resolutions, the accomplishment of which will occupy his whole life.

The remaining part of this work will afford a view of the successive opportunities of advancing towards perfection, which naturally present themselves after the pupil is grown up. Scarcely is the young man freed from the yoke of paternal authority before a most powerful sentiment obliges him again to part with at least some portion of his liberty, by uniting to his own destiny that of another. Hitherto his own advantage has been the end of all his efforts; the object of devoted attention on the part of his parents, he was entering into their views, as well as promoting his own interest, by endeavouring to adorn his mind with knowledge, and his soul with virtue.

Nor is it without a great moral shock that the pivot of life can be displaced, and the close bonds of egotism relaxed. Such a revolution is reserved for the power of love; and is, perhaps, only fully accomplished by the feeling of parental affection; for this it is which teaches man to feel that entire devotion of the soul by which he is led to give, without expecting any thing in return; without hoping for any pleasure equal to that which he confers. At this epoch I shall again introduce children; not as being themselves the object of education, but as the means of improving and elevating their

parents, by placing them in a situation in which all their interests and feelings concur to make them acknowledge the necessity of morality, and of its only true source, religion.

Then it is that existence has received its most complete developement; and man, as a useful member of society, as a son, and also a father, sees the various ramifications of his duty extending far and wide, and animates a sphere of activity proportioned to the greatness of his faculties. Yet he soon discovers that these faculties are limited. Perpetual contact with realities dispels many of his illusions, and, while his influence on those around him is increasing, his own ardour diminishes; the vivacity of his impressions is deadened by the constant repetition of worldly scenes, and, in proportion as his internal existence becomes less vivid, he seems to live more and more in his children; it is on them that his now disenchanted imagination rests.

But as these children grow up, they will not entirely realize his expectations; they are soon able to do without his care, and at last entirely escape from him. And so it is with a thousand other objects of deep interest: - the esteem or gratitude of others; - the good that he had hoped to effect;-everything becomes fainter, loses its brightness, and is obscured in the distance. We see that things can go on without us, and

we detach our affections, not only from them, but from ourselves also.

Yet, to the man of a religious mind, there are not wanting compensations for the loss of the fascinating charms and delusions of life. The ennobling feeling of duty survives, and bestows an energy on him which is independent of all earthly ideas; and, as the visible world disappears from his view, the invisible one presents itself to him, and his hopes become fixed on the only Being who never disappoints them. With more calm and elevated feelings, he is able to form a more correct estimate of the objects around him; he begins to comprehend why he has been placed on this earth, and better to understand the scheme of human life. He sees that although he was sent here in order that his faculties might be developed to an amazing extent, yet that the continuance of his attachment to the objects which have promoted this developement was not intended. His intellectual powers must take a loftier flight, and raise themselves to a higher contemplation than that of terrestrial objects; and that ardent love, which had been excited by imperfect creatures, must be fixed on a perfect Being. His developement, therefore, is not suspended; his progress, though less apparent, is not the less real; his contemplative faculties gain more than his active faculties lose; and,

even in this life, the perfecting of his character becomes manifest.

Thus it is that the complete disinterestedness, the unbroken serenity, the peaceful and holy goodness of old age, seem already to invest its venerable brow with the glory of immortality; and we behold the verification of those beautiful words of Holy Writ, “Though the outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day."*

The constant existence of this principle of developement in the soul is, indeed, a strong proof of its immortality. Nor does the interruption to its activity which takes place in old age, owing as it is to the decay of the material organs (a cause which might affect any age), prove any thing against the possibility of an eternal progress in the faculties of the soul. This progress requires, indeed, the concurrence of the will: those who do not penetrate beyond the exterior of things, remain for ever occupied with appearances only; and with them, the progressive education of life is altogether wanting. Time, far from improving, tends only to deteriorate their character; for there is a perfection of egotism as well as of elevated and religious feelings. Then it is that the heart of the selfish man grows more and more callous; and even that personal happiness, to

* 2 Cor. iv. 16.

which every thing had been made subservient, deserts him he has allowed himself to become insensible to the most ennobling pleasures, and all others must inevitably pass away. To him, old age is, indeed, a season of desolation to his fearful imagination, death is indeed death: a greater evil, perhaps, even than annihilation. But here we pause for there

can be no pleasure in tracing such a picture.