JOSEPH AND ISAAC MILNER.

ABOUT the middle of the last century there resided near Leeds, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, a poor weaver with an aged wife and two sons, named respectively Joseph and Isaac Milner. While these boys were young the father died, leaving them and their mother without any means of support, and the poor widow was too infirm to do anything towards the maintenance of herself and her sons. Instead of sitting down in helpless idleness, or depending on the charity of the benevolent, the two boys, who had learnt something of their father's business, determined to endeavour, by their industry, to keep themselves and their mother. They were constantly at their spinning-wheels, by daybreak in the summer time, and in the winter rose by candlelight to pursue their toil. No doubt it was a great comfort to them to maintain their poor widowed mother. Yet many lads would have tired of the long hours passed in the tedious employment of spinning; and might have been tempted sometimes to be idle, not so Joseph and Isaac; they persevered with untiring diligence, and kept themselves and their mother in credit and respectability.

Several neighbours watched these boys with surprise and admiration, and noticed that they never associated with other young persons of the place in any youthful sports; and that whenever a holiday came they employed themselves in the perusal of useful books which they either possessed or borrowed. Such habits of industry, such kind attention to their mother, such a love of study, and such complete sobriety as they practised, made them the subject of frequent conversation in the neighbourhood; and it was predicted they would do well in life.

At length the report of their good conduct and amiable character, reached the ears of some generous and opulent men in Leeds, who, after suitable inquiry, set a subscription on foot to give one of them a liberal education, and selected the eldest, Joseph, who was accordingly sent to the grammar-school at Leeds. Now, while this was a great blessing in itself, it might have created considerable discontent and jealousy between the brothers. Both were equally fond of reading, and had the younger been jealous or selfish, he might have felt disappointed at being left behind, and grown discontented with his life of toil. Instead of this he greatly rejoiced in Joseph's success, and only worked more diligently than ever at his spinning-wheel, to make up his brother's lack of service to support his mother, and strove by every means in his power to become a still greater comfort to her.

Joseph's conduct was just as amiable. He resolved to make Isaac a full sharer in his success, and every night the two brothers might be seen affectionately seated together in their mother's humble dwelling, Joseph teaching Isaac the lessons he had learned that day at school. The blessing of the Father of the fatherless was on the lads. Joseph's progress greatly pleased his patrons, and Isaac learned with such eagerness at second-hand that his attainments in the classics were quite equal to the other's. Thus pleasantly did three years pass away, when a trial greater than the brothers had ever known, came upon them. Joseph, having finished the usual course at the grammar-school, was sent to college, and Isaac was thus deprived of his teacher and his friend, and almost shut out from the hope of making any progress in his studies. At the same time he was bound apprentice to a weaver, and thus placed apparently in very much

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less advantageous circumstances than had fallen to his brother's lot. No murmuring, however, was heard. Joseph went to college, and Isaac set off as gaily to his weaving, rightly judging that his way to honour was to fulfil at once his present duty, improve all his leisure hours, and leave the rest with God. He began by making some original compositions in prose and poetry, and found that by keeping his mind constantly employed on some useful subject of thought, he secured his real enjoyment. Every moment of spare time was well husbanded; and every week saw some little addition to his store of acquirement or thought.

Meantime Joseph advanced with yet more rapid strides. He pursued his studies with eminent success; and obtained the second classical medal at his examination; and entering the church soon after, he removed to Hull; held the curacy of Trinity church, and was chosen master of the Free Grammar-school in that town.

These successes of his brother's gave hope to Isaac, and he wrote to him, making application to him to appoint him his assistant in the school. Absence, new connections, and high attainments, had not diminished, in the least degree, the principle of fraternal affection in the heart of Joseph Milner; but with the conscientiousness which ever marked his character, he hesitated to give even his beloved brother Isaac a situation till he was assured of his fitness to fill it rightly. He accordingly wrote to a clergyman of Leeds to call and examine his brother, and if he found his attainments considerable and genius promising, to send him immediately to Hull. The clergyman did so, and found young Isaac, who was then about nineteen years of age, busy at his loom, with a Tacitus lying at his side. The examination was a rigid one, but brought out his full competency to take the wished for post; and he was forthwith taken from his humble employment as a weaver, and sent as assistant master to the grammar-school at Hull.

Shortly after Isaac joined his brother there arose a difference of opinion between them on religious subjects, but it never for one moment disturbed their harmonious affection. Each loved the other as sincerely as if they were agreed,. and left him, as he should, to his own Master to be the judge.

Their after course must be briefly sketched. Joseph speedily became a very ardent, devoted Christian, on Evangelical principles, and a fearless and animated preacher of the gospel. His irreproachable conduct and serious manners made a deep impression on his hearers, and won to him the reverence of all that knew him. For more than thirty years he maintained this life of holiness and usefulness, and left behind him several monuments of his great labours in written works, the chief of which is his History of the Church.

Isaac never rose to the same eminence of piety as Joseph, but bore an irreproachable character, and became a distinguished man. During his residence at Hull he became a complete classic and a very skilful mathematician. From Hull he went to Queen's College, Cambridge, where he entered as a sizer and obtained distinguished honours, being considered one of the first mathematicians of that seat of learning. He was also an eminent chemist, and had great skill in mechanics. The habits of industry he had acquired in his youth never left him; and, though often an invalid, he was never unemployed. He became Lucasian professor of Mathematics at Cambridge, and Dean of Carlisle. communicated many valuable papers to the Royal Society on various subjects of Natural Philosophy, and was elected a member of that learned body. He became the friend and companion of the celebrated Wilberforce at the university,

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and secured to himself, both there and afterwards, the respect of many good and distinguished men. He survived his brother Joseph many years, edited his works, and ever showed the tenderest affection for him.

No change of circumstance, and no lapse of time, ever affected the love of these two brothers. Through life they were as one, and in death were undivided. They present, perhaps, one of the most lovely models of filial and fraternal affection we possess. Many have striven with poverty, multitudes have risen to distinction, or attained great learning amidst the greatest disadvantages; but, as dutiful sons and affectionate brothers, the Milners stand unsurpassed.

THE TWO DAUGHTERS.

A GENTLEMAN residing in the western part of New York, a few years since, had sent two of his daughters to Lichfield for an education. While they were there, God was pleased to bless the place with a revival of religion. The news of it reached the ears of their father. He was much troubled for his daughters, apprehensive (to use his own words) that their minds would be affected, and they be frightened into religion. He had been informed that the Spirit of God was striving with them, and that they were enquiring with deep solicitude, the way of eternal life. Alive-as he thought-to their happiness, and determined to allay their fears, and quiet their distresses, he sent a friend to Lichfield, with positive orders to bring them immediately home, that they might not be lost to all happiness and hope, and consigned to gloom and despondency. The messenger departed on this errand of their father's love. He arrived, but was too late. God had baptized them both with his Spirit, and adopted them into his family. They had chosen Christ for their portion, and had resolved that, whatever others might do, they would serve the Lord. They returned to their father's -not overwhelmed (as he expected) with gloom and despondency; but with hearts glowing with gratitude to God, and countenances beaming with a heavenly serenity and celestial hope. They told their father what the Lord had done for their souls. Some time after their return home, they were anxious to establish family worship. They affectionately requested their father to commence that duty. He replied, that he saw no use in it. He had lived very well more than fifty years without prayer, and he could not be burdened with it now. They then asked permission to pray with the family themselves. Not thinking they would have confidence to do it, he assented to the proposal. The duties of the day being ended, and the hour for retiring to rest having arrived, the sisters drew forward the stand, and placed on it the bible; one read a chapter-they both kneeled the other engaged in prayer. The father stood; and while the humble, fervent prayer of his daughter was ascending on devotion's wing to heaven, his knees began to tremble; his nerves, which had been gathering strength for half a century, could no longer support him; he also kneeled, and then became prostrate on the floor. God heard their prayer, and directed their father's weeping eyes (which had never shed tears of penitence before) to the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.

SOLEMN CAUTIONS.-Worldly morality will furnish a passage to hell, as surely as gross immorality. There is but one way into heaven, and the soul that seeks to climb over some other way will assuredly meet with eternal disappointment. Neglect the one thing needful, and you are on the way to destruction; though, indeed, it be not a way of high-handed wickedness, it is in some other way which will as certainly lead thither as that.

MERCENARY LOVE.-EUSTACE AND LUCY

At length, she heard a footstep on the grass,
And saw a shadow o'er the threshold pass,
She raised her eyes-what could there be to chase
The smile of gladness from her lover's face?
Yet so it seemed; but he began to speak,

And she looked down to hide her blushing cheek.

"Lucy, I know not how to act a part,

Grieved, disappointed, you shall know my heart;
I told your father of our plighted love,
And much he seemed our union to approve,
Called you, as oft he does, his favourite child,
And while he sighed to part with you, still smiled,
To think a home-a surer home he said,
Than he could offer, soon would shield your head:
I know not why, but something struck my mind
Strange in his manner, though it seemed so kind;
At length the truth was told-would you believe
Your father can no marriage portion give!"
"And is that all?" said Lucy. "Heed it not,
We can be happy in the poorest cot."
"Poetic visions, Lucy, charm not me,
Have I not lived such happiness to see?"

"Then what remains ?"-she asked with timid voice,
"Can we not wait, or has your heart a choice ?"
"Yes, we could wait if their was ought to cheer,
Or brighter prospects for the coming year."
"Then what remains?" asked Lucy once again,
Her pale lips quivering with a thrill of pain.
"I scarcely know," said Eustace, "but I think
"Twere madness thus to venture on the brink
Of hopeless poverty, with no pretence
But creature-love for tempting Providence.
You know my yearly stipend is but small.”
He should have seen her turning to the wall
As if the stones could pity; and the blush
That grew upon her face, the burning gush
Of woman's feelings o'er her brow and cheek,
And flashing eye that used to be so meek.
It passed-and never marble looked more pale
Than Lucy, while she listened to his tale.

He marked her not; his eye was cold and clear,
Fixed on a bed of withering roses there;

He marked her not, for different thoughts possessed
His anxious mind, and laboured in his breast.
At length he spoke-

"The more I view the case,
The more I see that misery and disgrace
Await our union; yet it seems not well
That our decision I alone should tell."

Lucy looked up, she did not quite perceive
His real meaning, or could not believe.

At length, however, it was made more clear;
She heard-and understood-and shed no tear.
He took her hand, she drew it not away,
'Twas cold as marble, and she let it stay.
"You comprehend my meaning?"

"Yes, I do."

"I thought you must, for all I say is true.
And I am pleased we can so well agree,
It makes the trial easier far to me;
And you will say it was your own desire,
Not mine, that our engagement should expire."
"I will."

"Farewell, then, Lucy, ever dear,
I'm glad your judgment is so cool and clear;
True, I can ne'er be happy as with you,
But something to my station still is due,
And I, to give that office more respect,
A portion with my partner must expect."
"Enough," said Lucy, "I can understand,"
And coldly she withdrew her captive hand.
"Farewell," he said, and left her standing there,
Like some mute sculptured image of despair.

An Extract from the "Sons of the Soil," by Mrs. ELLIS.

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