66 brought the case under our notice, had been plying well in his holy vocation. Good seed had been sown by him. Upon entering their lowly dwelling, looks, more pregnant in meaning than words, affirmed the truth of the sacred proverb, Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith." We state it as an ascertained fact respecting this family, that morning after morning the song of praise and voice of prayer ascended from their family altar, and, while expressing gra titude and thanksgiving for the promise of a better portion, if temporal mercies were withheld, their only trust seemed to be-" God will provide." Often, as we well know, after a solemn scene like this, have the devoted father and mother risen from their bended knees to listen to the piteous cry of their hungry little ones for that food which it was not in their power to give them. This is no exaggerated picture, but unvarnished reality. And God did provide for them! The good missionary was not slow in bringing these and other interesting facts under the notice of benevolent Christians, who liberally administered seasonable and effectual relief; and, now, while our belly-God acquaintance, having, by over-draughts, exhausted human sympathy, is wandering about an outcast and a vagabond, our Christian family friends (for who would blush to own friendship with such ?) have got on in the world, by little and little, guided by pure religion, and the exercise of its duties as their polar star; and they can now experimentally assent to the truth, that God "hath given meat to them that fear him," and that "he will ever be mindful of his covenant." Now, the foregoing simple narration of facts is but one of many thousands, all showing the value of CITY MISSIONS in promoting the spiritual and temporal welfare of human kind; and that man's temporal good is best obtained when it is sought for under the influence of Christian feelings and desires. The missionary who succeeds in implanting these, benefits society at large, through the person of the poor man, much more effec tually than by ostentatious gift of silver and gold. "Pure religion and undefiled" is the most sterling of all coins, and not only is it so in itself, but because it produces all other sterling coin. We say then to the City Missionary, "Go FORWARD." You have a good cause in hand; and, whatever may be the verdict of this world's slaves and votaries, a mightier than they will assuredly record a judgment in your favour. ECCLESIASTICAL INTELLIGENCE. Whitehall, April 10.-The Queen has been pleased to present the Rev. Hugh Mackenzie to the charge and office of third minister of the united parish of Inverness and Bona, in the Presbytery and county of Inverness, vacant by the transportation of the Rev. Donald Maconnachie, late minister thereof, to the charge and office of minister of the united parish of Urquhart and Glenmorriston. Degrees.-The Senate of the University of Glasgow, at their meeting on the 17th current, unanimously conferred the degree of D.D. on the Rev. Robert Jamieson, minister of St. Paul's in that city, and the degree of LL.D., on the Rev. Graham Mitchell, minister of Whitburn. Dundee.-The Town Council have presented the Rev. Dr. Adie to the charge of the East Church there, vacant by the death of the Rev. Dr. M'Lachlan. Eccles. On the 26th ult., the Presbytery of Dunse, met, and ordained the Rev. James R. Watson as assistant and successor to the Rev. Dr. Thomson of Eccles, Berwickshire, the Rev. Mr. Walker of Greenlaw preached and presided. After the orordination Mr. Watson was most cordially received by the parishioners. Died at the Manse of Cumbernauld, on the 24th March, the Rev. John Watson, minister of that parish, aged 72. At Dundee, on the 28th March, the Rev. Dr. M'Lachlan, in the 87th year of his age, and 60th of his ministry. At Kilninver Manse, by Oban, on the 16th inst., the Rev. Colin Hunter, minister of the united parishes of Kilninver and Kilmelford. THE HUMAN SPIRIT. There is a high throned power upon the earth, Mighty, mysterious, deathless and sublime, Yet wrapped in crumbling clay; like some bold peak, Tempest and time-defying, robed in mist, Which soon the breeze must rend, or sun-beam pierce ; Even to its dimming fragile frame of dust It lends a mellowed glory, like a lamp Burning within an alabaster urn. Sceptred and crowned by God himself, to rule Awakening in his strength, to breast heaven's steep. Within itself. High on its hill of power, On Contemplation's potent pinions borne, It soars far up the etherial fields, where truth Bright flashes in her subtlest forms, yet oft The keenest eye eluding; but when seen, Steering the inmost soul to purest joy. U But though beyond the poise of its own wing, In the rushing spirit's burning chariot, Up to the very throne of God, 'tis borne, To see what seraphs see, and feel what seraphs feel. LITERARY NOTICES. The Isle of Arran. A POEM. Edinburgh: Fraser & Co. The revolution produced by steam, has in few places shown its effects more palpably than in the Island of Arran. Till within these few years "out of the world into Arran" was a very common saying in the west; and this interesting Island, notwithstanding its numerous attractions, and its almost close vicinity to the great centre of Scottish commerce, industry and population, was less known to the bulk of Scotchmen than those of New Zealand and Van Diemen; while many who spent all their lives within sight of it, told all that they knew respecting it, when they spoke of it as an Island containing several high and rugged mountains, and inhabited by a race of men who spoke Gaelic, and made occasional voyages to the mainland, in curious little vessels which they called wherries. Matters are now very decidedly changed. The quays of Lamlash aud Brodick are nearly as well known to the people of the west, as that of the Broomielaw. Visitors from all quarters resort every season to Arran, for health, for recreation, and for various other purposes; and men of all tastes and pursuits contrive to find in it materials for agreeable or useful occupation. Hence the many ways in which it is brought under the notice of the public. All our annual exhibitions contain elaborately finished views of portions of its varied scenery. Divines supply us with speculations on the curious phenomena presented by the religion of its inhabitants. Our Journals of Agriculture give us detailed accounts of its soil, its climate, its productions, and its rural economy. Scientific men, both British and foreign, write elaborate volumes upon the wonders of its geology. Above all, it is a special favourite with tourists of all descriptions; and such of them as are endowed with the divine gift of poetry, invoke the muse to their aid, and tell the world in tuneful verse, what they saw and how they felt, as they climbed its giddy heights, plunged into its dark solitudes, sauntered along its romantic shores and promentories, and explored the secrets of its coves, its corries and its glens. In this last class, the great Sir Walter, who made so large a portion of of his native country classical ground, took the lead, in a few magnificent stanzas of "The Lord of the Isles." He had numerous followers, who with more or less success have trodden in his footsteps. The author of the elegant volume before us, has added one more to their number; and if others judge of his production, as favourably as we do, his name, whenever he chooses to drop his incognito, will in future be closely linked with the island which he celebrates; and many will enjoy with double relish a visit to the shores of Arran, as they view the varied beauties of its romantic and picturesque scenery in the brilliant light of his vivid and glowing descriptions. He presents his poetical offspring to the world, in the following modest and unpretending preface. "The poem now offered to the public was written several years ago, to beguile the lingering hours during a long illness. The author being still unable to mix in the world, is sometimes tempted to touch his lyre, by way of varying his occupation, but finds it irksome to write what nobody reads; and, from his heart misgiving him, from a fear that he may only be writing verse, and not poetry. The poem is now published in order to ascertain its merits. If it meets with success it will be followed by other two cantos: if it is unsuccessful, the author will still have no reason to regret the agreeable occupation which this attempt has afforded him.” The poem would well have justified a more confident tone. For it is evidently the production of a man of an elegant and well cultivated mind, who has an eye to mark, a heart to respond to, and a pen to embody in truthful description, whatever is beautiful, or picturesque, or grand in the world around him. We cannot indeed speak of the poem as a very artistic production. It wants that delicate finish, and minute elaboration, which a thoroughly disciplined poet loves to give to his verses. Hence, here and there a line that does not entirely satisfy the ear, a prosaic word or phrase, an image not fully brought out, or scarcely in keeping with the prevailing tone of the paragraph in which it occurs, or a passage deficient in vigour and point from undue expansion. These little defects however are no where prominent; and they are more than counterbalanced by many solid and sterling beauties. The author has the fire, the feeling, and the fancy of a genuine poet; and as we peruse his verses, he carries us thoroughly along with him, placing vividly before our eyes every scene in nature which he describes, and causing us to think as he thinks, and to feel as he feels, whatever the mood of mind that gives its colour to his strains. These are exceedingly various. An enthusiastic admirer of nature, he woos her in all her diversified moods and forms; and he holds communion with her at all seasons, at early dawn-amid the bright sunshine of noon, in the calm of falling eve, under the soft stillness of moonlight, when the thunder peal awakens the sleeping echoes of the mountains, and when hill, valley, and stream put on their gayest and most radiant smiles. Perhaps the most remarkable characteristic of the poet is his deep and delicate sympathy with nature, in these her varied moods and aspects. His mind is an instrument of many chords, which let the note which she sounds be what it may, gives a ready and faithful response to her voice. Meanwhile description forms the basis as well as the staple of his poem; it is description which gives glimpses of a world within, linked by a thousand chains of close and subtile association, with the world without. Hence too the suggestive character and rich diversity of its strains, where sublime and devout musings, touches of tender pathos, gushings of sunshinny gladness, affecting memories of the past, and prophetic anticipations of the future, blend themselves in happy and graceful combination with picturesque sketches of rural scenes, and sights, and sounds, and occupations. In happy adaptation to this particular constitution of mind, the scenery of Arran is of a very varied character. In some places it is full of soft and rich beauty, in others it is marked by sterile grandeur and savage magnificence; while in others it exhibits an extraordinary combination of both. Its most prominent features however are its huge mountain masses, several of which "raise their naked tops to the sky in stupendous pyramids and spires of rough granite, Goat-fell towering above the rest like a stupendous Highland chief surrounded by the cadets of his clan." The poet accordingly as in honour and duty bound, bestows on Goat-fell that distinction to which it is entitled; and as this is merely a hurried notice of this volume-not a formal review, we shall conclude these brief remarks by presenting the reader with a part of his spirited and eloquent tribute to this Giant of the western wave "Majestic Goatfell! rearing thy huge brow, Of thought springs up, which earth can never quell; To Heaven, from Time into Eternity. In meditataion wrapp'd, when he may scale Thy giant sides, and from thy summit greet The rising morn, with Earth spread at his feet? Behold its cities, and its busy crowd, Mute as the vault above without a cloud? Who would not wish, while link'd with scenes we love, To have a foretaste of the joys above; And feel, companion of the clouds that roll, Oh, 'tis a glorious thing at morn to scale And see him, screaming, o'er the mountains fly, How glorious on thy pinnacle to stand Amazed, and see Aurora's wings expand! Behold the awaken'd clouds of dapple gray Their vesture shift, and, like the opal play; Still spreading out, and brightening as they spread, To his chariot-wheels transform themselves amain; To warm what else were a chaotic gloom; |