if you were now told, very solemnly, for the first time, "Nature abhors a vacuum," and were to go away, inwardly gratulating yourselves on the attainment you had made, what real advancement in knowledge would there be? Just as bank notes are so far valuable as they do really, and in good faith, represent value, so propositions, thus representing value, add to the riches of the mind. All others are like those flash notes which serve for the amusement of children, and are sometimes wickedly employed for the delusion of the ignorant and unwary. Suppose that you had learned all that the Hindu sacred books teach, of terrestrial geography, how much wiser would you be? Observe, I do not mean that it would not be knowledge to know the fact, that the Hindu books do teach so and so,-but that if you had, as scholars, committed the whole to memory, you would have a number of imitation bank notes, gratifying your own ignorant vanity, but leaving you in an intellectual poverty as complete as

ever.

Child. Then you wish to teach us that there are too many pretenders to knowledge?

Father. I do; and these are of two classes. Those whose memory is stored with words without any real meaning; and those-and they constitute the most numerous division-who hold in their memory words that have both a meaning, and a good one, but who hold them only in their memory. The conditions of knowledge are two. First, that the propositions refer to real existences ; and, second, that they be deposited in the understanding,— the living, active intellect,-becoming a portion of that. entire intelligence which the individual has acquired. I have often been amused with the pompous enunciation of collected common-places, never ruminated on, never digested, never made part of a man's own self. The food you take is, indeed, all from without; but, digested, and taken up into the system, it is made alive by that one life which belongs to the entire person of the individual. Take care that the words you receive are possessed of meaning and value; and then, that that meaning be con

veyed into your own intellectual system. In this way, but in this way alone, you will increase your stock of knowledge.

REMINISCENCES. No. III.

"What o'clock would you wish it to be?"

appearance

Ir was during one of the vacations of the Edinburgh University, when, freed from severer studies, I sometimes used to ramble over my native hills, either sauntering about with a book in my hand, or searching for specimens of botanical and mineralogical science. I had been thus engaged one fine summer's day; and having scrambled over Arthur's Seat, I was returning to my lodgings, round by Duddington's Lock, through Salisbury Plain. Half tired and half melancholy, I was roaming heedlessly along, musing about something of no great importance, when I perceived an old gentleman of venerable coming towards me. The thought then suddenly struck me, that, not having a watch in my pocket, I might as well inquire of this stranger what was the hour of the day. The question was no sooner put, than he pleasantly said to me, "What o'clock would you wish it to be?" Never was I more puzzled than with this unexpected interrogatory. Had he asked me to solve some mathematical problem, or had he put some question in reference to metaphysics or ancient philosophy, he might perhaps have received a more ready answer. But so strange an inquiry quite confounded me; for, in truth, I did not care what o'clock it was. I knew that when I reached home, I should meet my old friends in my library, at whatever hour I might arrive and I knew that they would not complain of my absence, especially as I had one of them with me at that very time. So, after ransacking my brain for a reply, I honestly answered, "I don't know." The old gentleman smiled at my perplexity, told me the hour, and passed onwards.

But this occurrence at once dissipated all my former musings, and presented to my mind a new subject for

important contemplation.

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Why," thought I, " should I be so indifferent as to what o'clock it is? Are there no duties to be performed at this present hour? If so, why should I be so careless about them? Or is life so long, that it is an indifferent matter if it be really drawing nearer to its close?" Such meditations were, I trust, of a profitable kind: for every hour has its proper employment, which, if neglected now, can never be afterwards performed without infringing upon some other portion of our time. The hours, what are they, but so many mile-stones in a day's journey through life, which point out our progress in the path of duty, and tell us how we are fulfilling our appointed station? Since the above-mentioned period, time has appeared much more precious to me, because eternity has occupied a more important place in my attention: but I often think of what answer I should now give to the old man's inquiry, "What o'clock would you wish it to be?" For the nature of my answer would indicate the manner in which I studied the fulfilment of my duty in time, and the interest with which I looked upon a preparation for eternity.

When I have seen the farmer lolling in his arm-chair on an afternoon, with a pipe in his hand, endeavouring to compose his frame into a state of listless stupor; when I have observed the lady in her parlour, languishing in inglorious idleness; when I have marked the stupidity of a dressed-up company in the drawing-room, who have met together without any object, or any means of proper entertainment, staring upon each other with the imploring look of "Who next will say something?" then I have wondered at what kind of an answer they would give to the question, "What o'clock would you wish it to be?" R. M. M.

PROVIDENTIAL DISCIPLINE IN EARLY LIFE. "It is good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth," &c. Lamentations iii. 27, 28. We are willing to put off the evil day; and if we must needs bear the yoke, we would choose to have it delayed

till we grow old. We think it sad to have our morning overcast with clouds, to meet with a storm before we have well launched forth from the shore. We are wont to indulge and applaud children and young folks in their frolics and jovial humours; and tell them, they will have time enough for cares and troubles when they grow older: we turn that irony of Solomon's into a serious advice, "Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and the sight of thine eyes." But the divine wisdom, which knoweth what is fit for us, doth many times make choice of our younger years, as the most proper to accustom us to the bearing of the yoke; and a little consideration will make us discover the advantages of this season for suffering afflictions; they being at that time most necessary, most tolerable, and most advantageous. First, I say they are then most necessary; for youth is the time of our life wherein we are in greatest danger to run into wild and extravagant courses: our blood is hot, and our spirits unstaid and giddy; we have too much pride to be governed by others, and too little wisdom to govern ourselves. The yoke is then especially needful to tame our wildness, and reduce us to a due staidness and composure of mind. Then also it is most supportable; the body is strong and healthful, less apt to be affected with the troubles of the mind; the spirit, stout and vigorous, will not so easily break and sink under them. Old age is a burden, and will soon faint under any supervenient load; the smallest trouble is enough to “ bring down grey hairs with sorrow to the grave:" and, therefore, since we must meet with afflictions, it is certainly a favourable circumstance to have them at the time of our life wherein we are most able to endure them. And, lastly, the lessons which afflictions teach us are then most advantageous when we learn them betimes, that we may have the use of them in the conduct of our after-lives. An early engagement into the ways of religion is a great felicity, and the means whereby this is to be effected can never be too soon administered. Youth is more soft and pliable, and evil dispositions are more

easily cured, before time and custom have hardened us in them. A tree needs little force to bend it when it is young; and there needeth the less of the rod if the child be brought under discipline betimes. And thus, on many accounts, "it is good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth."-Scougal.

THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.

FROM ST. AUGUSTIN.

WHEREFORE the true and supreme God, with his Word, and Holy Spirit, (which three are one,) the omnipotent God, Creator, and Maker, of every soul, and of every body; in communion with whom all are happy, that are happy in truth, and not in vanity: who made man a rational creature with soul and body; who, when he had sinned, neither permitted him to go unpunished, nor left him without mercy: who both to good and bad has given essence with the stones, seminal life with trees, sensuous life with animals, intellectual life with angels: from whom is every mode, every species, every order, measure, number, and weight,-of whom every thing is what it is naturally, of whatever kind or estimation: from whom are the seeds of forms, and the forms of seeds, and the motions both of seeds and forms: who gave to our flesh its origin, beauty, vigour, fecundity, disposition of members, health, and agreement: who to the irrational soul gave memory, sense, and appetite, and to the rational, mind, intelligence, and will: who not only has left neither heaven, earth, angels, man, but not even the smallest and meanest living creature, the feather of the bird, the leaf of the tree, the flower of the herb, without fitting, and as it were peaceful disposition and adjustment: can never be for a moment supposed to have left the kingdoms of men, their dominations, and servitudes, free from the laws of his own providence.-De Civ. Dei, lib. v., cap. xi.

[In some points of philosophy the good father might err; but his mistakes affect neither the strength of his argument, nor the piety of his conclusion.