than your own, for this simple reason, that one fact is worth a thousand theories. If your fragment of ice be part of a polar iceberg, that iceberg must have been buried since last winter in the cliffs of Ramsgate. As I walked under their friendly shadow this morning, I heard the click of a hammer proceeding apparently from the interior of the cliff, and after some trouble, I found the entrance to an ice house. Here the mystery was solved, for on penetrating the twilight, as well as I could, I saw a man at work, of whom I begged the fragment that has excited so much interest. I hurried on to be at the pier before the rest of the party, and dropped it just at the edge of the breakers, where you found it on coming up.

Mr. Black senior looked at Mr. Black junior; and Mr. Black junior returned the compliment. The rest of the company seemed more amazed than troubled by this unexpected denouement. But to the credit of both father and son, it must be recorded that neither of them denied the obvious fact. They acquiesced with a much better grace than might have been supposed, in this overthrow of their ingenious speculations.

When the merriment had subsided, we naturally indulged in a few reflections on this little incident, which we afterwards jotted down for the benefit of those precocious young people who find it so easy to speculate, and so difficult severely to test facts-who think it more pleasant to conjecture what may be, than to observe accurately what really is.

Our thoughts turned naturally upon Thought itself. How rapid and easy are its transitions! In one moment it was off from Ramsgate to the North Pole, and back again to our own firesides. And yet during the progress, it had diverged in all directions, each off-shoot throwing forth a thousand rays, till the uttermost parts of the great sea itself were brought within its range.

And what a pleasurable journey had it taken us! By its aid we had tested the well-known adage "Tout est en tout,"—and if we had not found all in all, we had at all events learned the possibility of doing so. We had found much in little. A mere splint of ice, no bigger than our thumb, had opened to us a wide world of glad conjectures, and had made us happy for some hours, which otherwise we should have spent in a profitless siesta.

might be made.

"As a man

And what a useful thing it thinketh in his heart, so is he." Let his thoughts be what they will, they make him what he is. What wonder then, that the religion of the Bible, unlike that of all other systems, should go down to the secret recesses of the soul and begin there the work of renovation. We can neither see ourselves nor others rightly whilst we are "judges of evil thoughts"-wrong in the very seat of judgment. Let then our constant prayer be “Cleanse thou the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thine Holy Spirit."

Under any circumstances, indeed, Thought is useful. In all labor, mental as well as physical, there is profit. When we think, only to find out that our thinkings are mistaken, we have done our minds a large amount of good we have acquired just that knowledge which half the world wants. Experimental proof that our conjectures and theories are wrong is sometimes invaluable. And then how these speculations will often provoke reading and research, introducing us to the pleasant pastures of book-lore, or the still waters of memory. Theories are built up of facts; and if we fail to rear the beauteous superstructure we have set our hearts on, we have still something better than wood, hay, or stubble for our pains. The materials will come in for something else.

Yet notwithstanding these pleasures and advantages derivable from Thought, how little of it is there in the world. Man is not a reasoning animal: he is only an animal that can reason, but who nevertheless allows this best element of his nature to lie dormant. Thought is the prism that disentangles, sublimes, and colors with the hues of heaven, the dead, cold, forms of print and paper, and makes books musical to all the senses. It glorifies the simplest and most homely fact, making, as in the case of Newton, an untimely apple a key to the mysterious clock-work of the universe.

And what a mighty thing is Thought-not measured as we are too apt to measure it by its connection with this or that solitary fact or incident-but looked at in its universal principles and bearings. A little mind would laugh at such a failure as that which we have just recorded; but the sublime is by far its largest element-the ridiculous, its minutest part. The float

ing iceberg does affect our atmosphere, and even touch our pockets through the coal-merchant, whether we find a fragment of it on the sands at Ramsgate, or not. There is but one faulty link in the whole chain of argument. Strike it off, and you have still a fragment that may work up again to good purpose. True, it was the first link-the one that held the ground, that laid hold on terra firma; and without it you may drift away no one knows where. But on the other hand you may bring up again in safety, by looking more carefully to your fastenings the next time.

In matters of mere human knowledge, a false link may or may not prove ruinous: the others may be tested on their own merits, and be found trustworthy. But in things which affect the soul, the case is different. The golden chain by which we would arrive at heaven must lay firm hold above, or it will be useless. The duties and privileges too that should lift us above the earth must be safely based, or the whole structure will come down, and great will be its fall. In the rudiments of the world, men may and often do, begin in the middle. There are points of contact throughout the whole series of our reasonings which infuse more or less stability into the dissecta membra of the scheme. But in Christianity it is not so. If the foundations be destroyed, there is not a single ray of hope or comfort to be found. All our hopes for eternity hang by one link-by that which entering within the veil, holds us to our only refuge the man Christ Jesus. All our thoughts, words, and actions receive value only as they are baptized in his spirit, and saturated with the efficacy of his atoning blood. Hence, a mistake in first principles is fatal to the whole scheme. Christ must be all and in all. Unless we begin, continue, and end in Him, nothing in the business of salvation can even bear the considerate scrutiny of Him who knows our frame and remembereth that we are dust.

CUI BONO?

THE late Rev. Rowland Hill, when returning from Ireland, felt greatly shocked and annoyed at the reprobate conduct of both captain and mate of the vessel in which he had embarked. First the captain swore at the mate, and then the mate at the

captain. Now they swore at the wind, now at the waves, and again at each of the crew, as occasion seemed to offer. At last old Rowland's patience was fairly exhausted, and he called out in his usual manly voice, "Stop! stop! if you please, gentlemen, and let us have fair play; it's my turn now!"

"Your turn at what?" exclaimed the captain, evidently taken by surprise.

"At swearing," was the ready answer.

"Well," said old Rowland, in narrating the circumstance, "they waited and waited until their patience was exhausted, and then wanted me to make haste and take my turn. I told them, however, that I had a right to my own time, and to swear at my own convenience."

"Oh!" said the captain, with a laugh, "perhaps you don't mean to take your turn at all?"

Rowland Hill put on one of his most characteristic expressions, his clever combinations of gravity and roguishness, and answered drily-"O yes I do, as soon as I can find the good of doing so."

Not another oath was heard during the voyage.

NORWEGIAN WATER TELESCOPES.

How slow we sometimes are in copying the simple and useful inventions of our neighbours, is exemplified in our being so long in applying an instrument which the people of Norway have found of so great utility, that there is scarcely a single fishingboat without one. We mean the water telescope or tube, of three or four feet in length, which they carry in their boats with them when they go a-fishing.

When they reach the fishing ground, they immerse one end of this telescope in the water, and, leaning over the gunwale of the boat, with their head, or rather the whole of their face, closing up the other end, so as to exclude the light from dazzling the eye and distracting the vision, they look intently through the glass, which shows objects some ten or fifteen fathoms deep as distinctly as if they were within a few feet of the surface; by which means, when a shoal of fish comes into the bays, the Norwegians instantly prepare their nets, man their boats, and go out in pursuit.

The process is, minutely to survey their ground with their glasses, where they find the fish swarming about in greatest numbers, then they give the signal, and surround the fish with their large draught nets, and often catch them in hundreds at a haul, which, were it not for these telescopes, would often prove a precarious and unprofitable fishing, as the fish by these glasses are as distinctly seen in the deep clear sea of Norway, as goldfish in a crystal jar.

This instrument is not only used by the fishermen, but is also found aboard the navy and coasting vessels of Norway. When their anchors get into foul ground, or the cables warped, they immediately apply the glass, and, guided by it, take steps to put all to rights, which they could not do so well without the aid of this rude and simple instrument, which the meanest fishermạn can make up with his own hand without the aid of a craftsman.

The preceding remarks form the introduction to the notice of a telescope, made on the same principle, and introduced lately into the Tay, whereby the fishermen below bridge have been enabled to discover stones, holes, and uneven ground, and have found the instrument to answer to admiration, the minutest object in twelve-feet water being as clearly seen as on the surface.-Northern Warder.

GREAT MEN ARE NOT ALWAYS WISE.

"Lord William Paulet lived about 180 years ago. A libellous book had been published, in which considerable ability was displayed; a gentleman, however, who was offended by the contents, charged Lord William with being the author, and challenged him in consequence to fight a duel. Lord William was a pious man, and had the moral courage to refuse to fight: he offered to certify solemnly that he was not the author of the book; this offer was accepted, and Lord William took a pen and wrote thus :-- This is two scratify that i did not rit the bok.'-' Stop, stop, my lord,' cried the gentleman, I am quite satisfied that your lordship COULD not have been the author.'

“Lord William Paulet had speculations about St. Matthew's Gospel. He asked, one day, 'Who wrote St. Matthew's Gospel?' Some wag replied, 'Why, don't you know? Sir Matthew Hale, to be sure.' This was duly believed by Lord William, whose piety went beyond his sense; and in his will he left Sir Matthew Hale £500. for having composed so godly a treatise.”—Tregelles on St. Matthew's Gospel.