hold out to the prayer's end, though it be a short one; as one of old time said, "There is nothing harder than to pray."

These words "Let us pray," as they invite us to prayer in general, so they seem sometimes to invite us to change our form of petitioning, as in the Litany and other places ; it being as much as to say, Let us collect our supplications, made in short versicles and responses, into collects, or prayers.

WHATEVER you wish to be, that you are; for such is the force of our will joined to the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, seriously and with a true intention, that we become. No one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, modest, or liberal, who does not become what he wishes.

STORY OF AN AMERICAN BEAR.

MANY years ago a cub bear was caught by a stout lad near the borders of Lake Winnipiseogee (in New Hampshire), carried into the town, and, after proper drilling, became the playfellow of the boys of the village, and often accompanied them to the school-house. After passing a few months in civilised society, he made his escape into the woods, and after a few years was almost forgotten. The school-house, meantime, had fallen from the schoolmaster's to the schoolmistress's hands; and instead of large boys and girls learning to write and cipher, small boys and girls were taught in the same place knitting and spelling. One winter's day, after a mild fall of snow, the door had been left open by some urchin going out, when, to the unspeakable horror of the spectacled dame and her fourscore hopeful scholars, an enormous bear walked in in the most familiar manner in the world, and took a seat by the fire. Huddling over the benches as fast as they could, the children crowded about their schoolmistress, who had fled to the farthest corner of the room; and there they stood crying and pushing to escape the horror of being eaten first. The bear sat snuffing and warming himself by the fire, however, shewing great signs of satis

without Whom nothing is good and acceptable, may be with thy spirit during these services, which, as St. Paul tells us, must be performed with the spirit.

Thus the priest prays, and wishes well to the people; and they pray, and wish well to the priest.

And such mutual greetings and prayers as this and those that follow, where priest and people in turn pray for each other, set forth to us the communion of saints; for thus they acknowledge that they are all one body, and each one members one of another, caring for each other's good, and praying for one another.

If thus they pray, they must live in charity; for must not the people love the priest who blesses them and prays for them, "The Lord be with you;" or can the priest forget to care for the people who daily pray for him, "And with thy spirit?"

LET US PRAY.

These words are often used in ancient liturgies as well as in ours; and are an excitement to prayer, to call back our wandering, and gather together our scattered thoughts. They awaken our devotion, by bidding us mind what we are about; namely, now when we are about to pray, to pray indeed heartily and earnestly.

The deacon in ancient services was accustomed to call upon the people often, "Let us pray vehemently," and again "more vehemently."

The same vehemency and earnest devotion which the manner of these old liturgies breathed, does our Church in her liturgy call for by these words Let us pray; that is, Let us pray with all the earnestness we may, that our prayers may be such as St. James speaks of, active, lively, spirited prayers; for these are they that avail much with God.

And there is none of us but must think it needful to be thus called upon and awakened; for thoughts will be wandering, and devotions will grow slack, and scarce

hold out to the prayer's end, though it be a short one; as one of old time said, "There is nothing harder than to pray."

These words "Let us pray," as they invite us to prayer in general, so they seem sometimes to invite us to change our form of petitioning, as in the Litany and other places; it being as much as to say, Let us collect our supplications, made in short versicles and responses, into collects, or prayers.

WHATEVER you wish to be, that you are; for such is the force of our will joined to the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, seriously and with a true intention, that we become. No one ardently wishes to be submissive, patient, modest, or liberal, who does not become what he wishes.

STORY OF AN AMERICAN BEAR.

MANY years ago a cub bear was caught by a stout lad near the borders of Lake Winnipiseogee (in New Hampshire), carried into the town, and, after proper drilling, became the playfellow of the boys of the village, and often accompanied them to the school-house. After passing a few months in civilised society, he made his escape into the woods, and after a few years was almost forgotten. The school-house, meantime, had fallen from the schoolmaster's to the schoolmistress's hands; and instead of large boys and girls learning to write and cipher, small boys and girls were taught in the same place knitting and spelling. One winter's day, after a mild fall of snow, the door had been left open by some urchin going out, when, to the unspeakable horror of the spectacled dame and her fourscore hopeful scholars, an enormous bear walked in in the most familiar manner in the world, and took a seat by the fire. Huddling over the benches as fast as they could, the children crowded about their schoolmistress, who had fled to the farthest corner of the room; and there they stood crying and pushing to escape the horror of being eaten first. The bear sat snuffing and warming himself by the fire, however, shewing great signs of satis

faction, but putting off his meal till he had warmed himself thoroughly. The screams of the children continued ; but the school-house was far from any other habitation, and the bear did not seem at all embarrassed by the outcry. After sitting and turning himself about for some time, Bruin got up on his hind legs, and shoving to the door, began to take down, one by one, the hats, bonnets, and satchels that hung on several rows of pegs behind it. His memory had not deceived him; for they contained, as of old, the children's dinners, and he had arrived before the holidays. Having satisfied himself with their cheese, bread, pies, dough-nuts, and apples, Bruin smelt at the mistress's desk; but finding it locked, gave himself a shake of resignation, opened the door and disappeared. The alarm was given, and the amiable creature was pursued and killed; very much to the regret of the townspeople, when it was discovered, by some marks on his body, that it was their old friend and playfellow.

If thou hast bodily strength, disease, when it invades, will put a stop to joy from that source. If thou hast beauty and bloom, the approach of old age will wither it, and take away that joy. Or, if thou enjoyest a sumptuous table, when evening comes on, the joy of the banquet is at an end. For every thing belonging to this life is exposed to interruption, and is unable to afford us lasting pleasure; but piety, and the virtue of the soul, is altogether the reverse of this. If thou hast done an alms, no one is able to take away this good work. Though an army, or kings, or myriads of calumniators and conspirators, were to beset thee on all sides, they were unable to take away the possession, once deposited in heaven. The joy of it is lasting, and still remains; for Christ says, "He hath dispersed abroad; he hath given to the poor; his righteousness endureth for ever." And very justly; for in the storehouses of heaven it is laid up, where no thief breaks through, nor robber seizes, nor moth devours. If thou pourest out continued and fervent prayers, no man will be able to spoil thee of the fruit of them; for this fruit, too, is rooted in the heavens; it is out of the way of all injury, and remains beyond mortal reach. If, when eviltreated, thou hast done a kind action; if thou hast borne

with patience to hear thyself evil spoken of; if thou hast returned blessing for reproaches; these are good works that abide continually, and the joy of them no man taketh away. ST. CHRYSOSTOM.

THE EGYPTIAN MUMMY.

For those who may happen not to know what an Egyptian mummy is, I will begin by saying, that it is the dead body of a man or woman embalmed in Egypt perhaps two or three thousand years ago, and now brought over to England and other countries as a curiosity, to be examined by learned men, and gazed at by the curious. It was the Egyptian way of preserving their dead. They were not content that dust should return to dust; but sought, by pains and skill, to avert the natural consequences of death, and, in a sort of way, they succeeded.

I will, after a time, describe a mummy which I have seen; but must first say something of the mode they adopted, and their supposed reasons for doing so.

A process by which the body could be preserved from corruption may well be supposed a difficult and costly one. And there must have seemed urgent reasons for a whole people from age to age following such a custom, and devoting so much of their wealth, their time, their skill, to the care of their dead, and the construction of tombs to their honour.

It is said that they considered their tombs to be habitations, but the houses in which they lived to be merely inns, to be dwelt in for a little time, and then left for ever; and therefore they conceived it more reasonable to devote most pains to that abode in which they were to continue longest. But as the body cannot be valued for itself, without thought of the soul which once inhabited it, so there is reason to believe that the Egyptians preserved their bodies, from the belief that in the course of ages the soul would come again to its former dwelling, and commence a new life in it; and there are many reasons for thinking it was for this hoped-for return of the soul they took such marvellous care to keep the body unimpaired in structure, and, as far as they could, the same. It is believed that the Egyptian priests had preserved from earliest times traditionary truths,