A lady of distinguished rank, when above seventy years old, astonished and shocked a near relative by asking, confidentially, whether he really did believe the Bible to be true. After convincing her of his own firm belief in the Scriptures, he at length prevailed on her to read them frequently. She became quickly interested in their perusal, but talked of them in society as she would have spoken of the last new publication, and astonished the Bishop of London, who was ceremoniously handing her down to dinner, by observing to him in her usual conversational tone, 'That was a shocking affair, my lord, about David and Uriah!'

The Duke of Devonshire visiting his Irish estates :— 'Well, my good girl, how long have you lived here?' 'For what we have received,' &c. The girl had been thus tutored: 'When you see the duke you must not speak to him as to any common person: you must always say your grace!

Parish registers were first ordered to be kept in England in 1538.

'I know nothing of myself. Yet am I not hereby justified. I am not personally conscious of any derelictions or backslidings.'

St. Paul's conversion turned the current of his natural energy, but it did not dry it up.

We are told that when the face of Moses shone with glory, everyone became aware of it except himself. Thus should it be in respect of the brightness of character in a Christian.

'He clothed himself with cursing as with a garment,' was thus explained, ' He had a habit of swearing.'

A traveller solicits an order. 'I have no order to give, but that you will put on your hat and walk.' He obeys, and shortly after returns. 'Well, sir, I trust your former order was executed to your satisfaction. Can I do nothing else for you?' His wit and good humour succeeded.

Real piety blows no trumpet, nor desires to have it blown :

See stately tombs-the dim sepulchral pomp,
And monumental falsehoods piled o'er men,
Whose only worth is in their epitaphs.

Dr. Johnson used to say 'that a habit of looking at the best side of every event was better than ten thousand a-year.'

Men of the world are apt to fancy that the key-note of the Christian mind is always attuned to sadness.

The four quarters of the Globe.-'I hear a great deal,' said a butcher's boy, 'of the fore quarters of the world— how is it that no one ever speaks of the hind?'

Quo fit Mecenas ?—Thus we see how many, if allowed to exchange situations, would be ready to carry out the experiment. All would soon act like those in Addison's fable,* who, after having been permitted to cast down the burden of their own sorrows and to take that of any other individual, soon hurried back and requested permission to resume their

own.

*

Spectator, vol. viii. No. 558.

'Nothing,' says an old writer, 'entangles the skein of our lives like impatience.'

'Thank God for a free Gospel,' said an old church member, suddenly carried away by the eloquence of the preacher. Five-and-twenty years have I been a church member, and it has not cost me as many coppers.' 'May the Lord forgive your stingy soul!' said the preacher.

The finest touch of what may be called the delusion of Don Quixote is this. He makes a pasteboard vizor, believing it is strong enough for the stroke of a giant. He fetches a blow at it that smashes it to pieces. Mortified, he fits it up again, consoling himself that it is strong enough now, but Cervantes says he did not give it another blow to prove it. This is a Shakespearian touch, and worthy of him. This one willing shirk of evidence, lest he might even convince himself against his will and unsettle his frenzy, contains the whole history of his character, and is a deep glance into human weakness.

'If you go on so,' said a big Irish barrister to Curran, 'I'll put you in my pocket.' 'By, if you do,' replied Curran, 'you'll have more law in your pocket than ever you had in your head.'

Convivial malignants in the last century were forced to drink the King's health. Hence, the following:

'God save our Sovereign Lord, the faith's defender,
God save the King, and down with the Pretender;
But which Pretender is, or which is King,
Oh! bless my soul, that's quite another thing.'

Biblical Question.-Where was Jacob going when he was ten years old? He was going into his eleventh.

Robert Hall is considered-and perhaps justly—as one of the best examples of pure Saxon writing. In one of my early interviews with him,' says Dr. Gregory, 'I used the word felicity three or four times in quick succession. He asked, "Why do you say felicity, sir? happiness is a better word, more musical, and genuine English, coming from the Saxon." "Not more musical, I think, sir?” "Yes, more musical; and so are words from the Saxon generally. Listen, sir: My heart is smitten and withered like grass ;' there's plaintive music. Listen again, sir: 'Under the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice;' there's cheerful music."" "Yes; but rejoice is French." "True; but all the rest is Saxon, and rejoice is almost out of tune with the other words. Listen again: 'Thou hast delivered my eyes from tears, my soul from death, and my feet from falling;' all Saxon, sir, except delivered; I could think of the word tears, sir, till I wept. Then, again, another noble specimen and almost all good Saxon English: 'Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever." "

The Use of Pictures. There is of course very high ground that may rightly be taken as regards pictures, for it is remarkable that the highest works of art are the most religious. Sacred pictures are a sort of painted sermons of a very powerful and affecting kind; much practical divinity is learnt from the silent eloquence of those sublime productions which teach from the instructive walls. We know that even a print from Mant's Bible clings to a child and acts upon it for life. The power of pictures as a sort of mute divines-mute indeed, but having a voice among them,' is marvellously great, and Christian truths, which preachers fail to enforce, often strike home and leave lasting impressions when taught by lips that speak from canvas.— Nat. Mis.

They have seen Better Days.-I know no one for whom one's heart so instinctively bleeds as for him of whom it is said, 'He has seen better days.' Probably such an one hides beneath some old best coat, or some old silk gown, the real state of hardship which has to be borne. 'To beg I am ashamed,' is the motto of such. They go on bearing and bearing, without the knowledge of men, their increasing poverty, hoping against hope, still keeping up appearances and not coming under the designation of the poor, failing to share those charities which are dispensed among the lowest class of all. Yes; to have known better days, to be decayed, to be dropping comfort after comfort, to go down stairs in life, to see the summer friends slipping away, to have to be as the poor without being accustomed to poverty, without having been acclimated, so to speak, to the state of poverty-this is a lot which claims the deepest sympathy. -Nat. Mis.

Death of Sir John Falstaff.

'For his nose was as sharp as a pen and a table of green fields.' So ran the line in the original copies, defying the greatest critical acumen. The emendation proposed by Theobald, and since so popular, was—

'His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields.'

But Mr. Collier, in his Notes and Emendations of Shakespeare, reads

'For his nose was as sharp as a pen on a table of green frieze.'

This is probably the right reading. Yet who does not regret the being obliged to give up Theobald's ingenious and expressive reading of the passage?