IV. We should not make a friend of one who is without reverence for what we deem sacred and have been taught to deem sacred.--The want of "reverence for that which is above us" is one of the most serious defects in man or woman. We should be as slow to admit one to our friendship who has this defect as we would be if we knew he had entered into a church and stolen the vessels of the sanctuary. We should consort only with those who honor the sacred name we bear, and treat it with reverence. We should especially beware of admitting to intimacy the sceptic and infidel. There are those who have drifted away from the faith of Christ, and to whom God and eternity are mere names. Such are deserving of our most profound pity and sorrow, and we should do all in our power to lead them back to the Father's house from which they have wandered. But we should never make them our friends. We cannot dwell in an ill-ventilated and ill-drained house without running the risk of having our own constitution lowered. We cannot associate in close companionship with the infidel and the sceptic without endangering our own spiritual life. Doubt is as catching as disease. "Take my word for it," said the great Sir Robert Peel, who was a close observer of men, "it is not prudent, as a rule, to trust yourself to any man who tells you he does not believe in God, and in a future life after death." We should choose our friends from those who have chosen the better part, and day by day we shall feel the benefit of their companionship in making us stronger and better. These are some plain rules drawn from long experience of life which may be helpful to some. We may conclude by quoting the noble lines of Tennyson in which he draws the picture of his friend, Arthur Hallam, and the inspiration he drew from him: Thy converse drew us with delight, The men of rathe and riper years: The feeble soul, a haunt of fears, Forgot his weakness in thy sight. On thee the loyal-hearted hung, The proud was half disarm'd of pride, Nor cared the serpent at thy side To flicker with his double tongue. The stern were mild when thou wert by, The flippant put himself to school And heard thee, and the brazen fool Was soften'd, and he knew not why; While I, thy nearest, sat apart, And felt thy triumph was as mine; And loved them more, that they were thine, The graceful tact, the Christian art; Nor mine the sweetness or the skill, But mine the love that will not tire, And, born of love, the vague desire That spurs an imitative will. TENNYSON. Happy are those whose friends in some degree approach the character here delineated. [1] Stalker's _Imago Christi_. [2] Hain Friswell, _The Gentle Life_. CHAPTER V. MONEY.