JUDGING BY ONESELF.

So prone are men to judge of other men by themselves, that a man usually supposes you are offended with him for what he knows would have been a cause of offence to himself; and he is often mistaken in his supposition. Yet in many cases it is right and even necessary to judge of others by our own feelings.

UNCONSCIOUS EVIL-DOING.

Half the evil done in the world is done from an evil instinct, unknown to the doer, or only half suspected by him. This is much the case with women-men more often act ill from deliberate and conscious ill purpose.

VEHEMENT REPROACH.

There is great folly, as well as insolence, in uttering fierce and vehement reproaches for misconduct; for they defeat the object of amending the person reproved. Most men have a sense of duty which by temperate remonstrance may be awakened from its dormant state into activity. On the contrary, fierce and vehement reproach rouses in the mind a tempest of anger, the noise of which drowns the whisperings of conscience. Never excite anger, nor touch the pride, by the manner of reproof. Appeal solely to the reason, the conscience, and the better affections.

On this point the words of Leighton are worthy of remembrance: "The flying out into passion against thy fallen brother, will prove nothing but as the putting of the nail into the sore, that will readily rankle it and make it worse. Even sin may be sinfully reproved; and how thinkest thou that sin shall redress sin and restore the sinner? There is a great deal of spiritual art and skill in dealing with another's sin; it requires much spirituality of mind, much prudence, and much love; a mind clear from passion, for that blinds the eye, and makes the hand rough, so that a man neither rightly sees, nor rightly handles, the sore he goes about to cure."

NATURAL AFFECTION.

Natural affection, the feeling of love arising from kinship, descends rather than ascends, is stronger in the elder towards the younger than in the younger towards the elder. In the younger this affection is less of an instinct than in the elder; reason enters more into it; gratitude forms part of it. Hence it will be seen that the young, when their faculties are developed, love their parents and other elder relatives very much in proportion as they find out that they have been treated by them with kindness. Affection cannot be forced; it is not directly subject to the will; it is

of its nature spontaneous. Hence the unreasonableness of the complaints of many parents that they are not loved by their adult children. Their want of affection is involuntary; it is caused by the action of their reason and their memory. The complaint of parents in this case is a satire of their own upon themselves.

SELFISHNESS THE CHIEF CAUSE OF HARD-HEARTEDNESS.

The malignity and indifference towards the interests of others, so much prevailing in the world, chiefly arises from excessive love of self in its various forms. Men naturally would rather wish the good than the evil of others. But these promptings of nature come to be silenced by the dictates of excessive self-love. Thus men often rejoice in others' calamity, not from any abstract pleasure in witnessing distress, but because they see others reduced to a level with themselves-their own relative position to others being their first consideration. If they cannot raise themselves above others by merit, and are not so raised by fortune, the next thing they wish is to see others brought down to themselves. And men are indifferent to the suffering of others, not from really wanting sympathy, but from pure selfishness, because they studiously keep their minds from the disturbance which would be caused by contemplating distress in others. It is selfishness in either case, a habit of referring everything affecting others, either for their weal or woe, to the consideration, how their own position is affected by it. Envy makes men rejoice at others' sufferings, as bringing them to their own level; and envy is the product of selfishness.

ASSOCIATION OF DISAGREEABLE IDEAS WITH RELIGION.

Though the Christian religion has qualities which render it distasteful to man naturally, it has much also to attract admiration and love; it appeals to his best feelings of generosity and selfsacrifice, and "draws with the cords of a man." But it is often rendered unduly repulsive by false associations of rigour and gloom with which it is presented to the mind. These associations often are caused by one-sided teaching, injudicious admonitions, or by the exhibitions of religion which men have seen in their youth from morose, or narrow-minded, or ignorant, or fanatical, or half-crazy believers. A somewhat similar effect has, in some cases, been produced on young minds by attendance at religious services in dirty, damp, dilapidated buildings, or when the preaching has been tedious, the reading of the prayers mechanical, drawling, or monotonous, and the psalmody offensive to the ear and depressing to the mind. Undue restraints on Sundays, accompanied with long tasks to be done, and heavy theological

books to be read, have had the same unhappy effects on young minds, as Dr. Johnson has testified in his own case. "Sunday," said he, 66 was a heavy day to me when I was a boy; my mother confined me on that day, and made me read the Whole Duty of Man,' from a great part of which I could derive no instruction. When, for instance, I had read the chapter on theft, which from my infancy I had been taught was wrong, I was no more convinced that theft was wrong than before, so there was no accession of knowledge. A boy should be introduced to such books by having his attention directed to the arrangement, to the style, and other excellences of composition, that the mind being thus engaged by an amusing variety of objects may not grow weary."

It is the part of true wisdom for men's spiritual welfare to provide that religion be in no wise prejudiced by its accidental adjuncts or adventitious circumstances; that, while its externals be not meretricious, they should still be attractive; and that, while its truths are unfolded without compromise, they should be unfolded in a judicious and conciliatory manner.

NEUTRALITY IN OPINION.

If a cause be true and important, neutrality in those whom that cause concerns must be antagonism towards it; for such neutrality is an implied assertion that the cause is either untrue or unimportant.

Neutrality in such a cause is either insincerity or cowardice; either a blind for real hostility, or the refuge of timid adhesion to the truth, such as many Jews gave, "but secretly for fear of the Jews."

THE POLITICAL EFFECTS OF THE WAR
ON ENGLAND. ·

How will England be effected by the war between France and Prussia? This is a question which naturally comes home to every Englishman, for it may be taken for granted that the gigantic struggle alluded to must exercise a great influence upon the destinies of our country, and the nature of that influence is, therefore, of vital national importance.

Let us look at the matter for a few moments as dispassionately as we can, and try if it be possible, from the data we possess, to read rightly the signs of the times.

France, defeated and prostrated, is-at all events, for some years

to come-hors de combat. It may well be doubted, indeed, whether she can ever regain the ascendancy she has hitherto held in our European system. Her star has paled, to brighten again fitfully mayhap, but never again to shine with the steady brilliance it once possessed.

There is nothing to excite much surprise in this. Each race in the world's history has its day, and we shall see, if we compare the signs, which distinguished the rise and fall of each successive empire, with the symptoms which have been long apparent in France, that analogy alone will indicate the decadence of the French empire. We shall observe, that there is no surer sign of a nation's health than the state of her social habits and moral feelings; that where these are uninfluenced by wholesome self-control, the body-politic itself becomes enervated and relaxed; that as soon as the character of the individual becomes weakened by a long career of self-indulgence and excess, that of the community to which the individual belongs commences to suffer in a similar manner.

This process appears to have taken place in France. The social demoralisation, which it is sufficiently notorious has long pervaded the private life of the French citizen, sapping his strength and destroying his vigour, both mental and physical, has at length permeated throughout the entire fabric of the institutions of the country, vitiating their "morale" (there is no English equivalent), and destroying the public stamina.

France, moreover, is no longer in the heyday of youth; and as no example exists, of a nation regaining its pristine vigour after exhibiting these unmistakable signs of old age, we must conclude that her future political career must inevitably be-whether at a steep gradient or otherwise, it is less easy to guess-" down-hill." And to apply the conclusion to which we have arrived-how is this likely to affect England?

For many years past, France and England have been allies. The two countries fought side by side in the Crimea and in China, and a feeling of friendship has sprung up between them. Not that England, as a whole, can be taunted with having conceived a sentimental liking for her neighbour. Anything but that. The English people individually, occasionally, as in this instance, conceive and manifest preferences for other nations, unfounded on selfish considerations. The English government never. government fostered the alliance with France for two reasons. Firstly, because it feared France, and considered her good-will absolutely essential to her security; and, secondly, because it earnestly desired the support of France against Russia upon the Eastern question.

That

Neither of these considerations can any longer influence Eng

land as heretofore. For long years to come she can suffer under no fear of invasion by France, and can expect no support from her on the Eastern question. The reason is obvious. France is no longer, as we have seen, the powerful nation she was. Were she so indeed, England would have everything to dread, and nothing to hope for from her; for, in return for France's sympathy and support during the Indian mutiny, and at various other times, England has exhibited a cold ingratitude during France's adversities, which must for ever alienate that country from her.

England, therefore, must no longer rely upon a French alliance. And if so, is not some other alliance essentially desirable for us?

If we look at our position from an impartial standpoint, we shall perceive that, like France, the decadence of Great Britain has already commenced. We do not, however, mean to assert that our country, like France, owes this to any intrinsic corruption in the morale of its population (although it may be, the increasing self-indulgence begat by luxury and refinement contributes to it in some degree), but simply that other nations have outgrown ours, and have become bigger and stronger than ourselves, so that we are no longer able to retain the position amongst the nations of the world which we erstwhile held.

The limited extent of the area and population of these islands sufficiently of itself accounts for this, and must in future prevent our ever seriously rivalling in power or authority such countries as America, Russia, and Germany: all young nations, it must be remembered, are therefore progressive, whilst we are old, and already arrived at our full growth.

And if other countries thus increase, whilst we stand still, the effect is that, for all practical purposes, the decadence of our country may be said to have commenced.

It follows, therefore, we think, that the question must be answered in the affirmative, because England-thus relatively reduced in strength-isolated and alone (and we add, but partially armed), would be at the mercy of her stronger neighbours, unless she could secure one of them for an ally.

And will Germany, taking the place of France, become such? In the first place, what would Germany gain by such an alliance?

It is an article of British faith, to which we are never tired of alluding, that if we are unable to rival other nations as a military power, we are, at all events, "mistress of the seas."

Waiving any inquiry, as to whether the term is not an exaggerated one, there can be no doubt that the co-operation of England's magnificent fleet is of the utmost value to any power about to go to war.