tempt, have united to beat it down -like the lark so beautifully described by Jeremy Taylor, boldly essaying its heavenward flight in spite of tempest and storm. The young aspirant is not always very definite in his aims. Sometimes, indeed, the bent of genius is too manifest to be overlooked; Benjamin West will be a painter, though no better brushes are to be had than the hairs growing on pussy's tail; and George Frederick Handel must strum on a harpsichord in a remote garret by night if music is interdicted by day. But oftener there is simply the determination to risethe desire for eminence and distinction, without any precise idea of the form which that eminence shall hereafter assume. Still purer are the aims of those who are impelled by the thirst for knowledge, the desire to gain learning for its own sake, and without reference to fame or outward position. Of such a one I have now to speak to the readers of the Bible Class and Youth's Magazine. A goodly company it is; an audience new, and yet not new. To some these pages are as the face of an old friend; to others they are less familiar than those of the honoured Youth's, so lately passed from the ranks of literature; but to none, I trust, will they prove unwelcome or unattractive.

It needs some little amount of reading and inquiry in order to form even a partial conception of the revolution which has been made in our social and national life by the introduction of railways. We know little enough of our own land even now; but what must it have been

in the days when, in place of a network of iron tramways, along which we are whirled with the swiftness of the winds, England was intersected by roads and lanes so execrably bad, that after rain their very names seemed as if given them in derision ? Roads! paths! Read the introduction to Mr. Smiles's Life of Blind John Metcalf, and then say if our highways ought not rather to have been called Sloughs of Despond! Not long ere the present century began it was seriously debated whether some of those in the west of England might not more economically be converted into canals than made into sound roads. What, then, must have been the plight of weary travellers some two hundred years before?

Along such rugged paths a lad of sixteen once wended his way, -his starting-point in Devonshire, his destination the classic city of Oxford. Who was he? and why did he attempt so long and perilous journey?

a

JOHN PRIDEAUX was the fourth son in a family of twelve; and his parents, although not poor, found that food and clothing for so many left little enough to pay for education. I conclude, therefore, that the young people were trained in habits of frugality, industry, and self-reliance, at least, if the subject of this brief sketch may be taken as a sample. Having learnt to read and write, and possessing, moreover, a good voice, John, while yet a mere lad, heard of what seemed to him

been declared vacant. John Prideaux eagerly came forward as a candidate; and the good folks very fairly decided that he and a rival competitor should exhibit their abilities at the desk of the church on an appointed day. The trial was made, but to the young aspirant's grief and disappointment his opponent was chosen to the dignity of parish clerk of Ugborough !

What trifles determine the course of our lives! Rather say, in the course of our lives there are no trifles. The failure of this first effort was the turning-point in the youth's career. Vexed and disheartened, he found a friend and sympathizer in a worthy lady, who bade him "not lament," for "God might design him for better things" even than a parish clerkship. John was not ambitious of merely acquiring a little dignity; he was anxious to gain instruction; and his kind patroness, perceiving this wholesome tendency, furnished him with the means of continuing at school until he had learnt all that village pedagogues could impart.

Then John Prideaux, having formed the high resolve of gaining admission (if it were possible) into a college, started, doubtless with his parents' full consent-poor in purse, but brave in heart-on the long and toilsome journey to which I have already alluded. Alone and unprotected, on foot, and without credentials, as it would seem, the lad wended his way to the great seat of learning, and presented himself at the door of Exeter College, which, as being the chief resort of Devonshire gentlemen, seemed to promise most in his favour. His manners

appear to have been rendered by a kind Providence a means of promoting his wishes. He was admitted, but the position assigned him was that of scullion in the kitchen! He sought for tuition, and received pots and pans !

But John was too sensible and right-minded a youth to disdain honest employment. Though his toil was menial, books were at hand; and every leisure moment was devoted by him to study. His conduct attracted notice, and at length, in the year 1596, he was released from the employments of the kitchen and placed on the roll of poor scholars.

The path to honourable eminence was now open before him, and he promptly availed himself of the advantages which surrounded him. His untiring diligence was happily supported by a healthy frame and a retentive memory, and he made rapid progress. In three years he had taken his Bachelor's degree; in 1602 he became a Fellow of his college. Shortly afterwards he entered upon the Christian ministry, and in the year 1612 he was elected rector of the college in which he had been once content to take the humblest place.

Admired for his solid learning, beloved for his amiable and winning disposition, and revered for his unaffected piety, Dr. Prideaux was permitted to raise the prosperity of the institution over which he presided to the highest pitch. Other honours were successively imposed upon him. For twenty-seven years he was Professor of Divinity, and quitted the university only to become Bishop of the See of Worcester.

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me,

As on the threshold now I stand, And think of days and months to be,

And yet so close at hand.

Thou comest like thy first grey dawn,

While yet is seen no roseate hue, Or like the mist at early morn, The landscape hid from view.

Will that grey dawn give place to light,

To crimson streaks and rays of gold;

And will the landscape to the sight,

In colours fair unfold?

Or will thy track reveal new grief? And thou become one cloudy day, No bright to-morrow for relief

To cheer the toilsome way?

Wilt thou be like the past old year?

How noiselessly it glided by,

It brought a smile, it brought a tear,

And woke the heartfelt sigh.

It brought me blessings fair and bright,

But evanescent in their birth, They came, then flitted out of sight, Transient, like things of earth.

The wounds that can not here be

healed;

The sunbeams fair, the shadows deep,

Thank God! are all concealed.

Oh for that childlike faith which clings

And cries, Jehovah is my choice, Beneath the shadow of His wings I therefore must rejoice.

Has He not ever been my aid? My guard from danger and from ill;

It is not well to be afraid,

Better to trust Him still. No leaf floats softly to the ground, Unnoticed where it faded lies, The little birds that chirp around Have all their destinies.

Each wintry blast, each whispered breath,

The years and seasons as they roll, And joy and grief, and life and death,

Are under his control.

Then shall not man commit his way To Him who ruleth all things right,

Till earthly visions pass away,
And melt in endless light."
GRACE.

WE are at length able to inform our readers of the decision of the adjudicators respecting the Prize Essays on the "Life of Elisha," and on "Rational Recreations." Not only has

the number of manuscripts been considerable, but several have been so nearly equal in merit as to need very careful examination. The result is as follows: