His heart is like the rock, where sun nor dew And all his thoughts are centred on-himself:' "First starved in this, then damned in that to come." HERE is a poor fool " crouching beneath" more than "two burdens." Look at him! see how he pants and heaves and groans beneath his load. With his right hand he grasps a large bag of gold and silver, together with bonds, titles, deeds, and mortgages. In his left he clutches fast stocks and pledges, while suspended to his left shoulder dangles interest upon interest. Around his waist is buckled a leathern girdle, to which a waggon is attached by means of traces. This is loaded with bags and bales of rich annuities. He appears to have made " a clean sweep," wherever he has been; desolation follows in his train. On the left hand of this receiver-general stands a female, accompanied by two children. Look at them. They have come through the peltings of a winter's storm, poorly clad as they are, to lighten the poor man's load. They have nothing to carry. See! they are beseeching him to allow them to bear part of his burden. It would help them somewhat; it would circulate the blood, and keep them warm; it would benefit him, however, a great deal more, perhaps save his life. He looks angry; he growls at them, he curses them in the name of his gods, and spurns them from his presence. The man cannot be in his right mind, surely. Refusing assistance, on he goes again. lamenting very much the time he has lost; for "time" with him "is money." On he goes, puffing and sweating and dragging. At length, still followed by the woman and children, he comes to a bridge thrown across a river rolling rapidly. It looks quite safe; as he proceeds, it bends and cracks with the weight, and when he arrives at the middle it gives way, and down he goes, bags and all. He sinks 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 represents Selfishness refusing the claims of distressed humanity. Perhaps all the manifestations of sin in man may be traced to selfishness as their source. The warrior, in his pursuit of glory; the politician, in hunting for power; the covetous, in scheming for wealth; the scholar, in his aspirations for fame,—all act from the principle of selfishness. Here the selfish principle manifests itself in the acquisition 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 so mistaking the true ends of life; in so mistaking the nature of things as to think the soul could be satisfied with dust and corruption; in employing the noble powers of the mind about things so base, mean, and contemptible; in loving that which cannot return our love. Fool, in substituting the body for the soul-time for eternitythe 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 shall gather them. "High-built abundance heap on heap, for what? To breed new wants, and beggar us the more, Like rubbish from disploded engines thrown, New masters court, and call the former fools (How justly!) for dependence on their stay, Wide scatter first our playthings, then our cust." 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, selfishness 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 shalt have no other gods before me." Like the horseleech, he is continually crying, Give, give; he covets his neighbour's possessions he is determined 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 destroy his reputation, sometimes take his life. He is a devourer of widows' houses; he forestalls and forecloses whenever he can gain by so doing. Selfishness is a thief-first, in withholding what belongs to God and the poor; secondly, in actually seizing upon the property of others. See him go forth to take possession of his neighbour's farm or house. In the face of day he goes; the sun is looking at him, and God is looking at him, and the prophet of God within his breast-conscience-remon strates, as did the prophet Elijah, when Ahab had gone down to the vineyard of Naboth, to take possession thereof; but selfishness 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 set 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 ossified, callous, hard as the nether mill-stone. The ministers 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 stand before him, begging only what will support life a day-he spurns them from his presence. He has more than he needs, or ever will need, yet― dog in the manger like-he snarls, and keeps it all. In the map of Palestine may be seen the Dead Sea; several 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 said that birds in their passage over it dropped down dead. Selfishness is a Dead Sea, receiving all, giving nothing, save misery, and want, and death. In the engraving, the house in the background looks ruined and desolate-selfishness has been there. It is related of the locusts that "the noise they make in browsing the plants and trees may be heard at a distance, like an army plundering in secret; whereever they march, the verdure disappears from the country, like a curtain drawn aside. The trees and plants, despoiled of their leaves, make the hideous appearance of winter instantly succeed the bright scenes of spring-fire seems to follow their track." Selfishness may look behind him, if he will, and see in his rear the same marks of desolation. Selfishness is a great advocate for the protection of his own interests. 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 possession; 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 soul? "Fear not, for I am with thee."-GEN. xxvi. 24. "I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me."-Ps. xxiii. 4. THE IMPERIAL PASSENGER. When the great Cæsar, bent on high emprise, They dare not venture from the sheltered bay; To whom the chief, their craven souls to cheer, THE above engraving represents Julius Cæsar in a violent storm. He is encouraging the boatmen to pull away. Cæsar and Pompey at this time were about to dispute the empire of the world. The legions of Pompey were at Macedonia; those of Cæsar lay at Brundusium, on the other side of the river Apsus. Cæsar, judging his presence to be absolutely necessary for the safety of his army, determined to cross the river, notwithstanding it was guarded by the ships of Pompey. A furious tempest raged also at the same time. Depending upon his good fortune, he disguised himself, and secured a small fishing-boat. His mind, occupied with the importance of his mission, thinks not of danger. He has had so many hair-breadth escapes on flood and field, that he deems himself under the immediate protection of the gods; nay, that he himself possesses the power of controlling fortune. The boatmen think, however, very differently. Though accustomed to danger, they will not put to sea in the present gale. Cæsar, thinking all would be lost, assumes a commanding attitude, throws off his disguise, and addressing the pilot, exclaims, "Quid times? Cæsarem vehis -What do you fear? you carry Cæsar. The effect is electrical. Struck by his courageous bearing, the sailors, ashamed of their fears, immediately put to sea with the intrepid chieftain. They exert themselves to the utmost; brave fearlessly the peltings of the storm, and land their noble passenger safely on the other side. The above instance of profane history may serve to illustrate the presence of God with His people, and the confidence they should have in Him. The presence and consequent power of God exists, of course, everywhere. We cannot tell where God is not. We see Him in the embattled host that nightly shines in the blue vault of heaven; in the queen of night, as, sailing through the sky, she gives to the shadowed earth a look of kindred affection. When rosy morn lifts up the curtain of darkness, and gives to our view the glorious orb of day coming forth from his chambers, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race; in the vast mountain, towering to meet the skies; the immense ocean, rising in the greatness of its strength; the embowered forest, bending to the breeze; the deep blush of the verdant mead; the smiles of the luscious corn; and in the laughing flowers, we see the power and presence of the |