UNREASONABLE expectation lies at the root of more than half the miseries of the world. Let parents, then, beware how their children's minds are formed, with reference to this most important and delicate concern. I speak with deep anxiety upon the subject, because I am convinced, that in no one instance are education and early training more powerful in their influence, or certain in their effects. Much, doubtless, must depend upon the peculiar temperament of the subject. But from all that I have observed, as well as from the reason of the thing, I feel warranted in saying, that, in this department of the mental constitution, more is owing to culture, and less to mere natural tendency, than in any other. Thus, on parents it mainly depends, whether their children's minds shall be healthful or diseased, as they enter upon life; and whether their moral appetites shall reject with loathing, or receive with wholesome relish, the common food which Providence supplies. The process begins in infancy; there the leaven of pride or of humility is set at work. There, the child is taught one of two lessons; he is taught either that others were made for him, or that he was made for others; either that he is to be ministered unto, or that he is to minister. Long before he can give utterance to it in articulate sounds, he can give abundant proof that he knows himself to be of consequence; that he considers his cries as threats; his toys as his own possessions; and that it is his right to be amused; that, in a word, those who attend him are responsible to find him in some occupation which he likes, and to provide him with a pleasing variety of entertainments. This may appear to some a trifling matter; but it is, in truth, a serious and melancholy consideration. For infancy is the seed-time of our future character. The pampered child is but the embryo of the man, who lives and

in

moves, as if the world was formed to make provision for his lusts. Into such he will infallibly grow, if his lot be cast in the higher ranks of life. He will, by sure progression, become, from the tyrant of the nursery, one of the tyrants of the world; one of those who live on God's bounties, and are too proud in heart to thank him; one of those whom a thousand blessings cannot please, but whom a single disappointment, or obstacle to their will, can stimulate into madness. Such are the effects of ill-nurtured infancy upon the rich and great. With the inferior classes, fruits of bitterness, though different in kind, yet full upon a par the degree of moral perversity, are, by the same cause, produced. Amongst those who have somewhat risen in life, there is a most unhappy propensity to train their offspring systematically in pride. The vanity of the parent is flattered, while his fondest weaknesses are indulged, by seeing his children so different from what he remembers to have been himself. He boasts and triumphs in the thought that they shall want for nothing. He feels, in short, that the best of every thing is scarcely good enough for them: and alas! they are but too quick in learning most thoroughly to coincide with him in that opinion. Amongst the poorest, still there are ways of teaching the lesson of unreasonable expectation to the infant mind. This is most effectually done by training them to beg. Nothing more blunts or brutalizes the character, than a maxim, very common in that department of society (and not perhaps in that alone) that "it can do no harm to ask." The assertion, it is needless to say, is false; because whoever else may escape, to ask unreasonably is sure to injure the petitioner himself. To such an extent, nevertheless, is this debasing principle carried, that I have observed it to be the practice of some persons, however largely or repeatedly they may have received, still to go on demanding, and never to cease, till at last a refusal comes. They appear to view a benefactor in no other light than that of one, out of whom as much is to be got as begging can procure. Their part, they feel, is to ask; and his, to give. They are to continue pumping till the pump runs dry. And so matters proceed till the benefactor stops payment. Then, and not till then, the connexion ceases. And, what is in truth most ludicrous, I have known the suppliant, on such a closure, for the first time give a

kind of faint acknowledgment that he felt obliged. While the giving and taking went on, the whole was treated as a matter of business; and it was no time for ceremonious compliments. But when the denial came, and the partnership was dissolved, then a sort of recapitulation took place; a general sentence was pronounced upon the summing up of accounts; and, whatever might be felt, some formal thanks were given.

Such is the process by which men are trained, in their several stations, to overrate their claims both on God, and on their fellow-creatures; and thus to cast a blight on all that Providence can bestow. Let it then be the ceaseless care of every pious parent, to institute, from the earliest dawn of life, that counter process, which sows and nurtures the seeds of contentment, of humility, and of gratitude in the soul. Thus to co-operate with the grace of God is to be a parent indeed. For that is but selfish and superficial fondness, which would sacrifice the child to the pleasure which we find in spoiling it. True love lies deeper, and | can deny itself; and keep back its streams from flowing with a force too strong for the tender plant to bear. The fact is, that he who would teach moderation to his child, must be moderate in his own attachments; or rather he must substitute a real and solid interest in his happiness, for a mere animal and headlong passion. A guide of youth, thus fitted to the task, will guard, as the apple of his eye, that true simplicity of taste which requires no artificial stimulants, no renewed excitements. He will train the mind to gratitude for every trivial favour. He will teach the child that every attention paid by servants, or by others, is a kindness, and not a right or due. He will accustom him, by every means and stratagem in his power, to feel anxious to be of some use, however small, to those around him; and through his little vicissitudes and trials, (for such, even children, in this shifting scene, must have,) to think the ills he bears his due reward, and the blessings he receives but the unmerited goodness of that God whom he is taught to love upon a mother's breast, and to look up to, with filial reverence, before he can distinctly articulate his name. Oh! when I have seen a young plant thus growing up, and shooting forth its healthful branches, with a true relish for life, keenly enjoying what the palled appetite of the early victim of morbid tenderness

would reject with scorn, and thinking himself rich if he found a fragment of the costly toy which the other had become sick of, and then dashed in pieces; when I have seen a spring-time of life thus full of every happy promise, how have I hoped and prayed, that God would give an abundant increase, for time and for eternity! I have said to myself, that at least the parent had done his part; and have breathed, I trust, an ardent wish, that, as he had bent the twig in the right direction, he would yet see it an immortal plant in the paradise of God.—Woodward.

OLD HUMPHREY ON CLIMBING.

"ECUMENICAL!" said I, raising my eyebrows, "that is a flight above the common-place understanding of Old Humphrey." The word was used, as I passed, by a pompous-looking man in conversation with another, who was plainly dressed: "What we want," said he, “is not a trifling alteration, but an œcumenical measure for the good of man." Perhaps it was the pride of my heart which told me that if I did not understand the meaning of the word "œcumenical," it was not at all unlikely that he in plain clothes to whom it was addressed, would be equally at a loss with myself. You may be sure that I took the earliest opportunity of consulting my dictionary, when it appeared clear enough to me that an "œcumenical" measure was neither more nor less than a "general" measure that referred to the world at large.

Willingly do I concede to every one the right to choose his own language in making known his opinions, though I may call in question the prudence of adopting such terms as are not likely to be generally intelligible. The word "œcumenical," however, has set me reflecting on the disposition there is among us to indulge in pride, to set ourselves up as people of importance, or, in other words, to climb up one above another. With your leave, I will pursue my reflections.

Is it not strange that a being who possesses nothing good which God has not given him, whose mortal body the worms will shortly destroy, should have a heart that is haughty, an eye that is lofty, and a disposition to climb above his fellows? Yet so it is. There have been climbers in all ages, and the fearful falls, the ac

count of which has been handed down to us from one generation to another, have seemingly done but little to arrest this aspiring propensity.

Haman was a climber, and terrible was his fall, though he was at last lifted up against his will fifty cubits higher than he wished to be.

King Hezekiah was a climber. "Oh," thought he, "I will show these Babylonish messengers what a mighty monarch I am. They shall see my treasure house, my precious things, my gold and silver, and all that I possess, that they may tell their master Berodach-baladan of my riches, my greatness, and my majesty!" Poor Hezekiah! He fell at the word of the prophet from the lofty pinnacle to which he had raised himself. All that he had, was to be carried away into a strange country, and his sons were to be servants in the palace of the king of Babylon. Bitterly did Hezekiah repent of his climbing!

David was a climber, even though taken from the sheepfolds. Not satisfied with the greatness to which God had raised him, stirred up by Satan, he must needs climb up higher, by magnifying himself in the eyes of his people. Those whom he ruled must be numbered, that it might be known how many mighty men he could command, and how numerous they were above whose heads he was raised. Heavy was his fall on that sad occasion, for the famine, the sword, and the pestilence were set before him, and seventy thousand of his men were cut off from the land. See what comes of climbing!

Long was the revel, and loud the clamorous mirth that rose to the roof of the gorgeous palace of the king of Babylon. Many a chalice brimmed with the juice of the grape, sparkling and moving itself aright, had been quaffed to the gods of gold and of silver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone; and the golden vessels of the house of the Lord had been grasped by the unhallowed hands, and drained by the blaspheming lips of Belshazzar, his kings, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines; but suddenly the king's countenance was changed, for he saw the mysterious handwriting on the wall; his thoughts troubled him, the joints of his loins were loosened, and his knees smote one against another. He climbs too high who tries to get above the power of the Holy One. Belshazzar was a climber, and fearful was his fall.

"In that night was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain," Dan. v. 30.

Have you forgotten the pride of Herod, when he climbed so high by his majesty and his speech making, that the people cried out,`“It is the voice of a god, and not of a man!" Never was a more disastrous fall. Smitten by the angel of the Lord," he was eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost," Acts xii. 22, 23.

We cannot consider too frequently, that man, in the height of his intellect, in the pride of his understanding, is a poor, dependent creature; dependent from the cradle to the tomb, not only on his Creator, but on the meanest things that are around him. His life is a gift: the faculties of his body, and the endowments of his mind are bestowed upon him by a heavenly hand, a boon that he does well ever to remember. See him a helpless infant, unable to speak, to stand, or to stir, for his own advantage. See him, in the glory of his strength, conquering even the great inhabitants of the deep; in the pride of his mental power, dragging down from above the lightning of heaven; even then is he as dependent as when he was a child. The air must be purified for him, or he cannot breathe; the earth must bring forth its produce, and supply him with fuel, and the animal world must feed him and clothe him. See him in hoary age, once more a child in intellect, and bowed down with bodily infirmity. Really, really, there seems no excuse for us, when we proudly try to climb above the heads of those around us.

The word "oecumenical," with which I began my remarks, has already, as you see, drawn me out to some length, and yet I am inclined to proceed a little farther, for I need not limit my illustrations to ages gone by, seeing that they abound in more modern times; and if we take the trouble to look for them, we shall find enough, and too many of them, in our own hearts.

Not many years ago, we had a mighty climber, who could not look on a throne without desiring to scramble up to it. The height he did attain would have made any other mortal giddy, and the general opinion is that it made him so, for he came tumbling down when he least expected it; the diadem fell from his brow, and he died a captive in the isle of St. Helena.

But while we now and then hear of crowned heads climbing up one above another, we may see the same things

continually going on in common life. Every day and every hour might furnish us with examples in all grades of society, for pride is the besetting sin of thousands. This disposition to get one above another is common, I had almost said universal, though we discern it more quickly in others than in ourselves. How often have I climbed, and fallen! How often have I suffered for the pride of my heart! In looking at Johnson's Dictionary the other day, it struck me that the learned doctor was in a climbing fit when he wrote his meaning to the word "network;" for he defines it to be "any thing reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with interstices between the intersections." Why, the worthy doctor has outdone my œcumenical friend twenty times over!

If we bestowed half the pains to climb heavenward that we do to raise ourselves one above another, we should enjoy much more peace, and endure much less perplexity; but there are some who, while professing to be pilgrims to the heavenly city, go on their way as proudly as if they had a right to enter heaven; and yet they have nothing to show when they shall come to the golden gate. "See," says Christian, in the Pilgrim's Progress, "this is the coat he gave me freely on the day when he stripped me of my rags!"

I might run on thus for an hour longer, but the subject will be much better prolonged by your reflections than by`my pen. As I fear we are all given to climbing, some one way, and some another, so may we all profit by the word of king Solomon, "Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall," Prov. xvi. 18.

AN OBSTINATE MAN.

AN obstinate man does not hold opinions, but they hold him: for when he is once possessed with an error, it is like a devil, only cast out with great difficulty. Whatsoever he lays hold on, like a drowning man, he never loses, though it do but help to sink him the sooner. His ignorance is abrupt and inaccessible, impregnable both by art and nature, and will hold out to the last, though it has nothing but rubbish to defend. It is as dark as pitch, and sticks as fast to anything it lays hold on. His skull is so thick, that it is proof against any reason, and never cracks but on the wrong side, just opposite to that against which the

impression is made, which surgeons say does happen very frequently. The slighter and more inconsistent his opinions are, the faster he holds them, otherwise they would fall asunder of themselves; for opinions that are false ought to be held with more strictness and assurance than those that are true, otherwise they will be apt to betray their owners before they are aware. He delights most of all to differ in things indifferent; no matter how frivolous they are, they are weighty enough in proportion to his weak judgment; and he will rather suffer self martyrdom than part with the least scruple of his freehold; for it is impossible to dye his dark ignorance into a lighter colour. He is resolved to understand no man's reason but his own; because he finds no man can understand his but himself. His wits are like a sack, which the French proverb says is tied faster before it is full than when it is; and his opinions are like plants that grow upon rocks, that stick fast though they have no rooting. His understanding is hardened like Pharaoh's heart, and is proof against all sorts of judgments whatsoever.-Butler.

FOLLY OF SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS.

He that thinks to exalt himself by his own merit, hangs a golden weight about his neck, that will choke him at last. A

man must not think to turn the scale of

God's justice, by justifying himself. That which he thinks to be righteousness in himself is not so indeed; and that which is so is not his, but God's, lent and imputed by him. 'Tis a proud ingratitude, therefore, for a man enriched only by devotion and loan, to lift up himself against that hand from which he borrowed it. 'Tis as if he should take up money, and then go to law with his creditors who lent it. Even thus a man that glorifies in the conceit of that righteousness which he received not from nature but from grace, not by acquisition but infusion, affronts God with his own favours, and receives a breast-plate out of his armoury, to stand out, and wage a presumptuous war against him.King.

CRUDE ADMIRATION.

THE crude admiration which can make no distinctions, never renders justice to what is really great.-Foster.