breathes is tainted with the infection of sin; and this appearing in the fashionable garb of social virtue is almost irresistibly attractive to the young and the anestablished, and rapidly leads to the vortex of equivocation, to maxims of policy, to motives of expediency, to the confines of the theatre, to the brilliance of the ball-room, to the destitution of the gaming-table, to the agony of unrepented crime, to the misery of remorse, and to the gates of death!

From this polluted atmosphere the child should be saved; yet after a certain time it will be unavoidably led to mix more or less with the society of the world at large; and then the guardian care of the parent is necessary to preserve the untried stranger from its evils, to warn of its dangers, to save from its snares, and to strengthen a decided opposition to its measures and its spirit, so often as these shall be found opposed to the measure of the law of God, and the spirit of Christ. Safety can alone be found for the humble inquirer, in constant vigilance, and does not any where exist for the proud, conceited wanderer. Society is the wide field for the display of our tempers, as they may or may not be influenced by a divine principle; it is above all others, the situation in which the disposition is most tried; in which there is the greatest need to search the heart, to form an acquaintance with its most secret motives, and to watch over the lips.

In all cases, utility should be the grand object

of social meeting, and we should be aware of the dangers to which it exposes us, in order that we may be prepared to avoid them when practicable, and to surmount them when they cannot be evaded. The means of accomplishing this most desirable object, are to call forth into active exercise the social virtues, and the sound principles of moral action; while we guard them from the dangers which environ, and which threaten the destruction of their vitality. One grand principle, will be found the master key to all that is just and valuable, viz. a principle of practical benevo lence; not simply the active, busy, bustling charity, which is ever on the alert to relieve the wants and miseries of man; this indeed performs a most important part in the theatre of the world, but must yield in consequence, to the less obvious, but more extensively operative principle of love, which is seen not so much in active, as in passive duty; not so much in the relief of others' wo, as in the government of self; not so much in zeal

and enthusiasm for a paticular form of opinion or action, as in the restraint of anger, and the subjugation of pride, and envy, and ambition, and hatred, and malice, and revenge; not so much in the offices of sympathy, as in the cultivation of esteem; not so much in the hollow professions of polite flattery, as in the simple uprightness of candour and sincerity; not so much in the ostentation of modesty, as in the exercise of patience under injuries, and the forgiveness of

enemies; not so much in the exhibition of talent, as in the suppression of ridicule, and in the adherence to justice; not so much in seeking after honour, and the reputation of society, as in striving to do the will of God, and to confer honour upon others; always esteeming others better than ourselves.

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CHAP. XXII.

ON READING, AND ON The choice of books.

READING is the prolific source of knowledge, instruction, delight and usefulness; it is the great basis, on which the character of valuable must be finally and remotely fixed; it is a friendly guide through the mazes of opinion, and the intricacies of life; it is a companion whose society never fatigues it is a pleasure which never cloys and it affords an impregnable refuge from the storms of adversity; the cares and anxieties, and sorrows of the day; the toils of business; the vexations of this world's contumely; the impertinences of society; the buffetings and contentions of this active scene, on which so many are striving for the mastery; the disappointment of hope; the neglect of talent and merit; the privations of misfortune; the clouds of sickness, and the night of death; it affords the means of satisfactory reflection on the past, and of cheerful anticipation for futurity; it promises to those who will seek it, the wisdom which will compensate for the folly that is past, and for the suffering which it has entailed; it will enlighten our path

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with the reflected and accumulated knowledge of past generations of the good and wise; it will furnish principles of action for all the varying circumstances of life; it will afford food for the mind to feast upon, and to enlarge, and develop, and strengthen and mature its manifestations; it will stand in the breach of temptation, and enable us to keep the citadel of the heart, when the outworks of attention have been gained, and when the feet had well nigh slipped, the steps were almost gone.

Such effects, however, can result only from the proper influence of reading; and in this imperfect state, it cannot be supposed that where there is so extensive a sphere of good, there will not also be a large admixture of evil, so that "this fountain, at which drink the good and wise," may become an 66 ever bubbling spring of endless lies;" so that it may be converted into the gross darkness which invests the mind with error worse than ignorance, and closes it against the access of truth; it may become the means of stimulating the passions instead of enlarging the understanding; it may fill the heart with images of evil, instead of storing it with the beauties of virtue; it may pre-occupy the attention with the shadows of scepticism, the unreal visions of doubt, the fantastic images of man's vain and limited conceptions, the creatures of superstition, or the material follies of those whose views are bounded by what they see, and hear, and taste, and touch and feel; it may endeavour to satisfy the cravings