I say, my good friends, of the hypocrite. He is the devil's agent upon earth; so look out, that when he returns to his employer below, he doesn't recommend you in the highest terms.

TEXT.

-Meditation here,

May think down hours to moments-here the heart
May give an useful lesson to the head,

And learning grow wiser without his books.'

My friends-did you ever have the courage to sit among the tombs by moonlight? I have. A kind of tear, at first, seems to crawl all up one's back like a lot of ants; but when you once get well a-thinking, you are no more afraid than a boy who had been brought up in the woods. In one of my nocturnal church-yard cogitations, my thoughts were somewhat disturbed by the sudden appearance of a small white object, which dodged about among the grave-stones in a singular manner-now hiding behind this, now running to that, and now disappearing in the shade of the willow. I at first thought it to be the uneasy ghost of some poor devil of a thief which looked upon me as a police officer, and was endeavoring to elude my vigilance. To satisfy myself upon this point, however, I sent a message after it in the shape of a three-cornered stone, the receipt of which was acknowledged by one of the loudest and most unequivocal catterwaulings that mortal ever heard. I repented me of my cruel harshness, and then fell again to thinking down hours into moments.' I thought of those that were sleeping beneath me-wondered if the bugs that crept upon their cold, damp blankets, and the worms that crawled over their pillows, ever disturbed them in their snoreless slumbers-whether they ever had such sweet dreams as I am sometimes blest with, and then I thought of what my friend Praed said:

If I but thought the dead did dream,
I'd hang myself to-day.

Here, said I to myself, are many infant buds of mortality dissolving into dust-why were they nipped by an untimely frost, while others, not a whit more promising, are left to blossom and adorn the gay circles of society? Here beauty in its brightest bloom has been brought to earth to flourish no more but beyond the skies-and why is this? Heaven only knows. Here rest the aged from their long and arduous toil of life. They have had their spring, summer, and autumn. They have budded, blossom

ed, sown their seeds, fulfilled the ends of their being, and gone the way of all living. This is rational and expectable; for we all know that the old must die, but that the young may die, appears to be a futurity that never should occur upon the railroad track of life. However, He knows what is best for us, whose throne is the heavens, and in whose hands the millions of rolling spheres are but as marbles in the pockets of schoolboys. If I have not always found, my friends, in these my solitary meditations, what the world would call pleasure, I have ever returned from them, I think, a wiser and a better man. God grant that wise. So mote it be!

you may do like.

MAN'S MORAL OBSTINACY.

TEXT.-It gives one nought but grief and pain
To preach each week and preach in vain.

MY HEARERS-notwithstanding that new discoveries are every day being made in medical science, and we profess to have a remedy for almost every ill that flesh is obnoxious to, still disease rages unchecked; and the same proportionate number of deaths occurs annually as did in the days of yore. So it is in a religious and moral sense. Our preachers, on Sunday, exhort people to piety, and proclaim from the pulpit the happiness to be derived from its practice; but, like balls of wax, they receive slight impressions upon the surface, which become totally obliterated ere they have rolled half way into the middle of the week. Now, for two or three years I have been dosing and physicking thousands with such moral medicine as I know cannot but prove efficacious in the most desperate cases, provided my patients live upon a low diet of prudence, and allow none of their mental food to be highly seasoned with the spice and pepper of gross desire and worldly indulgence. But, my friends, your carnal desires, according to your notions, must be gratified ere your mental wants can be supplied; and this is the reason why I experience so much difficulty in bringing my enthusiastic endeavors to a happy consummation. I will stick to you, however, like a burdock to a sheep's back, till I know that my efforts have not been wholly in vain, and that you are one notch, at least, nearer heaven than you were some few years since. My friends I shall not attempt to explain to you the state of

your future existence-for that is something which mortal man can know no more about, while a probationer upon this little ball of earth, than a caterpillar knows whether he is to become a but-* terfly and soar upon the wings of beauty in an atmosphere fragrant with the perfume of flowers, or be destined to crawl for a short time amid the filthiest of filth, and then dissolve into dust. No; all that I care for is your temporal welfares; for I know that if you do but learn how to manage your corporeal sail-boats upon the little lake of time, you can safely venture upon the great ocean of eternity. The book of fate is closed to every inhabitant of this terraqueous globe, and what is written upon futurity's page is too far in the distance to be read through the telescope of prophecy. While preaching, I feel my heart saturated with the sweets of anticipation; but when I find that I have preached in vain, the bitter dross of grief and mortification settles at the bottom of my bosom, and makes me feel as bilious as the self-indulging fool who is in the habit of making a beer-butt of himself. I want you to push while I pull, and make some exertions in your own behalf-otherwise all my ardent and strenuous efforts will prove as fruitless as the blossoms of a he-cucumber vine.

My hearers-in my reflective moments-and, I can assure you, they are, like angels' visits, few and a good ways apart-I am compelled to believe that my sincere endeavors have been partially, if not wholly, in vain-however much they are lauded from the land of steady habits to the southern swamps of vice. The world wags on, as usual, in its wicked course-the career of crime remains unimpeded-the wild weeds of avarice overspread and encumber the soil where should flourish the flowers of charitygreen-eyed jealousy still haunts the domestic circle-envy yet strives to thrust merit from its exalted station-the madder of calumny grows as usual by the road-side that leads from neighbor to neighbor-the green leaves of love fade and wither in the midday of matrimony-and virtuous buds are killed by the frosts of vicious example. I have scattered seducing seeds along the pathway of the world to tempt the birds of benevolence and good feeling back to their native earth, but they seem to be as shy as shitepokes, and as intent upon reaching their heavenly destination as a flock of wild geese during their semi-annual migrations. Mothers! are you aware that you are suckling slaves of sin at

your breasts? Fathers! do you know that your offspring are running as fast as their little legs will carry them towards the precipice of perdition? While you stuff their stomachs with bread and milk, allow their souls to surfeit upon the fat of faith and the porridge of paternal precept. Walk with them through the gardens, groves and fields of your own experience-point out to them every poisonous plant-teach them how to analyze every flower that springs spontaneously in the human heart-show them the difference between every blossom that decorates the moist meadow of immorality, and posies that paint the upland pastures of purity, piety and peace: and, if they will not profit by your exemplary practices, nor heed your instructions, take them by the nape of the neck and shake them till every particle of sin that lies buried beneath their breeches is scattered to the four winds of heaven.

My dear friends! you are all going astray, like sheep without a shepherd: you wander about in a wilderness of gloom and uncertainty without a compass or a guide, I hold the salt of salvation in the palm of my hand-but you had rather go to the devil and dine upon the dainties of destruction. I offer my services, gratuitously, to aid and assist you in your pilgrimages through life -but you seem to consider them of no more value than an India rubber life-preserver to a duck on a mill-pond. You seem to sa

crifice friendship upon the altar of mammon-you barter away your soul's safety for the sake of a cent: you burglariously enter the storehouses of your brothers-steal from your sisters-filch from your fathers, and immolate your mothers. You break through the fortress of virtue, and ravish the fair daughters of your kindred; and, not unfrequently, the weak sisters of sin throw themselves purposely in your way for the sake of become willing victims of seduction.

Oh! my degenerate brethren! unless you leave off many of your evil practices, I shall quit preaching, and turn my attention to raising cabbages and planting potatoes-in order that I may have the satisfaction of knowing that I sow seed in soil that will yield something adequate to the humblest of my hopes. Take your choice, my friends-labor diligently while the day lasts; and lie down at night upon a bed of peace, or be careless and indolent, and go to perdition at last. So mote it be!

I

ON A KNOWLEDGE OF RIGHT AND WRONG.

TEXT-If I am right, thy grace impart
That in the right to stay;

If I am wrong, Ö teach my heart
To find that better way.

Let not this weak and erring hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,

And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge thy foe.

MY HEARERS-there is always a right and wrong to everythinga right way and a wrong way-a right side and a wrong side. Now, as I have been before you better than a year and a half, you ought to know whether I have been, generally, in the right or wrong. I mean to be, at all times, like a box of glass, right side up with care, and just as discreet in the dissemination of my penny principles as a sense of candor and a low state of pocket pecuniaries will permit. I never dig through the sacred dust of a churchyard, and disturb the bones of friends and relatives for the sake of arriving at the welling waters of truth; neither do I launch my little moral shallop upon the waves of passion, to be borne away by the tide, and left high and dry upon the obstinate rocks of error; but I paddle straight along, coolly, calmly and philosophically. When I am right, I only want to be assured of it, and I either cast anchor and stay there, or push ahead the mightier: but when I am wrong, just convince me of it, and I will back out like a bear from the briars. I don't wish to be either catagorical, dogmatical or jackassical; but I tell you, my friends, that my heart is just as transparent as a chunk of Rockland ice; and if you can discover any specks of error in it, it is your duty to point them out, and mine to eradicate them. I am open for inspection from 6, A. M. till bed-time, and subject to such improvements, emendations, and alterations, as you in your wisdom may suggest. But it is my business to administer the pills of advice to you.

T

My dear friends! you should never smite your fallible bosoms and say: Before heaven and my great grandmother, I am certain that I am right, when you know that you are wrong. To say this, you certainly must have cast-iron consciences, and as little regard for truth and frankness as a hog has for holiness. Neither should you ever even presume to be right, as long as there is a possibility