and perhaps equally gratified, by the offices which the Author of their nature has assigned to them. But the atmosphere is not the only scene of enjoyment for the insect race. Plants are covered with aphides, greedily sucking their juices, and constantly, as it should seem, in the act of sucking. It cannot be doubted but that this is a state of gratification. What else should fix them so close to the operation, and so long? Other species are running about with an alacrity in their motions, which carries with it every mark of pleasure. Large patches of ground are sometimes half covered with these brisk and sprightly natures. If we look to what the waters produce, shoals of the fry of fish frequent the margins of rivers, of lakes, and of the sea itself. These are so happy that they know not what to do with themselves. Their attitudes, their vivacity, their leaps out of the water, their frolics in it (which I have noticed a thousand times with equal attention and amusement), all conduce to show their excess of spirits, and are simply the effects of that excess. Walking by the sea-side, in a calm evening, upon a sandy shore, and with an ebbing tide, I have frequently remarked the appearance of a dark cloud, or, rather, very thick mist, hanging over the edge of the water, to the height, perhaps, of half a yard, and of the breadth of two or three yards, stretching along the coast as far as the eye could reach, and always retiring with the water. When this cloud came to be examined, it proved to be nothing else than so much space, filled with young shrimps, in the act of bounding into the air from the shallow margin of the water, or from the wet sand. If any motion of a mute animal could express delight, it was this if they had meant to make signs of their happiness, they could not have done it more intelligibly. Suppose, then, what I have no doubt of, each individual of this number to be in a state of positive enjoyment; what a sum, collectively, of gratification and pleasure have we here before our view!

"The young of all animals appear to me to receive pleasure simply from the exercise of their limbs and bodily faculties,

without reference to any end to be attained, or any use to be answered, by the exertion. A child, without knowing any thing of the use of language, is in a high degree delighted with being able to speak. Its incessant repetition of a few articulate sounds, or, perhaps, of the single word which it has learnt to pronounce, proves this point clearly. Nor is it less pleased with its first successful endeavours to walk, or rather to run (which precedes walking) although entirely ignorant of the importance of the attainment to its future life, and even without applying it to any present purpose. A child is delighted with speaking, without having any thing to say, and with walking, without knowing where to go. And, prior to both these, I am disposed to believe that the waking hours of infancy are agreeably taken up with the exercise. of vision, or perhaps, more properly speaking, with learning to see.

"But it is not for youth alone that the great Parent of Creation hath provided. Happiness is found with the purring cat, no less than with the playful kitten; in the arm-chair of dozing age, as well as in either the sprightliness of the dance, or the animation of the chase. To novelty, to acuteness of sensation, to hope, to ardour of pursuit, succeeds, what is, in no inconsiderable degree, an equivalent for them all, perception of ease. Herein is the exact difference between the young and the old. The young are not happy, but when enjoying pleasure; the old are happy, when free from pain. And this constitution suits with the degrees of animal power which they respectively possess. The vigour of youth was to be stimulated to action by impatience of rest; whilst to the imbecility of age quietness and repose become positive gratifications. In one important respect the advantage is with the old. A state of ease is, generally speaking, more attainable than a state of pleasure. A constitution, therefore, which can enjoy ease, is preferable to that which can taste only pleasure. This same perception of ease oftentimes renders old age a condition of great comfort; especially when riding at its anchor after a busy or tempestuous life."

SERMON XIX.

PERSEVERANCE IN PRAYER.

DANIEL Vi. 10.

"Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house; and his windows being open in his chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime."

(Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity.-Evening.)

WE are familiar with this story from our childhood. We hear it read out, too, once every year at Church, and feel that it is good for us to be reminded how faithful good men have been to God, and how merciful God has been to them, in times of trouble and temptation. Indeed that seems to be the special lesson of this particular Sunday, for we hear about the fiery furnace in the morning, and about the lions' den in the evening; and in both cases good triumphs over evil; the wicked are caught in their own snare; and the name of Jehovah is magnified by the public confession of a monarch who ruled

over a nation of idolaters. "There is no other God that can deliver after this sort," said Nebuchadnezzar. "He delivereth and rescueth, and worketh signs and wonders in heaven and in earth," was the acknowledgment of Darius on that memorable morning when he hastened to the cave's mouth after a sleepless night, and, on calling to the Prophet, was delighted to hear a living voice.

I am not going to dwell on one portion of the narrative, but shall take for my subject the whole Chapter, in the hope that some useful remarks may be suggested by the several incidents recorded in it; and O may we learn to trust God, and pray to God, and serve God as Daniel did;-then, whatever happens to us, though we should be brought into great straits, or pressed down with sore afflictions, we shall be safe and happy,-safe in God's hands, and happy in His service.

We may divide the chapter into separate sections, and the first will have for its heading

THE WICKED PLOT.

What could be more wicked than this scheme of the men of Babylon to bring Daniel into disgrace? Because they cannot find any fault in his public conduct, they determine to make his piety a snare for him. They know, probably, that he never let a day pass without praying to the God of his fathers, and they did not doubt that what he felt it right to do he would go on doing in spite of danger. So they make suit to the king to have all petitions

forbidden for thirty days to any but himself. The king granted their wish, and things turned out as they expected. Daniel was a loyal subject, but he was a faithful son of Israel besides. In Babylon, as at Jerusalem, God was to be honoured and worshipped. Calmly and resolutely, therefore, he went down upon his knees in his chamber three times a day, and, instead of hiding himself for fear, threw his windows open so that passers-by might see how he was employed. His enemies, of course, were on the watch, and the king soon heard that Daniel, the Hebrew whom he had delighted to honour, was the first offender.

Here, then, was a man hated for his goodness, made a public offender because he had first been a public benefactor. We all see what a foul, ugly crime that was. We say, perhaps, "These are the things which flourish in the rank soil of heathenism. Where God is unknown, innocence is no security; men scramble for power without any check from conscience; and Justice sits upon her throne with a drawn sword in one hand, but with no righteous balance in the other." If we do say so, we speak very truly. We cannot be thankful enough for living in a land where men are compelled to respect each other's rights, and where the powerful cannot trample on the weak, if they would. But never let us think that bad passions, like those which were at work in the bosoms of those Babylonish courtiers, do not still survive among ourselves. "The carnal