fight" in the House of Commons, he did all with prayer. He prayed in his family, and that, too, with serious preparation and forethought, that his topics might be selected and arranged, his spirit calm, his manner becoming, the service comprehensive, serious, instructive. For his work, his friends, his family, his children, for the latter on great and important occasions, or at particular crises in their course, prayers would seem to have been often offered, and sometimes written. He could not get on without prayer. He so habitually contemplated his public engagements as "working the work of God," as the discharge of a service to which he was "called," which was allotted to him from above, which had in itself the Divine approbation, and made necessary for him Divine aid, that he was drawn to prayer in it as by a natural law: to him, there was that about his great public service, that made prayer equally appropriate and necessary that drew him to it as by the force of a sympathy, and impelled him by considerations connected with success. Throughout life, as a part of his religion itself, in circumstances of "Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, THE RELIGIOUS ELEMENT THE SECRET OF SUCCESS. SIR FOWELL BUXTON's spirit and habit of prayer arose very much from the childlike simplicity of his religion; and from his power strongly to realize the absent and the distant, and therefore the spiritual and invisible, which, as a natural attribute of his mind, became faith when inspired by piety. After he became fixed and happy in his persuasion of the enjoyment of the Divine favour through Christ, he never encouraged any perplexing doubts, or suffered himself to be seduced into the region of theological difficulties. The fact is, he had not time for the study of theology as a science, though he neither wanted taste nor power for recondite speculation. He was religious; he was not a theologian:-his inward life was religion in the heart far more than a body of divinity in the intellect. The consequence was, that he prayed like a child, believed as a child, trusted as a child; he asked, expecting an answer;-no more doubting that he would have one, than an obedient and beloved boy, preferring a request to his father's power, or his mother's love, for something which he knows they are ready to grant. He troubled not himself about the objections to prayer arising from the perfections and purposes of God; or to the possibility of a particular Providence, and to special Divine interferences in reply to supplication, arising from the fixed and general laws of the Divine government. He was taught to pray by a faith higher than philosophy, and impelled to it by an instinct stronger than reasoning. A logic of the heart suffered not the logic of the schools to be heard; or for a moment listened to, if it were. His spiritual convictions partook of the nature of intuition. His inward eye was opened, and he saw. Where others groped and were in doubt, he "handled" and "felt," and was a a bright, cheerful child of the day. What he had to do, he considered, was not to explain to himself, or to allow others to question, how God could aid or answer; but to "ask in faith," leaving the rest to Divine fidelity and Divine power. Hence, he was "careful for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, he made his requests known unto God; and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, kept his heart and mind by Jesus Christ." "He was in the constant habit," says his son," of communicating his cares to his heavenly Father." "Prayer," said he himself, "is throwing up the heart to God continually. Not always using words, but casting up the thoughts to him. Everything leads me to prager, and I ALWAYS FIND IT ANSWERED, both in little and great things." "I often wonder at the slow progress I have made of late years in religion, but in this one respect I feel a difference: I see the hand of a directing Providence in the events of life, the lesser as well as the greater; and this is of great importance to me; for the belief that our actions, if attempted aright, are guided and directed by superior wisdom, is to me one of the greatest inducements to prayer: and I do think that the little trials I have met with have materially contributed to produce with me a habit of prayer. Sir Fowell's natural qualities of mind and heart, which, disciplined by education and directed by principle, led to his power and activity in work, were taken up by his religion, and, through the grace and Spirit of God, which we do not forget, and which he never forgot, did, spiritually, great and good service to himself. He was a thoroughly earnest man; he had the simplicity and directness that characterize sound and vigorous minds when absorbed and possessed by a ruling passion; he was capable of so realizing the sufferings of others as to look upon them, feel them, ache under them, and thus to regard no labour as onerous, and no cost or selfdenial painful, by which they might be mitigated. Nature was in all this, as well as grace; original power as well as superadded and supernatural influences. But these qualities became ancillary to his own progress in spiritual things; to his perception of the divine and his intercourse with God, even as they assisted him in his sympathy with humanity and his efforts for mankind. This is well put by his biographer, in the following suggestive and striking statement:-"Long before that period to which he at least referred his first real acquaintance with the truths of Christianity, the peculiar features of his disposition had been cast in strong and permanent relief; and the religious acts of his mind are deeply stamped with the fashion of its native character. It possessed one element, which, beyond all others, gave shape to the development of his religious principles. This was his power of realizing the conceptions of his mind and imagination with scarcely less force and vividness than that which realized external objects. Thus he grasped the idea of a future state, not with a mere passive belief, but with a strong effective conviction, as a matter of fact of startling plainness, and which gave him, to a remarkable degree, a consciousness of the hollow vanity of all earthly pleasures and interests." There is added to this, as accounting for his habit of prayer, and the direct and simple faith with which he prayed, the following statement:"But what chiefly marked his religious character, was the absolute childlike confidence with which he clung to the guiding hand of his heavenly Father, wherever his path might lie. There was, in fact, no event in his life which he did not attribute to His immediate direction." Of this faith, prayer was the habitual utterance; and by this habitual utterance, faith itself was preserved in exercise and "increased in might." "It took hold of God's strength;" and reposed lovingly beneath his Fatherhood. That God and Father "saw it in secret, and rewarded it openly:"—"heard" it "in heaven," and honoured it on earth! sure, Such was our friend as a man of prayer. Now I really believe, if you young men will study the facts which make up this portrait, and look at the personal embodiment of religion in this actual history of a living man, it will do far more to defend you against sceptical and metaphysical difficulties about prayer, than any reasoning addressed to the understanding; and far more to convince you of the truth and divinity of our holy faith, than arguments and evidences of another kind. Let me entreat you to pray as an act of faith, in obedience to Divine injunction and promise, as the appropriate expression of the religious instinct, against which all objections are vain, however unanswerable, instead of thinking that you must first meet satisfactorily infidel objections. You might as well imagine that, in natural things, an infant should abstain from the breast till it understands the subject of atmospheric pres-or you yourselves from food till you perfectly comprehend the process of nutrition, or every one of us from noble impulses of the heart till we consult the miserable scruples of the head. Spiritually, you may as well imagine that you are to understand the Infinite before you will worship,-or expect God to give to you an "account of his matters" before you will obey. Why you need the mysterious to worship at all. You cannot adore where you fully comprehend. Instead of thinking that "where mystery begins religion ends," you should rather feel that without mystery there can actually be no religion at all. Not only, therefore, do not "restrain prayer before God," but "stir up yourselves to take hold of him." Depend upon it, that is true, in all ages, of devout men, which is stated respecting the ancient church,— "They called upon God, and HE ANSWERED THEM." Sir Fowell Buxton enjoyed, with some of his intimate friends-friends equally as Christians and politicians-the solace and strength of social prayer. They met at the resi dence of one of them, near the house when the debates permitted; took tea together; read a portion of Scripture, and prayed. They then returned to their duties, with no feeling, rely upon it, diminished, that was requisite for them, in their worldly conflicts, "to quit themselves like men." The following fact will appropriately conclude this particular: After the conclusion of the American war of Independence, the delegates of the States assembled for the purpose of adjusting the constitution of the Republic. After many days, during which little or no progress was made, and in which, elated by their victory, and their then novel condition of independence, they forgot the acknowledgment which was due to Him who had led them to triumph;-in the midst of their perplexities, the celebrated Franklin,-a man but slightly imbued with the spirit. of true Christianity, but who had a profound philosophical reverence for God, stood up in Congress, and gave utterance to the following remarkable language. Referring to the spirit of prayer that characterized them during the eight years' conflict, and in which they had become remiss, he said: "And have we now forgotten the powerful Friend? Or do we imagine that we no longer need His assistance? I have lived a long time; and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth-that GOD GOVERNS IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN; and, if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? We have been assured in the Sacred Writings, that, except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it.' I FIRMLY BELIEVE THIS; and I also believe that, without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel: we shall be divided by our little partial local interests, our projects will be confounded, and ourselves shall become a reproach and a by-word down to future ages; and, what is worse, mankind may hereafter, from this unfor tunate instance, despair of establishing government by human wisdom, and leave it to chance, war, and conquest." The historian records that, from this moment, a spirit of sobriety and judg ment fell upon the delegates; that forthwith, as if oil had been poured. upon the waves, their deliberations became harmonious, and that within a reasonable space they completed the constitution.-Rev. T. Binney. VERY DIFFERENT FRUITS UPON VERY DIFFERENT TREES. "WHAT does that man want?" said the "He deals in books," replied the clerk. "I suppose he is coming to have his license signed.” He was right. The hawker entered the office, and respectfully presenting his permit to the Mayor, said, "Is it Monsieur le Maire's pleasure that the Word of God should be circulated in this commune?" "Certainly!" said the Mayor, motioning the dealer to a seat. 'Nothing would give me greater pleasure. And here, my good fellow, is my signature. -Clerk, put the seal to it.' said Mrs. d'Albans, looking at the hawker. The latter coloured; his eyes filled with tears, and bending over his books, he said in a suppressed tone, “ And one of the seeds brought forth an hundred.” "Amen!" said Mrs. d'Albans, deeply moved; and she ran and called Sylvia, who soon came eagerly forward to the table. "Let every one select what they like best!" cried Mr. d'Albans above the hum of voices, "and may God make the reading profitable to all!" The hawker, still bending towards the table, drew out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Mr. d'Albans, observing this, but mistaking the cause, whispered in his ear, "You are making a famous sale, friend, and you are overjoyed!" The hawker took up the paper, and thanking the Mayor, retired." Mr. d'Albans followed him to the outer door, and calling him back, said, "Why, my good man, you have not offered me your books. Perhaps we may take some here." hall. The hawker turned back immediately, and at the Mayor's request, spread out his books upon the long table in the Mr. d'Albans ordered his children to be summoned, with their mother, and soon the hands of each, even to the clerk, who had come forward, and two or three of the servants, attracted by the noise, held either a Bible, or a New Testament, or a religious tract. "Yours are excellent wares!" said the Mayor cordially to the hawker; "and I suppose they are welcomed and purchased everywhere." "Ah Sir," said the man, "most people would prefer songs or fairy tales. Those who take an interest in the things of heaven, are not very numerous?" "A sower went forth to sow," "Yes, 'tis a good sale," replied the hawker gently, "for it is the heart that gives, and the heart that chooses, too; and God is looking down upon it all!" "The man interests me," said Mr. d'Albans in his wife's ear. "I feel sure he is a child of God!" replied the Christian lady, touching her husband's arm, and laying a stress upon the words. "Whether he be so or not," said the Mayor, "He shall go away pleased." And having asked if each had his or her choice, he took for himself two Bibles, six New Testments, and a numerous collection of tracts; and having paid liberally for the whole, he pressed the hawker's hand, wishing him good success in the whole commune. "Alas!" said Mrs. d'Albans, when she was left alone with her husband and children, "I do not believe there will be many families willing to buy the Word of God." "No, not a Bible!" said the child; "but one of these tracts. It would be very easy." "And how?" said the father, "would you undertake to lay one down at every door ?" "Not I, papa," said the child, "but if you will give them to me, I will carry them directly to Mr. Laurent from you, that he may distribute them to his scholars; and in that way they will make their way everywhere, without any trouble." "Very good, Alexis !" said Mrs. d'Albans, make yourself ready for the errand; for your father, I see, is already making up your parcel." Mr. d'Albans accordingly selected the tracts, one by one, and making them into a bundle, delivered them to the child, recommending him to be sure and tell the schoolmaster from whom the message came. In about an hour Alexis returned, with information that the hawker had been harshly repulsed by the schoolmaster; which he had heard from the blacksmith's apprentice; and that as to his message, Mr. Laurent, on receiving it, had at first appeared embarrassed ; but afterwards had begged him to assure Monsieur le Maire that he esteemed himself most happy to be in some sort associated in his pious and charitable beneficence. "Come!" said Mr d'Albans, "this is a good beginning!" "Provided, my child," said the mother, stroking the little messenger's cheek, "these fine words mean anything." "Why should you suppose otherwise, dear Cecilla?" said the Mayor. "Ah! rather, my dear, why not fear such hypocrisy ?" said the mother, leading Alexis and his sisters from the room, while their father opened a letter which a servant had just brought in from the miller. More quarrels !" he exclaimed, sorrowfully, when he had read it; and leaving the house, he took the road to the village. The children came trooping out of school just as he passed, and he was surprised not to see any tracts in their hands. But without stopping, he hastened to the mill, where the letter requested his presence, "to reconcile," it said, "if possible, two brothers." On entering the yard, Mr. d'Albans saw Martin, the elder of the brothers, standing near the door of the house, with his back against the wall, his arms crossed over his breast, and anger depicted in his countenance. Martin scarcely moved at the Mayor's approach; and when the latter said in a kind tone, "So you are not agreed, Martin?" he replied, angrily, "We never shall be !" The Mayor.-Why so, my good fellow? Is it so very difficult for two brothers to divide a little inheritance? Martin. There's many ways of dividing. What I want is right and justice; and I'll stick to it. The Mayor. And yet-between brothers especially-a friendly adjustment, even if it should cost a trifle, is surely better than a lawsuit. Besides, if you and your brother have any feeling of religion Martin, gruffly.--Yes! yes! that's what I've just been hearing from-that old Ulrich; but he could not come over me with his nonsense! The Mayor, eagerly.-Mr. Ulrich! Is he here? Martin.-He's in there with that booby Antoine, who swallows The Mayor, without waiting to hear more, entered the first room, where he found Mr. Ulrich seated beside Antoine, one of whose hands he held affectionately in both his own. The minister rose to receive Mr. d'Albans, who said, as he held out his hand, "You are exercising your noble ministry of reconciliation?" Mr. Ulrich.-I trust the Lord is about to show Antoine his will, and that |