In his own particular sphere, and with due allowance made for circumstances, every man who has a little substance and a little leisure, may be a Man of Ross. "The most worthless," it has been said, “ have at times, moments in which they wish to rise out of the slough of their passions, and be beneficially employed; and many of the best lose opportunities of effecting much, by neglecting the common materials within their reach and aspiring to what is beyond them." I have known weakly benevolent persons to sigh for occasions of usefulness, when widows and orphans were suffering the extremities of want within a few hundred yards of their dwellings. I have often stood in amazement at the number of beneficent acts which my friend Joseph Pitson will accomplish, without taking away any thing considerable from his daily labours. He succeeds in this by husbanding his moments, watching for opportunities, and seizing upon them the instant they appear. But it is genuine benevolence which gives him this alacrity. Among a thousand objects presented to his attention, Joseph's eye singles out at a glance that to which he can be useful; if the comparison is not out of place, just as the bird of prey pounces upon its quarry. When, not long since, I spent one or two days together with him in settling the affairs of a deceased friend's estate, I was often called to wonder at the multiplicity of his acts of kindness. On one day in particular, he was perpetually fly ing from business to charity, and yet not apparently to the disadvantage of either. When breakfast was over, he had two plates and as many bowls of coffee despatched to the sick father of one of his apprentices. Shortly after, he stole ten minutes to run across the way, to arrange something towards a Temperance meeting in the evening, and to drop three tracts into as many country market-carts. A woman called him out to ask advice about a drunken son, who had been arrested in a riot. Then he had notices to sign as chairman of a committee respecting the improvement of schools. These did not altogether take up more of his time than the filling and smoking of three or four pipes would of my old friend Stith's. While I was at my dinner, Joseph had walked half a mile to see about the indentures of widow Jones's boy, and had his meal into the bargain. In the afternoon he made his wife accomplish almost as much more, and I sat down with him at tea in company with three or four religious friends from a distance, who were sharing his hospitality, and who were to be present at the meeting after dark. I wish what I am saying might induce the reader of these pages to lay down the book for a moment, and to ask himself these questions: Am I doing any good in the world? What proportion of my gains do I allot to acts of charity? Am I active in giving personally to the relief of those whom I hear to be in distress? Do I take any pains to seek out such cases? What poor, or otherwise suffering persons, are there in my immediate neighbourhood, to whom I have never extended any relief? A little self-catechising of this sort would not be thrown away, now and then, upon the best of us. The saying of the wise man is remarkable : "There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty." Tithe, and be rich, is the Jewish proverb. "I am verily persuaded," says Gouge, a writer of the seventeenth century, "that there is scarcely any man who gives to the poor proportionably to what God has bestowed on him; but, if he observe the dealings of God's providence toward him, will find the same doubled and redoubled upon him in temporal blessings. I dare challenge all the world to produce one instance (or at least any considerable number of instances) of a merciful man, whose charity has undone him. On the contrary, as the more the living wells are exhausted, the more freely they spring and flow, so the substance of charitable men frequently multiplies in the very distribution: even as the five loaves and few fishes multiplied, while being broken and distributed, and as the widow's oil increased by being poured out " XLII. THE WORKING-MAN'S REST. "O, day most calm, most bright! Writ by a friend, and with his blood; HERBERT. THERE is no engine which can work forever. There must be intermissions to oil the joints and wheels, and supply the losses by wear and tear. Not even the human frame, the most wonderful and complete of all machines, can do its work without some remission. It is so constituted as to require the supplies of food and sleep, at least once every twenty-four hours. But something more than this is needed. After several days of toil, both the body and the mind ask for respite. It is too much to have all our powers and all our thoughts day after day and month after month bent intensely upon the same object. Either body or mind, or both together, must infallibly break down under such a strain. Our beneficent Creator has kindly provided for this necessity of nature, by the institution of the Sabbath, which is older than Christianity, and older than the Mosaic law; having been ordained immediately after the creation. It is set apart as a day of rest, which the name imports; a day of devotion, of instruction, and of mercy. If it is a mercy to the world at large, it is a seven-fold mercy to the working-man, who cannot possibly thrive without this, or some similar refreshment. The beast of burden sinks under perpetual loads, and the law of the human constitution is just as binding, which enjoins periodical and sufficient rest. Men may try to brave the authority of heaven; but they do it to their own great loss, even in a worldly point of view. Take one week with another, and the man who works seven days accomplishes no more than he who works six. Careful observers tell us, that they never knew any one to grow rich by Sunday labour. It is strange that any arguments should be needed in behalf of the Sabbath. Every thing that accompanies it is delightful. The hum, and whirl, and crash of business come to an end. Serene repose broods over the face of nature. Families separated during the week, now come together; and parents greet their sons and daughters. The very cleanliness which the Sabbath brings with it has a charm. Even the poorest who observe the day, are now in their best ap |