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Extravagance soon "brings the noble to ninepence," and in the far country it is not far that nine-pence will go. But there may be so mighty a famine and so great, that even the noble will not buy the loaf of bread. One of the most pitiful incidents in the history of British genius is the death of Chatterton. We by no means quote it as a case of riotous living; but it will illustrate the "want" which comes over the spirit when other resources fail, and the Father's house is far away. When a mere boy of seventeen he had passed off, in the name of an ancient English monk, poems of his own, with the archaic style so admirably simulated, and the historical allusions so adroitly managed, that for a time many clever men were taken in, and surmised no forgery. Elated by the success of this imposture, and conscious of no common powers, from Bristol he came up to London. There he promised himself a career of fame and fortune; and as he visited the theatres, and watched the grand equipages floating past, he saw in no distant vision the day when his verses should be in the mouths of men, and when the doors of the lordliest saloons would open to the poet. But the fame was slow in coming, and meanwhile the money failed. Hampered by no restraints of conscience, he made up his mind to pass himself off for a surgeon, and get appointed to a ship; but before he could carry his unprincipled scheme into execution, he found himself quite penniless. "Heaven send you the comforts of Christianity," he wrote to a correspondent; "I request them not, for I am no Christian." Bitterly boasting his disdain of Christianity, and his independence of it, he fell back on his own resources, and a fortnight after, a jury brought in a verdict of felo de se on a strange self-willed youth found dead in his little room in Brook Street, Holborn. He cared not for "the comforts of Christianity," and so when the mighty famine arose — when editors no longer cared for his effusions, and when the frauds and figments of years began to collapse — with hunger in the cupboard, and with heartless Muses staring at him so hard and stony — the trials which in a Christian bring out the mettle and make the man, in the case of poor Chatterton left no resource save arsenic and impotent anathemas on human kind. Reverting to the riotous living: not only does it exhaust the worldly substance, but by exhausting health and spirits, it destroys the power of enjoyment. Poor as are the joys of sense, it is a stupid policy which would distil into a single cup every pleasure, and in one frantic moment drain it dry. Where life and reason have survived the wild experiment, the zest of existence is gone, and waking up to a flat and colourless world, fastidious and fretful, blasted and blase, in a frequent loathing of life and a general contempt of mankind, the voluptuary carries to the grave the sins of his youth. The Most High has so constituted the mind of man that the indulgence of the malevolent affections itself is misery; and of all the paths which at life's outset invite the inexperienced traveller, the surest to pierce through with many sorrows is the path of sensual indulgence. It is a vain attempt —

"With things of earthly sort, with aught but God,

With aught but moral excellence, and truth, and love,

To fill and satisfy the immortal soul."But you are not mocked by your Maker. Those great and glorious objects exist for which He has given you an affinity, and towards which, in their most exalted intervals, the highest powers in your nature aspire. There is truth, there is goodness, there is God. There is the life of Jesus recorded in the Book; there is the spirit of God now working in the world. Ponder that life till, associated with a living Redeemer, it shines around your path a purifying protecting presence. And pray for that spirit, till under His kindly teaching you "taste and see that the Lord is good" — till expanded affections find an infinite object — till He who has thus strengthened your heart is become your portion for ever.

(James Hamilton, D. D.)

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KJV: And he said, A certain man had two sons:

WEB: He said, "A certain man had two sons.