unions. He lights up the flames of a love which consumes self-love, which prevails over every other love. The founders of other religions never conceived of this mystical love, which is the essence of Christianity, and is beautifully called charity. In every attempt to effect this thing, namely, to make himself beloved, man deeply feels his own impotence. So that Christ's greatest miracle undoubtedly is, the reign of charity.

I have so inspired multitudes that they would die for me. God forbid that I should form any comparison between the enthusiasm of the soldier and Christian charity, which are as unlike as their cause.

But, after all, my presence was necessary; the lightning of my eye, my voice, a word from me; then the sacred fire was kindled in their hearts. I do indeed possess a secret of this magical power, which lifts the soul, but I could never impart it to any one. None of my generals ever learned it from me. Nor have I the means of perpetuating my name and love for me, in the hearts of men, and to effect these things without physical means.

Now that I am at St. Helena; now that I am alone, chained upon this rock, who fights and wins empires for me? who are the courtiers of my misfortune? who thinks of me? who makes efforts for me in Europe? where are my friends? Yes, two or three, whom your fidelity immortalizes, you share, you console my exile."

Here the voice of the Emperor trembled with emotion, and for a moment he was silent. He then continued:

Yes, our life once shone with all the brilliance of the diadem and the throne; and yours, Bertrand, reflected that splendor, as the dome of the Invalides, gilt by us, reflects the rays of the sun. But disasters came; the gold gradually became dim. The rain of misfortune and outrage, with which I am daily deluged, has effaced all the brightness. We are mere lead now, General Bertrand, and soon I shall be in my grave. Such is the fate of great men ! So it was with Cæsar and Alexander. And I, too, am forgotten. And the name of a conqueror and an Emperor is a college theme! Our exploits are tasks given to pupils by their tutors, who sit in judgment upon us, awarding us censure or praise. And mark what is soon to become of me; assassinated by the English oligarchy, I die before my time; and my dead body, too, must return to the earth, to become food for the worms. Behold the destiny, near at hand, of him whom the world called the great Napoleon. What an abyss between my deep misery and the eternal reign of Christ, which is proclaimed, loved, adored, and which is extending over all the earth. Is this to die? Is it not rather to live? The death of Christ! It is the death of God.

For a moment the Emperor was silent. As General Bertrand made no reply, he solemnly added, If you do not perceive that Jesus Christ is God, very well, then I did wrong to make you a General.

IN private, we must watch our thoughts; in the family, our tempers; in company, our tongues.

Our hearts are like instruments of music; they make no melody in the ear of God, unless gently touched by the finger of his Spirit.

TAKE NOTES.

BY THE EDITOR.

Not a day without a line."

YOUNG members of the church, we think do not improve in religious knowledge as much as they might. This results no doubt from the fact that many are not as diligent as they should be in reading the scriptures and other religious books. The Holy Bible ought to be read regularly by every young Christian; from it the mind must derive its daily food. Good books ought to be read because they explain religious truth, and bring it in a plain and practical way before the mind.

There is one particular source of religious knowledge, which is open to all, and which we think is not as wisely used as it might be. We mean preaching. All who are in the habit of hearing a faithful pastor's instructions from Sabbath to Sabbath, ought in a short time to be well instructed Christians, familiar with all the points of christian truth. Yet how few even of those who regularly hear, are thoroughly indoctrinated in all necessary truth. What a vast amount of religious instruction is brought out by an industrious pastor in the course of a year. If this were properly treasured by the hearers, there could be no lack in christian knowledge. Here is the fault: it is heard and forgotten.

Now we wish to propose to our young friend a plan, by which this evil can be greatly remedied. It is this take notes of every sermon you hear. You need not do it in church, while the sermon is being delivered; you can do it afterwards. Keep the train of thought in mind, and when you get home write down the points so far as you can remember them. Keep a book for this purpose; and make it a point regularly to record in it what you hear on various religious points. At first you may not succeed to your satisfaction; but you will improve by practice; and ere long you will be able to retain all the principal parts.

This course will improve your memory while hearing; you will listen intently with the earnest endeavor of retaining what you hear, and this exercise will strengthen your mind. Writing it down will be an exercise which will aid in fixing the matter of the discourse in your memory, so that you will not easily forget it. Then, too, you will have your notes to which you may refer at any time. Years after, the subject which you once heard discussed may come up for consideration; and when you refer to your notes, you will find there much more than you could have remembered, and what you have written will aid you in calling up the rest.

A faithful pastor frequently brings matter into one discourse, which it took him a whole week to think out and gather. He brings together the substance of all that bears upon it from various sources. He consults books to which you cannot possibly have access. What an amount of religious knowledge you have therefore in one sermon-how important that you should retain it. Are you not frequently reminded when a particular point comes up in discoursing with others on religious topics, of a sermon which you once heard on the subject, and which was fully

satisfactory to you? You are sorry that you cannot remember it. Your mistake was that you did not take notes, when it was fresh in your mind. Habituate yourself to take down important things which you hear in the pulpit and elsewhere. What you thus record you will know better than you could possibly know it without. Besides, it will accustom you to write and express your thoughts on paper, while it exercises your judgment and memory. Let not a day pass without writing something, however little it may be. You will be astonished at your progress at

the end of the year.

We have a book of this kind, filled with notes taken down every day in boyhood when on the farm, which we would not sell for money. We found it profitable then, and find it a great pleasure to review now what we then wrote. What we know from experience to be good, we earnestly recommend to all our young readers of The Guardian. Get your bookget your pen-and at it this day!

THAT NOBLE BOY!

BY THE EDITOR.

"Heaven lies about us in our infancy

Shades of the prison house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy."

SEE! there is an interesting boy. He is about ten to twelve years of age. He has been carefully trained by pious and anxious parents. He has grown up in good habits. He is modest and quiet. What sweet affection dawns in his looks; how courteous are all his replies when some one speaks to him. What a beautiful and attractive simplicty there is in his whole manner. How promptly obedient he is to his parents, and how kind and obliging to his sisters. He is especially fond of his mother; for he has not yet lost that feeling of child-like dependance, which causes him to feel that his comfort and safety is near her. He loves to go with her to church, and to accompany her on visits.

Have you seen such a boy? Have you seen, too, as he quietly grew older, and got to be from twelve to fifteen years of age, how he gradually changed. Have you seen, and mourned over the sad change! He is losing his fondness for home and parents. He is growing rough in his manner, harsh in his replies, and surley in his disposition. What he before loved in the circle of home, seems now an unpleasant restraint. His sweet simplicity has left him. When his mother wishes him to accompany her, he goes with a shy manner, which says that he does not wish to go at all. When, on Sabbath, he is reminded that all are ready to start for church, he says "I am going," but does not wish to go in the group as he used to do. Instead of choosing the family pew, he would rather be in some remote corner, or on the gallery. Now and then he is seen to be in a kind of private stolen interview with boys that have not been trained in the same religious way as he has. It is evident that he begins to prefer the bosom of strangers; and the boy of fourteen is no more the innocently interesting boy of ten.

Have you seen these two pictures! Have you marked the contrast which they portray? Ah, this is the dangerous period in a boy's life. This is that transition time which, if not safely passed, becomes the beginning of wreck and ruin to many a noble lad, around whom the fondest affections and hopes of parents and friends has clung. This is the point in the path of life where the dark stream often rises, after which it has no more forever, the pureness, and freshness, and beauty which it had before.

The Guardian is read by many a lad of that age, who is just passing through that critical period of his life. O that my words of warning were written upon his heart as with a pen of iron in the rock forever! Sell not your boyhood innocency, my noble boy. Respond to the sweet affection of your mother. Cherish still the affectionate smiles of your sister. Cast not from you the holy influences of home. Seek only the society of the pure and good. Above all, give your heart to piety, and live in the fear of God. So will that which is the charm of your boyhood be your ornament and glory when a man.

ENERGY.

Ir small discouragements frighten you, you will not be likely to make such a man. Let the great naturalist, Audubon, tell his story:

"An accident which happened to two hundred of my original drawings, nearly put a stop to my studies in ornithology. I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I lived for several months, and went to Philadelphia, on business. I looked to all my drawings before my departure, placed them carefully in a wooden box, and gave them in charge to a friend, with directions to see that no injury should happen to them. I was gone several months; and when I returned, after enjoying the pleasures of home a few days, I asked after my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasures. The box was produced, and opened; but-feel for me-a pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and had brought up a young family among the gnawed bits of paper, which but a few months before represented a thousand birds in the air!"

The blow was a heavy one. So much labor so miserably destroyed. His brain reeled. For days he was almost unconscious. "But through the strength of my constitution, rallying again, I took up my gun," he says, "my note-book, and my pencils, and went forth into the forests to repair the loss, and begin my work anew."

THE WILD APPLE-TREE.—A swarm of bees made their home in the hollow trunk of a wild apple-tree, and filled it with their treasures of honey; whereupon the tree became proud, so that he despised all other trees.

Then the rose-bush called to him, and said: "Miserable vaunting tree that art proud of borrowed sweets! Is your fruit therefore the less sour? Make the sweetness of the honey flow up into your fruit if you are able. Only when you have done this will men bless you.

CHRISTIAN BURIAL.

BY THE EDITOR.

It is the style of Christianity to use the tenderest language in speaking of the dead. It says they are "gathered to their fathers." It says they are not dead but sleep. It says they rest in hope-rest in their beds. It says they sleep in Jesus.

The Church has called the places of their repose Koimeteria, from which is derived our word cemetaries-domitaries or sleeping places. The German word "Gottes-acker" is equally beautiful. Yea, it excels the other as having more of life and hope in it. It is not only a sleepingplace, where God gives his saints a sweet repose; but God's acre-God's garden, in which lie the bodies of the saints as seeds, to spring up in the resurrection, to bloom with the fragrance of bliss, and bear eternal fruit in the Paradise of God.

A tender respect for the body, as the organ of the soul, and a desire to have it decently disposed of after death, has manifested itself in all ages in connexion with religion; and so to dispose of it has always been regarded as a solemn duty among the pious. This attention every one instinctively desires for his own body. The thought of lying unburied is shocking to our nature; and so also is the thought of being buried in any way or in any spot that is not pleasant to us while living. Religion, moreover, quickens and increases this instinct, instead of abating it. This then we all desire for ourselves, and this we ought piously to grant to those whom we love in life.

Of this tender respect for the dead we have an instance quite early in the world's history. I refer to Abraham's affecting appeal to the sons of Heth, that they should sell him in their land, where he then sojourned, a burying place for his dead, and their prompt and humane compliance with his request. Gen. xxiii. We must ask the reader to turn to this affecting chapter, and read it with attention.

Here some things may be noticed to show how important a matter the purchase of a burial-place was to Abraham. Fearing as it would seem that his proposal might be rejected by the sons of Heth, he takes a very affecting position when he is about to make his appeal to them. "And Abraham stood up before his dead!" What an affecting sight! who under these circumstances can refuse him? He appeals also to their sympathies: "I am a stranger and a sojourner with you." Shall a stranger, standing before his dead, pleading for a place to bury them, be turned coldly away? No. Abraham was in earnest, and he took the best way to succeed.

Notice, too, what their reply is: "Thou art a mighty prince among us ; in the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead: none of us shall withold from thee his sepulchres, but that thou mayest bury thy dead." This was a kind offer. Abraham felt that it was kind; but it was not in accordance with his wishes and feelings. So he "stood up and bowed himself to the people of the land," and declined that kindness. He

nted a place as his own, which he should himself possess, and which