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be shut up for life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after year, as I do."- "Why," said the dial, " is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through ?" "For all that," resumed the pendulum, "although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life; and, if you please, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. This morning, I happened to be calculating how many times I should have to tick, in the course only of the next four and twenty hours,—perhaps some of you above there can give me the exact sum." The minute-hand, being quick at figures, instantly replied, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times.". actly so," replied the pendulum; "well, I appeal to you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to fatigue one-and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect: so after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself I'll stop!" The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied :

"Ex

"Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this suggestion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time; so have we all, and are likely to do; and though this may fatigue us to think of, the question is, will it fatigue us to do? Would you now do me the favour to give about half-a-dozen strokes, to illustrate my argument ?" The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace. 66 Now," resumed the dial, 66 was that exertion fatiguing to you "Not in the least," replied the pendulum: "it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions." "Very good," replied the dial; but recollect, that although you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one; and that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in." "That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the pendulum. "Then I hope," added the dial-plate, "we shall all immediately return to our duty, for the maids will lie in bed till noon if we stand idling thus."

Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused

of light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a beam of the rising sun, that streamed through a hole in the kitchen-shutter, shining full upon the dial-plate, made it brighten up as if nothing had been the matter.

When the farmer came down to breakfast, he declared, upon looking at the clock, that his watch had gained half an hour in the night.

MORAL.

"Take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves," is an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be " weary of well doing," from the thought of having much to do. The present moment is all we have to do with in any sense; the past is irrecoverable; the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient use to the moment is the trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have to take but one step at a time, and this process continued, would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours.

Thus in looking forward in future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last; if one could be borne, so can another, and another.

Even in looking forward to a single day, the spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labours, the trials of temper and patience that may be expected. Now, this is unjustly laying the burden of many thousand moments upon one. Let any one resolve always to do right now, leaving then to do as it can; and if he were to live to the age of Methusalem, he would never do wrong. But the common error is, to resolve to act right after breakfast or after dinner, or tomorrow morning, or next time; but now, just now, this once, we must go on the same as ever.

It is easy for instance, for the most ill-tempered person to resolve, that the next time he is provoked he will not let his temper overcome him; but the victory would be to subdue temper on the present provocation. If, without taking up the burden of the future, we would always make the single effort at the present moment, while there would, at any time, be very little to do, yet, by this simple process continued, every thing would at last be done. It seems easier to do right to-morrow, than to-day, merely because we forget, that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. Thus life passes with many, in resolutions for the future, which the present never fulfils.

It is not thus with those, who, "by patient continuance in well doing, seek for glory, honour, and immortality :" day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task to which the requisite measure of time and strength is proportioned; and thus, having worked while it was called day, they at length rest from their labours, and their works follow them.”

Let us then, "whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollecting that now is the proper and accepted time."-Jane Taylor.

LIFE COMPARED TO A RIVER.

RIVER, River, little River,

Bright you sparkle on your way,

O'er the yellow pebbles dancing,

Through the flowers and foliage glancing,

Like a child at play.

River, River, swelling River,

On you rush o'er rough and smooth,

Louder, faster, brawling, leaping

Over rocks, by rose-banks sweeping

Like impetuous youth.

River, River, brimming River,

Broad and deep, and still as Time;

Seeming still,-yet still in motion

Tending onward to the ocean,

Just like mortal prime.

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Through a channel dark and narrow,

Like life's closing day.

River, River, headlong River,
Down you dash into the sea;

Sea, that line hath never sounded,

Sea, that voyage hath never rounded,

Like eternity.Anon.

HOW TO FURNISH A HOUSE.

If you are about to furnish a house, do not spend all your money, be it much or little. Do not let the beauty of this thing, and the cheapness of that, tempt you to buy unnecessary articles. Nothing is cheap that we do not want. Buy merely enough to get on with at first. It is only by experience that you can tell what will be the wants of your family. If you spend all your money, you will find you have purchased many things you do not want, and have no means left to get many things which you do want. If you have enough, and more than enough, to get every thing suitable to your situation, do not think you must spend it all, merely because you happen to have it. Begin humbly. As riches increase, it is easy and pleasant to increase in comforts; but it is always painful and inconvenient to decrease. Neatness, tastefulness, and good sense may be shown in the management of a small household, and the arrangement of a little furniture, as well as upon a larger scale; and these qualities are always praised, and always treated with respect and attention. The consideration which many purchase by living beyond their income, and of course living upon others, is not worth the trouble it costs. The glare there is about this false and wicked parade is deceptive; it does not in fact procure a man valuable friends, or extensive influence.

Mrs. Child.

FEATS OF DEATH.

I have passed o'er the earth in the darkness of night;
I have walked the winds in the morning's broad light;
I have paused o'er the bower where the infant lay
sleeping,

And I've left the fond mother in sorrow and weeping.

My pinion was spread, and the cold dew of night,
Which withers and moulders the flowers in its light,
Fell silently o'er the warm cheek in its glow,
And I left it there blighted, and wasted, and low;
I culled the fair bud, as it danced in its mirth,
And I left it to moulder and fade on the earth.

I paused o'er the valley, the glad sounds of joy
Rose soft through the mist, and ascended on high,
The fairest were there, and I paused in my flight,
And the deep cry of wailing broke wildly that night.

I stay not to gather the lone one to earth,
1 spare not the young in their gay dance of mirth,
But I sweep them all on to their home in the grave,
I stop not to pity-I stay not to save.

Lucretia Davidson.

ON CLEANLINESS.

CLEANLINESS may be recommended under the three following heads as it is a mark of politeness; as it produces affection; and as it bears analogy to purity of mind.

First, it is a mark of politeness; for it is universally agreed upon, that no one unadorned with this virtue can go into company, without giving manifest offence. The different nations of the world are as much distinguished by their cleanliness, as by their arts and sciences. The more they are advanced in civilization, the more they consult this part of politeness.

Secondly-Cleanliness may be said to be the foster mother of affection. Beauty commonly produces love, but cleanliness preserves it. Age itself is not unamiable, while it is preserved clean and unsullied: like a piece of metal constantly kept smooth and bright, we look on it

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