What thought hath not conceived, ear heard, eye seen;

Perfect existence from a point begun;

Part of what GOD's eternity hath been:

Whole immortality belongs to none

But HIM, the first, the last, the Only One!

PARSON THACHER'S DAY.-Columbian Magazine.

[The object in view, in the practice of colloquial pieces, like the following, is to break up the habit of dry, monotonous reading, to which students, in general, are se prone. Flexibility of voice is greatly facilitated by such exercises, if the reading is done in the familiar and humorous strain implied in the peculiar style of the passage.]

When my brother E. was a little boy, his health was delicate; and he was sent into the country to school, and there boarded at a great old farm house, one in the real New England style, of which few specimens now remain. Here, in the first cold weather of autumn, the family congregated about the kitchen fire, so as not to disturb the flower-pots which still ornamented the hearth of the keeping-room. The young student from Boston was accommodated, on one side of the fire, with a little stand, on which was placed a large iron candlestick, bearing a dipt candle with a wick an inch long, for the furtherance of his studies. Not being much inspired by the book under these circumstances, E. was wont to listen to the talk of an ancient dame, who sat with a perennial fountain of knitting-work, in a high-backed chair on the opposite side of the fire, bestowing various hints and cautions upon a young clergyman, lately ordained, and hoped he would be 'kerried through' all the work which was before him, in the ministry of that parish.

The young clergyman, city-bred, and only a guest at the farm-house, listened with deference, and replied very satisfactorily to most of the old lady's remarks: but he could not be made to understand very clearly, in what particulars he was likely to find his position more than usually difficult. He did not seem to doubt that he should be 'kerried through,' though he said so very modestly.

Humph!' said the old lady, taking a spare knitting-needle from her work, and passing it gently under her cap with a reflective air, did you ever hear about parson Thacher's day? My grandmother could remember parson Thacher, though he died in 1727. He was a man that had been to school, and then to college, in this country; and that wasn't enough, but he must be sent to the old country; (it was the custom in them days ;) yes, to Leyden, where he studied for the ministry, and not only that, but learned medicine and surgery; and not content with that, studied law besides."

The young divine began to open his eyes at this enumeration of his predecessor's accomplishments.

Well

'Yes,' continued the good lady; and besides he was a good mechanic; so that he could use almost any tool. he came back, and settled in this town, and married a young woman who made him a good wife; and they lived very comfortably in their plain way.'

'But,' said the young clergyman, who being fresh from college, was the least in the world priggish, 'I can scarcely see how Mr. Thacher's European acquirements were necessary to fit him for such a position.'

Humph!' said the old lady again, stay till I tell you my story. One Monday morning, parson Thacher said to his wife, "I've engaged to go to D- to preach an ordination sermon on Wednesday, and I must set out to-morrow; so this day I must have entirely for my study; and you must not allow me to be interrupted for any thing-short of a case of life or death." So Mrs. Thacher promised; and the good parson went thoughtfully up stairs to prepare his sermon.

'He was scarcely seated, when a woman of the neighbourhood came in, almost breathless, anxiously inquiring for Mr. Thacher.

"He is in his study and cannot be disturbed on any account."

"Oh! dear!" says the poor woman, "I don't know what I shall do then; for our best cow's .very sick, and nobody can't do nothing to help her. We've had Loren the cow-doctor,

and he can't tell what's the matter with her. What will become of us, if we lose her?" Now, Mrs. Thacher felt so bad to think the woman must lose her cow, that she e'en ventured up stairs, and knocked at her husband's door.

"Wife, you know I told you I could'nt —”

"Yes; but poor Mrs. Trimbley -;" and then she told all about the cow, and tried to persuade the parson to go at once. This, he said, was out of the question: but he would certainly call after dinner, as he was obliged to pass by Mr. Trimbley's, to go to a raising, where he had promised to make a prayer. So the poor woman went home very much comforted to think that parson Thacher would come at all, so great was her opinion of his skill. She had hardly shut the gate, when another neighbour came in, as flurried and out of breath as Mrs. Trimbley; hardly remembering to say 'how d'ye do?' before she cried out, "Where is Mr. Thacher?"

"My husband's in his study, and cannot be

"Oh! run up, do, Mrs. Thacher, and tell him that Mr. Vose and Mr. Hunt have had an awful quarrel again; and Mr. Vose says he'll go right off to Boston, and employ lawyer Gridley," (a pretty awful threat in those days!) "for he won't put up with ill usage any longer."

This frightened Mrs. Thacher dreadfully, to think a quarrel should get to such a length in the neighbourhood. So knowing her husband's power as a peace-maker, she went up to his study-door once more.

"What is the matter, now, wife?" said parson Thacher. "Oh! a dreadful quarrel,” etc., repeating all the threats and hard speeches, and begging her husband to interfere without delay.

"Well, I can't possibly go now, but send word to Mr. Vose not to go to Boston till he has seen ME. I will call after dinner, as I go to the raising."

'This pacified the messenger; and the parson went on with about the fourthly' of his ordination sermon.

6

'Presently a violent rapping with the heavy end of a whip, was heard at the door; and a farmer from some distance off,

inquired for Mr. Thacher. Mrs. Thacher repeated the old excuse; but the farmer was not to be put off so easily. He insisted on the minister's wife going up and telling her husband that a man was below who must see him, being in great trouble and wanting immediate help. Upon this, with many groans, the parson at length came down, and learned that the man's axletree had broken, under a load of potash-kettles, and he could do nothing without help.

"The only thing to be done," said parson Thacher, "is to make another axletree just like that.-Go to my shed; there you will find a box of tools. Cut down a young hickory; make your axletree; and when it is ready I'll come and help you put it in."

'And then the parson turned to go up stairs again; but Mrs. Thacher told him the dinner was ready to take up, and would be on the table in a minute. So he sat down to dinner; and when that was finished, it was quite time to go to the raising. On the way, he remembered the sick cow. He found the poor cow in great pain, and several of the neighbours standing round, looking at her.

"Have you tried this, and this, and such another thing?" "Yes; but nothing does any good!"

'And then parson Thacher, with all his Leyden learning, went close up to the cow, and examined her all over.

"Make beef of her while you can, Mrs. Trimbley," said he; "for her leg is broken; and there is nothing else to be done." And so he jogged on to the scene of the quarrel. There he found Mr. Vose in a towering passion, declaring he would go yet to Boston for 'squire Gridley, although he had waited, out of respect for the pastor.

"What is the difficulty this time ?" said parson Thacher. "Oh! the old thing over again. His cows have been in my corn; and I know they were turned in on purpose; and I'm determined, if it costs me every

"Send for Mr. Hunt!" said parson Thacher; and Mr. Hunt came. After some parley and hard things said on both sides, the parson asked:

"What may be the damage in money ?"

"About twenty pistareens," says Mr. Vose.

"Well, you wont object to paying that," said the pastor. "Why no " said Mr. Hunt; and after a friendly exhortation, the parson went on his way at a brisk trot; fearing to be late at the raising. Here he found all in commotion; and as soon as he appeared, his name was called out by a dozen at once. A man had fallen off the timbers, and was taken up for dead. "But here is parson Thacher," said they. And the parson felt the man's pulse, said he was not dead, called for bandages, drew out a lancet, bled him; and, in a short time, signs of life appeared. All was soon over, and the man recovered. his prayer, and then set off for home, knowing he had the ordination sermon yet to finish. As he came past Hunt's, he found the man waiting at the gate for him.

The raising went on; the minister made

"Mr. Thacher," says he, "you've saved me from an ugly quarrel, and I thank you for it. My wife wants you to accept of a leg of bacon of her own curing; and if you'll wait a minute, I'll step in and get it, and put it in your saddlebags."

So the bacon was brought, and it took some little time to get it into the saddle-bags; but, sermon or no sermon,such a present must not be refused. And parson Thacher trotted on, hoping supper would be ready when he got home. He had to pass Vose's door, too; and Vose, who was busy with something in the yard, looked up and saw the minister, and stopped him, that he might thank him for his friendly office in the quarrel. While they were talking, Mr. Thacher said:

"Mr. Vose, may I trouble you to hand me up a good big stone, to put in the other side of my saddle-bags? For Mrs. Hunt has given me a leg of bacon that weighs them down unequally, and causes them to slip."

"Not I, indeed, parson Thacher," says Vose; "but my wife has got some nice cheeses; and if you'll wait just one minute, I'll step in and get one to balance your saddle-bags."