a monitor to the writer, bidding him " prepare!"

Among other papers, many a written list of undertakings not yet begun, plans only in part perfected, and resolutions which have never been carried into effect, arrested my attention, and called forth a sigh sincere. The clearing out of a study is not unaccompanied with pain.

Now and then, in the course of our proceedings, I came upon misplaced letters that I could not help opening, and which, when I did open them, wrung my heart-strings. There are few of us who have lived long in this world of joy and sorrow, who are not, in one way or other, linked to remembrances of an exciting kind. Some whom we have known, and honoured, and loved, are in foreign lands, and others are above the stars ; and we are not always equal to an abrupt and unexpected recognition of their handwriting addressing us. In poring over my old papers many a letter was crushed up in my hand wh sudden emotion.

Many were the rough copies of communications sent to remarkable or literary characters; and one scrawl on a scrap of paper reminded me that I once, for a friend, took charge of an epistle addressed to king George IV., and it seems, even now, but as yesterday, that I was waiting in the

mansion of the lord-chancellor Eldon, near Hyde Park, to put into his hand, on his return from the upper house, the letter for his royal master.

Sometimes, in the very middle of papers, I found a mislaid article, that for hours I had searched for in vain. Again I say, reader, if you have a study stored with books and manuscripts, and wish to enjoy in it much comfort and avoid much trouble, keep it in order.

For nearly a week, day after day, we continued our toil, and very pleasant it was when we began to see the profitable result of our labours. Shelf after shelf assumed an air of order and neatness ;the very study itself appeared lighter and more roomy, and a burden seemed to be removed from my heart.

Among other consequences attendant on the clearing out of my study, was the circumstance of my being tempted to sit up several nights to a very untimely hour. Whether my young friend

ho was assisting me, and who felt anxious for my early retirement, had found among my loose papers the original manuscript of my remarks on going to bed early, I cannot say, but certain it is that I found placed on my study-table the following lines neatly copied out for my own edification: "Go to bed early. To go to bed early is the easiest way, the best way, and almost the only

way to thrive. You may rise early, strive hard, and do everything else in the world that ought to be done; but unless you go to bed early, depend upon it it will be all in vain. In the course of my life I have sat up many a night, and my headache and my heart-ache on the following days failed not to tell me that I had done wrong. It is as clear that night was made for sleep as it is that daylight was given to be spent in employment. Let owls, and bats, and wild beasts be abroad at night; but if we are blessed with good, warm, comfortable beds, let us retire to them early. If mankind were divided into two parts, good and bad, depend upon it the worst part wouid consist of those who sit up late; and I will answer for it that nineteen out of every twenty who have been hung on Tyburn tree did not go to bed early." And at the bottom of this cauterizing quotation were added the words, "Written by Old Humphrey's very own pen."

This was a reproof tolerably sharp, and administered with great tact; for it placed me in much the same predicament as that of the wounded eagle, who, on regarding the arrow which had wounded her, found it feathered with a plume from her own pinions. You may be sure that

I retired to bed that night early.

Thanks to the patience and perseverance of

my young friend, my study was thoroughly cleared out; the dust and the lumber, the confusion and the cobwebs are gone. Oh that I could also clear away all the idle, the foolish, and the sinful cobwebs of an old man's heart, that with a more orderly, lightsome, and grateful spirit, I might praise the Father of mercies for the abundant gifts of which I am the unworthy partaker. To Him be praise, might, majesty, and dominion, now, henceforth, and for ever. For the third and last time, let me whisper to every one, appeal to the reader, and cry aloud to Old Humphrey, if you have a study well stored with books and manuscripts, and wish to enjoy it in much comfort, and save yourself much trouble, keep it in order! Keep it in order!

OLD HUMPHREY OUT OF HIS

WAY.

THOUGH a hasty judgment is no mark of a man's discretion, yet may we arrive at some conclusions with very little reflection. Hardly do I think that one of my readers will tax me with rashness in hazarding the opinion that he must have moved about but little in this wide world, who has never been out of his way. Some people, however, are shy in admitting their errors; let me, then, begin by acknowledging a few of my

own.

Whether it be from absence of mind, from an inclination to observe the persons and things around me, or from the habit I have of pursuing some train of thought as I walk abroad, certain it is though you may trust me in finding the place of my destination at last-I do very frequently get out of my way.

In the days of my boyhood, I once loitered with a companion till night overtook us, when we had yet many miles to travel. In crossing a wild heath famous for highway robberies-(the bones