scanned-the cry of mad dog is raised, and in this way, many an honest man has been victimized, who might and should have been saved for future usefulness. The confirmed knave is soon well known, and no man should be unconditionally condemned, until he proves himself to be clearly dishonest, and shows a disposition to remain so. To err is one thing-to be dishonest at the core, is a very different thing. Charity, kindness, and forbearance; would have saved many a man, who has been driven to desperation and ruin, by a contrary course. With a blush, I write it, this course is sometimes most inhumanly pursued in churches, against a member who becomes unable to pay another member in the same church. I have known instances of this kind, that would disgrace a savage, and forfeit his case. Charity and forgiveness are paralyzed by cold-hearted selfishness, and the victim is sacrificed in the house of his professed friends.

HONOR.

AN attempt to define this term, to meet the views of all, would place the writer in the same dilemma with the man who set out to please every body, and succeeded in gaining his own displeasure, and that of every one he met; or he would fare like the man, who alternately drove, led, rode, and carried his ass; at the suggestion of different persons, and was upbraided by some one, as often as he made a change. The honor awarded to a good man, by the great Jehovah, is pure and unalloyed. The different kinds, so called by men of the world, like the coin in circulation, range from the legal alloy,

down to the basest counterfeit ; current only among the ignorant, and bogus men. Each caste has its code of honor. A member of congress may shoot a fellow member-be lauded by his constituents for the act, and be reëlected as a mark of honor and continued confidence the man in humble life might be hung for a similar act. The one may indulge in all the dissipation that contaminates the seat of government, and still be called, The Hon. Mr., whilst the man in low life, decoyed from the path of duty and rectitude, by some rum-selling shark, a man killer and soul destroyer, would be arraigned before an alderman, and fined for getting drunk, for profane swearing, and imprisoned, if he was unable to pay the penalty. A public functionary may rob the treasury of thousands, and be treated as an honorable man by multitudes, whilst the man who unlawfully takes a loaf of bread to prevent starvation, or an old garment to keep him from freezing; is hunted by the officers of police, like a sheep-killing dog; and, at an expense of fifty or a hundred dollars to the city or county, is punished for this offence, and disgraced in view of every one.

Thieves, pickpockets, blacklegs, pirates, and such like kindred spirits; all have their code of honor, and most punctiliously observe it.

The aristocracy may violate all the rules of morality, not inscribed on the calendar of crime, and receive the adulation of those of their own kidney, and all those who bow obsequiously to a man who has, or appears to have wealth, measuring honor and reputation by dollars and cents-a standard adopted by large numbers in this republican land, and by more in the European world. The honor connected with fame, in the ranks

of the upper ten thousand, is that most talked about, sought after, coveted, and envied—the fame of the hero, the statesman, the jurist, the politician, the philosopher, and the literati. This kind of honor, like our gold coin, made under the law, is nearest the Simon Pure, and, like that, is small in quantity, compared with the manufactured, soulless paper of our country, and as hard to be obtained.

Fame, like an undertaker, pays more attention to the dead, than the living. The purest earthly honor, in its brightest aspect, is precarious, effervescent, fleeting. It builds its superstructure on public opinion, the quick sand of human nature, and as changeable as the wind. It often erects a splendid mansion for the aspirant, then pulls it down, and, from the same materials, builds his tomb. It cannot withstand the storms of life, it is a mere feather before the wind. Earthly Hope is its banker, but seldom has any funds with which to meet the draughts of honor. Brutus mistook it for virtue, and adored it, but when the storm came, found it to be a deceptive shadow. Let us cease, then, to depend on sublunary fame and honor for happiness, but seek the enduring joys, that flow, without alloy, from that fountain, that is opened in the house of King David—a fountain that will wash out every stain, purify all our enjoyments, and make us happy as angels are.

НОРЕ.

Why is a wish far dearer than a crown?
That wish accomplished, why the grave of bliss?
Because, in the great future buried deep,
Beyond our plans of empire and renown,

Lies all that man with ardor should pursue,

And He who made him, bent him to the right.-Young.

EARTHLY Hope, like fear, and sleep, is confined to this dim spot, on which we live, move, and have our being. It is excluded from heaven and hell. It is a dashing blade, with a great estate in expectancy, which, when put in its possession, produces instant death. It draws large drafts on Experience, payable in futuro, and is seldom able to liquidate them. Hope is always buoyant, and, like old Virginia, never tires. It answers well for breakfast, but makes a bad supper. Like a balloon, we know where it starts from, but can make no calculation when, where, and how, it will land as. Hope is a great calculator, but a bad mathematician. Its problems are seldom based on true data— their demonstration is oftener fictitious than otherwise. Without the baseness of some modern land speculators, it builds cities and towns on paper, that are as worthless as their mountain peaks and impassable quagmires. It suspends earth in the air, and plays with bubbles, like a child, with his tube and soap suds. As with Milo, who attempted to split an oak, and was caught in the split and killed; the wedge often flies out, and the operator is caught in a split stick. It is bold as Cæsar, and ever ready to attempt great feats, if it should be to storm the castle of Despair. It is like the unlettered

rustic, who was asked if he could read Greek, he replied, with perfect sang froid, "I cannot tell, I never tried." Hope tries every thing, and stops at nothing. This is earthly Hope-a paradox-being strictly honest-yet the essence of deception.

But there is a Hope, that is an anchor to the soul, both sure and steadfast, that will steady our frail bark, while sailing over the ocean of life, and that will enable us to outride the storms of time-a Hope that reaches from earth to heaven. This Hope is based on faith in the immaculate Redeemer, and keeps our earthly hopes from running riot, into forbidden paths. The cable of this Hope cannot be sundered, until death cuts the gordian knot, and lets the prisoner go free. To live without it, is blind infatuation-to die without it-eternal ruin.

IDLENESS.

Cares are employments, and without employ
The soul is on a rack, the rack of rest.—Young.

IDLENESS is criminal prodigality, because it wastes time-it causes extra, unnecessary labor; performing nothing at the proper time, and is the prolific author of want and shame-a confused workshop for the devil to tinker in. Creative wisdom designed man for virtuous action; idleness violates this design, robs the creature of happiness here, and endangers-it may destroy it, in futurity. The Turks often repeat this proverb, The devil tempts all other men-the idle man tempts the devil, for the devil likes to see men in motion; it is much easier to give a moving object any desired direction,

K