But such leisure can never exist, where the care of a parish is superadded to that of a diocess.

Now, I respectfully, but earnestly entreat my brethren in this section of the Church, to dwell for a while on reflections suggested in this humble appeal to pardon the liberty I now take to engage their hearts, and devote their means to the interests of the Church-and to ask themselves what it is their duty to do, now when called upon by the authority of the diocess, to aid in providing for the support of its Bishop.

I presume the peculiar circumstances of the parish constitute the usual excuse for omitting, so very generally, a compliance with the Canon on this subject. Let it be remembered, however, that the Canon prescribes no sum. A very small collection is much more creditable to some parishes, than a much larger one to others. At all events, it shows a disposition to observe the rules of the Church; and give, even if it be only the widow's mite, into the treasury of God.

The average number of congregations in which there has been a neglect of the episcopal collections during the last three years, is more than 80. The average amount collected in each congregation out of New-York,* in which the collection was made for 1818, is a little more than $9. Take now the half of this, $4 50, as what might be expected from each of the above mentioned 80 congregations; and it appears that the fund has been each year deprived of $ 360, or $1080 in the three years, independently of the interest that would have accumulated.

Let any one acquainted with our diocess, apply similar reasoning to the whole period since the enactment of the Canon; and see what the Church has lost by the failure of parishes to give gladly even of their little. When there is a disposition to release any

By looking at the returns in the Journals, the reader will perceive that the Churches out of New-York, are not the only ones that have been deficient.

Church from its obligation to obey the Canon, let it be remembered to what unkindness in neglecting to alleviate the Bishop's burden-to what serious inconvenience to a sister parish-and to what an hinderance to the prosperity of our Church, it will be, thereby, rendered conducive.

Would the hope be presumptuous that this fund might be deemed of sufficient importance to find increase also from other sources-that in apportioning acts of liberality to pious purposes, this might not be overlooked-that it might be borne in mind, when provision is made for devoting to the encouragement of religious institutions a share of Heaven's bounty, when the proprietor shall have ceased for ever to enjoy it?

A CHURCHMAN

of the Diocess of New-York.

PRUDENCE.

Extracted from the School Fellows.

A MORAL TALE.

IT was the wish of Lady Jones to educate her daughter at home, had she not feared that the excessive fondness of Sir David would counteract her design. For eleven years Winifred had been the object of her mother's care and her father's indulgence. He was equally desirous of promoting her welfare, and thought to make her happy by granting all her desires: the surest means of endangering it, as nothing is less productive of happiness than unlimited indulgence.

Often subject to gout, which irritated his temper, Winifred was his chief amusement. If she was cross and fretful, he was likewise out of temper; and if the store of cakes and sweetmeats, kept for such occasions, did not restore her to good humour, he immediately attributed her displeasure to her mother having attempted to give her some instruction.

This was in her younger days. Whenever he saw her pouting at the book, or twisting the needle and thread round her fingers, which her mother had put into her hands,-it was his

constant remark,-"She is yet too young to learn: at a proper age these things would come of themselves." He knew better than this, but he did not like to see Winifred made uncomfortable; and she might have remained in ignorance all her life, had not her mother been careful to prevent the ill effects of such a neglect of education, by constantly remarking, that there were many children of their acquaintance who could read and write at Winifred's age-then nearly six years old." If she was accustomed to do it," rejoined Lady Jones, "such employment would soon afford her more pleasure than playing with her father's watch-chain, or the buttons on his coat."

The fact was, Sir David found no amusement in hearing Winifred's at tempt to spell, or in her making pretence to work. The gout was always worse when he was alone; and Lady Jones could not leave him long enough to pursue the plan which she wished for instructing her child.

Still her patience and perseverance did a great deal with the tractable temper of Winifred, aided by the emulation excited in her by some children in the neighbourhood, whom her father allowed her to visit, as he was generally entertained on her return by the accounts which she gave of what she had seen and heard.

At a very early age there was something in the breast of Winifred that was not satisfied without the approval of her mother. In vain Sir David laughed, as she related George Somers's awkwardness, or Mary's fits of passion, if Lady Jones did not smile also. Unconscious of the reason, she knew that her mamma was not always so well pleased at these little sallies of her childish wit.

Lady Jones had found it useless to express her displeasure before Sir David, who always made an excuse for Winifred, and was often more inclined to blame her mother in giving the reproof, than his daughter for deserving it. Silence, therefore, was the only way in which she showed it; and Winifred learnt from hence, to think more of her mother's si

lence than all her father's commendations.

When about eight years old, she began more fully to appreciate the superior kindness of her mother,―to value it above that of her too indulgent father, and the precepts of the former were engraven still deeper in her heart.

In that part of the morning which Sir David usually spent in bed, Lady Jones had, with some difficulty, prevailed on him to dispense with Winifred's company, as his man-servant, who was his chief attendant, was always in the room (except when the gentler offices of a nurse were per formed by herself.) These hours were entirely devoted to Winifred's improvement in reading, writing, and, arithmetic, who was soon greatly delighted to find that she could form a letter, and read a fable almost as well as the Somers's.

Every afternoon, when' her father went to sleep, Lady Jones taught her to work; and, after a few attempts, Winifred had to display to him, on his awaking, the side of a pocket-handker. chief, or some part of her doll's apparel, which she had hemmed. So that she could learn without his seeing her brow clouded, or that the attention which she was obliged to pay to her work did not stop her entertaining prattle, he had no objection to her doing it.

He would now have extolled his own plan of letting her alone till she was old enough, and she would learn of herself, had not Lady Jones's love of veracity, and her wish to instil it into the mind of Winifred, induced her to say that it had not been acquired without care and attention.

"Winifred will not say," added she, "that it has not cost her some trouble to learn even this; but now she feels a pleasure in useful employment, I hope she will be induced to learn more."

"Yes, indeed, papa, I thought it very hard at first," said the little girl, " and that I never should learn any thing:-you used to tell me it would make me cross, but now I like it better than playing with you."

Sir David laughed, and placing her on his knee, told her she was a good girl to speak the truth, but she might have done it with a little more civility. Winifred was surprised to see no smile on her mother's lips; convinced that she wished her to learn and to find pleasure in it, she expected her to approve of what she had said. On the contrary, she was silent, and Winifred waited with some anxiety till her hour of going to bed, as then she was generally accompanied to her chamber by her excellent mother, who, after dismissing the servant, took the opportunity of reminding her of the faults which she had committed during the day.

As soon as they were alone that evening, Winifred began: "Mamma, I think you were not pleased with me when I said I liked better to learn of you than play with papa: was that wrong?-It was the truth."

"You must learn to discriminate, my child: it is certainly right to speak the truth when you are asked a direct question; but you should be careful not to offend or hurt the feelings of another by speaking it unnecessarily. You were not asked which you preferred; therefore, you should not have risked the displeasure of your father. It, was very good of him not to be :he is often ill, and suffers much angry: pain; and if you can amuse him any part of the day, it ought to give you as much pleasure as improving your

self."

"Oh! I see it, mainma: I was wrong, for he is very good to me; but I thought to please you."

"Be assured, my dear, you will never please me by displeasing your father."

"But, then, mamma," said Winifred, turning an inquiring look towards her, as she sat by the side of the bed, ' you are not always pleased when he is. I see you look grave when he laughs; and though you do not say any thing, I know you are not pleased."

"I am glad my Winifred takes so much notice of my looks: may they continue her affectionate monitors!" said Lady Jones, tenderly kissing her.

"I will tell you when I am not pleased: it is when you make him laugh, because George Somers has thrown his knife and fork down a dozen times at dinner, and overturned the table in endeavouring to reach something beyond it; or when you are telling him of Mary's anger, how she stamps and raves if she is contradicted. I think it a pity you should make the faults of your companions a subject of mirth; the awkwardness of George proceeds from his misfortune, and is rather to be regretted than ridiculed. You know his right arm is weakened by an accident in his infancy; and as to their faults, I should be better pleased if you concealed them."

"If it is wrong, mamma, it amuses papa, and you say, I should endeavour to do that!"

"Innocently, my dear. It is not your father's disposition to receive amusement from the exposure of others, but his fondness for you sometimes makes him unmindful of your faults. It is more my province to guard you from committing wronghis to prevent you from receiving any. If George had been here this morning, when you were learning to make the letter K, and gone home, and told how awkward you were, how should you have liked it? Were he to hear how often you amuse your father at his expense, he must pronounce you very ill-natured; therefore, even to amuse him, you must not relate what would pain the feelings of another, any more than you should say to him what would hurt his."

"I understand you, mamma; and will never do it again: pray tell my dear papa that I am sorry I said what I did to him this afternoon."

"No, my dear, not unless he mentions it to me; it might remind him of a fault, which, perhaps, his affection for you has prevented his seeing,-be more careful for the future, and remember, that truth is not to be spoken at all times.””

Winifred continued to find new pleasure in improvement; but mindful of her mother's precepts, she was also happy to amuse her father. No longer pleased with being idle, she

endeavoured to improve the time which she spent with him, by asking him to hear her read.

"Can you read the newspaper to me?" said he. "No, papa, but one of my pretty stories,-do let me read it to you."

He consented, and was delighted at the pleasure which she found in understanding the tales, and which he called the quickness of her apprehension. After this, he often desired her to amuse him with a story, but it was the remarks which she made, and not the tale itself, which afforded him entertainment. If she read without making any observation, the book was dull, and soon ordered to be laid aside. Winifred saw this, and certain of approbation from her father, every thought which arose in her mind flowed from her lips. She would often have exceeded the bounds of propriety, and have thought many a foolish speech a wise one, had not her mother's admonitory looks warned her when she was wrong.

One day, after returning from a visit to her young friends, the Somers's, she expressed a wish to learn the Multiplication Table.

"That would be an endless job," said Sir David, "two or three years hence will be time enough: you will forget it again before it can be useful to you."

"No, papa; Mary Somers is not so old as I am, and she can say it very well. I learnt the first line while I was there;-only hear me. Twice two are four, twice three are six," &c. &c.

"The girl's a prodigy!" exclaimed the delighted father, "she will be a female mathematician!"

"What is quickly learnt is easily forgotten," said Lady Jones, less enraptured; but if Winifred will take pains, she may learn the hardest part of the Table, as well as the least difficult."/

attention, every thing will be easy to my Winifred."

This was true, for her capacity was good, and she possessed a retentive memory: such an expression from her mother encouraged her to improve far more than the lavish encomiums of her father.

He did not wish her to be kept in ignorance, but disliked that any part of her time should be occupied in what would draw her attention from him. He had himself received an excellent education, and, till illness increased his natural indolence, found pleasure in literary pursuits; but, latterly, Winifred had so many charms for him, her efforts to amuse him excited so much of his attention, that her conversation, the newspapers, backgammon, with now and then a visit from his friends, constituted his chief employments. Among these, however, his daughter held the principal place: except when the politics of the day were very interesting, the newspaper was laid aside as soon as she entered the room ;-the backgammon table was never resorted to till she had retired; nor did a visit from his friends afford him much pleasure, if they did not admire Winifred as much as he did.

With so fond a father, whose valetudinarian habits required domestic pleasures, it cannot be denied, that our little heroine was in great danger of being spoiled. The only child preserved out of so many, she was the dearest object of attention to both her parents, although they evinced their affection in different ways. Sir Da vid would have wished her never to be contradicted, or compelled to do what she did not like; while her mother, more attentive to her real happiness, endeavoured to convince her that it was wrong to seek only her own gratification.

"Remember, my child," said she, "that those only are truly happy who can also rejoice in the happiness of others. It cannot be in your power to make all your acquaintance happy, but to rejoice when they are so, adds to their happiness and to your own."

Diocesan Visitation. Fayetteville, (N. C.) April 22.This town has been favoured with a visit from the Right Rev. RICHARD CHANNING MOORE, D.D. Bishop of the Diocesses of Virginia and North-Carolina; and we have witnessed a series of religious services connected with the Episcopal Church, which were exexceedingly solemn, affecting and impressive.

On Saturday evening, the 17th instant, the rite of confirmation was administered to nearly sixty. On Sunday morning, St. John's Church was solemnly consecrated to the worship of Almighty God. On the afternoon of the same day, the Rev. GREGORY TOWNSEND BEDELL, M. A. was instituted as the Rector of the parish; on Monday morning, Mr. HENRY M. SHAW, A. B. one of the teachers of the Fayetteville Academy, was admitted to the Holy Order of Deacons; and on Monday evening, the Bishop delivered a discourse to a crowded auditory on the subject of the pastoral office of the Redeemer. His vale dictory was delivered with great feeling and tenderness, and if the parting prayer of the Bishop should be seconded by the pious efforts of the inhabitants, Fayetteville will have reason to thank God for his paternal

visit.

Diocess of South-Carolina.

ADDRESS OF THE CLERGY TO THE BISHOP. Charleston, Feb. 17th, 1819.

Right Reverend and Dear Sir,

As it is the first time that your Clergy have had it in their power to meet you in a body, since you have been consecrated for that high and important office, to which you were at the last meeting of the Convention elected by the unanimous suffrages of the Clergy and Laity, they em. brace the earliest opportunity of tendering you their affectionate sentiments of respect and regard, and offering you their sincere wishes for your happiness and prosperity both spiritual and temporal.

Your Clergy are convened, upon this occasion, Right Reverend and Dear Sir, under peculiarly affecting circumstances, and consequently with peculiar sensa tions. Whilst they bear in mind, and Ive to cherish in their hearts, the recol

and

lection of the talents, the virtues, and the kind services of their late much beloved, and deeply lamented Diocesan, they cannot but be thankful to the Supreme Disposer of events, that he has been pleased to supply his place with one whose talents ably for the future welfare of a bereaved past useful labours, augur so favour. and afflicted Church. They remember that you spent the vigour of your youth, and your best strength, in this state, and that the Church attained a rising character through your unwearied exertions, and the blessing of the Almighty upon them. Several of them likewise know, that even whilst at a distance you were solicitous for this child of your care, and that you took a deep interest in her prosperity: and it is no small who, from early childhood was brought addition to their gratification, that one up and educated in South-Carolina, has been found worthy to fill the important trust.

May your valuable life be spared for many years to come; and may you be endued with health and strength, and filled more and more with all the Christian virtues and graces, in order to fulfil the promise which has been made in your election and consecration.

Your Clergy, Right Reverend Sir, feel persuaded that you are fully sensible of the arduous duties, and the responsibility of your high office; and they have no doubt, but that often recalling to your mind the expression of the apostle, "who is sufficient for these things?" you, by fervent and unremitted prayer, seek the aid of him, who has promised to his Bishops to be with them "always, even unto the end of the world."

Your Clergy likewise remembering the promise of their Lord, "that if two of them shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of his Father which is in heaven," sincerely offer up their petitions at the throne of grace on your behalf.

And they furthermore pledge themselves (as they are indeed in duty bound to do) upon all occasions to judge you with that charity, which the Gospel enjoins, in conformity with their ordination vows, reverently to submit to your wise government, cordially to support you in all useful measures, and frankly to give you the aid of their advice, whenever you shall call upon them for it. An absent brother, who is unavoidably prevented from attending this Convention, the worthy Rector of St. Helena's Church, Beaufort, unites with his brethren in this pledge. In his letter, addressed to the Secretary of the Convention, he says: "I am the more concerned at this unavoidable absence, as it is the first Convention in which we shall have an opportunity of meeting our present Diocesan, and, as on that account he might