CRITICAL SEASONS.

THERE are sometimes critical moments, seasons of extreme excitement, in the lives of the sons and daughters of indiscretion, that require particular treatment. Many an erring being in the height of his calamity, and under the stunning influence of evils he has brought on himself, becomes completely dependent on the hands into which he falls. Credit and disgrace, safety and destruction, life and death, appear for the moment equally hung in the balances, and the dread future, with all its consequences of good and evil, depends on the next step about to be taken.

The truth of the preceding remarks has been impressed on my heart by painful experiences; and in relating the two following cases I cannot too strongly set forth to such as may have to deal with excited characters, the great advantage to be obtained by sympathy, forbearance, and kindness. Extreme distress should be allowed free utter

ance:

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.”

I was alone, when one well known to me suddenly entered my apartment, looking much more like a maniac than a sane man. He gave way to the most intemperate language, and the bitterest expressions of self-reproach. I listened without interruption till he had exhausted his epithets against himself, and then asked him to explain just as much of his situation as he thought necessary. With some hesitation he began. It was a case involving, in his own view, loss, disgrace, and ruin; and the crisis had arrived. When he had passed through the black catalogue of his errors, I asked him if that was all: and this appeared to surprise him, for he seemed to expect that I should be as much overwhelmed as himself by his recital. The very utterance of his grief somewhat relieved him. I told him that his position, though bad, might have been worse, and that no case of error was altogether hopeless, if followed by true contrition and a hearty desire and determination, according to ability, to atone for the past. I put the affair in a new light, told him how I thought it might be greatly relieved, and offered him my best assistance. He came to me with a heavy heart and an excited spirit, but he left me as a new man. The bolt that he feared afterwards fell, but it did not overwhelm him. He confessed that when he called on me, there was

Y

nothing before him but madness and destruction. It was the crisis of his situation, but the hope that sprang up from our interview seemed to put a new face on his affairs.

The other case was one of a different description. A thoughtless pleasure-seeker, who had just received from his medical adviser the overwhelming intelligence that his earthly days were numbered, and that very few of them remained to him, came to me trembling in an agony of apprehension. Hardly could an ague fit have shaken his frame more convulsively. "What must I do?" was his urgent inquiry. Finding that I could conscientiously express a belief that he was not so near his end as he had been led to believe, I did so, and this enabled him to draw a deep sigh, as though a weight had been taken from his bosom. We then talked freely of his spiritual condition, for he was as teachable as a child. Though he seemed to regard himself as utterly lost, yet he clung to me as if I could save him. I told him that his case and mine were similar, for that inasmuch as we both were sinners, we both stood in need of exactly the same remedy for sin. There was no hope, no consolation, no promise held out to me in God's holy word, that was not as freely offered to him. The hour we passed together was to him an important one, for

it was the crisis of his condition, and from that season he was either to hope, or to despair. Through mercy it was to be the former. I commended him, when he left me, to the care of a more experienced Christian guide than myself, and he became a seeker after Him whom to know is life eternal. I saw him several times afterwards, and his end was peace.

I could add to the number of my illustrations, but the above will be sufficient to impress a Christian reader with the truth, that in cases of peculiar excitement, great is the advantage to be obtained by sympathy, forbearance, and kindness.

ON THE LITTLE THINGS THAT MAKE UP THE SUM OF LIFE.

THOUGH there be neither wisdom nor originality in giving utterance to the observation, "Trifles make up the sum of life," inasmuch as the saying is common-place, and has almost grown into a proverb, still there may be some discretion in setting forth, in as strong a light as possible, the advantage of turning the trifles that make up our lives to a good account.

When it is said that "trifles make up the sum of life," it is not to be understood that these trifles are idle jests, or useless amusements, but only that they are events of comparatively small importance; great events are exceptions, and small occurrences are the rule of our general existence, and, taken in this sense, the saying, "Trifles make up the sum of life," is undoubtedly true.

The other day, when in company with a talented friend, I jocularly attempted to puzzle him, by setting before him two problems, not mathematical, but moral; the first was, How can a human