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a new and outrageous fashion, or said and did things in a way peculiar to himself, however absurd they might be, was sure to secure his good opinion.

A simple taste is a great blessing. To roam abroad in the green fields, to wander by the running brook, to gather wild flowers, and to listen to the song of the lark in a leisure hour, is a delightful recreation; but this recreation Basil Bowles could not enjoy. Let half-a-dozen well-mounted hunters, in red or green coats, dash onwards over a fence; let the dam of the mill-pond break down, and the waters rush out; or let a storm be abroad and the lightning shiver the trunk and branches of an old oak tree, and then Basil was satisfied. There was in him a continual stretching out after things marvellous and exciting, that was injurious in its consequences.

Andrew Bowles, the uncle of Basil, was a very different character, for he was not only unaffected in his piety, but simple in his manners and speech: anything overstrained or unnatural in word or deed, gave him pain rather than pleasure. It was when Basil was spending a little time with his uncle, that the latter endeavoured to correct the error of his nephew.

“And how did you enjoy your walk round by the hill top?" inquired Andrew of Basil, who had just returned from a five miles' walk. "Not at all," replied Basil, "for I saw nothing remarkable."

"Nothing remarkable!" said Andrew. "What did you expect to see in a country place, that you did not

see? You saw the sun, no doubt, and king Solomon says, 'A pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun;' I suppose the sun is much the same now as it was in the day of king Solomon. Nothing remarkable! King David says,‘The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handy work.' I should suspect, therefore, that the heavens are worth looking at. Nothing remarkable! The Saviour of the world said, 'Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' What the Lord of life and glory tells us to consider can never be undeserving of attention. There must be something wrong either in your opinions or mine, Basil; either you think much too lowly of the objects of creation, or I think too highly of them."

At another time, Basil had been spending the day with one of his uncle's neighbours, whom the latter highly respected. “What think you of my good friend Wadhams?" asked Andrew.

"I hardly know what to say," replied Basil; "but in my opinion he is nothing remarkable."

"Nothing remarkable!" said Andrew. "If you mean that he does not dress very unlike other people; or that he does not affect to be richer, or wiser, or better than he really is, you are right; but if on that account you undervalue him, I think,Basil, you are wrong. He is an upright, wise, and truly pious man, and ought not to be thought of lightly, because he is not remarkable. Consider, Basil, nine

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tenths of human life is made up of things that are not remarkable. There is nothing remarkable in eating, drinking, sleeping, and putting on apparel; in reading, writing, and speaking; in building a house, taking a farm, going a journey, and carrying on a business; and yet what more important items are there in the sum total of our existence? Remarkable things are the exceptions to a general rule, and things that awake not our wonder constitute by far the greater part of our existence. Depend upon it, Basil, that you carry your love of what is striking and wonderful too far. A man with an upright heart in his bosom is better than one less worthy, who wears an odd-fashioned waistcoat; and he who speaks soberly and wisely is more to be commended than a mere wit, who sets the table in a roar."

On the sabbath Andrew asked Basil, who had been to hear a faithful minister of the gospel in an adjoining parish, how the sermon suited him?

"Moderately," said Basil. "The preacher took for his text the words, 'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners,' 1 Tim. i. 15; but I cannot say that I thought much of him, for he said nothing remarkable."

to hear those things which you have heard, and have not heard them: nay, the very angels desire to look into them.' Nothing remarkable, Basil, that Christ Jesus should come into the world to save sinners! Why this is the most remarkable thing that ever was made known to mankind."

Much more did Andrew Bowles say to his nephew, with an earnest and affectionate regard for his welfare, but it did not appear to make much impression on his mind. How many are there in the world besides Basil Bowles, who walk abroad without seeing and feeling the goodness of God in his creation, and who hear his holy word, though that word declares that the Lord of life and glory came down to die for sinful man, and go away, unconscious that they have heard anything remarkable. Oh! for a love of gospel truth, and a spirit of humility, thankfulness, and praise!

I know not how this subject will suit you, my young friends, or whether it will come home to any of your hearts; but as there were among the Athenians of old those who "spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell or to hear some new thing," so are there now those who are too much given to tell, to hear, or to do things which are remarkable. Fall not into this frame of mind. You cannot be doing remarkable things every day of the week, but you may not only every day of the week, but every hour of the day, perform duties that are useful to others and creditable to yourselves. Cultivate, then, a simple and natural disposition. Let who

"Nothing remarkable!" replied Andrew. "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.' Nothing remarkable! The gospel of Christ is of inestimable value. Prophets and kings have desired will build pyramids, ascend Mont

Blanc, go down the crater of Vesuvius, or mount into the air in a balloon; be you content as Sunday school teachers and humble-minded followers of the Redeemer, prayerfully, cheerfully, and zealously to advance yourselves, and to lead others on the

way to heaven, looking for wisdom and strength to Him, "who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works," Tit. ii. 14.

Poetry and Music.



YE little flowers, with snow-white bells,
Blooming within Death's gloomy vale,
Where the hoarse voice of sorrow swells
Her sad and agonizing wail;

How could ye choose a spot so drear?
Why blossom on the sleeper's bed?
Some hand, perhaps, has placed ye here
In fond remembrance of the dead.
And yet I will not ask you why;
Frail little moralists, from ye
E'en man may learn to live and die,
Or copy from your purity.

No ostentation here we see,

The drooping head appears to weep,

Grieving as o'er mortality

Its first, and last oblivious sleep.

Fit emblem of life's fleeting day,

The morrow comes and ye are gone;
Lifeless and withering away

The flowers of yesterday have flown.
Perchance they're not for ever gone,
The root lies buried in the clay,
The fast revolving months roll on
And they may bloom another day.

Poor human nature-is this all?

The small green heap-the silent flower?

In vain we on the spirit call;

Nought can avail in human power.

Still for the spirit we will trust,
"Hope springs exulting on her wing;"

A flower will rise from out the dust

To flourish in eternal spring.


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