have cast myself into the raging flood before me, if thereby a struggling fellow-creature might have been rescued from a watery grave.

No wonder that, under the circumstances described, I should regard the daring fellows, who had shown so much coolness and courage, with unwonted interest. I did so, but in my intense admiration I expected too much from them; for hardly had I dropped my shilling into the cap of one of them, as a tribute to his intrepidity, before an oath fell from his lips. It was a gratuitous oath, not wrung from him by anger, nor called forth by any strong emotion, but uttered in reference to a common-place occurrence, and in a way which told me that it was his every-day language. Alas for poor humanity, how were magnanimity and immorality, oaths and heroism, great courage and ungodliness, mingled together! I walked away humbled and disappointed.

Such is the inconsistency of human nature, that we always act unwisely in not being prepared for some manifestation of infirmity. We should not expect too much from others, whatever may be their endowments and advantages. Seen in one point of view, the fishermen were worthy of imitation; in another they were only to be avoided; and this is too much the case with us all. bands, expect not your wives to be angels. Wives

Hus

be not unreasonable if your husbands are not perfect. Parents, bear with your children in their waywardness. Children, honour your parents as much as it is possible, notwithstanding their failings and infirmities. We should put ourselves, rather than others, in the balances. It is a much more profitable employment to correct our own errors, than to dwell on those of other people.

But think not that in pointing out the disadvantages of expecting too much from others, I would speak lightly of error, or encourage evil by too readily excusing human failings. Sin cannot be branded on the brow more legibly than it deserves. It is a grievous thing either to do what we ought not to do, or to leave undone what by us ought to be performed. All should pursue what is good, and avoid what is evil; but a Christian is doubly bound to be humble, patient, enduring, and grateful; kind, forgiving, lovinghearted, and abounding in "every good word and work." The plain and simple lesson that I wish to set forth in my appeal to the reader is this, that we may spare ourselves much disappointment, vexation, and sorrow; first, by not being satisfied with too little in ourselves; and, secondly, by not expecting too much from others.

ON OMISSIONS.

THERE are moments when our impulses of love to our fellow-men are strong within us, and it is a moment of this kind with me now. I feel as if I had nothing to do but to pour out my own friendly emotions, to call up the same impulses in every heart. Oh! that I could write in a manner so truthful, so touching, so full of kind-heartedness, and redolent of love, that it might be as a balmy breeze to my readers, awakening their healthy sensibilities, so that their affections might go forth to their kind, their souls magnify the Lord, and their spirits mightily rejoice in God their Saviour.

I will not praise the virtuous for their deeds, nor blame the vicious for their misdeeds. No brow shall be either branded by me, or bound with laurel, for I purpose to occupy myself not with what has been done, but with what has been left undone. Addison remarks, "The most natural division of all offences is into those of omission, and those of commission." It is on the former of these that I would lightly dwell, not with ill

nature and severity, but in a spirit of forbearance and tenderness becoming one very sensible of his own omissions and infirmities.

Omissions are sometimes of a very curious kind. A tradesman once in making a minute calculation of the exact cost to him of the principal article he manufactured, absolutely omitted to set down the material of which the article was composed. An author, in giving in one of his works a somewhat particular description of a suit of armour, altogether omitted the helmet; and Dr. Johnson, in the preface to his "Dictionary," observes, "He that is searching for rare and remote things, will neglect those that are obvious and familiar. It is remarkable that, in reviewing my collection of words, I found the word sea unexemplified." We may marvel at the omissions of the tradesman, the author, and the learned doctor, and yet be in the habit of making others equally extraordinary.

I remember reading of one of high connexions, who stood in need of a large sum of money, to enable him to compass his ends, but his aged relative, from whom he hoped to obtain the money, sent him a present of a Bible, requesting him to read it for her sake. He went to sea, and suffered great hardships for want of the money of which he had been disappointed. If I mistake,

not, many years passed away before his return; and then it was, that, being led for the first time to open the Bible given him by his aged relative, he found bank-notes to the full amount of the sum he had required. He had neglected the word of God, and dearly had he paid for his omission. How many an erring heart has sorrowed needlessly, and lost a treasure, by omitting to ponder on the pages of Holy Writ! Bear with me, reader, if I earnestly urge you to a more diligent perusal of the Bible.

Some of our commonest omissions, when we reflect upon them, are most extraordinary. For instance, is it not wonderful, that while we profess to live and move and have our being in our heavenly Father, we should think so little of him? that while we receive all things from him, we should offer so little to him? And that, though we have not one certain moment in time, we should make so little preparation for eternity? Suffer me to persuade you, reader, not by way of complaint, but in friendliness; not by way of reproach, but in affection, to correct these omissions, and to think a little less of things temporal, and a great deal more of things that are eternal.

It was in the middle of last summer that I called on an aged and afflicted friend, who resided at a distance of more than a hundred miles from