all, by the mountain of thoughts fixed upon them. You may probably have heard the strong and pointed sarcasm of Robert Hall, respecting Dr. Kippis; He was a clever man,' he said, but he placed so many books in his head that his brains could not move.' The illustrious friend of Robert Hall, Sir James Mackintosh, a man acknowledged to have possessed one of the most powerful minds of his day, is recorded to have felt the excess of his memory a defect, as, in writing history, he was embarrassed by the difficulty of selection.

Remember, that I do not wish you to be a mere reading lady, or indeed a mere any-thing. I wish you to be an active, intelligent, useful Christian woman, and it is to this end that my remarks are made. A merely literary lady is generally, (at all times, I ought rather to say) an almost useless member of society, and the affectation, the neglect of common duties, and the general evils connected with the assumption of the character, are indeed grievous faults—but faults to be spoken of rather in sorrow than in anger.

Many persons will tell you to read, and I tell you so too; but I add-be careful what you read, how you read, and do not read too much.

First then be careful what you read.

Legh Richmond says the finest rule he ever met with in regard to the choice of books is this: Books are good or bad in their effects, as they make us relish the word of God the more or the less, after we have read them.'

I need hardly warn you against every species of novel and romance. Their evil effects both upon the moral habits and the intellectual faculties, can hardly be estimated. So very strong is my feeling on the subject, that I should really say that a Christian novel-reader is a contradiction in terms; a thing, which, like the gryphon, dragon, unicorn, &c. may be imagined, but which like them, has not, and never had any real existence.

I confess that I look with a jealous eye on every thing in the shape of fiction, especially for a young female. In women, the imagination is commonly too active, the judgment not sufficiently so; and there is no occasion to add fuel to flame, and thus increase the difficulty of bringing into subjection that faculty, which, like fire itself, may be said to be a good servant, but a bad master. A species of literature has sprung up within the last thirty years, against which I cannot forbear levelling a

cautionary admonition;-I mean that in which religion is mingled with fiction. I well remember a strong expression on this subject from one of the most eminent ministers of our day. Religious reading!' he exclaimed, I would rather say religious trash.' Now do be circumspect and careful; and if you err, let your error be on the safe side.

With regard to religious reading in general, I once heard a very spiritual and gifted woman say, that she had actually been kept back in her Christian course by the books which had been placed in her hands, and that, if she were to begin life again, she would lock up many of her well-studied volumes in a strong box, and keep more simply to the Bible. That dear servant of the Lord is now gone to her rest; her life was laborious and her death triumphant, but I have not forgotten the advice which she gave me, young in years, and younger still in experience, viz.-not to read any work written on the subject of religion, unless recommended by an experienced Christian.

Perhaps you may think that I am dwelling too long on the negative consideration of the subject; I turn at once then, though it may be rather abruptly, to the affirmative side:

In your religious reading, (and I hope that you will always keep in hand some work of a direct devotional tendency,) I would most strongly recommend to you the old divines. The mines of spiritual wealth in the writings of the Reformers, would well repay the cost and pains of exploring. Then, the divines of the seventeenth century— "There were giants on the earth in those days." I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of mentioning Leighton, whose Commentary on Peter has been styled unequalled; Usher; Owen, eulogized by John Newton as one of the best teachers in the English language, and whose works are as remarkable for strength of intellect as for depth of spirituality; Matthew Henry; Baxter; Howe, whose eloquence and piety equally adorn each other; Flavel-his work on Providence alone was a rich gift to the Church of Christ; Rutherford, Traill,— I could go on--but I pause. I have said enough to make your heart glow with thankfulness that, in our own land, and in our own tongue, we have had so many faithful witnesses to the truth; and I have said enough too to throw light on the feelings of such as habitually quaff the racy old wine of other days, and who, not merely from

the force of habit, pronounce it better than the

new.

My observations are necessarily circumscribed. I refer you to Bickersteth's Christian Student,' for some valuable remarks on religious reading, and I strongly advise you to possess yourself, if possible, of that book.

History must necessarily engage your attention. Endeavour to read in a regular course, so as to have a connected view of the rise, progress, and decay of empires. In ancient history, I confess I know no book that can supplant Rollin, notwithstanding his prolix and wearisome wanderings, his resting on parts of history comparatively unimportant and uninteresting, and the great inelegance, poor gentleman! of his English dress. He has been ill-treated by his translators, but that is no fault of his. If you can, it is better to peruse the original work. Rollin closes his general history at the death of Cleopatra, and it is rather puzzling to know what to recommend as a continuation. I might mention Crevier's Roman Emperors, but I do it with some hesitation. Bowdler's revised edition of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman

Empire, will carry you on to the taking of Con