ously, half vain-gloriously, the hub-that is, wheel-centre—of the universe) have nothing to boast on. I must admit, however, that the name of the aqueous city has a very good origin, as it was called Boston in honour of the Rev. John Cotton, one of the earliest emigrants who came from Boston, in England.

Bunker's Hill is in the suburb of Charlestown, south of the peninsula, to which we crossed by the Battery Bridge. The district is named after the Charles river, which here flows into the harbour. When Dr. Morison and I presented ourselves at the gate of the monument, we found that we were unexpected visitors, both on account of the lateness of the hour and the unfavourable state of the weather. We were admitted, notwithstanding, and after writing our names duly in the visitors' book, we climbed up the 300 stone steps to the top. If the doctor can beat me in logic, I can beat him in breath; for I got up to the top of the monument before him. But, alas, the summit of the Temple of Fame cannot be reached by muscular strides.

The monument on Bunker's Hill was erected in 1843, and inaugurated in the presence of President Tyler, by an eloquent oration from the lips of the great Daniel Webster. It was intended to commemorate the successful resistance which was made at Boston Harbour by the militia of the United States, at the commencement of the Revolutionary War, to the Stamp Duty and Tea Tax of George the Third's Government. On that occasion, the dead body of many a British soldier rolled down the steep mound on which the monument is built. Although we were sorry that our countrymen were defeated on this occasion, the victory of the Americans brought to us one advantage-namely, that of affording us a fine view of Boston Harbour and all the environs of the intellectual "Modern Athens" of the United States. After enjoying the view for a while, amid steadily descending rain, we retraced our wet and weary steps to the American hotel.

Next morning the rain still continued, but we set off, nothing daunted, to visit the suburbs of Cambridge. On our way to the tramway centre, we entered Boston Common, and admired the "Frog Pond," which is in the middle of it, as well as the "Old Elm," that is supposed to have stood there before the settlement of the city. The tree attained its full growth in 1722. It is now protected by an iron fence, while an inscription tells that it was nearly destroyed in a storm in 1832.

I am sorry that it will not be in my power to finish this chapter till next Number.

AN RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS CHARACTER.

THERE are few sins more prevalent, or which manifest themselves at an earlier period in the conduct of men, than that of resorting to some species of falsehood, to cover, to excuse, or to extenuate their guilt.

Perhaps there is no taint we have inherited from the parents of the race which clings to us with more pertinacity than that of throwing the blame of our evil conduct either upon others, or upon the circumstances in which we are placed.

It is somewhat remarkable, however, that the very men who are most apt to act thus, are those who, when they do anything which is good, always wish to take the full credit to themselves for the same. They never attribute their good conduct to circumstances, or to the influence of others.

Some men boldly throw their sins back in the face of God. They seek and try to find the cause of all things in the will of God.

In all ages of the world's history, men have dared to sit in judgment upon God-nay more, they have charged him with double dealing; they have said in one way or another, that His ways are not equal." One writer, well known in our native land, has said, when addressing God, and even in prospect of death:—

"Thou know'st that thou hast formed me

With passions wild and strong,

And, listening to their witching voice,
Has often led me wrong."

Again, he speaks of being

"Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
And by passion driven;"

and then he impiously adds,

"And yet the light which led astray
Was light from Heaven!"

Another poet has said,

"Who knows but he whose hand the lightning form3,
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms,
Pours fierce ambition into Cæsar's mind,

Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind?”

In both of these passages it is covertly hinted that all irreg ularities in life and conduct are but the legitimate outcome of the passions implanted in our natures by the Author of our being. And hence one has said that "a man is no more re

sponsible for his character than he is for the colour of his hair" (Lord Brougham). I have heard the late R. D. Owen, the celebrated infidel Socialist, say, that "no man's character was made by him; it was made for him, inasmuch as he was the creature of circumstances to all intents and purposes,' "that all his religious beliefs, or non-religious beliefs, and all the conduct which flowed from these, were entirely the result of the circumstances in which he was placed." Now, are such fatalistic ideas confined to irreligious or infidel men? Verily they are not. Less than fifty years ago, religious belief in Scotland was saturated with the same. Even religious men ascribed all that took place to the decree which embraced within its comprehensive sweep all the actions of men whether good or bad. Hence such sayings as the following were quite common"What we are born to be and do we cannot get past;" Those who are born to be drowned or hanged, will never die in their beds;" and with reference to ill assorted marriages, I have heard it said in a tone of sympathy, "Well, it is a pity, but what can we say? those we are appointed to get we cannot get past." And thus men have tried to shift the blame of their wickedness, their thoughtlessness, and folly from themselves, and sought to find the originating cause of the whole in the will of God.

As in the days of the Psalmist, so now, men have slandered the character of God: they have "thought that he was altogether such an one as themselves;" but to all such he says, "I will reprove thee, I will set thy sins in order before mine eyes."

I lately heard it stated by a man of some intelligence, that "the will of man is not free; that it is subject to the motives presented to it; and that these are determined by circumstances which are entirely beyond our control." If this be so, what then? Is there any place for such emotions as regret and remorse? Verily there is not. In such a case, I am no more to be praised or blamed for my actions, than "the feather which rises, floats, and falls, only as it is moved by the motions of the air." I am only a piece of plastic matter, which may be moulded into some hideous or some beautiful form by circumstances which I cannot alter. Now, in dealing with the statement which I have quoted, let me say that, while I frankly admit that circumstances, to a very large extent, determine what we will be, and what we will do, yet it must never be forgotten that the circumstances which thus determine our conduct are, to a very large extent, of our own creation. This noteworthy statement might be illustrated in a hundred ways. Take a few examples:

Many men, through a sheer perverse exercise of their wills,

No. 12.

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Vol. 3.

voluntarily surround themselves with influences, and place themselves in positions out of which temptations arise, which it is next to impossible for them to resist; but is their criminality less on that account? Verily it is not. Can men take fire into their bosoms and not be burned?

It is matter of general belief, that crime of every description which is committed against man, as well as moral delinquency, particularly toward God, is to a large extent the result of ignorance. Now, why does ignorance exist to such a large extent? Is it because men lack the capacity to learn? Or, is it because the opportunities for receiving knowledge are not to be had? Everybody knows that this is not the case. Books suited to every capacity; schools, both secular and sacred; churches, and Gospel ministries: popular lectures on every branch of moral, social, and physical science, afford every facility to the active inquiring mind for acquiring knowledge; but, alas! to what a small extent do thousands upon thousands in every population avail themselves of these.

A horse or foot race, or the miserable spectacle of a man attempting to climb a greased pole for a leg of mutton, or any such frivolous and degrading amusement, will attract the vacant gaze of gaping multitudes, for whom a useful book, an instructive lecture on science, or a useful sermon tending to unfold the relationships of God to man, would have no attractions whatever. And thus, to use a Scripture expression, they are "willingly ignorant." Without an effort worthy of a man, they willingly give way to every temptation, and are content to follow low vulgar pursuits and pleasures, if for the time being they please, no matter what may be the subsequent consequences. It is upon this hypothesis alone that we can account for the great difference which exists between the moral conduct, attainments, and aspirations of some young men, when compared with others, whose positions in life, natural capacities, opportunities for improvement, and temptations to idleness and vice, were the same, at least as far as these were determined by circumstances over which they had no control. The difference between them lies mainly, if not wholly, in this, that the one class steadfastly availed themselves of present opportunities, and steadily resisted present temptations, and thus created for themselves new and even higher and better opportunities which naturally grew out of those improved, while they lessened the force of future temptations by manfully resisting the present; whereas the other class not only lost present opportunities, but in doing so even partially lost the disposition to avail themselves of those which might have presented themselves in the

future. Moreover, they greatly increased the force of future temptations by unmanfully falling before the present. It is upon this principle that we are to interpret that much misunderstood passage in one of our Lord's discourses, where he says "To every one that hath shall be given; but from him who hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath."

A man's social position in the world, in many cases at least, is very far from being in his own hand; but his character is ever wholly so. It may not be in my power to become a rich man; but it is always in my power to be a true man, and that is far better. It is not necessary to my happiness, either here or hereafter, that I should be rich and great in worldly wealth. That, let me say once more, may not be in my power; but my happiness, both for time and eternity, depends upon my being good and true, and that is always in my power. Circumstances may compel me to eat a very poor dinner, or go without it altogether; to wear a very shabby garment, or dwell in a very poor house; but no circumstances can compel me to tell a lie, or act falsely in any way.

I take my stand upon the character of God as the altogether just Ruler of the universe; and I fearlessly assert that he will see to it that no man is placed in circumstances in which he could not do otherwise than sin; for were such the case the word "sin" would be completely misapplied. All men have not the same power to resist temptation, the reasons for which I do not wait now to discuss; but this I do say, that every man has power to say with Joseph, when assailed with great temptation, "How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?" Circumstances may extenuate the guilt of some crimes; but that can only be to the extent that these circumstances were not created or willingly entered into by us. But be that as it may, no man's character can be determined by circumstances. This will be made incontrovertibly clear if we remember that our real character in the sight of God consists in the thoughts and intents, the loves and hates, the desires and aspirations which we secretly cherish, and in which we luxuriantly indulge, and which are known only to the Omniscient One. These, whether good or bad, will have their outcome in the actions of the life. These are the source and spring whence the outward life takes its rise. Hence it is within the hidden recesses of the heart or will that all the essential attributes of the character are formed; and hence the wisdom of that Scriptural injunction, "Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." Let me, therefore, add practically: Watch with all prayerfulness the motions of your wills. When good thoughts, desires, and purposes arise in your