largest parishes in Cambridge died. The parishioners were in favour of another individual as his successor, but through his father's influence Simeon was presented to the living. The people were much excited. They not only refused to attend, but locked up their pews-the wardens removed the temporary seats which he had provided at his own expense. He established an evening lecture, but they shut the doors against him, and he was fairly driven to meet those who desired to hear him at a room hired for the purpose. For ten years did these unhappy disputes vex his spirit-nor did his excitable temper and the ardour of his zeal always yield as promptly as might have been desired to the dictates of Christian prudence. Yet he showed no bitter"To John Softly.-I most cordially thank ness of feeling towards his persecutors-"May you, my dear friend, for your kind and seasonGod bless them with enlightening, sanctifying able reproof. I feel it both just and necessary; and saving grace," was his sincere prayer for and will endeavour, with God's help, to make a them. His style was peculiar: ardent and im- suitable improvement of it. If it do not produce passioned, his manner was sometimes earnest its proper effects, I shall be exceedingly thankeven to grotesqueness-faithful and fearless, nei-ful for a second edition of it. I trust your prether his subjects nor his illustrations were always very fastidiously chosen; and those who had long been soothed by the elegant address and the eloquent words of some such clergyman as Cowper has pourtrayed, found much in the young preacher to excite ridicule or disgust.

Many years after, when conversing with a friend on the contempt and derision of which he was the object at this time, he mentioned

cious balm will not break my head, but I hope it will soften the spirit of your much indebted friend, CHARLES PROUD AND IRRITABLE."

Having on one occasion preached, as he thought, with some sense of the Divine presence, he says he found towards the end Satan working powerfully on his corrupt, vain heart, which made him pray fervently against his power. When he went home, a friend whom

FRIENDS' REVIEW.

"How long are we," he exclaims, "learning the true nature of Christianity! A quiet, sober, diligent application of one's mind to one's parti- PHILADELPHIA, TWELFTH MONTH 4, 1847. cular calling in life, and a watchfulness over the evils of the heart, seem very poor attainments to a young Christian: we must be everywhere and everything, or else we are nothing, in his esteem; oh! thanks to our meek and lowly

Teacher-how he bears with us!"

The force of truth, the Christian kindness and forbearance of Simeon, and the effects which his self-denial and devotedness were producing upon many around him, at length relieved him from that bitter opposition which he had so long encountered, and as he advanced in life he was permitted to see the results of his labours, not only in the greater regard manifested towards himself, but in the increased estimate which was placed upon sacred things by those amongst whom he was principally conversant. Henry Martyn, a name endeared to those who can appreciate the value of an early and entire sacrifice of self,

-"to relinquish all We have or hope, of happiness and joy, And stand in freedom loosened from this world,”

The review of the life of William Allen, which has occupied a place in several of our former numbers, is suspended in the present, to be resumed at an early date. A number of interesting incidents, and to some of our readers probably the most instructive parts of his course, are yet to appear.

The observations of a valued correspondent on the correct use of the plain language, which appear in this number, are in our apprehension worthy of serious reflection. The general deviation among Friends in this country, from the grammatical use of the pronoun in the second person singular, has probably a deeper foundation than is generally imagined. A person who speaks correctly in this respect, is apt to be considered as rather more strict, something more like a primitive Quaker, than one who conforms to the common usage. Perhaps a rigid scrutiny would lead to the conclusion, that a fear of being thus regarded operates as the principal reason for avoiding the rejected pronoun. And is not a similar apprehension the real objection with many of our young people to a plain dress, or the use of the plain language in any form. The editor can assure his readers, from an experience of nearly fifty years, that the real difficulty in the case is almost wholly in the commencement. Let any man who understands the English language, determine to speak grammatically whenever he speaks at all, and the pronoun thou will soon take its place as submis sively as any member of the family.

appears to have been first deeply impressed through his instrumentality. Several instances are related of individuals who had been deeply implicated in the outrages of which Simeon was the object, having become truly pious and devoted men; and ascribing their changes to his instrumentality. He lived, indeed, to exert an influence over the students at Cambridge, of which there are few examples; and this influence was mainly to be ascribed to the purity and elevation of his Christian character. The following characteristic extract from his Diary may serve the double purpose of exhibiting his peculiar style of illustration, and conveying a lesson of great practical value. "The occurrences of almost every day show me what cause We have admitted a notice of a phenomenon I have to bless and adore God for enabling me which, if not new in natural history, is at least to carry into effect a very simple principle, which curious. We have understood that several instances brings the sweetest peace into my soul. It is have been discovered, in which these troublesome this: a man strikes me with a sword and inflicts little creatures have exhibited a faculty similar to a wound; suppose, instead of binding up the that of the feathered race. It would be a subject wound, I am showing it to every body; and, after it is bound up, I am taking off the bandage of interest to the naturalist, if we could ascertain continually and examining the depth of the whether singing birds were kept in all the houses wound, and making it fester, till my limb be- where these fur clad songsters have exhibited their comes greatly inflamed and my general health is powers. Pritchard, in his Physical History of Man, materially affected. Is there a person that would remarks, that men and animals, possessing an not call me a fool? Now such a fool is he, who, I ample supply of the comforts of life, are much more

accustomed to develope varieties, than those in savage life. Thus, wild animals of the same species are mostly of one colour, while domestic ones are greatly diversified. And varieties once formed frequently become hereditary. Perhaps the admirers of canary birds might take a hint from these facts, and raise up a race of rival songsters.

they believe or know. Those, of course, who wield these potent engines, have much to answer for, if they use them to corrupt the principles or vitiate the morals of the people.

While writers and publishers act thus powerfully on the community at large, they are themselves little less efficiently acted upon by their readers. An author does not willingly produce, or a printer designedly publish, a work which few or

may

and manufactures, it is the demand which stimu-
lates the production. Works of fancy and fiction
are written and published, because they find read-
ers. We therefore conclude, that every one
who purchases a book, does something towards
producing another; and if the book is of a worth-
less or deleterious character, encouragement is
given to bring into existence a subsequent one,
a similar description.

of

LIGHT READING.-Whoever takes the trouble of exploring the shelves of a large library, or of read-none will read. In literature, as well as in arts ing a catalogue of the books which it contains, must perceive, that if all these books are ever to be read and understood, the labour must be divided amongst numerous individuals. As the philosopher, upon observing the luxuries of an opulent city, exclaimed, how many things are here which I do not want, so the visitor of an extensive library may justly cry out, how many books are here which I shall never read. Even the most assiduous student who devotes himself to a particular object, will hardly find time to peruse all the works which are really valuable, in the line of his studies. Those who read for the purpose of storing their minds with the treasures of science, must rest content with selections from the countless volumes which abound in the world; for it is clearly impracticable to examine them all. It is, therefore, highly important that books designed for instruction should be judiciously selected. The student, who spends | a part of his time in the perusal of a book, from which no valuable information has been derived, feels, or ought to feel, that a treasure, which cannot be recovered, has been wasted. It is no trivial reproach to an author, that he has written a book which is not worth reading. And a book which, when read, leaves the reader no wiser or better than he was before, is to him hardly worth read. ing. It is, therefore, imperative upon authors, that they should avoid swelling the mass of literature, without a reasonable prospect of improving their readers in knowledge or virtue. Every book which is thrown before the public, if not calculated to answer the purpose for which books ought to be made, may be considered as a new temptation to the young and inexperienced, to waste a portion of

their time.

It may indeed be said, that writers will and must consult the taste of their readers; and that no books which do not conform to that taste, will be extensively read. This is unquestionably true; yet we are not to forget that the mind, as well as the body, is nourished by what it feeds upon; and that the taste of some readers is formed, in great measure, from the books which they are in the habit of reading. The assertion is undoubtedly true, that, in a reading community, the people are indebted to the pen and press for much of what

Now, independently of the effect, upon authorship or publication, which the choice of our books may produce, it is of importance to consider, when we are spending our time in the perusa! of a book, not merely whether it is likely to fill the mind with what is positively evil, but whether it may inflict a negative injury, by the exclusion of something more profitable. There are, unquestionably, many literary productions, in which we can find but little which bears the appearance of corruption or error; nothing may be visible which alarms the conscience, or stimulates any vicious propensity; and yet we may search them in vain for a passage which can give ardour to virtue, or confidence to truth; for anything which inspires reverence for our Creator or benevolence to man; for aught which enriches the understanding or meliorates the affections. Works of amusement, if they take no higher aim, may be regarded as pilferers of time. They steal away the season of improvement. To estimate the evil they effect, we must take into view the good they exclude. greatest amount of injury inflicted by this species of reading, lies in the habit and disposition which it fosters. When the mind is habitually indulged in trivial amusements, it becomes naturally, if not necessarily, averse to serious employment. The mind, like the body, is moulded to its accustomed exercise. It is exertion which produces energy of muscle or intellect. Reading for amusement, and for ainusement alone, may be called active indolence; and indolence, whether active or passive, produces relaxation.

But perhaps the

If the young would impart energy to their intellectual or physical powers, there is no other course so likely to effect it as the steady pursuit of some valuable and important object. Let them employ the time devoted to books upon those which afford

The time has very nearly arrived when the great councils of the nation will again convene at Wash-to a future state. ington. Among the objects which must claim their attention, the most prominent and exciting will probably be, the Mexican war. It is to be

In fact, Budhism in China appears to be a mere religion of external form. The most in-not be permitted to derive any benefit from his telligent of its priests do not believe its doctrines, and even on its more ignorant votaries it can have no heart influence.