sign that petition. If what you call the cause of American freedom requires the blood of an honest man, for a conscientious discharge of what he deemed his duty, let me be its victim. Go to my judges, and tell them that I place not my fears nor my hopes in them.' It was in vain that I pressed the subject; and I went away in despair.

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In returning to my house, I accidentally called on an acquaintance, a young man of brilliant genius, the subject of a passionate predilection for painting. This led him frequently to take excursions into the country, for the purpose of sketching such objects and scenes as were interesting to him. From one of these rambles he had just returned. I found him sitting at his easel, giving the last touches to the picture which attracted your attention. He asked my opinion of it. It is a fine picture,' said I; ' is it a fancy piece, or are they portraits?' They are portraits,' said he ; ' and, save perhaps a little embellishment, they are, I think, striking portraits of the wife and children of your unfortunate client, Stedman. In the course of my rambles, I chanced to call at his house in H- I never saw a more beautiful group. The mother is one of a thousand; and the twins are a pair of cherubs.' 'Tell me,' said I, laying my hand on the picture, tell me, are they true and faithful portraits of the wife and children of Stedman?' My earnestness made my friend stare. He assured me that, so far as he could be permitted to judge of his own productions, they were striking representations. I asked no farther questions; I seized the picture, and hurried with it to the prison where my client

was confined. I found him sitting, his face covered with his hands, and apparently wrung by keen emotion. I placed the picture in such a situation that he could not fail to see it. I laid the petition on the little table by his side, and left the room.

In half an hour I returned. The farmer grasped my hand, while tears stole down his cheeks; his eye glanced first upon the picture, and then to the petition. He said nothing, but handed the latter to me. I took it, and left the apartment. He had put his name to it. The petition was granted, and Stedman was set at liberty.

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ON THE CHOICE OF COMPANIONS.

Be not over anxious about society. Do not take up the opinion that all happiness centres in a friend. Many of you are blessed with a happy home and an agreeable circle round your own fire-side. Here seek your companions, in your parents, your brothers and sisters.

Determine to have no companion, rather than have an improper one. The one case is but a privation of what is pleasant, the other is the possession of a positive evil.

Maintain a dignified, but not proud reserve. Do not be too frank and ingenuous. Be cautious of too hastily attaching yourselves as friends to others, or them to you. Be

polite and kind to all, but communicative and familiar with few. Keep your hearts in abeyance, till your judgment has most carefully examined the characters of those who wish to be admitted to the circle of your acquaintance. Neither run nor jump into friendships, but walk towards them slowly and cautiously.

Always consult your parents about your companions, and be guided by their opinions. They have your interest at heart, and see farther than you can.

Cultivate a taste for reading and mental improvement; this will render you independent of living society. Books will always furnish you with intelligent, useful, and elegant friends. No one can be dull who has access to the works of illustrious authors, and has a taste for reading. And after all there are but comparatively few, whose society will so richly reward us as this silent converse with the mighty dead.

Choose none for your intimate companions but those who are decidedly pious, or persons of very high moral worth. A scrupulous regard to all the duties of morality; a high reverence for the scriptures; a belief in their essential doctrines; a constant attendance on the means of grace, are the lowest qualifications which you should require in the character of an intimate friend.

Perhaps I shall be asked one or two questions on this subject, to which an answer ought to be returned. 'If,' say you, 'I have formed an acquaintance with a young friend, before I had any serious impressions upon my mind, ought

I now to quit his society, if he still remains destitute of any visible regard to religion?' First try, by every effort which affection can dictate, and prudence direct, to impress his mind with a sense of religion: if, after awhile, your exertions should be unavailing, candidly tell him, that as you have taken different views of things, and acquired different tastes to what you formerly possessed; and that as you have failed to bring him to your way of living, and can no longer accommodate your pursuits to his, conscience demands of you a separation from his society.

Sir Matthew Hale, one of the most upright and able judges that ever sat upon the English bench, was nearly ruined by his dissolute companions. When young, he had been very studious and sober; but the players happening to come to the town where he was studying, he became a witness of their performance, by which he was so captivated, that his mind lost its relish for study, and he addicted himself to dissipated company. When in the midst of his associates one day, it pleased God to visit one of them with sudden death. Sir Mathew was struck with horror and remorse. He retired and prayed, first for his friend, that if the vital spark were not fled, he might be restored; and then for himself, that he might never more be found in such places and company as would render him unfit to meet death. From that day he quitted all his wicked companions, walked no more in the way of sinners, but devoted himself to piety and literature.

I shall be asked again probably, 'What am I to do, if I

can find in my situation no individual of my own rank and circumstances in life, who is a partaker of true piety; ought I, in this case, to associate with those who are much below me, and who cannot be my companions in any thing but piety?' In reply to this, I observe, that it is character which constitutes respectability, and not the adventitious circumstances of fortune or rank: and to conduct ourselves in any degree as if we were ashamed of the followers of Christ, because they are poor, is an offence against our divine Lord. To forsake prayer-meetings, benevolent institutions, Sunday schools, or places where the gospel is preached, merely because we find none there of sufficient fortune to associate with us; to treat our poorer brethren with cold neglect and haughty distance; to refuse to be seen speaking with them, and to them, as if they were beneath us; this is most manifestly wrong; for it is carrying the distinctions of the world into the church. Still, however, as religion was never intended to level these distinctions, it might not be advisable to choose bosom companions from those who are far below us in worldly circumstances. Some inconvenience would arise from the practice, and it would occasion, in many cases, the ways of godliness to be spoken ill of.

Young persons of good habits should take great heed that they do not, by insensible degrees, become dangerous characters to each other. That social turn of mind, which is natural to men, and especially to young persons, may perhaps lead them to form themselves into little societies, particularly at the festive season of the year, to spend their G