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I was a boy once; I should be happy indeed could I say that as I became a man, I put away boyish things, and that I have now entered upon my duties and my responsibilities as only a man may. But I have one boyish thing about me yet, and it is in this wise:-I was once passing a barrack-yard, and hearing the sound as of soldiers marching, I climbed up the wall, and peeped over. There were a company of soldiers, and a short distance in advance of them a single private, with a large cannon-ball chained to his foot. He had been guilty of some misdemeanour, and was condemned to the task of parading a certain number of hours each day with this irksome companion; and as I have grown older and learned to think for myself, I have applied its moral in some cases which have come under my observation.

When I see a young man just on the threshold of life loitering away his time in unprofitable amusements and unworthy associations, which consume his precious seed-time, and burden him with evil influences which will probably go with him, and form a thorny pillow when he lies in the silent grave, I think that "he is chaining himself to a ball."

When a young man cuts off the restraints of early impressions, and enters the bar-room, there to spend his evenings, and perhaps his nights, in dissipation and companionship with sinners, whose god is Bacchus, and whose oblations are profane jests and godless sneers and licentious songs, I turn aside and weep, that he will madly forge and weld the links with which "he is chaining himself to a ball."

When I see a young man elastic with hope, whose path points to certain success or to undying fame, seeking relaxation from the fatigues of business or the application of a student's life at the gamingtable, or the theatre, or on the bosom of unhallowed delights, I do verily feel assured that "that man is chaining himself to a ball" which will roll with its victim into a premature grave.

When I see a man suffering important engagements to slip by without fulfilment, from a habit of carelessness or a want of energy, I feel assured that experience will


ere long prove to him that " he has been chaining himself to a ball."

When a young man runs into debt and is negligent of paying his obligations when due, or lets his business take care of itself while he is attending to trifling employments, he will find to his sorrow that "he has been chaining himself to a ball."

When a young man forms a habit of extravagance and of living beyond his means, and thus squanders the bounties put into his hand for a virtuous and faithful stewardship, he will find that he is wasting the uncreated capital of a future which is not his, and is, moreover, "chaining himself to a ball" which will grow more rusty and burdensome every day.

And I have seen young women, too, who have bound themselves by a gilded chain to a ponderous ball.

When I see a young woman, bright in all the loveliness of virgin prime, spending her time and consuming her intellect in chasing the fictions of the novel or the follies of the romance, oh! how gladly would I break the chain which binds her to such a ball!

When I see a young woman neglecting the duties of the fireside, which should be a little paradise of bliss, and threading the mazy walks of the gossip and the talebearer, or walking through the highway, "that she may be seen of men," say to myself, "she is chaining herself to a ball.”

When that fair maiden looks into her mirror and admires the beauty pictured there, and sets her heart on its outward adornment, I think "she, too, is chaining herself to a ball."

When, in short, I see a young woman spending her time in that which profiteth not, under the teachings and allurements of vanity or fashion, I cannot avoid saying to myself, "she is chaining herself to a ball."

Reader! old or young, man or woman, take those chains off your aching limbs, and be free!


PRIDE.-Pride often miscalculates, and more often misconceives. The proud man places himself at a distance from other men; seen through that distance, others perhaps appear little to him; but he forgets that this very distance causes him also to appear equally little to others.


ONE of the most learned and distinguished prose writers in the age of Elizabeth, was Richard Hooker. He was born near Exeter, in 1553. His parents being poor, destined him for a trade; but he displayed at school so much aptitude for learning, and gentleness of disposition, that through the efforts of the bishop of Salisbury he was sent to Oxford. Here he pursued his studies with great ardour and success, and became much respected for his modesty, learning, and piety. In 1577 he was elected fellow of his college, and in 1581 took orders in the Episcopal Church. Soon after this he went to preach in London, at Paul's Cross, and took lodgings in a house set apart for the reception of the preachers The hostess, an artful and designing woman, perceiving Hooker's great simplicity of character, soon inveigled him into a marriage with her daughter, which proved a source of disquietude and vexation to him throughout his life. He was soon advanced in ecclesiastical preferment, and made Master of the Temple, where he commenced his labours as forenoon preacher. But this situation accorded neither with his temper nor his literary pursuits, and he petitioned the Archbishop of Canterbury to remove him to 66 some quiet parsonage. He obtained his desire, and was presented by Elizabeth to the rectory of Bishop's Bourne, in Kent, where he spent the remainder of his life. He died in 1600, of pulmonic disease, brought on by an accidental cold, when only forty-seven years of age.


Hooker's great work is his "Ecclesiastical Polity," a defence of the Church of England against the Puritans. It doubtless owes its origin to the fact that the office of afternoon lecturer at the Temple was filled by Walter Travers, of highly Calvinistic views; while the views of Hooker, both on church government and doctrines, were different. Indeed, so avowedly did they preach in opposition to each other, that the remark was frequently made that "the forenoon sermons spoke Canterbury, and the afternoon Geneva." Such was the beginning of this great work, which is a monument of the learning, sagacity, and industry of the author, and contains the most profound


and the ablest defence of ecclesiastical establishments which has ever appeared. The style of the work, too, possesses some of the highest characteristics, perspicuity, purity and strength; though generally, from the author's great familiarity with the classics, savouring a little too much of the idiom and construction of the Latin. The work, however, is not to be regarded simply as a theological treatise; for it is still referred to as a great authority on questions in the whole range of moral and philosophical subjects. The praise that Hallam has given him, is well deserved. "The finest, as well as the most philosophical writer of the Elizabethan period is Hooker. The first book of the Ecclesiastical Polity' is at this day one of the masterpieces of English eloquence. His periods, indeed, generally much too long and too intricate, but portions of them are often beautifully rhythmical: his language is rich in English idiom without vulgarity, and in words of a Latin sense without pedantry. He is more uniformly solemn than the usage of later times permits, or even than writers of that time, such as Bacon, conversant with mankind as well as books, would have reckoned necessary; but the example of ancient orators and philosophers upon themes so grave as those which he discusses, may justify the serious dignity from which he does not depart. Hooker is, perhaps, the first in England who adorned his prose with the images of poetry; but this he has done more judiciously and with more moderation than others of great name; and we must be bigots in Attic severity before we can object to some of his figures of speech."

TRUE VALUE OF READING.-A man may as well expect to grow stronger by always eating, as wiser by always reading. Too much over-charges nature, and turns more into disease than nourishment. It is thought and digestion which make books serviceable, and give health and vigour to the mind. Books well-chosen neither dull the appetite nor strain the memory, but refresh the inclinations, strengthen the powers, and improve under experiments. By reading, a man, as it were, antedates his life, and makes himself contemporary with past ages.

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""TIs the sigh that's breathed in secret-
The trembling, half-formed word
Which breaks from anxious bosoms
When the spirit seeks the Lord :-
""Tis the melody of feeling,

When hearts o'erflow with love;
The eloquence revealing

Of joy which mounts above :— ""Tis the silent adoration

Of thoughts which upward tower;As incense from the censer, As fragrance from the flower :""Tis the rush of eagle pinion, When Faith invades the sky; "Tis the heart-rung gelid dew-drop In lorn Contrition's eye :""Tis the gaze of Supplication, Whilst Hope rejoices near :"Tis the orphan's untold sorrowThe widow's unseen tear:

"Tis the voice of every creature Which suffers and complains:"Tis the arm which opens heaven, And earth and hell restrains.'


SPARKLING like a diamond bright,
In the morning's golden light,
Nestling where the flowers unfold
In their cups the choicest gold;
While from Nature's secret mine,
Gems appear with rays like thine
Riches all around are spread-
At my feet, where'er I tread:
Choicest books with radiant leaves,
Beaming light which ne'er deceives,
Spread their lessons to my view,
Bidding me my vows renew.
Here the violet, in its bed,
Rears its lowly, humble head;
And it speaks of modest worth
Better than the pride of earth;
While the gem that makes it bow
Lends fresh beauty to its brow.

And the little grassy blade,
In the hours of solemn shade,
From the gloom has wrought a ray
Looking for the coming day;
While with upward-turning eye,
Forth it looks with stars to vie..

Fit art thou to deck the flowers,
In the fields and chosen bowers,
Where the lovely hues of heaven
In their rich array are given;
Binding while they shall endure,
Beauty with the bright and pure.
Thus in life's oft changing field,
Night-born dews their brightness yield:
Thus in humble life is seen
Matchless worth of ray serene:
Thus shall Virtue find its gem-
Truth-the purest diadem.

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A man said ale was an excellent drink, though when taken in large quantities it always made him fat. "I have seen it make you lean," said a bystander.

"You didn't go to Cork, to-day, Paddy?""Och no!" said Paddy; "I heard a gentleman say there would be an eclipse of the moon here to-night, and I stayed to see it."

A gentleman travelling in Ireland, said to a very importunate beggar, "You have lost all your teeth!" The beggar quickly answered, "Un it's time I'd parted with 'um, when I'd nothing for 'um to do."

A person meeting a friend who had lately laboured under a fit of the gout, inquired after his health, and was answered "So-so." "I am sorry you are no better," replied the gentleman, "for I hoped you were recovered in to-to!"

"WHY is it," asked a Frenchman of a Switzer, "that you Swiss always fight for money, while we French fight only for honour?" "I suppose," answered the Switzer, "that each fight for what they most lack."

LINES ON LINES.-A modern poet gives this axiom :

"Curved is the line of Beauty,

Straight is the line of Duty;

Walk by the last, and thou wilt see The other ever follow thee

IF the patient does not recover his health, ought the physician to recover his fees? If the doctor orders bark, has not the patient a right to growl? Would it not be the height of "cruelty to animals," to "throw physic to the dogs?"

AN Irish lady wrote to her lover, begging him to send her some money. She added, by way of postcript "I am so ashamed of the request I have made in this letter, that I sent after the postman to get it back, but the servant could not overtake him."

A POACHER'S PUN-A poacher was carried before a magistrate, upon a charge of killing game unlawfully in a nobleman's park, where he was caught in the fact. Being asked what he had to say in his defence, and what proof he could bring to support it, he replied,- May it please your worship, I know and confess that I was found in his lordship's park, as the witness has told you, but I can bring the whole parish to prove that, for the last thirty years, this has been my manner!"

IN a pamphlet written by Sir John Hill, the doctor asserted that, in the words virtue, stir, &c., Garrick pronounced the letter i like the letter u. This drew from David the following epigrammatic reply, addressed to Dr. Hill:

"If it's true, as you say, that I've injured a letter,

I'll change my notes soon, and I hope for the better.

May the just rights of letters as well as of men, Hereafter be fix'd by the tongue and the pen : Most devoutly I wish they may both have their due,

And that I may be never mistaken for U.


Rice Glue.-Mix together rice-flour, and cold water, to a thick paste, pressing out all the lumps with a spoon, and making it very smooth. Then dilute it with a little more water (altogether, you may allow a gill of water to a tablespoonful of rice-flour), and boil it slowly, as long as you would boil starch,-stirring it frequently. When done set it to cool. Use it for pasting fine paper, and for any little ornamental articles made of pasteboard. It is a very nice and durable cement. The water in which rice has been boiled for the table, will afford a cement for slight purposes.-J. C. R., Warwick.

Common Tins.-Throw some wood-ashes into a wash kettle, pour on water till it is two-thirds full, and then let it boil. Or make a strong ley. Dip in the tins when it is boiling hot; and, if they are very dirty, leave them in about ten minutes. Take them out, and cover them with a mixture of soft soap and the very finest sand. This must be rubbed on with a coarse tow-cloth. Then rinse them in a tub of cold water, and set them in the sun to drain and dry. When dry, finish by rubbing them well with a clean woollen cloth or flannel. They will look very nice and bright. You may clean pewter in the same manner.-E. D.

To Clean Alabaster.-Make a mixture, in the proportion of two ounces of aquafortis to a pint of cold rain or river-water, which ought first to be filtered, as it is important that the water used for this purpose, should be perfectly clear. Dip a clean brush in this liquid, and wash the alabaster with it for five minutes or more. There should be a brush small enough to go into the most minute parts. Then rinse it with cold clear water, and set it in the sun for two or three hours to dry. The aquafortis will make the alabaster very white; and, being so much diluted, will do it no injury. Soap should never be used for alabaster, as it will greatly discolour it.-E. D.

Cleaning Japanned Waiters, Urns, &c.-Rub on with a sponge a little white soap and some lukewarm water, and wash the waiter or urn quite clean. Never use hot water, as it will cause the japan to scale off. Having wiped it dry, sprinkle a little flour over it; let it rest awhile, and then rub it with a soft dry cloth, and finish with a silk handkerchief. If there are white heat marks on the waiters, they will be difficult to remove. But you may try rubbing them with a flannel dipped in sweet oil, and afterwards in spirits of wine. Waiters and other articles of papier maché should be washed with a sponge and cold water, without soap, dredged with Hour while damp; and after a while wiped off, and then polished with a silk handkerchief.M. H.

to a boil continue the boiling for ten minutes or more. Then strain the liquid, and bottle and cork it. When cold it is fit for use. Before you apply this polish to boots, shoes, &c., remove the dirt with a sponge and water: then put on the polish with a clean sponge. Should you find it too thick, hold it near the fire to warm a little, and the heat will liquify it sufficiently to be used.

Cheap Contrivance for Filtering. M. EDWARDSPerhaps the following may be useful to the readers of the Family Friend. A very cheap and good contrivance for filtering is to take a large garden flower-pot, and lay in the bottom a piece of sponge, so as to cover the whole. Upon this, put a few smooth clean pebbles, to keep the sponge in its place, and fill up the pot, to within two or three inches of the brim, with a mixture of one part of powdered charcoal, to two parts of fine sharp sand. Then cover the top of the pot with a piece of clean white flannel, tied tightly round the rim with a twine, but so as to sink or sway down in the centre. Set the flower-pot in a pan or tub, and pour the water charcoal, &c.; and, by the time it has passed into the flannel, letting it filter through the bottom, it will be clear. through the sponge, and come out at the

Knives and Forks.-Handles of ebony should be cleaned with a soft cloth dipped in a little sweet oil; and after resting awhile with the oil on them, let them be well wiped with a clean towel. Ivory or bone handles ought to be washed with a soaped flannel and lukewarm water, and then wiped with a dry towel. To preserve or restore their whiteness, soak them occasionally in alum-water that has been boiled and then grown cold. Let them lie for an hour in a vessel of this alum-water. Then take them out, and brush them well with a small brush (a tooth-brush will do), and afterwards take a clean linen towel, dip it in cold water, squeeze it out; and, while wet, wrap it round the han dles, leaving them in it to dry gradually,-as, if dried too fast out of the alum-water, they will be injured. If properly managed, this process will make them very white. -Recommended by MARY HILTON.

To Remove Stains of Wine or Fruit from Table Linen.-A wine stain may sometimes be removed by rubbing it, while wet, with common salt. It is said, also, that sherry wine poured immediately on a place where port wine has been spilled, will prevent its leaving a stain. A certain way of extracting fruit or wine stains from table linen is to tie up some cream of tartar in the stained part (so as to form a sort of bag) and then to put the linen into a lather of soap and cold water, and boil it awhile. Then transfer it wet to a lukewarm suds, wash and rinse it well, and dry and iron it. The stains will disappear during the process. Another way, is to mix, in equal quantities, soft soap, slacked lime, and pearl-ash. Rub the stain with this preparation, and expose the linen to the sun

French Polish for Boots, Shoes, and Harness.— Mix together two pints of the best vinegar, and one pint of soft water; stir into it a quarter of a pound of glue broken up, half a pound of log-with the mixture plastered on it. If necessary, wood chips, a quarter of an ounce of finely pow-repeat the application. As soon as the stain dered indigo, a quarter of an ounce of the best has disappeared, wash out the linen immesoft soap, and a quarter of an ounce of isinglass. diately, as it will be injured if the mixture is Put the mixture over the fire, and after it comes left in it.-E. D.

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