D.'s kindness to the prisoners, and how he had saved the life of one poor man, by being at the expense of getting up a witness several hundred miles, was no use, until he mentioned that he came every week to read and pray with them; "Then," said he, "he must have Christian charity, and will pity a wretch like me ; he may come."

When Mr. D. approached the cell, he heard the low and deep moaning of suppressed mental agony, and feeling it was no easy matter to "minister to a mind" struggling with guilt and shame, with remorse and pride, he did not omit to ask wisdom from the sovereign source; for he had learnt, what is, perhaps, the last lesson of humility, not to trust to his own understanding. As he entered the cell, Henry Drummond started from his pallet, covered his face with his hands, and turned hastily from his visitor, who followed and addressed him in the gentlest tones of sympathy. Kindness, in the language to which he had been accustomed, touched that secret spring of the heart, which the voice of benevolence only can reach, and the conflict of passion was calmed by tears. Mr. D. soon convinced him that he was really interested in his welfare, and that it was only with a view to promote it he desired to obtain his confidence. The history of his previous life was as follows:-He lost a pious and sensible mother, just at that period when the transition from boyhood to youth renders the vigilant care and affectionate counsels of such a mother peculiarly valuable; especially to a character so impetuous and self-confident

as Henry's. His father was, unhappily, ill-adapted to mould the character of his son. The latter felt, too, the superiority of his talents, and this, he seemed to think, gave him a right to dispute all his father's opinions and arrangements, when they did not correspond with his own. He acted as though he considered superior abilities, and not natural right, were the source of parental authority; and that, because in some things he knew better than his father, he might, in every thing, decide for himself. Dependence did not appear to him a reasonable ground of obedience; nor experience -that valuable wisdom of years, in which a parent must ever be superior to a child—a cause for submission.

Henry was, perhaps, one of the most amiable of a class of young persons, too numerous in the present day, some of whom have precocious knowledge, and all precocious self-confidence, who start at once from boyhood into men, and take their place at the parental board, as equals rather than children-provoking, at length, by the unseemly power they assume, the hostility even of the most indulgent parents. If. Henry had been as wise and humble as he was clever, he might have exerted an influence over his father, beneficial to both parties. The jealousy of power, united with obstinacy, which is often found in weak minds, might have been removed by respectful conduct, and overcome by affectionate persuasion, but were only aggravated by undutiful opposition. His father was peculiarly tenacious in a few favourite opinions, and

Henry never spared an attack upon what he thought antiquated errors; heedless that, while fighting for a word, he was alienating a heart. This conduct led Mr. Drummond continually to hold the reins of authority tighter and tighter; and his son, being less and less inclined to submit, resolved, at length, to bear no longer, what he called parental tyranny, and determined to leave his father's roof.

When his sisters were informed of his design, they earnestly entreated him with tears to relinquish it, if not for their sake, yet for his own. Though they knew little from observation of the dangers of the world, they had an instinctive dread of his being thrown upon it without resources, and without a home; and, at least, they conjured him, not to take such an irretrievable step without consulting their mother's family. But an overweening confidence in his own judgment, which is the source of more moral errors than is often suspected, led him to disregard their advice. All danger to himself he scorned; but his heart found it difficult to resist their appeal on their own account, and he could only soothe his feelings by flattering himself, as he did his sisters, that he was endeavouring to secure their happiness by providing for himself and them another home; though he would not like to have added, “in a way less self-denying than the obvious mode of promoting it, which you desire."

Henry entertained no doubt that he should soon obtain an advantageous situation, for he made his own supposed merit the ground of his expectations.

He

had been long accustomed to offer incense to himself, by indulging vain imaginations relating to his talents and future aggrandisement, the castle-building of pride, which young persons cannot too resolutely resist; and he had made these visionary illusions, and not the probable events of life, the chief ground of his hopes. Yet, sanguine as he was, repeated disappointments in his applications for different situations, led him at length to distrust the power of his own prepossessing appearance and address, and induced him to call on his maternal uncle, who resided in the city where he had been staying some weeks. He had hitherto avoided doing this, though he knew his uncle's power and inclination to serve him, "because he would not be troublesome to his friends," as he said to himself, but in reality because he would owe nothing to them; and self is as much exhibited in the pride which disdains an obligation, as in the indolence which imposes upon another what we can as well accomplish ourselves.

Henry's uncle, though he gently reproved this apparent distrust of his friendship, did not on that account refuse to exert it in his favour, and soon obtained for him a highly respectable and confidential, though not very lucrative situation in a bank. Nor was he satisfied with merely endeavouring to secure his nephew's present interests, but watched with paternal anxiety over his morals, and, with all the affectionate earnestness of true Christian benevolence, urged him to examine his conduct and principles by the Divine standard of character-the sacred Scriptures; and not trust to the

delusive estimate of the world, which accepts regular habits instead of religious principles, the virtues of selflove instead of those holy dispositions of a renewed heart, which are the only pure, and permanent, and unfailing spring of virtuous actions.

He entreated him not to trust his eternal welfare to any other hope than that which arises from faith in the Saviour, and genuine repentance for sin; nor to imagine that the mere power of education and habit would be sufficient to preserve him from vice, if he were assailed by powerful temptation. He besought him not to trust to his own understanding, but ever to remember, that not only in the regulation of his conduct, but even in the formation of his opinions, he needed guidance and illumination from on high, which should be diligently sought by prayer. It was thus only he could hope to be preserved from that pride of intellect and self-confidence which is the peculiar sin of youthful talent. Henry thanked his uncle sincerely, and loved him the more ardently for his admonitions, without saying any where but in his own heart that they were not necessary; for though he respectfully heard advice, he had not humility enough to take it. He knew that his morals were pure compared with most of his acquaintHitherto he had not been exposed to the contagion of profligacy; many vices were disreputable, and would interfere with his success in life, others were too gross to please his taste.

ance.

He regularly attended a place of worship on Sundays, and thought himself rather religious for a young