tropical sun ripens. Others hunt the flying animals through the forest for their sustenance.

Some drink the juice of the palm-tree, some press the liquor from the grape, some refresh themselves at the fountains of pure water. Some slumber in their quiet homes, and others upon the tossing treacherous sea. Yet the same fatherly hand pro vides for all.

He who called all mankind forth from the dust of the earth, views them as one large family, seated at one common table, and soon to lie down in one wide bed, the grave. We see, perhaps, but one little corner of the table. We see varieties of dress, complexion, and rank, and suffer our feelings to be affected by these changeful circumstances.

We behold one exalted upon a high seat, and we say, "he is more excellent than his neighbour." From those who hold the lowest places, or "gather up the crumbs under the table," perhaps, we turn away. Do we forget the great Father of all, who appointed their stations? who looketh only on the heart?

It must be pleasing to him who hath called himself in his Holy Scriptures a God of love, that all his large family should regard each other as brethren and sisters. Let us think of our fellow creatures, as under the care of that Merciful Parent from whom all our blessings proceed, and let our good deeds to those who are less fortunate than ourselves, have root in love.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS.

The years of my childhood past away in contentment and peace. My lot was in humble and simple industry. Yet my heart was full of gladness, though I scarcely knew why. I loved to sit under the shadow of the rugged rocks, and to hear the murmured song of the falling brook.

I made to myself a companionship among the things of nature, and was happy all the day. But when evening darkened the landscape, I sat down pensively. For I was alone, and had neither brother or sister.

I was ever wishing for a brother who should be older than myself, into whose hand I might put my own, and say, "Lead me forth to look at the solemn stars, and tell me of their names." Sometimes, too, I wept in my bed, because there was no sister to lay her head upon the same pillow.

At twilight, before the lamps were lighted, there came up out of my bosom, what seemed to be a friend. I did not then understand that its name was Thought. But I talked with it, and it comforted me. I waited for its coming, and whatsoever it asked of me, I answered.

When it questioned me of my knowledge, I said, "I know where the first fresh violets of spring grow, and where the lily of the vale hides in its broad green sheath, and where the vine climbs to hang its purple clusters, and where the forest nuts

ripen, when Autumn comes with its sparkling frost.

"I have seen how the bee nourishes itself in winter, with the essence of flowers, which its own industry embalmed; and I have learned to draw forth the kindness of domestic animals, and to tell the names of the birds which build dwellings in my father's trees."

Then thought inquired, "what knowest thou of those who reason, and to whom God has given dominion over the beasts of the field, and over the fowls of the air?" I confessed, that of my own race I knew nothing, save of the parents who nurtured me, and the few children with whom I had played on the summer turf.

I was ashamed, for I felt that I was ignorant. So I determined to turn away from the wild herbs of the field, and the old trees where I had helped the gray squirrel to gather acorns, and to look attentively upon what passed among men.

I walked abroad when the morning dews were lingering upon the grass, and the white lilies drooping their beautiful heads to shed tears of joy, and the young rose blushing, as if it listened to its own praise. Nature smiled upon those sweet children, that were so soon to fade.

But I turned toward those whose souls have the gift of reason, and are not born to die. I said, "if there is joy in the plant that flourishes for a day, and in the bird bearing to its nest but a broken cherry, and in the lamb that has no friend but its

mother, how much happier must they be, who are surrounded with good things, as by a flowing river, and who know that, though they seem to die, it is but to live forever."

I looked upon a group of children. They were untaught and unfed, and clamoured loudly with wayward tongues. I asked them why they walked not in the pleasant paths of knowledge. And they mocked at me. I heard two who were called friends, speak harsh words to each other, and was affrighted at the blows they dealt.

I saw a man with a fiery and a bloated face. He was built strongly, like the oak among trees. Yet his steps were weak and unsteady as those of the tottering babe. He fell heavily, and lay as one dead. I marvelled that no hand was stretched out to raise him up.

I saw an open grave. A widow stood near it, with her little ones. They looked downcast, and sad at heart. Yet methought, it was famine and misery, inore than sorrow for the dead, which had set on them such a yellow and shrivelled seal.

I said, "what can have made the parents not pity their children when they hungered, nor call them home when they were in wickedness? What made the friends forget their early love? and the strong man fall down senseless? and the young die before his time?" I heard a voice say "Intemperance! And there is mourning in the land, because of this."

So I returned to my home, sorrowing. And had

God given me a brother or a sister, I would have thrown my arms around their neck, and entreated, "touch not your lips to the poison cup, and let us drink the pure water, which God hath blessed, all the days of our lives."

Again I went forth. I met a beautiful boy weeping, and I asked him why he wept. He answered, because my father went to the wars and is slain, he will return no more." I saw a mournful woman. The sun shone upon her dwelling. The honeysuckle climbed to its windows, and sent in its sweet blossoms to do their loving message. But she was a widow. Her husband had fallen in battle. There was joy for her no more.

I saw a hoary man, sitting by the wayside. Grief had made furrows upon his forehead, and his garments were thin and tattered. Yet he asked not for charity. And when I besought him to tell me why his heart was heavy, he replied faintly, "I had a son, an only one. From his cradle, I toiled, that he might have food and clothing, and be taught wisdom.

"He grew up to bless me. So all my labour and weariness were forgotten. When he became a man, I knew no want; for he cherished me, as I had cherished him. Yet he left me to be a soldier. He was slaughtered in the field of battle. Therefore, mine eye runneth down with water, because the comforter that should relieve my soul, returns no more "

I said, "shew me, I pray thee, a field of battle, that