"It is indeed deplorable," replied the son, "but what is the cause, father, of this strange infatuation on the part of Christian ministers? Why is the spirit of peace so wanting in them? And why is the spirit of war so pre-eminent among them?"

"It is, I believe, Henry," said the father, "because their classical studies have too much to do with war, blazoned forth as the highest glory and the most splendid renown, in language of great beauty and eloquence, and arrayed in all the attractions and fascinations of poetry. Because they spend too much time in company with heathens, and, in consequence, too little time in company with Christ-the heathens, who eulogised war; and Christ, who taught peace. They thus become indoctrinated by the spirit of war, and must, to the same extent, be unfitted to be the ministers of a Teacher, whose great characteristic is peace, and whose mission was to proclaim it through the earth. It is not therefore surprising, that they should act as they do. They are the victims of a wrong dangerous system. Evil communications have corrupted in them good manners; and a different course should be taken, to make them good and faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. All, it is true, have not been thus led away. Some have risen superior to the dangerous influence; just as individuals in society emerge from the evil associations in which their lot had been cast, and become good and exemplary characters. But these are exceptions to the rule, and not the rule itself.”

and

Oh!

"History," said Henry, "especially Ancient History, I have often thought, needed to be written over again. For, in its present state, it is exceedingly dangerous to the young, with their warm susceptibilities, and ingenuousness of nature. If they are not previously fortified against it, by knowledge and information, and good moral and religious principles, it cannot but in some degree corrupt them, and lead them astray. For what is it, but the history of war? The history of the world in war! and this decked out in all the trappings of show and splendour, and held up as the chief glory of man! the reproach of human nature, that war should have been thus deified for the worship of the human race! should have been thus set forth as the chief employment of rational creatures, their highest ambition, their truest and most lasting fame! Instead of sitting down, in grave council, to consider the law of kindness, and the best way of carrying it out, and developing the social affections, and promoting peace and good will, and harmony and happiness around; the first consideration of any combination of people appears to have been, how they should make themselves great and renowned, powerful and feared; how they should fortify

their cities, so that they should be invulnerable; and how they should best equip themselves in armoury and in arms, so that they might make conquests wherever they went, and spread their glory and their fame over the face of the whole earth. So pride, ambition, and selfishness, injustice and rapacity, were the anti-social principles that fired their souls, and impelled them to action. War was, consequently, their principal aim, and their highest renown. And they went forth to slay their fellow-creatures, and seize their towns and cities, without the least scruple or remorse, as though they were doing what was right and good and praise-worthy, and not committing murder and robbery, and every vile and abominable crime. Thus force has reigned through the earth, not justice and equity, not mildness and goodness, not benevolence and love, not virtue and piety. The world is given to the wicked;' and they have ever ruled it according to their will."

"No, Henry," interrupted his father; "not given." That would be sad to say of God. He gives it not for any such purposes; any more than he gave the righteous Abel to be the victim of the wicked Cain. That be far from God to do after this manner.' 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?' They have seized it by force, and by force they have ruled it to this day, and crime and suffering have abounded. It was designed in wisdom and goodness. It was arrayed in beauty and splendour, and filled with the most bounteous supplies to sustain, and the richest blessings to gladden, the heart of man. But they for whom all this beneficence was bestowed, have marred everything by their touch. They have turned beauty into horror, blessings into banes, plenty into want, riches into poverty, love into malignity, joy into sorrow, gladness into lamentation, happiness into misery and woe. They have butchered millions and millions of their fellow-creatures, and dyed the face of nature with blood. They have wasted unnumbered treasures, and have entailed heavy burdens on posterity for ever. But for them, with their accursed war, the earth might have been a paradise; and if the evils they have done could be undone, and the riches they have wasted could be restored and rightly appropriated, the earth would now be a paradise, for the blessed abode of intelligent creatures, formed in the image and glory of God,' to live in blissful communion with him."

"Oh, father!" exclaimed Henry, "what a mass of iniquity war, and the abettors of war, have occasioned in the world! If the neglect and abuse of a single talent will incur a just condemnation, what will the perversion, the waste, the desecration of a world incur? What will be the doom which it will deserve? What will be the punishment to which it will be consigned ?"

6

"And yet, Henry," said the father, "this is the system according to which, we are told, we should think, and let think.' What is your opinion on the point? I should wish to hear it.”

66

"I am astonished, father," instantly replied the son,

66

that such a position should have been put forth for a single moment in such a case. For one would naturally have supposed, that at the first glance of the subject, it would have received the just condemnation of every just and humane person, every virtuous and pious man; that none of any morality and religion, could have felt the least forbearance towards it, but that all must have reprobated it with the strongest indignation. It is not an abstract truth or principle, about which men may argue, and about which they may differ. It is a fact, a naked fact;- -as murder is, as robbery is; and it is to be judged accordingly; and not to be regarded as having two phases; as if murder were not murder, and robbery were not robbery, but things of very different natures. It is quite another thing to judge of the guilt or innocence of those who are charged with such deeds. But God knows them, and God sees them, and he will judge them in righteousness, without respect of persons."

"You are right, Henry," said the father. "Its iniquity is great and enormous, beyond our utmost conception. For it concerns not merely this world, and the things of this world, but extends its baneful influence to the dispensation of divine grace by Jesus Christ. As this, however, is a topic of itself, and one of very great importance, it may be best to resume the subject at a future opportunity, if we be spared till that time, and all be well."

The discussion, therefore, under such an understanding, for the present, ended here.

MOUNTSHEAD.

What I have done is worthy of nothing but silence and forgetfulness; but what God hath done for me, is worthy of everlasting and thankful memory.-BISHOP HALL.

I believe that every man is good in proportion as he manifests the spirit of love, and great in proportion as he manifests the spirit of self-sacrifice.-MACCALL.

He that never changed any of his opinions, never corrected any of his mistakes; and he who was never wise enough to find out any mistakes in himself, will not be charitable enough to excuse what he reckons mistakes in others.-DR. WHICHCOTE.

LITTLE LOUIS.

(Compiled.)

NEARLY sixty years ago, a little boy was born, as it seemed, with the brightest prospects, and the happiest hopes. His father was king over one of the fairest and richest countries in the world; and his mother was daughter to the Empress of Austria. He had had an elder brother, but he was dead; and so this little boy, if he lived, would have a right to be king of France, when his father died. He was a happy little boy, when he was quite young;-his mother loved him more dearly than anything else in the world, and he had all that he could wish for. A garden was set apart for him in his father's palace-gardens at the Tuilleries in Paris; and there he dug, and raked, and sowed his seeds, and watched the plants come up, and bud, and blossom. He had a tool-house to keep all his tools in; and there was a pond near his garden, where he fed the different water-birds that lived there. He was a beautiful sight at that time, with his bright rosy face, long waving golden hair, and happy loving looks. He was very young, and did not know the miseries under which his country groaned. He did not know that the vices and tyranny of his grandfather, Louis the Fifteenth, had made him hated and despised by his people; and that, ground down by poverty and oppression, they nourished the fiercest envy and the most brutal rage, towards all the rich and noble. He did not know that his own father was of so weak a character, that to place him at the head of a nation thus exasperated, was like throwing a straw into the cataract of Niagara to stop its course. He did not know that even his beautiful mother, so loving to him, and so anxious in reality to make everybody happy, had, by her ignorance of the state of the people, and her boundless extravagance and love of amusements, turned the people's hearts against her and made them hate her. He did not know, poor child, while he played amongst his flowers, that he was on the brink of a tremendous precipice.

The time of this happy ignorance did not last long; for though he could not understand the cause of the people's discontent, he now and then saw terrible proofs of it as he grew a little older,scenes such as he never afterwards forgot. Sometimes he saw crowds of angry people menacing his mother; and one day; to pacify them, she took him and his sister out on a balcony in sight of all the people, to show them she was faithful and loving to her children still, though they suspected her of all manner of crimes. It was a frightful sight for little Louis: frightful sounds, too, met his ear, and struck terror to his young heart.

But a few weeks later, he saw a still more terrible sight. He was with his father and mother, the king and queen, at their palace of Versailles, where many a happy summer day had been spent. There they were having great festivities, and feasting the soldiers with every luxury, while the people were perishing of hunger. A maddened crowd came streaming out of Paris,-men and women, wild with rage, revenge, and hunger. Thousands and thousands come pouring on through heavy rain, and surrounded the palace in the night, crying, "Bread! Bread!" Towards morning a terrible uproar arose. The people broke through the gates and doors, and with fierce cries and savage rage threatened to burst into the queen's apartments. She had only just time to escape into the king's rooms, where her children had also been brought, before the mob broke in and committed the most violent outrages. At length some soldiers, with their commander General Lafayette, prevailed upon the people to leave the palace. The next morning, after a scene of fearful violence and insult, the royal family were placed in a carriage, and obliged to go to Paris amidst all that maddened throng. Poor little Louis sat there with his mother, hearing the most frightful shouts and yells, and threats of vengeance on his mother. Amongst other fearful sights, he saw the heads of two of the soldiers who had tried to defend the palace in the night, set upon long poles, and carried in triumph by the mob.

Louis and his parents were many many hours in reaching Paris ; and it was not till midnight that, worn out with terror and fatigue, he was suffered to go to bed.

He never forgot those scenes. The memory of them haunted him amidst his lessons and his pleasures, and cast a cloud over his young life, through which the sun never shone again. Indeed, ever after this, his father and mother lived constantly in a sort of imprisonment, watched and guarded by their own servants, and fearful of being poisoned or assassinated, to protect him against which the king wore a waistcoat padded so thickly, that a bullet would not penetrate it. Often the report of guns and pistols, close to the palace, would make little Louis's heart beat, and his mother would clasp him to her bosom in speechless dread. The want and wretchedness in which the people lived, daily increased their savage rage. They seemed more like wild beasts, than human beings; and the poor queen lived in a state of constant apprehension.

The king seemed not to trouble his mind much, either about the affairs of his distracted country, or about the safety of his wife and, children. He spent his time chiefly in hunting or in mechanical pursuits, of which he was very fond. He had some rooms fitted up