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burden. It would help them fomewhat; it would circulate the blood and keep them warm; it would benefit him, however, a great deal more, -pehaps fave his life. He looks angry; he growls at them; he curfes them in the name of his god, and fpurns them from his prefence. The man cannot be in his right mind, furely. Refufing affiftance, on he goes again, lamenting very much the time he has loft, for "time" with him "is money." On he goes, puffing and fweating and dragging. At length, ftill followed by the woman and children, he comes to a bridge thrown across a river rolling rapidly. It looks quite fafe; as he proceeds, it bends and cracks with the weight, and just when he arrives at the middle it gives way and down he goes, bags and all; he finks to the bottom like a stone. The dark wave rolls over him; he dieth as a fool dieth; his memory has perished.

The above engraving reprefents Selfishness refufing the claims of diftreffed humanity. Perhaps all the manifeftations of fin in man may be traced to selfishness as their fource. The warrior in his pursuit of glory; the politician in hunting for power; the covetous in fcheming for wealth; the fcholar in his afpirations for fame; all act from the principle of selfishness. Here the selfish principle manifefts itself in the acquifition of money; in keeping it, and of course fixing the heart upon it as an object worthy to be adored. The Most High, looking down from the height of his holiness, pronounces the man, "fool."

Fool in fo mistaking the true ends of life,—in so mistaking the nature of things as to think the foul could be fatiffied with duft and corruption; in employing the noble powers of the mind about things fo bafe, mean, and contemptible,—in loving that which cannot return our love. Fool, in fubftituting the body for the foul,-time for eternity, the world for God. Fool, to be "bit by rage canine of dying rich, guilt's blunder, and the loudest laugh of hell." Fool, in heaping up riches and knowing not who fhall gather them.

"High built abundance heap on heap, for what?
To breed new wants and beggar us the more,
Then make a richer fcramble for the throng,
Soon as this feeble pulse which leaps so long,
Almost by miracle is tired with play;
Like rubbish from difploded engines thrown,
Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly;
Fly diverse, fly to foreigners, to foes!
New mafters court, and call the former fools,-
How justly for dependence on their stay,

Wide fcatter firft our playthings, then our duft.

This is bad enough, but what is worse the man of selfishness is a man of guilt, often of deep, double-dyed, damnable guilt; even in its most innocent form felfishness dethrones the blessed God from his proper place in the human heart. Selfishness is a rank idolator-he worships the creature more than the Creator. "Thou fhalt

have no other gods before me." Like the horseleech, he is continually crying, Give, give; he covets his neighbour's poffeffions—he is deter

mined to obtain them if he can, either by fair means or by foul-to this end he often bears false witness against his neighbour-nay, he will deftroy his reputation, fometimes take his life.

He is a devourer of widows' houses; he foreftalls and foreclofes whenever he can gain by fo doing. Selfishness is a thief-firft, in withholding what belongs to God and the poor; fecondly, in actually feizing upon the property of others. See him go forth to take poffeffion of his neighbour's farm or house-in the face of day he goes; the fun is looking at him, and God is looking at him, and the prophet of God within his breastconfcience-remonftrates, as did the prophet Elijah, when Ahab had gone down to the vineyard of Naboth, to take poffeffion thereof. But felfishness is deaf to the voice of the prophet, and the helpless family is turned out into the streets, and another inheritance is added to his rent-roll.

How great is the guilt of selfishness; by him the commandments of God are all fet at nought; nay, standing on the mountain of his ill-gotten wealth, he takes the two tables of the law, and breaks them to pieces, trampling the remnants beneath his feet. His heart is offified, callous, hard as the nether mill-ftone; the minifters of religion plead for help-he regards it not; the daughters of benevolence plead for objects of charity all in vain; the weeping widow and the wailing orphan ftand before him, begging only what will fupport life a day-he spurns them from his prefence. He has more than he needs, or

ever will need, yet-dog in the manger like—he fnarls and keeps it all.

In the map of Palestine may be seen the Dead Sea; feveral rivers pour their streams into the midst thereof, and among them the Jordan; here they are all swallowed up; the Dead Sea gives nothing back but bitterness and dearth. It was formerly faid that birds in their paffage over it dropped down dead. Selfishness is a Dead Sea, receiving all, giving nothing, fave misery, and want, and death.

In the engraving, the house in the back ground looks ruined and defolate-selfishness has been there. It is related of the locufts that "the noise they make in browsing the plants and trees may be heard at a distance, like an army plundering in fecret; wherever they march the verdure disappears from the country, like a curtain drawn afide. The trees and plants, defpoiled of their leaves, make the hideous appearance of winter instantly succeed the bright scenes of spring-fire feems to follow their tracks." Selfishness may look behind him if he will, and fee in his rear the fame marks of defolation.

Selfishness is a great advocate for the protection of his own interefts; he has become rich, yet he is not rich God-ward. He has mortgages, but he himself, alas! is mortgaged to the devil, and when the time expires, he will foreclose and take poffeffion. He has pledges enough on earth, but no pledge of a future inheritance in heaven. And where! where is the hope of the wretch,

though he hath gained, when God taketh away his foul!

"How fhocking muft thy fummons be, O death!
To him that is at ease in his poffeffions;
Who, counting on long years of pleasures here,
Is quite unfurnished for that world to come!
In that dread moment, how the frantic foul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement 3
Runs to each avenue, and fhrieks for help,
But fhrieks in vain! How wifhfully the looks
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers!
A little longer, yet a little longer,
Oh, might the stay, to wash away her ftains,
And fit her for her paffage! Mournful fight!
Her very eyes weep blood; and every groan
She heaves is big with horror. But the foe,
Like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose,
Purfues her clofe, through every lane of life,
Nor miffes once the track, but preffes on;
Till forced at last to the tremendous verge,
At once the finks to everlasting ruin."

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