of mental training which shall be to him a pleasure greater than that which nobility of birth, or the advantages of riches would confer. He may drink knowledge fresh from "Castillian springs," and thus grow wiser and better. By industry of thought, with the aid of books, he may raise himself from humble origin to fill important situations in the world. Some we might name who have thus risen, and whose influence in society is great and useful, who were indebted solely to books as their teachers, and their own self-taught genius. Many and noble are the testimonies to the value of books given by great and good men, a few of which we shall now lay before the reader. They are gems which will richly adorn our theme. "It is chiefly through books," says Dr. Channing, "that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds, and these invaluable means of communication are in reach of all. In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours. God be thanked for books. They are the voices of the distant and the dead, and make us heirs of the spiritual life of past ages. Books are the true levellers. They give to all who will faithfully use them, the society, the spiritual pressure of the best and greatest of our race." "At the head of all the pleasures," says Dr. John Aikin, in a letter to his son, "which offer themselves to the man of liberal education, may confidently be placed that derived from books. In variety, durability, and facility of attainment, no other can stand in competition with it; and even in intensity it is inferior to few. Imagine that we had it in our power to call up the shades of the greatest and wisest men that ever existed, and oblige them to converse with us on the most interesting topics-what an inestimable privilege should we think it !-how superior to common enjoyments! But in a well-furnished library we in fact possess this power. In books we have the choicest thoughts of the ablest men in their best dress. We can at pleasure exclude dulness and impertinence, and open our doors to wit and good sense alone. It is needless to repeat the high commendations that have been bestowed on the study of letters, by persons who had free access to every other source of gratification. Without books I have never been able to pass a single day to my entire satisfaction; with them no day has been so dark as not to have its pleasure. Even pain and sickness have for a time been charmed away by them. By the easy provision of a book in my pocket, I have frequently worn through long nights and days in the most disagreeable parts of my profession, with all the difference in my feelings between calm content and fretful impatience. Such occurrences have afforded me full proof both of the possibility of being cheaply pleased, and of the consequence it is of to the sum of human felicity, not to neglect minute attentions to make the most of life as it passes. 66 Reading may in every sense be called a cheap amusement. No apparatus, no appointment of time and place, is necessary for the enjoyment of reading. From the midst of bustle and business you may in an instant, by the magic of a book, plunge into scenes of remote ages and countries, and disengage yourself from present care and fatigue." "So far back as I can remember," said the learned and philosophic Macaulay, on a public occasion at Edinburgh, "books have been to me dear friends-they have been my comforters in grief, and my companions in solitude-in poverty they have more than supplied to me the place of riches; in exile they have consoled me for want of my country; in the midst of much that was vexatious and distressing in political life, in the midst of contentions, in the midst sometimes of calumny and invective, they have contributed I hope to keep my mind serene and unclouded. There is I may say no wealth, there is no power, there is no rank which I would accept in exchange for the pleasure I have derived from my books, for the privilege of conversing with the greatest minds of all past ages, for the privilege of searching after the true, of contemplating the beautiful, for the privilege of living with the distant, in the unreal, in the future, in the past." "If I were to pray," says Sir John Herschell, "for a taste which should, under every variety of circumstances, be a source of happiness and cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its ills, however things might go amiss, and the world frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. I speak of it of course only as a worldly advantage, and not in the slightest degree as superseding or derogating from the higher office, and surer and stronger panoply of religious principles, but as a taste, an instrument, and a mode of pleasurable gratification. Give a man this taste, and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly fail of making him happy, unless indeed you put into his hands a most perverse selection of books. You place him in contrast with the best society in every period of history, with the wisest, the wittiest, with the tenderest, the bravest, and the purest characters that have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all nations, a cotemporary of all ages, the world has been created for him. It is hardly possible but that his character should take a higher and a better tone from the constant habit of associating in thought with a class of thinkers, to say the least of it, above the average of humanity. It is morally impossible but that the manners should take a tinge of good breeding and civilisation, from having constantly before one's eyes the way in which the best-bred and the best-informed men have talked and conducted themselves in their intercourse with each other. There is a gentle but perfectly irresistible coercion, in a habit of reading well directed, over the whole tenor of a man's character and conduct, which is not the less effectual because it works insensibly, and because it is really the last thing he dreams of. It cannot in short be better summed up than in the words of the Latin poet:- Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.' It civilizes the conduct of men, and suffers them not to remain barbarous.". Another writer says:-"A book, then, is a great spiritual power-it is `a rod of magic, a sceptre of command; a fork of the lightning to smite; a ray of the sun to illuminate; now a live coal from the altar, and now a spark from the pit. What, in one view, says it? Nothing. It seems quite dumb, no sound issues from its largest page, even in the wide Bodleian or vast Vatican not a whisper can be heard. The wind which makes the forest leaves to sing, and draws a deep monotony from the ocean-waves, can only educe an empty and feeble rustle from the leaves of books. What says it in another sense? What says it not! Apply it to the ear of the spirit and it speaks with most miraculous organ; it awakes as from profound slumber; it tells the most marvellous stories; it communicates the most important tidings; it becomes now a harp of poetry, now a lute of love, now it gives out tones as of the sphere music, and now it echoes the oracles of heaven. Take up the shell sitting silent on the mantel-piece, and it begins immediately to speak, as 'pleased it remembers its august abodes, and murmurs as the ocean murmurs there;' take up the book and it will tell you news from remoter shores than those of the Pacific-from mightier and older oceans than that of the Atlantic. What does it in one sense? Nothing. It is motionless; it is even at rest, even when devoured with the utmost earnestness; it remains still, even when its reader is moving to its page in joy or agony, as to a martial instrument. What does it in another? All things, all power is its own. It draws tears, it kindles blushes, it awakens laughter; it stills, calmns, or quickens the motions of the life's blood; it soothes or maddens, lulls to repose or kindles to restlessness; often it gives life to the soul, and sometimes it has given death to the body. How looks it in one sense? Dim perhaps with age, dusky with usage, covered with dust or stained with the trace of tears-there seems little beauty about it. How looks it in another? If a book of genius, there is a glory about its every page-it shines as well as speaks and stirs; there is a venerableness in its stains; there is a glory in its tear-traces; its duskiest binding is radiant; and time, which deforms and destroys all things else, only adds to the beauty and deepens the interest of a book. One might almost use the words of Byron, first applied to the ocean 'Time writes no wrinkles on thine azure brow Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.' Or if time write wrinkles, even these become transmuted in spots of glory upon the venerable forehead of an old and noble book! Need we say more of the power of a book? or if more, let it be this-that on it stand the civil constitutions, the sciences, and the religions of the earth. On what rests the sanctuary of English freedom, so long the wonder and envy of the world, including in its sweep of walls and bulwarks, our Parliament, our press, our jury-boxes, our Westminster Abbey,* our civil and our sacred freedom. On what rests all these towers of strength and pinnacles of glory? They rest on the leaf of a book on the Magna Charta-which is of our great social pyramid the glorious base. On what repose all our lofty sciences, which scale the heavens, and map out the stars, and descend into the dark secrets of our own planet? They rest ultimately upon a book. On a thin octavo volume called Euclid's Elements' is reared all that proud pile, the top of which may be said to reach into heaven. What keep together the vast idolatries of the East? Two books-books of error indeed, but surely books of power-the Shaster and the Koran. And what is the sun in the sky of all Christian nations, their companion in youth, their guide through life, their monitor in error, their comfort in sorrow, their luminary in death? It is a book-the blessed, the divine, the eternal Book of God. Of the power of books we need, we can say no more."† In concluding this interesting subject of books, and book-love, I would not venture into the wide field of offering at large directions as to the proper use to be made of reading. I would rather on this head refer the reader -especially the young student-to such writers as Watts and Todd, who will amply point out the road by which, through books, the reader may attain to valuable knowledge, avoid the quagmires and pitfalls, and become acquainted with the good, the beautiful, and the true. One or two concluding remarks I feel constrained, however, to offer. 1. Let each lover of good books consider them as a precious gift from God, and learn richly to value their use, and the responsibility he is under to read them, with pure motives and sanctified aspirations. "Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which Men are, and ought to be accountable, If not to Thee, to those they influence: Grant this, we pray Thee, and that all who read Or utter noble thoughts may make them theirs, 2. To read, should be with the effort to understand; not to skim lightly over the surface of a page; not to swallow indiscriminately, as some men do food, every sentiment of a writer, but to read, to judge, to reason, to comprehend, to choose the fine gold and refuse the useless dross in which it lies embedded. "Read not to contradict and to confute," says Bacon, 66 nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention.” *We suppose the Courts of law, held in Westminster Hall, are meant. ED. † Rev. Geo. Gilfillan, in "Hogg's Weekly Instructor," April 3, 1847. 3. It is a good rule to avoid reading very many books. Many read for reading's sake; despatch volume after volume as fast as the eye can trace the letters, until reading becomes a mere mechanical habit and confusing the mind with a medley of ideas or impressions that were of no use whatever to their possessor. To read only a few good books on a particular subject is the safest plan, as room is left for freedom of thought and wise arrangement in the reader's own mind; whereas the contrary method tends to confuse rather than to illuminate, and to confound rather than to make wise. If the reader will take a few choice authors, read them repeatedly and carefully, he will be enabled to make their style, sentiments, and ideas his own, and weave them, as it were into the very texture of his own mind, and thus be more benefitted than if he were to read all the books in the Vatican, with no other purpose in view than that of merely boasting of having read them. "A man of one book" is always to be preferred to the discursive reader, the mere gormandizer of books: not that I would advise any one to be a reader of only "one book" while surrounded with such a goodly company as all men now are; but the fact should never be forgotten that the wisest men in the world are not your great readers, but your great thinkers; men who live not upon other people's ideas culled from vast libraries and unwieldy tomes, but who are content to use their own mental wealth, and economically employ that of others. 4. We should read without prejudice. To prejudge an author before he is read, and because he happens to differ from our little party, or particular self, betrays a bigoted and contracted spirit, and is a sorry companion with which to travel into the wild field of literature. Every reader should discard the " oneeyed monster;" should read calmly, and judge dispassionately; weigh arguments, and study conclusions before condemning a book. Books are a vast commonwealth and enslave no one; neither will they allow slavery of thought in those who pay court within their territory. 5. The student who wishes to read, not for amusement sake, but for instruction and for profit, should avoid light reading as he would the plague, and seek to become acquainted with the good "standard" works with which our own language in particular abounds. Life is too precious; time too valuable, to be frittered away in perusing works of no utility. To feast the fancy on the unreal and the unsubstantial, while the real and the true is spread out before us, is madness and folly. 6. Study ONE VOLUME in preference to all others--the B ble, the book of books. Many neglect this blessed book in their anxiety to acquire knowledge. They read on history, science, philosophy, and literature, with unsatiated appetite; are anxious to be intimately versed in all knowledge under the sun -except a knowledge of the Word of Life. This book, instead of being first and foremost, as it was with such men as Locke, Newton, and Boyle, is the last consideration; and alas! with too many is never studied, but treated with scorn and contempt, as unworthy of their notice. "Books," says the eloquent writer before quoted, "injure when they serve to eclipse the blessed Bible: and in the present day such a danger is more than problematical. Other books are planets shining with reflected radiance; this book, like the sun, shines with ancient and unborrowed ray. Other books supplicate our attention; this book demands it, it speaks with authority, and not as the scribes. Other books by and by may be forgotten in a universe, where suns go down and disappear like bubbles in the stream; the truths of this book shall be transferred to a higher clime, to the clime whence they came; and there shall shine as the brightness of that eternal firmament, and as those higher stars which are for ever and ever! With all our getting then, let us get understanding of this: with all our reading, let us not forget to read this. It teaches us now to become heirs of an everlasting inheritance; and shall we not read the document by which we learn our title to a possession so glorious? It puts into our hands a blood-sealed deed of forgiveness; can we refuse to take it up, with reverence to read, and with submission to obey? It is at our peril if we refuse. "Within that awful volume lies But better had he ne'er been born Who reads to doubt, or reads to scorn." J. P. BIOGRAPHY. MEMOIR OF THE REV. THOMAS TOWNEND, OUR deceased friend and brother, Thomas Townend, was born in the village of Cononley, near Shipton, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, on the 25th December, 1801. His parents were pious, and exceedingly anxious to promote the spiritual welfare of their offspring. They had twelve children, four of whom died in infancy, and several others who arrived at maturity have departed this life in the faith of Christ, and are now enjoying their eternal reward. In early life the subject of this memoir displayed an impetuosity of temper which was frequently the cause of much concern to his watchful parents. He was impatient of restraint, and unusually bold and daring. Eagerly he engaged in youthful sports, and these were frequently of such a kind as to expose him to considerable danger, but the restraining hand of his heavenly Father was with him, and an ever-watchful Providence shielded him in the hour of peril. At the early age of twelve years he became the subject of deep and powerful convictions of sin. His conscience was awakened to a sense of his guilt and danger, and his mind was overwhelmed with deep distress. About this time malignant fever broke out in the neighbourhood where he resided, great numbers were swept away in its progress, and he became deeply concerned by witnessing its ravages amongst some of his acquaintance. He was attacked himself, but the att. ck was not permitted to prove fatal. A kind Providence restored him again to health, nor was one member of the family taken away by this desolating scourge. This affliction, however, appears to have been overruled for his spiritual advantage. He learnt something of the uncertain tenure of human life, and his mind became still more impressed with the necessity of being ready for the coming of the Son of Man. Scarcely had he recovered from this attack, when, at his own request, he was permitted to accompany his father to a lovefeast which was held at Grassington, near to which place the family had for some time resided. This means of grace appears to have been made a great blessing to him, for in after life he frequently referred with deep emotion to the great spiritual good which he then obtained. His thoughts and desires had now received a new direction, and that natural ardour of spirit which had been witnessed in his conduct whilst living in a state of alienation from God, now strikingly manifested itself in the earnestness of manner with which he sought the pearl of great price. His Whilst he was the subject of great weakness, resulting from his recent affliction, he expressed a wish to accompany his father to his class, which met, at an early hour on the Sabbath morning, at a distance from his home. father either deemed him too weak to undertake the journey, or thought that it would be difficult for him to be ready to leave home at so early an hour, or |