wisdom is to be found. In the medium between poverty and riches, there is the greatest safety. But this should not deter us from prosecuting, with diligence, the secular avocations of the profession in which we are engaged, or of the station which we occupy. If it please Providence to crown our labors or our skill with superfluities, it would be both folly and impiety to reject them. But, then, this enlargement of our means of usefulness, as it is accompanied with an increased responsibility, implies, also, greater danger of defect and of abuse. It ought, therefore, to place us more on the alert, causing us to be more vigilant in guarding our hearts against the temptations which multiply around us, and more assiduous in occupying the additional talents which our Divine Master has committed to our charge. Moderation in our desires is, therefore, not only a duty but a privilege. We were placed in this world, not to eat, drink, and be merry," and then to die. We have a far higher duty than to indulge our appetites. We must make it "our meat and drink to do the will of our heavenly Father." This is the chief object of the Christian's pursuit; and if we pray for an increase of our worldly store, it must not be with a view of employing it as an end, but as a means of accomplishing the important work assigned us. Another duty which this simple, but most emphatic petition, suggests to us, is, that of a continual reliance on God for every blessing. We are only taught to pray for daily bread; not for what would render us independent of the constant supplies of his bounty. To feel that we were independent of God, would be no blessing, but the very reverse. An affectionate child, sensible of his own want of knowledge and wisdom, is delighted to derive support from an intelligent and bountiful father. The parental kindness, with which it is bestowed, enhances the value of the gift; and the same feeling is excited in the heart of the Christian, in relation to his heavenly Father. But there is one thing, which may doubtless distress a child under a sense of dependence on an earthly parent. He may fear that his affectionate provider subjects himself to privation on his account; that he either toils too hard, or stints himself of some convenience or comfort, to supply his wants, or contribute to his welfare or enjoyment. This sentiment cannot enter into the consideration of the Christian in reference to God. He has an abundant store of blessings to bestow, which can never be exhausted; and He giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not. To depend on Him, therefore, is enjoyment without alloy. He invites us to ask, and withholds no good thing from the humble petitioner. He is equally able and willing to bless us, and the only limit to his bounty is our own perverseness or indifference. But, for every good thing, our heavenly Father requires that we should petition Him, because it is of importance to our moral condition. Prayer is the most becoming position, in which an intelligent creature can place himself, in regard to his Creator. A desire of being independent of God, can only arise from some improper motive. To feel accountable, is irksome to some, because they are too proud willingly to acknowledge a superior; and to others, because their inclinations are unholy and sinful, and they dread the punishment due to their disobedience. Neither of these characters like to retain God in their knowledge." They do not profess to shake off their allegiance, because they know that the attempt would be madness; yet they do what practically amounts to the same thing. They banish God from their thoughts. So far from delighting to ask the Divine blessing on their ordinary occupations, they never once reflect on his presence and superintending providence. They are, on the contrary, pleased to think, that, whatever attainments they have made, either in wealth or in mental improvement, is the result of their own ingenuity and industry. It would mortify them to give the glory to God. They may readily enough do this in words, but this is nothing more than a homage of the lips, to which the heart does not cordially assent. То It is very different with the servant of Christ. depend on God, is his glory and joy. He feels that this is the highest dignity of his nature,—his most delightful privilege. He would not be independent of God, if he could. Filial love is the cherished sentiment of his heart; and every thing acquires a new relish and deeper interest, when viewed as the gift of paternal bounty. Thus he rejoices to cast himself daily on the Divine protection, and to feel himself continually cherished in at Father's bosom, and surrounded with a Father's arms. We are told, that we must become "like little children," before we can be fit subjects of the kingdom of heaven; and, assuredly, there is no respect in which the feelings of a child are more becoming, than a sense of constant reliance on a parent's care. Look at an infant in his mother's arms. How content, how happy is he in his dependence! Delightful experience has taught him, that there is an eye watching over him for good, that there is a heart yearning for his happiness, that there is a hand which assiduously supplies his wants, and provides for his comfort, and anticipates his wishes. All this, he even feels instinctively; and he is, therefore, no where so happy as in the sunshine of his mother's smile. When she is absent, he mourns; when her fond eye meets his, he laughs for joy; on her bosom, he sinks sweetly to repose, soothed with her wellknown lullaby. He has no care, because she cares for him; in her affection, her wisdom, her power, he relies with assured confidence and tender love. To be thus dependent, is a source of the sweetest delight. This is the very sentiment which becomes a Christian, but it is exalted and refined by his own matured intelligence, and by the infinite perfections of the Divine Being on whom his dependence rests. Experience has taught him, that he is perverse and rebellious; and he the more admires that long-suffering compassion, which waits to be gracious to him. He has read, in the book of Revelation, of the wonders of redeeming love, and the whole faculties of his soul are kindled, and burst into a flame of gratitude and adoration. SIXTH WEEK-MONDAY. AGRICULTURE OF THE GREEKS.-THEIR HARVEST. BEFORE leaving the subject of human food, it seems desirable that some notice should be taken of its history, as connected with the progress of agriculture. That art by which the earth is beautified and made fruitful, and on which the sustenance of man mainly depends, must have recommended itself to the care, and called forth the pious gratitude of nations, even in their first stages of civilizaAccordingly, we find agriculture invested with a sort of sacred character, by the most renowned nations of antiquity. The Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans, regarded as a religious duty, as well as an honorable employment, that earliest and most innocent of the arts. The ancient Greeks, to whose agricultural skill I shall in this paper confine myself, made considerable progress in both the theory and practice of this art. Their agricultural literature, were it all extant, would of itself nearly fill a library. Varro mentions by name about fifty Greek writers on agriculture, among whom occur some of the brightest ornaments of ancient literature and science.* It is to be regretted that the treatises of almost all have perished; for we have doubtless lost, with these, much curious information, on the ancient history of agriculture, if not also rules and processes which might be highly useful at the present day. 6 Of these writers, the oldest, perhaps, is the poet Hesiod, whose agricultural poem, entitled the Works and Days,' has been preserved to us, though, we fear, only in a fragmentary state. It furnishes some curious information, as to the state of Greek agriculture, in early times, and presents us with some lively pictures of ancient rural * De Re Rus. lib. i. cap. i.-The authenticity of his catalogue is enhanced by his distinguishing between those whose native place was known, and those of unknown extraction; reckoning about thirty-four of the former and fifteen of the latter. manners. The Greeks, according to the Ascræan bard, ́ were in the habit of ploughing their land twice, or even thrice, before sowing it ;* once, in spring, often a second time, during the summer, and always once more, in September and October, their usual seed-time. It was a general practice, to let a field that had been cropped, lie fallow, during the following summer: sometimes, also, it was allowed to remain unsown, and exposed to the pulverizing frosts of winter. The Greeks appear to have had no instrument like our harrow; but a person followed the sower with a spade or rake, and laboriously covered up the seed.f When the operation of sowing was once over, the progress of the forth-coming crop was watched with great anxiety; and every thing was done, that experience or superstition prompted, to defend it, from disease and all external injuries. Harvest usually commenced about midsummer, or even earlier, and was completed before the vintage began. The chief reaping instrument employed, was a serrated, or teethed hook. A train of slaves, or hired laborers, each armed with his rustic implement, and under the direction of a master, or overseer, cut the stalks by the middle, and collected them into sheaves, or simply cut off the ears, and threw them into wicker, baskets. Early in the summer morning, before the burning heat of the day, the reaper train commenced their joyous labors, and ere the sun had mounted high in the heavens, the heaviest part of their day's work was done. Hesiod thus addresses the husbandman, when harvest-time is come: "Whet the keen sickle, hasten every swain, From shady booths, from morning sleep refrain ; * Pliny the younger, in one of his letters, states, that stubborn soils were sometimes ploughed as often as nine times, before they were thought sufficiently subdued to receive the seed. But the imperfection of the ancient implements, may partly account for this necessity. † Hesiod Op. et Dies, 471, &c. Ibid. 573-575, Elton's trans. |