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PROCRASTINATION AND EXPECTATION.

MOMENTS, they consider, are the dice-boards of destiny: cast well, for eternity hangs upon the hazard of the die.

"In the distribution of human life," says Socrates, 66 we find that a great part of TIME passes away in evil doing—a greater in doing nothing at all—and effectually the whole in doing things beside our business; some hours in ceremony, a few to pleasure, and the remainder runs to waste."

The greatest loss of time is PROCRASTINATION and EXPECTATION. We let slip the present, which is in our power, and depending upon fortune, quit a certainty for an uncertainty. We should do with TIME as the prudent man does with the TIDE -use it while we have it, for it does not last long. Time runs on, and all actions have their fate. They are enshrouded in darkness to the blind; but are foreshadowed to the vigilant.

There are three divisions of life-time present, past, and future. What we do (the present) is short; what we shall do (future) is doubtful; but what we have done is certain. The present glides away almost imperceptibly, and the greatest folly in the world is the loss of that time which is at our command, and which we cannot recall; for the future is full of uncertainties, and the present is all that we can call our own. "He that takes a day away from me," says the philosopher, “takes away that which he can never restore.”

Time well spent is full of blessings; but he who does not know how to spend his time is the most miserable creature in existence. He is restless in his thoughts, unsteady in his counsels, dissatisfied with the present, and solicitous for the future. Whereas he that prudently computes his hours and his business, does not only fortify himself against the common accidents of life, but improves the most rigorous dispensations of Providence to his comfort, and stands in firmness under all the trials of human weakness.

TIME LOST, EBBS INTO ETERNITY.

BRING BACK MY FLOWERS.

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"sat a

"On the velvet banks of a rivulet," says the allegory, rosy child, Her lap was filled with flowers, and a garland of rosebuds was twined round her neck. Her face was as radiant as the sunshine that fell upon it, and her voice was as clear as that of the birds that warbled at her side. The little stream went singing on, and with each gush of its music the child lifted a flower in its dimpled hand, and, with a merry laugh, threw it upon its surface. In her glee she forgot that her treasures were growing less, and with the swift motion of childhood she flung them upon the sparkling tide until every bud and blossom had disappeared. Then, seeing her loss, she sprang upon her feet and burst into tears, calling aloud to the stream, 'Bring back my flowers.' But the stream danced along regardless of her tears; and, as it bore the blossoming burden away, her words came back in a taunting echo along its reedy margin. And, long after, amid the wailing of the breeze and the fitful burst of childish grief, was heard the fruitless cry, 'Bring back my flowers!' Thoughtless youth! who art idly wasting the precious moments so bountifully bestowed upon thee, observe in this thoughtless child an emblem of thyself. Each moment is a perfumed flower. Each moment used may dispense blessings around thee, and ascend as sweet incense to its benevolent Giver. Cherish it; else, when thou hast carelessly flung them from thee, and seest them receding on the swift waters of Time, thou wilt then cry, in tones more sorrowful than those of the child, Give me back my time!' and the only answer will be an echo from the shadowy past, 'Give me

6

back my time!" "

TIME LOST-THOUGHTLESS YOUTH, EBBS INTO ETERNITY.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CHOICE OF COMPANY DETERMINES A PREDILECTION FOR GOOD OR EVIL-THE LATE MR. BUCKLE-STORY OF THE NETTLE-DEPARTED GENIUS-POOR SOYER.

HE greatness and goodness of great men may be traced to early associations and early examples.

Noble examples stir to noble actions, and the very recital of noble deeds inspires youth to generous thoughts.

It is impossible to mix with the good without carrying away the tincture of virtue.

Evil communication has ruined the generous aspirations of youth of the fairest promise.

The love of society is natural to man; but the choice of our company is a matter of the greatest wisdom and prudence.

The best companions are those who teach in their lives, and prove their words by their actions.

Hannibal himself was unmanned by the looseness of his companions, and though a conqueror by his arms he was overcome by his pleasures. To mix with men staggering in drunken hilarity-spectacles of lust, luxury, and excess-is not safe. The wise as well as the weak do well in flying temptation.

Practical philosophers are the best companions, for they preach to us the things necessary, and keep us to the practice of them; for example adds to the force of a precept, and touches the heart with an affection to goodness. Even seeing and hearing a wise man delights us, and suggests profitable contemplation.

TRUE FRIENDSHIP.

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A bad example makes mischief, and one voluptuary makes many. "The best way," the ancient philosopher says, "is to retire, and associate only with those that may be the better for us and we for them. The benefit is mutual, for while we teach we learn."

Only wise and prudent men can be TRUE FRIENDS; others are questionable companions.

A firm and gentle friendship soothes our cares, dispels our sorrows, counsels us in all extremities; and even soothes our pillow on the bed of death. But we are not to number our friends by the visits that are made us, nor to confound the decencies of ceremony and commerce with the offices of UNITED AFFECTION. No. The difficulty rests in the CHOICE and the DISTINCTION. To have a friend, let him be virtuous, of a sound head and a good heart; for vice is contagious. Friendship cemented by a common LOVE of GOODNESS is always reliable. He that is a friend to himself is a friend to mankind.

Friendship admits of no reserves.

As much deliberation as

you please before the tie; but no doubting or jealousies afterwards. Suspicion breeds deceit. To make a man faithful let him understand that he has your entire confidence.

A friendship of interest cannot last longer than the interest itself; thus it is that a man in prosperity is so much courted; but no sooner does he come down in the world, than the tide is changed, when no one will go near him. Temporary friends will never stand the test; they forsake you for fear of loss. It is not friendship, but negotiation, that has an eye to advantages. Wise and prudent men can alone be friends; others are but companions.

The felicities of mankind are strengthened by the counsels of the good!

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THE LATE MR. BUCKLE.

We cannot be the choosers of everything that we may fancy, but of our friends and associates we may; and we can adapt ourselves to the ways and doings of the wise and good. This is the mode of making "MORTALITY IMMORTAL."

The knowledge of these facts ought to impress upon the mind of parents the duty—their bounden duty-to be careful of the early associates of their children; for as a pestiferous air may endanger the best constitution, so may a place of bad repute and example undermine the innocence of youth, and endanger even the man of experience advanced in years.

Writing upon this subject, the thoughts of Pamphilius wandered to an incident of yesterday.

Poor B-! Many a time, my son, have you stood, your little hand clasped in his, and your greedy ears all attention to his soft, kind words of encouragement, when he told you of his early struggles in life; of the victory of perseverance and industry; of his introduction to the pioneer of civilization, whom he termed his great master, the immortal engineer, James Watt; of the happy days he spent with him as manager of the Soho Engine Works at Stafford; of his superintending the voyage of George IV. to Dublin in the first steam mail packet between England and Ireland, called the Lightning, and that the same year they changed its name to the Royal Sovereign; and how great was your astonishment when he added that the same boat and engines are still employed on the Thames as a Woolwich tug-boat, under the name of the Monkey.

Yes, my boy, Mr. Buckle is gone! Another man of genius -the contemporary of Watt, Stephenson, and others, whose exertions in the various walks of science made the early part of this century so distinguished, and earned an imperishable reputation for the country that gave them birth. Mr. Buckle, says the Era, in its brief sketch of departed genius, raised himself from comparative obscurity to be the friend