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not the least pleasing trait of this evidently amiable and well-principled man, was, that, at a certain hour, he invariably opened a large Bible on his table, and appeared to give himself and his household up for a time to religious meditation. There was altogether in this man exactly that range of tastes and habits which so frequently adorn humble life in the rural districts of Scotland, but which are unfortunately found so much more rarely amidst the huge masses of a city population.' I was so pleased

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Private worship was formerly an almost universal practice in Scotland, in cities as well as in the country. In the former it is now hardly known, while in the rural districts, where national habits of all kinds, good and bad, are sure to be longest retained, it is rapidly going out of fashion. Every body will recollect the beautiful description of the ceremony in Burns's Cottar's Saturday Night; yet, beautiful as that description is, I question if it possesses a charm superior to a little anecdote, which has been related to me by a lady, respecting the performance of this domestic solemnity in one of the meanest suburbs of this large city. In this lady's younger days, her family used to pay some attentions to a very old and very poor couple, who lived in a back court at Fountainbridge, and whose means of subsistence were of the humblest and most precarious kind. They kept two or three hens, whose eggs, sold in the market, procured for them the only money they ever at any time saw. Then Janet could occasionally make herself useful among her poor neighbours, and from them, as well as from some persons in better condition, with whom she kept up an acquaintance, would occasionally procure small supplies of victuals. For many years towards the close of her life, this poor woman was quite blind; nevertheless, it was curious to see her still continuing to patch her husband's clothes-which, on inquiry, she said she did "by rule o' thoom"-and also to perform little servile offices for the gaining of a livelihood. Every night, old John performed what he called family worship, raising, with his thin tremulous voice, a psalm, which even the addition of Janet's shrill treble could hardly render audible in the back court into which their windows looked. The most touching thing of all was, that, after Janet's death, John still kept up his custom; and, according to our informant, hardly any thing could have been more interesting than to listen for a moment in

with the man-his modest frugal household, his fondness for his child, his music, his gardening, and his sobrietythat, from an idle and impertinent gazer, I became mentally his zealous friend, and there was nothing in my power I would not have done to testify that friendship.

A deep gloom at length came over my happy picture. My worthy friend, I saw, had become ill. His infant was no more dandled on his knee at the window. His flute was no more heard in the court. The blackbird was taken in, and silenced in some manner. His windows were deeply screened, and I could see no more. For a considerable time this continued, till, getting somewhat anxious, I requested my landlady, decent Mrs Nichol, to make some inquiries among the neighbours respecting my unknown friend. I learned that he had been seized by a lingering and dangerous distemper, which prevented him from working any, and was likely to be attended with great embarrassment in more ways than one. Mrs Nichol amply confirmed the good impression I had taken of the man. He was an active and sober tradesman, and a perfect example in the neighbourhood, though no one could be farther than he from all interference with those around him. By and bye he became a little better, as it was thought, and began to appear, in the habiliments of a sick chamber, at the window, where I saw him smiling upon the infant which smiled upon his knee, but evidently unable to give it the customary sport. Sometimes he would have the Bible open on the table, and his wife sitting fondly and reveringly at his feet; a group to my feelings the most lovely, the most tender and melancholy-melancholy yet pleasingthat I thought I had ever seen. It was truly astonishing what a poor man could be-how amiable and noble a being!-how near, I might almost say, to the angelic! The

passing to the solitary devotions of this widowed, helpless, and abject creature, whose thready notes seemed the last expiring sighs of attenuated humanity.

grosser elements of life seemed here refined away; and this humble and distressed tradesman shone out in my eyes as something far above even the more elevated classes of his fellow-mortals.

The end of the college session soon after arrived, when I had to return to my native home at a considerable distance in shire. I could not leave my lodgings without a feeling of deep anxiety respecting this excellent family, for the life of the sick man was declared to be in great danger; and ere long, I reflected, the virtues of this humble scene may be swept from their place, and be heard of no The interest I took in the sick man and his concerns would have been declared by many persons to be a mere freak of fancy; but I would fain hope that it was only the impression which goodness is naturally calculated to make upon a heart of the medium correctness of feeling, when truly studied and observed.

more.

During the ensuing summer, though deeply engaged with my books, and diverted by other objects and amusements, I cast many a thought of kindness back to the amiable household in Edinburgh, but had no opportunity of learning the fate of its master. It was therefore with a burst of joyful feeling, such as has attended few events in my life, that, in returning in November to my wonted lodgings, and hurrying to take a survey of my tradesman's windows, I saw him sitting, as after dinner, dandling his child with the same glee as before his illness, while his wife was bustling gaily about her domestic duties, and the blackbird at the window was whistling "Over the water to Charlie" as vociferously as ever.

SMALL AFFAIRS.

WE learn, by common experience and observation, that life does not consist of a repetition of great or apparently important actions, but of duties generally of the most trifling nature. The young, in entering upon a scene of active exertion, miscalculate seriously when they suppose that they will be called upon to distinguish themselves by some glorious deed, or to gain celebrity by a series of great and difficult actions, before they receive the approbation of their fellows, and come into the enjoyment of an honourable and luxurious repose. There are comparatively few whose fate leads them into enterprises of such a description. By far the greater proportion of persons move in a sphere of life in which they are called on to perform the simplest and the easiest duties. Life consists of a round of minute trifling actions, unworthy of notice in a biography, and in general no way interesting even to the actors themselves. A man rises in the morning and dresses himself; he breakfasts, dines, and perhaps sups; he then sleeps, and in due time rises again, and again goes through the same dull routine. As for his fore and afternoons, he fills them up by attending to his business, whatever it is; and in the intervals of leisure recreates himself in the bosom of his family. And so his life is spent, from, probably, his thirtieth year, till the close of his existence.

But although most men thus pass away their time, and are rarely obliged to put forth any very extraordinary effort either for subsistence or applause, they are necessitated to pay a pretty close attention to that on which they are ordinarily employed. In this consists one of the great secrets of worldly success. Once in twenty years, or so, we hear of an individual who is crowned with honour and loaded with wealth, by making a dash-by some bold enterprise, carried to a fortunate conclusion. But these are exceptions they afford no rule for general guidance. On mak

ing our choice of a profession-and it does not seem of the last consequence what the profession is or in engaging in any piece of business whatsoever, the trick of success, as we have just said, lies in pursuing it with such a scrupulous attention to trifling details, that harldly any thing is suffered to escape notice.

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While we believe few men will exactly contest the priety of attending to the trifling duties of life, most men will differ as to the exact degree to which the attention should be ultimately carried. Every one stops short at a stage regulated by his personal feelings or convenience. Now, we can safely say, from all that has ever come under our own observation, that far more-ay, a thousand times more-err, from paying too little than too much attention in this respect. Many imagine that they are sufficiently attentive to their interests, if they only heed the great things, and let the little alone, which they believe will take care of themselves. They think and think about some grand speculations they will by and bye enter into, or what astonishing feats they will perform next spring, or what efforts they will make when some particular law is abrogated, to allow them to carry on some particular branch of trade; and so they spend an immense deal of time in theorising, while in the interval they are forgetting the main chance; that is, they are giving up attention to their present occupation, which is falling into decay for lack of supervision.

Oh! I cannot be troubled doing this or that or going to such a place or what signifies it that I am not at my place of business for an hour-an hour is neither here nor there those I have employed can do all that is wantedit would be a hard case, indeed, if I were to be a drudge all my days. With this species of fond indulgence, men treat fortune as if it were to be always at their beck-as if the world would stand still till they found it convenient to move forward. It is a fallacy of many young, and of some middle-aged persons, to suppose that protracted evening

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