benefit to the sailor, yet, about six months after, two of our fellow passengers joined Dr. Payson's church, dating their conviction of sin from these very circumstances, and hearing of me in Portland, sent for me to their house to relate the fact. But the sailor-the sailor and his pious mother's grief at the profanity of her son, and he, aware of the pangs of that pious heart, created, too, by his wickedness! Is this the only sailor who has a pious mother! Is he the only one that ever grieved such a mother? Is he the only one that ever felt sensible of the wound made in her heart? No, there are many, I fear, and strewed along the coast, throughout its length and breadth, and scattered over the ocean almost as the stars of the sky for multitude. Look them up, ye mariner's chaplains-ye benevolent men, too, who constitute the mariner's society-ye landlords and merchants—ye landsmen, who sail in the packets-look them up from among the profane and the profligate, from merchant ships and the navy. Yes, ye men of wealth, look them up, by proxy; "make to yourselves friends of (or with) the mammon of unrighteousness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations."

An honest Lawyer's Fee.

It is now five years since the widow Stiles called on me, one morning before breakfast and asked me to recommend her to some lawyer, as she thought her friend Stubbs was less correct than he might be. I asked her to step into the parlor, and went myself to my breakfast, and to my wife, whose advice I always asked on such points. We had known Mrs. Jared Stiles many years. Her husband was a great land owner in a goodly town of the western country, and with a disinterested love that deserved some better aim, ever pressed it on his helpmate, as the first rule of life, to get all she could, and keep ali she got. He died, and Mrs. Stiles became more religious and almsgiving, but also more and more fond of wealth, and sensible of the admirable advice which her hushand had given her.

I stated the fact to my wife, and awaited her opinion.

"Well, William," said she, after drinking a cup of coffee upon my story, "I fear the old lady has some money. getting claim in view; you know she has of late given all her affections to getting more wealth. I would therefore recommend her to the most honest and conscientious lawyer in town, and not to the most acute and thorough one, She relies on your judgment; use it: not for her seeming but her real good."

I counted my legal acquaintance over-twice overbefore I hit on one answering to the terms, "honest and conscientious," in the sense in which I knew Ellen used them. At length I found him, and taking my hat, walked with the widow to his office.

We found Mr. Sawyer at his desk; he arose and gave us chairs, and awaited Mrs. Stiles' statement. But before I go on in this point, let me say a few words of this phenomenon-this man with his head under his left arm, close to his heart-this honest lawyer, in the broadest, highest sense of the term. He was a man of thirty-five; he had studied law because he liked the study, and began the practice because he had to get a living; and now he continued in the profession, in spite of bad opponents, and bad courts, because he thought he had done, and might yet do much good by his labors; not alone by saving the innocent and needy from the strong and cruel; but preventing strife, putting a stop to half knavish practices, and dissuading men and women from unjust suits, and passion rousing quarrels. Mr. Sawyer thought it not only proper for him to refuse acting for those whose claims he thought dishonest, but he counted it also a duty and privilege, nay, a mere Christian charity, to strive to persuade them to forget such claims. He sought fame and extensive practice as means whereby to exert a moral influence over the community. He thought a lawyer bound to serve, not his client only, but God and country; and looked on him, who for gain would prosecute a suit which he thought unfair, as a traitor to his country and his religion, in act, whatever he might be in intention. In short as Bill Blunt once said, "Sawyer was such a fool as to think it an attorney's business to help the parson make men good Christians."

And now we shall let Mrs. Stiles state her business.

It seems that her husband had sold and conveyed several lots, which her father had left in trust for her, and in such a form that she, meaning to release her fee in the lots, had in term, merely released right of dower. These lots sha understood she could get back

"Did you receive the money for them ?" said Mr. Sawyer.

"Certainly, Sir."

"Was it a fair, full price for the land?" "It was all we asked, sir."

"Did you sign the deed willingly?"

"Of course; do you think Jared would have driven me to do it?"

"Did you mean to convey a full title in fee, Mrs. Stiles ?"

"Beyond doubt; but as we didn't, they tell me the land never passed."

"Suppose, Mrs. Stiles, the money had been paid before you had drawn the deed, should you have thought it honest, after getting the money to refuse to give the deed ?"

"Why, lawyer, that would have been theiving right down."

"Well, Mrs. Stiles, you have not yet given the deed, shall I draw one for you to sign ?"

"Why, bless your soul, Sawyer, that is the deed you have got in your hand."

"Mrs. Stiles, if you had given the man, when he paid you money for the lots, a sheet of blank paper, and he had not looked at it, would that have been a deed ?" "Of course not."

"But you meant to give a full title in fee?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is not such a title any more than a sheet of blank paper; you have not yet given the deed. Shall I draw a quit claim deed for you to sign?"

Mrs. Stiles looked at me, and looked at the window; looked very much puzzled, and somewhat abashed. At last she said. "But don't the law say the land's mine 'squire ?"

"We can't tell that," said Mr. Sawyer, "till the case is tried. First let us get things straight, and have the bar

gain complete; and then, if you please, we will go to law about it."

The widow was fairly caught in a corner. At length, with a gasp, she asked how much he would ask for a quit claim deed; this charge, the attorney told her, the other party would willingly pay, he had no doubt, and taking down a blank proceeded to fill it. Before we left, the bargain was complete; the deed was signed, witnessed, and acknowledged.

"And pray," said the widow, as we walked home, "what sort of a lawyer do you call this man? I verily believe he has cheated me out of all them lots! I have a great mind to go back and tear that deed all to flinders."

1 assured her that not only was it too late, but that she had done the proper thing under the circumstances, and advised her in future to employ no one but Mr. Sawyer. Much to my surprise, she took my advice, and thenceforth that gentleman was her solicitor and counselor.

Last week the widow Stiles died, leaving me her executor. After the funeral we opened her will, and found it, to our astonishment, in her own hand writing:

"Know ye all," it began, "that whereas I'm going to give something to my attorney. I write this myself; that is, I, Jane, relict of Jared Stiles, being of sound mind and body,-Know all men, that whereas said attorney, to wit, videlicet James Sawyer, of this said town that I'm of, namely, the town of Jackson, whereas I say, first led me to see the folly of giving my old age to the heaping up of filthy lucre, and caused me to turn aside from a course that was, as I have seen, wholly wrong, for which be he blessed in this life and forever. Therefore, know ye, that as a small token of respect and love, for said attorney, to wit, namely, James Sawyer, who has of late, been unfortunate, and much distressed in worldly matters, I do hereby, by these presents, give, bequeath, will, transfer, make over, and pass unto the aforesaid Sawyer, every cent I've got in the world; goods, chattels, land, money, books, dress and jewels, for his and his heirs' good; leaving it to him to give to my several friends such articles as are marked with their names.

Witness my hand and seal, November 20th., 1836. JANE STILES

Knowing, as I did, Mr. Sawyer's troubles in these hard times, I shook his hand most joyfully.

"It is a fee, my friend," said he, "that I must thank you for."

"She must leave $50,000," I replied.

"I was thinking," answered he, "not of the money, but the change of life and heart; that is the fee I

prize."

Danger of Keeping Bad Company.

THE danger of keeping bad company arises principally from our aptness to imitate and catch the manners and sentiments of others. In our earliest youth, the contagion of manner is observable; in the boy, yet incapable of having any learning instilled into him, we easily discover from his first actions, and rude attempt at language, the kind of persons with whom he has associated; we see the early spring of education or the first wild shots of rusticity. As he enters farther into life, his behavior and conversation take their caste from the company he keeps.

Manners and behavior are not more easily caught than opinions and principles. In childhood and in youth, we naturally adopt the sentiments of those about us. As we advance in life, how few think for ourselves; how many of us are satisfied with taking our opinions at second hand!

The great power of custom forms another argument against keeping bad company. However shocked we may be at the approach of vice, the shocking appearance vanishes upon an intimacy therewith; custom renders the most disgusting objects familiar to our view. Indeed, this is a kind of provision of nature, to render labor and danger, which are the lot of man, more easy to him. The raw soldier, who trembles at the first encounter, becomes fearless in a few campaigns. Habit renders danger familiar.

But habit, which is intended for our good, may, like other kinds of appointments of nature, be converted into mischief. The well-disposed youth, entering first into bad company, is shocked at what he sees, and what he