When my conscience is oppressed with guilt, says Cappee in one of his sermons, when I am alarmed with the apprehensions of a future reckoning, what is the world to me? What comfort or what hope can it administer? When my conscience bears testimony to my integrity and virtue—when my hopes of future recompense are just and lively—what is the world to me? What want I of its consolations? When my heart is torn with grief, or oppressed with melancholy—when my limbs are racked with pain, and my body languishing in sickness, what is the world to me? That my habitation is splendid, my dependents not a few, and my treasure not a little, does this afford me any mitigation of my anguish? When the period of life has overtaken me, and the messenger of death has read me the summons of my departure out of it—what is the world to me? Anticipate the solemn moment—it may be with you ere long. Place yourself on the verge of time! Imagine that your course is finished, your glass is run, and from the margin of eternity look at the approaching and the receding world. How vast, how sudden, how inexpressible a change in your conceptions and affections!—Buffalo Advocate.