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will now, he had intended to tell his landlord the real state of the case, and soothe him with the promise of being able to answer his demand in a few days; but the estimate Grainger appeared to have formed with*respect to Williams' responsibility made this rather a hopeless expedient. '"You have called for your rent, I suppose, Mr Grainger?" at length said Mr Lisle, clearing his throat, seeing that the landlord made no move towards resuming his seat, but stood sturdily with his hat in his hand betwixt the table and the door.

"In course I have, sir," replied Grainger, as if he thought the question wholly superfluous. "It's a week past the time you

appointed, and I want to go to S with the money in my

hand."

"I'm really very sorry, Grainger," began Mr Lisle, whilst poor Sophia's cheeks turned crimson, and her eyes filled with tears;

"but really"

"You're not a-going to put me off again, are yc-u 1" exclaimed Grainger in an angry tone.

"Only for a few days," said Mr Lisle. "I'm sure of money in a few days."

"So you said before," roughly answered Grainger. "Besides, sir, I want my money to go to market with, and I must have it." "But I can't give it you, Mr Grainger," replied Mr Lisle. "Be reasonable; a very few days now must see me out of my difficulties, and the moment I get the money—in short, to be plain with you, don't mention it, and I promise yours shall be the very first debt I pay; but the very moment the breath is out of old

Patty Wise's body"

"Stop, sir!" said Mr Grainger, setting his arms akimbo; "do you mean to tell me as that's all you've got to look to to pay me my year and half's rent?"

"I've got a bond from Williams for seventeen hundred pounds, with five per cent, interest on it," replied Lisle; "to be paid on the very day he touches the old woman's legacy."

"Light the fire with it!" answered the landlord roughly; "it's

all the use it'll ever be. Seventeen hundred pounds!—seventeen

hundred rotten eggs! Why, don't you know that afore Miss

Patty lost her intellects, when she found from Dr Ramsay that

she was really going, she sent for Williams and told him that, as

she knew very well that he'd bring her niece to the workhouse if

she gave him any power over the money, she had taken care to

tie it up so that he could never touch a shilling of it?"

"She did!" cried Mr Lisle, starting from his seat.

"To be sure she did!" answered Grainger; "and what's more,

Williams took the hint and vanished, without ever coming back

here to say good-by to anybody. He's across the water by this

time, and there's an execution in the house. I saw the officers

there just now as I came past."

We have not space, neither can it be necessary, to paint the despair of the unhappy Lisle. Not only all the money he had was gone, but more than he had, for he had been obliged to borrow five hundred pounds to answer the last bill he had given to Williams. His creditors were pressing, for his situation was soon whispered abroad; and those who would have waited patiently whilst he was prosperous, soon took the alarm when they heard of his distress. He was made a bankrupt. His poor wife was obliged to leave her comfortable house—at a time, too, that she most needed its conveniences: his eldest little girl, whom he had just placed at a respectable boarding-school, was brought home to assist her mother in taking care of the younger children. His life's labour was lost—worse than lost, for he had to begin the world again with a stigma, if not upon his honesty, certainly upon his prudence and good sense. And all this misery arose from his not perceiving that every individual in the world is bound to provide for the responsibilities he has himself incurred, before he assists others to answer theirs; from his weakly yielding to the importunities of one who had no claim on him, and whose previous want of foresight, duly considered, held out little promise for the future, without reflecting on the paramount claims not only of his own creditors, but of the wife he had undertaken to maintain, and of the children of whose being he was the author, and for whose welfare and education, as far as in him lay, he was answerable to the Almighty; and from his not perceiving that it is dishonesty, and not liberality, to give that which we cannot afford, and which, if every one had their own, would not be ours to give; and that people's success in business does not depend upon their being good-natured or kindhearted, but upon their conducting their affairs with steady prudence and a conscientious regard to all their engagements— dangerous and dazzling fallacies, which have ruined many a well-intentioned man, who might have gone happily and prosperously through the world on the simple but comprehensive maxim—" Be Just Before You Are Generous."

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PRAYERS FOR ALL MEN.

I.

Y daughter, go and pray! See, night is come:
One golden planet pierces through the gloom;

Trembles the misty outline of the hill.
Listen! the distant wheels in darkness glide—
All else is hushed; the tree by the roadside

Shakes in the wind its dust-strewn branches still.

Day is for evil, weariness, and pain.

Let us to prayer! calm night is come again:

The wind among the ruined towers so bare
Sighs mournfully: tHe herds, the flocks, the streams,
All suffer, all complain; worn nature seems

Longing for peace, for slumber, and for prayer.

It is the hour when babes with angels speak. •

While we are rushing to our pleasures weak

And sinful, all young children, with bent knees, Eyes raised to Heaven, and small hands folded fair, Say at the self-same hour the self-same prayer

On our behalf, to Him who all things sees. No. 135. * l

And then they sleep. Oh peaceful cradle-sleep!
Oh childhood's hallowed prayer! religion deep

Of love, not fear, in happiness expressed!
So the young bird, when done its twilight lay
Of praise, folds peacefully at shut of day

Its head beneath its wing, and sinks to rest.

Pray thou for all who living tread

Upon this earth of graves;
For all whose weary pathways lead

Among the winds and waves:
For him who madly takes delight
In pomp of silken mantle bright,

Or swiftness of a horse;
For those who, labouring, suffer still;
Coming or going—doing ill—

Or on their heavenward course.

Pray thou for him who nightly sins

Until the day dawns bright—
Who at eve's hour of prayer begins

His dance and banquet light;
Whose impious orgies wildly ring,
Whilst pious hearts are offering

Their prayers at twilight dim;
And who, those vespers all forgot,
Pursues his sin, and thinketh not

God also heareth him.

Child! pray for all the poor beside;

The prisoner in his cell,
And those who in the city wide

With crime and misery dwell;
For the wise sage who thinks and dreams;
For him who impiously blasphemes
. Religion's holy law.
Pray thou—for prayer is infinite—
Thy faith may give the scorner light,

Thy prayer forgiveness draw.
-victor Hdgo. D. M. M.

A REASSURING PROSPECT.

All is light and all is joy.
The spider's foot doth busily
Unto the silken tulips tie
His circling silver broidery.

The dragon-fly on fluttering wings,
Mirrors the orbs of her large eyes
In the bright pond where creeping things
Make a dark world of mysteries.

The full-blown rose, grown young again,
Kisses the sweet bud^ tender blush;
The bird pours forth his tuneful strain
Within the sun-illumined bush.

He blesses God, who ne'er is hid
From the pure soul to virtue given;
Who makes the dawn a fiery lid
For the azure eye of heaven.

In woods that soften every sound,
The timid fawn doth dreaming play:
And in the green moss shining round,
Beetles their living gold display.

The moon, all pale in sunlit skies,

A cheerful convalescent seems;

And opens soft her opal eyes,*

Whence heaven's sweetness downward streams.

The wallflower with the gamesome bee
Plays by the crumbling ruins old;
The furrow waketh joyfully,
Moved by the seeds that burst their fold.

All lives and sits around with grace—
The sunbeam on the threshold wide,
The gliding shade on the water's face,
The hlue sky on the green hill's side.

On joyful plains bright sun-rays fall,
Woods murmur, fields with flowers are clad.
Fear nothing, man; for nature all
Knows the great secret, and is glad!
Ibid. C. Witcomb.

A HYMN.

There is an unknown language spoken
By the loud winds that sweep the sky;

By the dark storm-clouds, thunder-broken,
And waves on rocks that dash and die;

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