again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. "These," said he,

"were pilgrims, as you are, once; and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit I tore them in pieces, and so within ten days I will do to

CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ESCAPING FROM GIANT DESPAIR.

you; go, get ye down to your den again ;" and with that he beat them all the way thither.

They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as before. Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband the giant were talking together, they began to renew their discourse of their prisoners; and withal, the old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with that his wife replied, "I fear," said she, "that they live in hope that someone will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape." "And sayest thou so?" said the giant; "I will therefore search them in the morning."

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day.

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, brake out into this passionate speech: "What a fool am I thus to lie in a loathsome dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle." Then said Hopeful, "That's good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy bosom, and try."

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outer door that leads to the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After, he went to the irongate, for that must be opened too; but that lock went very hard, yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the door to make their escape with speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a cracking, that it waked

Giant Despair, who hastily rising to pursue his prisoners felt his limbs to fail; for his fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they should do at that stile to prevent those that should come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the stile thereof this sentence:- "Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." Many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and escaped the danger.

5BUNYAN, Pilgrim's Progress.

'to wit, namely. rating, abusing, scolding.

condole, grieve

together over. jurisdiction, authority ; rule. 5 Bunyan, an author of the seventeenth century. See Appendix.

"His life was gentle; and the elements

So mixt in him, that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, This was a man !"

Shakespeare.

SCIENCE may proudly boast of her martyrs and her heroes. For her sake men of noble worth have sacrificed the

world's rewards, and relinquished the fair promise of wealth and fame, happy if they might find but one undiscovered treasure to add to the knowledge of mankind. No pleasant pastime or holiday amusement this; it has been a lifelong struggle-earnest, hopeful, valiant. Our hearts are filled with admiration for the soldier on the field of battle, or the explorer far away in unknown lands, when we dwell upon the sad yet noble record of conflict, privation, and toil; but let us not limit to these worthies the rewards of the brave. The 2philosopher in his quiet retreat wages a peaceful but heroic warfare, and beyond the most sanguine hopes of men 3he searches the untrodden wilds. No martial conqueror is he, returning from the conflict laden with the spoils of war; yet a warrior truly, one who wrestles hard with Nature, and wearies not in the struggle, till she consents to relinquish the secret that he craved. Let us twine in his garland the laurel and the olive-a chaplet of victory, yet a symbol of peace.

None amongst the philosophers of modern times cant better deserve our admiration than Michael Faraday. Acknowledged on all hands to be a prince in the domain of science, an intellectual giant, yet a child in the simplicity of his heart, he is worthy to be honoured amongst the noblest and the best of men.

Michael, the son of James Faraday, a blacksmith, residing at Newington in Surrey, was born September 22nd, 1791. When he was thirteen years of age, he left school, and was engaged by a bookseller in Blandford Street as errand-boy. His duties were, of course, of the simplest kind, such as the collection and delivery of papers at the houses of his master's customers. When years had passed away, and the name of this errand-boy was honoured as that of the first philosopher of the age, he always retained a pleasant recollection of these early

days. The sight of a newspaper-boy would generally call forth some kind remark. "I always," said he on one occasion, "feel a tenderness for those boys, because I once carried newspapers myself."

Mr. Rieban--for such was the name of the bookseller

had only engaged Michael for a year on trial; but so satisfied was he with the boy's attention, that at the end of the year he accepted him as an apprentice. The in