"That a committee shall visit the institution and enter into a book which shall be kept for that purpose a monthly report of the state of the institution, to be read at the monthly committee, to meet on the last Tuesday in each month."

An organ has been built in the dining room, and concerts are held here from time to time, generally on Wednesdays. Visitors are admitted on giving a small donation, or making a purchase. The president of the institution is the Right Hon. Earl Manvers. Bankers, Messrs. Samuel Smith & Co. Treasurer, John Manning, Esq. Honorary Physician, Dr. Robertson. Honorary Surgeon, H. Taylor, Esq., with a number of Honorary Secretaries, and Mr. Coburn, the Superintendent. We shall now conclude our sketch with an earnest prayer that the blessing of God may rest upon the institution and upon all connected with it, that this, with many other kindred institutions of benevolence, the glory and honour of our native land, may stand and become an increasing good to suffering humanity, until time shall be no longer, and the last enemy be destroyed-death.

Nottingham.

P. DAYKIN.

GATHERINGS FROM MEMORY.-NO. XIV.

HUMBLING CONFESSIONS.

THERE is yet another subject upon which I desire to say something, in the hope that it will hereafter (if not now) have a salutary effect upon you• I refer to the forming of attachments between the sexes. This is a truly important matter, (though many treat it as if it were otherwise) seeing that your welfare for both worlds largely depends upon right alliances.

There is in the nature of both sexes a principle of attraction, by which we are draw the one to the other; and when this law of our being is subjected to reason, and that again to God, our true welfare is attained. For when pure love unites and binds a couple together, the journey through life is in every way made good and pleasant. Some might say-" Why talk of this subject at present ?" My reply is, "I wish to save you from the errors into which I fell, and so save you a deal of misery." Many, at the early age of fourteen or fifteen years single out their mates, and "do the amiable" with them in quite an old-fashioned style. Now while this does not always end well, yet, on the whole it is much preferable to the hasty and sudden marriages of others; for the intercourse which the former have kept up for a few years previous to marriage, has acted most beneficially upon the moral and social attributes or instincts of their nature. When I look back to the time when my life was budding into manhood, I look upon a dark and cheerless epoch.

Giving way to a naturally diffident and retiring disposition, especially shuning all intercourse (except such as was unavoidable) with the opposite sex, I became timid, cowardly, and wretched to an extent beyond my ability to describe. This avoidance of my female acquaintances was not the result of indifference towards them; indeed, to speak candidly, I was brimful of the

softer feelings, but my bashfulness kept building a wall of separation between them and me, until, when I would, I had not the power of approaching the circle wherein they moved. Some may say, "What a lucky fellow you were to escare all the bother and waste of time which the opposite course entails;" but did such know one tithe of the misery which the way I took led to, they would change their opinion. When I saw some of my companions "walk out" their young la lies, I longed for courage to do the same; and I used to wonder how they managed to act in such a bold and manly way. Sometimes I imagined that it was not my want of courage which led to my isolation, but that it arose from something in me which acted repellingly upon the other sex. Ignorant of the art of forming attachments, I should have been glad had "leap year" been a perpetual season, so that it might not have been deemed improper for a young girl to have taken the first step towards an alliance with me; and I am certain, notwithstanding my bashfulness, I should have been delighted in the thought that I had some one to love, and who loved me as she loved no one else. But I was not to be thus favoured; as a consequence, my life became solitary; I wandered amongst the hills, I sat and read in quiet places, and so strong did the impulse to isolation become that I was at one time a hermit, both in feeling and habit.

Seldom was my conduct ascribed to its real cause. By the aged it was said I was meaning to live a single life for the sake of my parents; and by the young it was said that I was over particular or proud. Both were wrong, as my after life proved. But I have often thought, since my eyes were opened to the realities of life, what a good thing it would have been for me could I have drawn one of the sweet and modest girls, who used to attend our chapel, to my heart, and made her the object of my affections. Many a bitter hour would such an act have spared me. But, instead of this, I went to the other extreme. I was always on the watch lest I should meet my female acquaintances in the streets, and so practised became my power of recognition, even at a great distance, that it was seldom I was caught. Whenever I "spotted" one of them, I always made a hurried turn round the first street-corner; or, when this was not possible, I used to gaze into the first shop-window I came to until the dreaded one had passed.

Nevertheless, I actually made love to one of these young females. Does my reader start and say, "incredible!" Wait a bit, and you will be of another opinion. Being secretary to the Seamen's Temperance Society at the time of which I speak, I was forced to mix with several young females, who attended the meetings of the association. One of these took my fancy; but how to make my preference known to her I knew not. To stop her and tell her so was a task too awful for me to think of for a moment; "but," said I to myself, "I can tell her in writing." This was just the thing; I was happy. Well, I poured out my whole heart to this most fortunate female in a closely written sheet of quarto. This billet-deux I read and re-read until I was filled almost to bursting with the tender passion, so I resolved to post it at once. But, gentle reader, (will you believe it?) I was afraid of signing my name, so I sent it to her address as from a "Sincere Admirer!" Poor, faint-hearted youth! What a valiant performance was this to be sure! I often met her afterwards in temperance-meetings and elsewhere, when I looked hard into her eyes to see if she had any suspicion as to who her admirer was; but beyond this I had not courage to go, hence the affair ended just there.

When I was out of my apprenticeship and had to leave home and contend with the stern realities of life, I was a poor, green, uncultured, bashful, and unpolished creature. Had I mixed more with my fellows, and especially with the other sex, I verily believe I should have been much otherwise; and it is to guide you aright in such like matters that I remove the veil which has been over my early life, and hold up to your gaze my follies and errors.

I believe a bashful man commits more ludicrous and painful blunders than any other man; indeed, I never hear a bashful man's acts detailed, either in poetry or prose, but I believe them all, for I was myself guilty of many, and would have been of all of them had circumstances been favourable thereto. I will make confession of one. Soon after I came to Liverpool, I met one of my old female acquaintances in Whitechapel. Had I seen her in time I believe I should have evaded the meeting; but she was the first to recognize. She told me she had taken a situation in an extensive millinery establishment; and, before we parted, she modestly asked me if I would kindly call upon her the next Sabbath evening and take her to our chapel in Maguire-street, as she wished for once to go there. Forgetting in my flutter the task such an act would inflict, I at once consented; but reflection afterwards brought the perspiration on to my brow. However, at five o'clock, p.m., the following Sunday, I was at the private door of the establishment where my young female friend resided. I tried to assume a show of off-handed boldness, but I felt it to sit very awkwardly upon me. In a few moments I was vis-a-vis with my friend, who shewed me into a small parlour, where she desired me to remain until she was ready. A large looking-glass was before me, which revealed a young man with a remarkably red face, which was increased by the advent of another young lady. Indeed in the course of a very few minutes which elapsed between my entrance and departure, no fewer than six young ladies entered the parlour where I was, and after rumaging for a few moments in a Of course cupboard, crossed the floor and departed by way of a door near me. I was not so green as not to know that each wanted to have a look at their shopmate's "young man." Well, I stood the quizzing well enough; but was glad when I was once more in the street. There, alas! another and heavier trial awaited me; what was I to do with my charge? To offer her my arm would have entailed upon me the necessity of appearing in crowded streets with a young lady; this I really had not courage to do, so we walked side by side, keeping company as best we could, till we got to Maguire-street. There again I added to my ill-manners; I had not courage to convey my friend to a seat, but rushing to the singers'-pew, where I sat, I left the insulted and ill-used girl to shift for herself. Doubtless she felt that she had had plenty of illtreatment for once; for when I looked for her, at the close of the service, she had gone; I never saw her again; and it is perhaps well that such was the case, as neither of us could have felt very happy in each others society.

Oh! Harry! Harry! what a poor, miserable, backward, inconsistent youth thou wast to be sure! To act so like a child, who is always more ashamed to do what is right, than that which brings disgrace and punishment! I have often been surprised to see children stand to be whipped rather than say, "Thank you," at the bidding of the parent, when a small present has been I have been afraid to do the right thing, given it. Thus it has been with me. as in the instance narrated, while wrong-doing was ever boldly performed.

And I shall not be far wrong if I say, that many who read these humbling confessions, and may be ready to laugh at my weaknesses, would not blush to tell a lie, while their faces would suddenly become crimson if caught on their knees in prayer, and feel it to be a heavy cross to join in singing God's praises in the streets. I am in many respects a great puzzle to myself. Intercourse with the world, and a free mixing with society, have greatly improved me; but when I call to mind the circumstances which I have now for the time made known, it is well I am not near a stone wall, or I might be tempted to knock my head against it. Weaknesses of this sort, encouraged by habit, are difficult to overcome; yet, assisted by grace, we can overcome them, as well as all tendencies to wrong-doing. We must, however, seek grace in the appointed way; and as social religion, meeting and speaking often one to another, as in the classmeeting, is a path in that way, if we persistently walk therein, it will wonderfully help all bashful persons to outgrow the infirmity.

ABSALOM; OR, THE REBELLIOUS YOUNG MAN.

THE name of Absalom is intimately associated with the troubles of David's closing years. His unfilial conduct, and ultimely and miserable end, gave rise in part to those touching last words of the Psalmist which have afforded so much work for commentators, but which are generally supposed-and we believe rightly to refer to the disorderly and unhappy condition of his household during the last years of his life: "Although my house be not so with God, yet He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure; for this is all my salvation, and all my desire, although He make it not to grow."

Without excusing the rebellion of Absalom, it is easy to trace a connectiondifficult indeed not to trace a connection-between some of the father's acts and the unfilial conduct of the son and his awfully tragic end; a connection as natural and close almost as that between cause and effect; but in which, nevertheless, a Divine Nemesis is seen to be working, bringing on David some of the consequences of his transgression, and illustrating the proverb, "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge."

The self-indulgence which characterized David's later years could not fail to exert a most pernicious influence on such of his family as were then growing up into manhood. The temptations which assail those who stand on the steps of a throne-great enough at all times, owing to the flattery they receive, and the means of self-gratification with which they are supplied, and especially where the lust for irresponsible power is fostered by daily contact with him by whom it is exercised, and by the thought that one day it may descend into their own hands-were aggravated in the case of David's family by his own misdeeds. Not only had the sweet singer of Israel, whose words have come down through the ages as furnishing the best expression which has yet been found for some of the deepest and holiest feelings of the human soul-the man whose early life was so characterized by lofty heroic qualities, by chivalry and

courage and devotion, that he was appointed to the kingdom as the man after God's own heart—not only had he given way to the sensuality which made his palace little better than the harem of any other eastern monarch; he had taken advantage of the power with which God had invested him to gratify his lusts by involving himself in the double guilt of adultery ard murder. Such facts suggest far more than can be described as to the influence of his life, especially on a youth of impulsive, passionate nature, and strong, healthy physique, such as Absalom appears to have been. The spectacle of lawless power thus gratifying itself, without regard to the right or even the life of others, was of itself likely to beget or foster, in such a youth, a lawless and reckless ambition, which, if unrebuked, would naturally reach its climax in the rebellion which terminated so fatally for him, and with such wounds to his father's natural affection as must have embittered the remainder of his life. And in Absolom's case there was another pernicious influence exerted by the fact that in the son of the woman who by the crimes mentioned had become David's wife, he saw one who, though younger than himself, his father designed to place on the throne, to which, as the elder, he had a prior claim, and for which, at an earlier period of his life, he probably had reason to consider himself destined. This, of course, could not fail to have a most irritating and provocative effect on an ambitious nature like his, and we may well believe that it helped materially to lay the train from which the rebellion sprang.

Added to this, there was the father's weak and dilatory conduct in the matter of Amnon and Tamar, Absalom's beautiful and beloved sister—a sign of the moral deterioration which David's sins had wrought in his own character. The remembrance of his own guilt must surely have had a paralyzing effect on the old king, unstringing his moral nature when he could suffer his fair daughter to be defiled without bringing the offending son to punishment; and while neglec ting his own duty, could yet, though he was aware of Absolom's just indignation, and dreaded its consequences, take no proper precaution to prevent his coming in contact with, and taking vengeance on, his brother. Such pusillanimity on his part was fitted to destroy what filial affection and respect Absalom may still have continued to cherish. Nor would his feelings be in any way improved when, having, after two years waiting his opportunity, terribly avenged his sister's wrong, his father banished him from the court and the city, and, though his affection for him was still most ardent, gave him no sign of its existence, but on his return, through the intercession of others, issued the stern command which seemed little better than a prolongation of his exile, "Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see my face." In this treatment of his son, whose revenge would have been rendered unnecessary, had he faithfully done his own duty, David shows something of the harshness in which weakness is apt to indulge when conscious of wrong in himself.

In all this we may see how much there was in David's conduct to foster unfilial feelings in a proud and sensitive nature; nor, as we observe how much of what he did may be traced to his own sad fall, can we help concluding that God, through the effects of his sin on himself, was making it work out by the instrumentality of others, its own proper, and, though severe, salutary punishment. The very circumstances which rendered the rebellion possible may be traced to the same moral cause. Is it not an indication of David's self-indulgence, and of the extent to which he yielded himself up to the pleasures of his harem