when some mist hides from them the presence of their Lord, feel nothing but their own coldness and numbness, and all seems dark around them, and yet in their inmost selves they believe and love, else their souls would be dead, and they would be past feeling, and they would not pine for more light and love.-E. B. PUSEY.

XLII.

NONE come to Heaven that are

not well prepared by well using Earth. Heaven must have the deepest esteem, and habituated love, and desire, and joy; but Earth must have more of our daily thoughts for present practice. A Man that travelleth to the most desirable

home hath a habit of desire to it all the way; but his present business is his travel, and Horse, and Company, and Inns, and Ways; And Weariness, etc., may take up more of his sensible Thoughts, and of his Talk, and Action, than his Home. -BAXTER.

XLIII.

No man speaks concerning an

other, even suppose it be in his praise, if he thinks he does not hear him, exactly as he would, if he thought he was within hearing.-Dr. JOHNSON.

XLIV.

EACH day is a miniature of the

whole of life, and of all the

seasons of the year. Morning answers to spring; mid-day to summer; afternoon to autumn; and evening to winter. We are children in the morning, with their fresh feelings and hopes; we are grown-up men and women, with all their sober and sad experiences, at noon; we are aged persons, with whom the possibilities of life are over, in the afternoon and night. And this representative relation of each day to the whole of life gives us daily recurring opportunities of living over again the past, and repairing its wastes and mending its evils. Each morning we get our youth back again; each day we get our whole life back again, in the relation in which a miniature copy

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stands to the full-sized portrait, or the small central part of the revolving wheel to its wide circumference. And in this way we have an opportunity of doing in the small scale and narrow stage of a single day what we ought to have done on the larger field of our whole previous existence.-HUGH MACMILLan.

XLVI.

THEREa

HERE are two clocks which strike the hour in the room where I

am. This I do not like. In the first

place, I do not want to be reminded twice how the time goes (it is like the second tap of a saucy servant at your door, when perhaps you have no wish to get up); in the next place, it is starting a diversity of opinion on the subject, and I am averse to every appearance of wrangling and disputation. Time moves on the same, whatever disparity there may be in our mode of keeping count of it, like true fame in spite of the cavils and contradictions of the critics.-HAZLITT (Essays).

XLVII.

TO strive to forget some one is the surest way to remember

him.-LA BRUYÈRE.