of his intellect. He affords another bright example of the power that a man, by self-watching, has over his own ambitious nature-how a man, rude in disposition, may mould his mind to the inspirations of reason. "Naturally impatient, impetuous, and choleric," his friend and biographer says, "he sedulously watched over those infirmities, and became remarkable for his humility and simplicity." The Quarterly Review, in speaking of him, says, "It is impossible to read the works of this extraordinary man without perceiving that his passions in his youth were turbulent in the extreme-that the energies of his mind were then scarcely under his own control-that years of reflection and dearbought experience were wanting to him, above all men, in order to tame his spirit-that, like Milton's lion, he was a long time before he could struggle out of earth. I presume,' says he, in one of his letters, The Lord sees I require more hammering and hewing than almost any other stone that was ever selected for his spiritual building; and that is the secret of his dealing with me.'" In a word, he exhibited the trait of the genuine Christian-his character shining with a more lustrous light as he advanced in years, growing higher and brighter to the perfect day. Few men suffered more than Mr. Robert Hall, which suffering he bore with an exemplary grace-a fine example of the triumph of the higher powers of mind over the "ills that flesh is heir to." CHAPTER X. A SENSUAL LIFE-THE NAILS AND THE SCARS-A TIPPLER'S LIFE-POOR GEORDIE. HE misery that a sensual man inflicts upon himself baffles all power of description. People imagine that sensual men have their delights, but their felicities entail heavy and anxious thoughts, even in their enjoyment, and, once indulged in, require one delight to support another. Hope excites hope, ambition begets ambition, and at length they become perpetual slaves to their desires. Short and false pleasures deceive us, and like drunkenness and revenge are the madness of one hour for the sad repentance of a lifetime. Why do we not, by the divinity of reason, advance our thoughts to mental pleasures-why not triumph over the weakness of the flesh rather than be mortified by our passions and become the victims of vice, the slaves of folly and intemperance? Consider the peaceable state of clemency and the turbulence of anger; the softness and quiet of modesty and the restlessness of lust-how cheap the service of virtue, and how dear we pay for vice! The sovereign good of man is a mind that subjects all things to itself and is itself subject to nothing. The pleasures of the prudent man are the delighted father commended his son for his noble, selfdenying heroism in freeing himself from his faults. "They are all drawn out," said the father, joyfully. The young man looked sad, and with a heavy heart replied, “Very true, father; but the scars are still there." Parents who would have their children grow sound and healthy characters must sow the seed at the fireside. Charitable associations can reform the man, and perhaps make him a useful member of society; but, alas! the scars are there! A TIPPLER'S LIFE. Life? No; it is a living death. Drunkenness may be well termed a VOLUNTARY MADNESS, for it makes the insolent man intolerable, and the cruel man a savage. It takes away all shame; and the diseases and mischief attending it are insupportable. A drunkard can neither be a good husband, a good father, nor a good friend; for, in losing his reason, he loses all idea of the chief end of life. Beware of ONLY A GLASS. Shun the society of the tippler; his "only a glass" has steeped man in the depths of misery, and ruined families by the thousand. Once youth, or man, has been overcome by that forerunner of all vices-farewell to happiness-farewell to the sweet enjoyments of social life! There is for him but one Hope left-let him embrace it; let him at once renounce man's curse. То him there is no medium-no half-way. He has wasted his strength! Under the influence of a first glass, his moral control is gone! He must either become the victim of drink, or a total abstainer from ardent spirits. The late (a dear departed friend) Dr. Hamilton Rowe, the pupil of the great Abernethy, knew this, and saved many a life by impressing a "fact," as he termed it, upon the mind of his patients who had become the victims of indiscretionthe IMPOSSIBILITY OF LIMITING THEIR CUPS. Such are the words he made use of to a mutual friend after his recovery from a severe attack of illness. "My dear W., this is your second attack; thank God for your recovery! How many have I heard of that never had a second chance. Beware of a third attack. Remember what I said to you. Half measures will not do now. Total abstinence, or death! Take one glass, a second is sure to follow; then comes a third, and where is your moral power? Gone! Your nerves are so excited that, were it poison, you would drink another glass." Such was the opinion of a very great physician; and poor W., with others, known to both, came to an untimely end from not following the worthy doctor's injunctions. Once intoxication has influenced the nervous system, it is easy for the man, after a few days' struggle, to refrain from intoxicating drinks; but it is IMPOSSIBLE for him to limit his potations with safety. POOR GEORDIE. When Geordie presented his letter of introduction to the overseer, none in that office could boast of the ruddy complexion, the good-humoured countenance, and bright, sparkling, intelligent eye of the young Caledonian. "This is from your brother," said Geordie, handing a letter to Mr. Smith, who, after perusing it and passing a few jokes about Scotland and the Duke of Argyle's posts, told him to look up on Monday and he would have something for him to do, on which day Geordie was installed in the office, and soon became a general favourite. His kindness of heart secured him the esteem of the sober and the intelligent, and his open disposition and his merry song made him a boon companion with the dissolute. |