AFTERNOON AT CAMBRIDGE.

ELM GROVE, 4TH MONTH, 8TH, 1831.

MY DEAR J. H.,

I suppose thou hast observed the motto on my titlepage, and I trust thou hast found no difficulty in translating it," SERVING THE TIME." The more commonly received text is rendered "Serving the Lord," but there is a preponderating authority of ancient manuscripts and versions in favor of the words of my motto; and while the whole Scripture is calculated to impress upon us the primary duty of serving the LORD, we may be content to derive from this particular passage a very useful though subordinate lesson. What is that lesson? It is that we should be always on the watch to make a good use of our time. As the servant who waits well on his master, is ever on the qui vive to know what will next be wanted, so are we to wait on the hours, and even on the moments of each passing day, to know what duties they

point out to us, or what employments they suggest for the improvement of our minds. There is nothing more astonishing, or more calculated to impress us with the glorious, incomprehensible nature of God, than the infinite magnitude and minuteness of nature. The wonders developed to us by the telescope, are matched by those which the microscope reveals,—and powerful as these instruments are become through the devices of modern science, they each leave unperceived an infinity of marvels into which man cannot dive. Something after the same sort may be observed as it relates to time. Philosophers are sometimes heard to speak not only of the eternal courses of ages and centuries, but of the endless divisibility of moments; and the best of all Philosophy teaches us, that with God " a thousand years are as one day"—and also, that " one day" is as a thousand years." How watchful and diligent then ought we to be in applying even the shortest spaces of time to their right use! I do not mean to infer that we are always to be on the strain; far from it. We do not serve a hard Master. I mean only, that while we tread the course of life with a step at once steady and easy, we should never degenerate into indolence: but be quick to seize every passing opportunity, both for doing good to others, and for the cultivation of our own minds. We should, in this respect, endeavor to form the habit of vigilance; and such a habit will be sure to yield us an abundant return, both of pleasure and profit.

I have sometimes endeavored to apply these principles to travelling, in which a considerable proportion of the time of many persons is almost unavoidably occupied. A call of duty or business may often carry us to places at a distance from our own homes. Is the time taken up by the journey to be one of mere indolence? Is the convenience of being conveyed from one place to another to be the only profit which it shall yield? Ought we not rather to make a point on such occasions of adding to our stock of knowledge, and of useful ideas, by reading, conversation, and reflection? Is there no object of interest which may be examined by the way? Is there no person of piety or talent with whom we may find a passing opportunity of communicating? Are the motions of the coach or the chariot so rapid that we cannot leave behind us, as we pass from place to place, important instruction, in the form of Bibles, Testaments, or Tracts? Much may not be required of us-but it is well, if, on our arrival at the place of our destination, we can acknowledge that we have both received and communicated a little good in the course of our journey.

I propose to illustrate these remarks by some account of the incidents of the journey which thy dear mother and I have just been taking from Earlham to Elm Grove; not because we consider ourselves by any means so watchful over our time in travelling as we ought to be, but because it so happened that this transit from Norfolk to Wiltshire-required as it was by the calls of

affection and duty-has afforded us some unexpected opportunities both of pleasure and mental improvement. Had we not been, in some degree, on the watch for them, they might have passed by us, unnoticed and unimproved. Since, however, our route for the most part lay through an uninteresting country, I shall confine myself to some notice of an afternoon at Cambridge, and a morning at Oxford, for both these places were on our nearest road.

We left home last Third day morning before breakfast, with dear little Anna for our companion, and arrived at Cambridge-sixty-three miles-by three o'clock in the afternoon. How grateful ought we to be for well trained horses, and well made roads, which of late years have been the means of so curiously compressing distances; so that, for example, the citizen of Norwich becomes the near neighbor of the citizen of Cambridge. Ere long, steam may probably bring us into yet closer proximity !

As we drove up to the Eagle Inn, we met our dear nephew E. B., a student of Trinity college, who was our faithful companion during the remainder of the dayand G. H. afterwards joined us at dinner. After ordering dinner we sallied forth for a walk; but first sent a note to our dear friend, Charles Simeon-the well known fellow of King's college-to propose spending part of the evening with him. While we were absent from the Inn, there arrived a small characteristic note, hastily written

by him in pencil-"Yes, Yes, Yes, Come immediately, and dine with me." Simeon has the warm and eager manners of a foreigner, with an English heart beneath them. He is full of love towards all who love his Master, and a faithful sympathizing friend to those who have the privilege of sharing his more intimate affections. To all around him, whether religious or worldly, he is kind and courteous; and by this means, as well as by the weight of character, he has gradually won a popularity at Cambridge, which now seems to triumph over all prejudice and persecution. He is upwards of seventy years of age-but his eye is not dim-his joints not stiffened-his intellect not obscured. His mind, lips, eyes, and hands move along together in unison. And singularly pliable and rapid is he both in his mental and bodily movements-quick to utter what he feels, and to act what he utters. His conversation abounds in illustrations; and while all his thoughts and words run in the channel of religion, he clothes them with brightness and entertainment; and men, women, and even children are constrained to listen. It is not, however, the ear alone which he engages. While his conversation penetrates that organ, even when uttered in its lowest key-so distinct are his whispers the eye is immovably fixed on his countenance, which presents an object of vision peculiarly grotesque and versatile, and at the same time affecting. Nor are his hands unwatched by the observer, while they beat time to the ever varying emotions of his mind.