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its neighbourhood, and have gathered, from private sources, much information, which may be valuable to my employers. The public may have some idea of the nature of the observations which I make, from the specimens which I exhibited, while wearing the spectacles of The Day. All that I have to add, by way of explanation, is, that the reports which I make to the secretary in this quarter, (a bachelor, by the way, of long standing in this city,) are transmitted, faithfully, to the central committee, who have always a corps of expectants, ready to obey any summons which theythink likely to promote their interest. OHr plan is, to send up a description of any lady who is likely to prove a profitable speculation, and, from observing her taste, character and endowments, to mention which member of our society ,she will most readily accept. The gentleman indicated, has it then in his power to demand a supply of pocket money from the treasurer, and post down to the place where the lady resides. If he then succeeds in his suit to her, and obtains her fortune, he bestows a premium upon the society, and his name is struck off the list. In this way, a great many vacancies have occurred of late, notwithstanding the badness of the times, and ladies who never suspected any sinister motive, when it dashing spark all at once made his appearance in their vicinity, have been taught to look upon every strange face with the suspicion that it has just arrived from some branch of the establishment. I need not say that others of our brethren have waited for years without finding any opportunity to suit them. In this part of the country, there has not been much doing this winter; and the last intimation of a thirty thousand chance, which I gave to the secretary, brought down a handsome fellow all the way from Plymouth, who just arrived the day after the lady whom we had intended for him was married. But that the business is sometimes brisk enough, will be shown by an extract from an old letter, of my own writing, which I have lying by me.

Dear Sir,—I have to acknowledge the receipt of your favour of the 27th ultimo, in which you gave me directions for forwarding a return of all transactions during last quarter. I will endeavour to comply with your request as soon as possible, but in the meantime, must entreat your patience, at I have yet to classify the fortunes and ages of subjects in question. In the meantime, you

may depend upon the Hon. Miss proving a good spec

She has rejected four lovers, but I think will scarce resist Tom

—— if he comes down and attempts her. Poor Bob

is down in the mouth because his Jewess has turned out to be three or four thousand below her reported value. A young foreign girl appeared at the assembly here last night, said to be worth six or seven hundred a-year in property, besides which, I have discovered, that she has £7000 in the 3 per cent, consols, and 4 Shares in the East India Company. I fear Clara won't do after all, as the money is in the hands of a lawyer, and she gives away about fifty pounds a-year in charity. This latter expense,

to be sure, might be retrenched, so if Mr. chooses to try it, I

think he may win her. A great sensation made lately at Dundee

by Miss of coming to her Uncle's property. I have R

good mind to go there, and reconnoitre myself. Particulars in my next.

The reader will be surprised to find that I have not succeeded yet in finding a match for myself, and it is somewhat unaccountable, that, with all the eagerness which people in my situation usually have to do business for themselves, all my attempts at settling myself for life have ended in confusion. I have never got the better of an insult which I received from a lady, with whom I was just on the point of making arrangements. I happened to send her a paste ring, which was returned to me with a civil message, informing me that I was considered, like my gifts, to be an impostor. In truth, it is my own honest conviction, as it is probably that of the candid reader, that, after many years of experience, at the only business which I thought myself likely to become a proficient in, I must be content to think myself good for—nothing.


The Little Girl's Own Book, by Mrs. Child, Embellished with Wood Cnta London, 1832.

In our first number we introduced our readers to the merits of the "Mother's Book," by Mrs. Child, and we are again enabled, from receiving an early copy of the work before us, to call the attention of our citizens to another volume by the same able and judicious authoress. This little book has been, evidently, compiled with the most earnest desire, on the part of Mrs. Child, to make it useful to the class of readers for which it is intended, and we have no doubt but it will receive, from parents and guardians, in Britain, the same patronage which it has already done in America. This pretty little volume treats of all the "innocent games which the young Miss may be supposed to take an interest in, in her girlish days." It then goes on to "instructive games," "games of memory," "forfeits," "active exercises," " hints for making baskets," and "ornaments." Then follow puzzles, riddles, charades, automata, needlework, bees, silkworms, and keeping animals, gardening, &c. In short, this volume may be said to be a perfect cyclopedia for a young girl, and a cyclopedia certainly, the study of which will be found both entertaining and useful to all those who may have the good fortune to peruse it. The work is embellished with the most exquisite wood cuts by Bryanston and Wright, and is got up in a style altogether in unison with its object. Let us merely add, that, while the Mother's Book is found, as we have good reason to believe, the manual of many a mother, this new work will be found in the day-nursery of many a family.


Still, still, the dark wings of misfortune shadow me, as she gnaws the young hopes that arise in my heart. I expected Glasgow would commiserate me, that her beautiful daughters would look upon me in kindness, and, that the very story of my misfortunes would be sufficient to induce thee, thou lovely peruser, to interest thyself in one who has publicly challenged thy regard. Nor, indeed, have thy daughters, proud Venice of the west! been unwilling to hear, and compassionate me. They have shewn themselves superior to narrow views, and the prejudices of custom, they have not rejected it virtuous overture, because it came not with a formal introduction by a host of relations, they have looked upon blessed matrimony, as not the less beautiful, because she has abandoned the affectstions of modern manners, and adopted the admirable simplicity of that unsophisticated time when the profered hand was accepted at the moment it was offered, and ere love had known how to prevaricate. I repeat it, the ladies of Glasgow have met my overture with kindness—yet, alas! with no benefit to me; for the publisher informs me that of the great number of letters, in clear, tremulous, bold and scraggy hand-writing, which have come to his shop, addressed, "The Advertising Bachelor," there was not one of which the postage was paid, and he, cruel man! returned them to the Post-office. This, this, was too bad, yet, not to be wondered at. Fate has ever destroyed my hopes, when brightest—envious of my happiness, she again has interfered, but in a way somewhat different from that I experienced when I paid my addresses to


I had been residing with my aunt in Liverpool, during the spring and summer months of the year 18—, and was well contented to enjoy the society of that bustling and busy town, without having recourse to an aquatic excursion, which some of my companions had planned, and had already hired a pleasure boat for a week, in which to visit the Isle of Man. A few days before, when requested to accompany them, I had not been sufficiently explicit in my refusal, and I found my name appended to a list with the sum of seven guineas as my share of the stores and the expense. As the matter had proceeded thus far, with a smiling face and a heavy heart, I embarked, and, both wind and tide being in our farour, we quickly passed the fort and north-west buoy, and were, before night set in, a considerable distance from the land. A bright blue sky above, and calm sea beneath—for the wind had now lulled—could not fail to impress me, since it was the first time I had ever beheld them on the mighty waters, and, whilst my young companions were enjoying their social entertainment, I stood at the stern, and attempted to count the glittering hosts of heaven, that were twinkling in ether far above me, when the sails of our little yacht were suddenly taken a-back, and a blow from the main-boom sent me into the water. So much alacrity was shown by the crew of the cutter, that I had no sooner becomeacquainted with my situation than I was rescued from it, to the utter destruction, however, of my blue marine jacket, through which an unseemly boat-hook had been thrust, as I was withdrawn from the liquid element. In the true spirit of an amateur seaman, I did not put on dry clothes for some time, and when we turned in for the night, I could not sleep, but remained cold and shivering till the morning. My companions offered to return to Liverpool, when they saw me so much an invalid, but a vessel came alongside at the very moment—I stepped on board, and I was seized with a very severe rheumatic attack, and I was then directed by my physician to repair to the hot baths at Buxton, for relief.

The Peak is a district of Derbyshire, ten or twelve miles in extent, near the edge of which, Buxton is situated. The air is pure and salubrious in this elevated region, but the hot baths were, of course, the attraction for those who, like myself, were invalids. I resided at one of. the principal hotels, and soon found the advantage of mixing indiscriminately with the society it afforded. I was soon familiar with all the visitors, and the baths proving very beneficial to me, I became the "gallant gay Lothario" of the hotel, and actually perpetrated a quadrille or two, although lame in my left knee, and my arm almost immoveable. One thing is certain, however, that I brought as much dancing material upon the floor as any of the quadrille party, which, although consisting of eight, had only twelve sound limbs in all, exclusive of disabled shoulders and arms. Indeed, when we first commenced the dance, Vestris would have sickened—such limping and irregularity never were beheld, but it was wonderful how we improved as we proceeded. To tell the truth, however, I never could dance well, and I found my time more agreeably spent in sunning myself in the smiles of a very lovely girl, whose father and mother had recently arrived. She had come hither evidently for the benefit of the waters, and was very lame, but I found her a companion so agreeable, that I was soon fascinated with her beauty and conversation, and willingly agreed with her, that dancing was not a rational employment. She generally rode with her father and mother in " the carriage," during the forenoon, but I always met her at lunch, and as the old gentleman drank wine with me regularly, and the mother smiled when I spoke to her, I perceived my attentions to their charming daughter were not unacceptable.

She and I, accordingly, promenaded before dinner, and at times left the public walk and enjoyed the sweets of retirement from the world. I knew from a thousand incidents that my love was returned, and my only regret, which I frequently expressed to her, and which she as often blushed to hear, was that the Goddess Ilygeia was less willing to bestow her favours upon one so worthy of them as she was, than to one so undeserving as myself. Her lameness still continued, but it did not affect my passion, which I breathed forth in the following effusion, and presented to my enchantress, during one of our retired rambles:—

Were I beneath the cork tree's shade,

In Spain's enchanting land,
I'd serenade thy placid couch,

I'd woo thy lily hand.

No arm should twine thy hallow'd ions,

No flower adorn thy breast,
But what I planted there alone.

Won by my own proud crest.
Were I beneath the cork tree's shade, he.

We had discussed several of the popular songs of the day, and one in particular, by Mr. C * * * of Liverpool, was a great favourite, so much so, that I requested a copy of it, and would have got it, but for the following circumstance:—In the course of our walk we approached a little gully, the water of which was nearly dry, leaving a deposit of mud to considerable depth. I saw we must leap to get over it, and without thinking on the lameness of my friend, I caught her firmly by the hand, and exclaiming, "here we go," I sprang with her to the opposite bank. That something had gone wrong in transitu, I was heartily convinced, for not only did the lady shriek, but she had actually fallen on the top of me—but, gemini! when I looked back what did I behold? a shoe and stocking neatly gartered upon a cork leg that stuck upright in the mud, and seemed to be proclaiming its want of an owner. My fair friend could do nothing without assistance, but it required female assistance, so I impressed one kiss upon her lovely cheek, talked of the West Indies and yellow fever, hastened to the hotel, pointed out the scene of my discomfiture to the chamber maid, paid my bill, and returned to Manchester by the Peveril of the Peak new coach, which happened at the moment to be at the gate of Buxton Crescent.


I Have seen an advertisement in a newspaper, from a pretender of the hermetic art. With the assistance of 11 a little money," he could 11 positively" assure the lover of this science, that he would repay him '* a thousand-fold/" This science, if it merit to be distinguished by the name, has hitherto been doubtless an imposition, which, striking on the feeblest part of the human mind, has so frequently been successful in carrying on its delusions.

As late as the days of Mrs. Manly, the authoress of the Atalantis, is there on record a most singular delusion of alchymy. From the circumstances, it is very probable the sage was not less deceived than his patroness.

An infatuated lover of this delusive art, met with one who pretended to have the power of transmuting lead to gold: that is in their language, the imperfect metals to the perfect one. This hermetic philosopher required only the materials, and time, to perform his golden operations. He was taken to the country residence of his patroness. A long laboratory was built, and, that his labours might not be impeded by any disturbance, no one was permitted to enter into it. His door was contrived to turn on a pivot; so that, unseen, and unseeing, his meals were conveyed to him, without distracting the sublime contemplations of the sage.

During a residence of two years, he never condescended to speak but two or three times in the year to his iufatuated patroness. When she was admitted into the laboratory, she saw, with pleasing astonishment, stills, immense cauldrons, long flues, and three or four Vulcanian fires blazing at different corners of this magical mine; nor did she behold with less reverence the venerable figure of the dusty philosopher. Pale and emaciated with daily operations and nightly vigils, he revealed to her, in unintelligible jargon, his progresses; and, having sometimes condescended to explain the mysteries of the arcana, she beheld, or seemed to behold, streams of fluid, aud heaps of solid ore, scattered around the laboratory. Sometimes he required a new still, and sometimes vast quantities of lead. Already this unfortunate lady had expended the half of her fortune in supplying the demands of the philosopher. She began now to lower her imagination to the standard of reason. Two years had now elapsed, vast quantities of lead had gone in, and nothing but lead had come out. She disclosed her sentiments to the philosopher. He candidly confessed he was himself surprised at his tardy processes; but that now he would exert himself to the utmost, and that he would venture to perform a laborious operation, which hitherto he had hoped not to have been necessitated to employ. His patroness retired, and the golden visions of expectation resumed all their lustre.

One day as they sat at dinner, a terrible shriek, and one crack followed by another, loud as the report of cannon, assailed their tars. They hastened to the laboratory.—Two of the greatest stills had burst; one part of the laboratory was in flames, aud the deluded philosopher scorched to death—D'Israeli.


The fame which this gentleman has acquired, and the numerous eulogia which have appeared in the Metropolitan and Provincial papers, prepared us for receiving a rich treat on his appearance at our theatre. Nor were we disappointed. We have seen many: indeed, we believe, all the performers celebrated for their delineation of Irish character, but they all sink into insignificance compared with Mr. Power. When personifying the higher classes of the sister kingdom, they too frequently forget the power which cultivation must naturally possess, in refining and softening down the peculiarities so proverbially connected with that country. And on the other hand, when performing parts in the lower ranks of life, they often descend into gross and disgusting vulgarity, which we readily admit may give pleasure, and consequently call down thunders of applause from the more exalted part of the auditory; but, to the refined and true lover of the drama, can never fail in producing feelings of disgust; and, we doubt not, is one of the many causes why the stage has been looked upon as a degenerate profession, giving just reason for parents instilling into the minds of their children, and the clergy into that of their congregations, a dislike, nay, even an abhorrence to theatrical representations. We conceive it therefore to be our duty, and the duty of every critic, to take notice of, and reprobate every circumstance that may tend to establish so very erroneous and narrow-minded an opinion, and to show that, wherever the stage is lowered from the exalted station it so deservedly merits, the cause must be solely attributed to its professors.

Mr. Power's performance of the part of " Sir Pleuipo" was, truly, excellent. When he first appeared we could scarcely trace the slightest indication of the brogue, but, gradually, as he became animated by the business of the scene, then, and not till then, could we perceive it. It is evident, from this gentleman's performance, that he must have moved in good society—he has all that ease, grace and freedom, so peculiar to the man of fashion; every sentence, look and gesture, discovered the light, free and well-bred Irish gentleman.

On Wednesday we witnessed his performance of "Fadreen O'Rafferty and Larry Hoolagan," and cannot possibly conceive any thing finer.


These are to give advertisement to all persons, that have a mind to run Fastcnseven Race in the Green of Kilmarnock, upon the 17th of February, 1713, that the prize to the foremost in the forenoon's race is a guinea of gold, and to the rest as formerly. They are to run nine times about the Green, which will be betwixt two and three miles of way.—Scots Courant, Monday February 2, 1713.


The Fashions Op Former Days.—The bucks of the reign of Elizabeth stuffed out their breeches with rags, feathers, and other light matters, till they brought them out to a most enormous size. They resembled wool-sauks, and, in a public spectacle, they were obliged to raise scaffolds for the seats of these ponderous beaux. To accord with this fantastical taste, the ladies invented large hoop farthingales. Two lovers could surely never have taken one another by the hand aside. In the preceding reign of Mary, the fashion run on square toes: insomuch, that a proclamation was issued, that no person should wear shoes above six inches square at the toes. Then succeeded picked-pointed shoes.

Why is the Glasgow Theatre Royal like a magnet? Because it has the Power of attraction I

Why will Alexander's corps dramatlque become impotent on Saturday ?—Because it will be Power-less I


Lines to a " Coquette" will not suit us.

"Ode to Winter" is rather out of season.

"The Secret History of Puffing, with the servile means which have been used to induce Editors to gull the public," is under consideration.


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And yet, was every faltering tongue of man.
Almighty Father, silent in thy praise,
Thy works, themselves, would raiae a general voice,

Thy works, themselves,

Even in the depths of solitary woods. By human foot untrod, proclaim thy TV

cause, support and end of all."

Do we read, with enthusiasm, the narration of the traveller, as he describes the country through which he passes, its beautiful scenery, its verdant hills, its transparent lakes, and its broad savannas? and shall we turn, with indifference, to the narrative of the moral traveller, as he seeks to diffuse the light of pure and undefiled religion over those dark places of the earth, where man trembles before the idol his own hand hath formed, or madly rushes before the wheel of its lofty car, as its bloody track is marked by the groans of self-devoted victims? But, whatever class of persons may read the volume that contains the life of Martin, they cannot fail to be gratified by its perusal. It contains a graphic account of his voyage, his residence in Brazil, his visit to the Cape of Good Hope, his impressions of India, his embarkation on the Ganges, and his visit to Persia; and these only form a few of the many attractive points in his narrative, whilst his devoted ness to the great object he had in view, that of teaching and instructing the native inhabitants of India, ought to elevate, in all men's eyes, the character of one, who at length died in the cause he had so zealously espoused. Henry Martin is not to be confounded with those half-educated men who undertake the teaching of the heathen, having little else than good intentions to assist them. He was an accomplished scholar and a gentleman. Pious, from a conviction of the truth of religion—zealous, because he felt himself honoured by his employments—and, although his body fainted and failed, he was carried forward by the ardour of his heavenly mind, and he has left a record of his labours of love, nobler than that which, however splendid, only perpetuates the vanity of the prince who reared it, or the number of his fellow-creatures whom he immolated, to gratify his lawless ambition.

After receiving an education that sufficiently prepared him for more advanced studies, he, in 1797, entered his name at St. John's College, Cambridge. In 1799 he returned to Cornwall, carrying with him no small degree of academical honour, though not all that he had anticipated, "for he had lost the prize for themes in his college, and was only second again in the first class at the public examination, when he hoped to be*first." In 1800 his object was attained, his name stood first in the university list. At the public examination for a degree, his decided superiority appeared, and the highest academical honour was adjudged him in January 1801, a period when he had not completed the twentieth year of his age. Having thus seen Henry Martin obtain the honours of his university, we shall pass over the intervening portion of his life and behold him employed in British India. It had been long the object of his heart to carry religious instruction to the natives, and, with what devotion, he entered upon this extensive field, the extracts from his journal sufficiently testify. The most remarkable trait of mind exhibited by Henry Martin was his i and unfailing resignation to the divine appoint

ment. "Father, thy will be done," seems to have pervaded his every wish; and circumstances, where even distinguished Christians might have been supposed to repine with reason, only afforded him new opportunities of proclaiming the goodness of his God, the submission of his own heart, and the power of those unswerving principles which regulated his will and directed his conduct.

We shall now, however, let him speak in his own words:—

"Nov. 11.—This morning, after prayer, Mr. G. took his leave. I returned to my work without interruption, and with no small delight. The thought occurred to my mind very strongly—how much have I to learn of divine things. May "I have grace to live above every human motive ; simply with God and to God."

Nov. 25.—Reached Patna this afternoon, walked about this future scene of my ministry with a spirit almost overwhelmed at the sight of the immense multitudes.

M. —The multitudes on the water side prodigious. Arrived in the afternoon at Dinapore, but did not go on shore. My spirit, this evening was sweetly elevated beyond the people and concerns of this world."

The objects for which Henry Martin encountered the heat and discomfort of an Indian clime were three-fold—the first was, that he might establish native schools—the second, that he might acquire sufficient knowledge of the Hindostanee to enable him to address the words of truth to the unenlightened inhabitants, and, finally, to prepare translations of the Scriptures. Of the extent of the difficulties he met with in the latter employment, we may form an idea from the circumstance, that, when he passed out of Bengal into Bahaar, he found that he had to acquaint himself with the Baharee, as well as the Hindostanee, and in dialects so various, that his instructor informed him, "every four miles the language changed." This, although probably cut exaggerated account, indicates its capricious and varied dialects.

The labours of scriptural translation did not restrain the ardent spirit of Martin in other important duties. In February, 1807, he completed a work which greatly interested him, " The Book of Common Prayer," which he also translated into Hindostanee. And, on Sunday, March 15, he commenced the performance of Divine Worship, in the vernacular language of India, concluding with an exhortation from the scriptures, in the same tongue. "The spectacle was novel as it was gratifying: to behold two hundred women, Portuguese, Roman Catholics and Mahomedans, crowding to attend the service of the English Church, which had lost nothing of its beautiful simplicity and devout solemnity in being clothed with an oriental dress."

Henry Martin's labours were somewhat varied; for, at times he was obliged to leave his books and interpreter, and betake himself to other branches of his clerical duties, and he details, with little apparent pleasure, a journey in which eight days were consumed, in a voyage of a hundred miles, for the purpose of performing the ceremony of marriage.

A being who held so much "converse with the skies," as in various portions of his journal we observe Henry Martin enjoyed, might well be said to realize, in the far distant land that was the scene of his exertions, the following beautiful lines of the poet.

"Should Fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes—
Rivera unknown to song, where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains—still 'tis Bought to me,
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy."

In such a spirit did the subject of this memoir write the lines, which we have extracted from his journal, and with which, until another opportunity offer, we shall conclude.

"I am happier here, in this remote land, where I hear so seldom of what happens in the world, than in England, where there are so many calls to look at the things that are seen. How sweet the retirement in which I live here! The precious word now my only study. Though in a manner buried from the world, neither seeing nor seen by Europeans, here, the time flows on with great rapidity. Let me be ready for every work. To leave this delightful solitude or remain in it, to go out, or go in, to stay or depart, just as the Lord shall appoint."


Thk Scottish Pulmt, No. II.—Glasgow, 1832. The present number of the Scottish Pulpit contains an outline of two Sermons, the first by Dr. Gordon of Edinburgh, from Isaiah, xxix. chap. 13th and 14th verses, on which we shall briefly remark, and the other by the Rev. J. Johnstone, of Glasgow, from Luke ix. 28th—31st verses, which we shall notice more in detail.

The first of these sermons is an exceedingly unfavourable specimen of Dr. Gordon's powers, and is entirely destitute of intense thought, or of a prominent introduction of the great and leading principles of Christianity, and, in comparison with the earnest and forcible appeals which we have heard from its author, or contrasted with any of the sermons in his volume published some years ago, it must be pronounced a failure. In truth, it only is a slight historical sketch of the reign of some of the kings of Israel, and it merely reiterates the oft-proclaimed truth, that sin is followed by punishment. Alas! had poor fallen man no other doctrine revealed to him than this, it would have been better for him that he had never been born. Mr. Johnstone's sermon is lucid in its arrangement, striking in its illustrations, and forcible in its arguments. The subject is presented to us in a new and impressive manner, and this discourse cannot fail, we think, to satisfy the reader, that it is the production of a studious and cultivated mind.

There is no history, taking it as a whole, which is more interesting, and which merits our closer study, than that of Jesus of Nazareth. The Incidents with which it abounds are varied, and it exhibits unto us a character in which all the sublimer excellencies are blended with those which are more soft and lovely. Our souls are melted into tenderness when we contemplate him relieving the wants of the poor, imparting joy to the sorrowful, and administering consolation and hope to the broken-hearted and the desponding. Our minds are filled with wonder and awe, when we behold him in the plenitude of his power, stilling the rage of the tempest, liberating the victims of death, and irresistibly controulliug the fierce malignity of the demons of hell. In the whole course of that history there is not a single event but what is worthy of our notice, and which does not teem with instruction. There are some events, however, which are of greater importance than others, which consequently excite a deeper interest and demand our more serious attention: and of this description, you will readily grant, is the transfiguration on the holy mount.

Mr. Johnstone then mentions some of the important purposes the event mentioned in the text was calculaed to serve.

I The transfiguration, and the circumstances attending it,

were calculated to prepare the mind of the Saviour for meeting and encountering the sufferings which he was soon to endure.

II.—The transfiguration of Christ, and the circumstances connected with it, were calculated to rectify the misconceptions which the disciples had formed of his character, and to prevent that despondency which his death had a tendency to produce.

III. —I remark, in the third place, that the appearance of Moses and Elias on the mount of transfiguration, furnishes us with a most powerful proof of the immortality of the soul.

IV. —The circumstances connected with the transfiguration were calculated to teach us the existence of the body, and some of the properties which it would possess in a glorified state.

Having illustrated these very important topics with ability, Mr. Johnstone concludes his discourse with the following peroration:—

Such are the important purposes which the transfiguration, and the circumstances connected with it, are calculated to serve. Those disciples who witnessed this splendid scene enjoyed a singular privilege; and this high favour which was conferred upon them, they doubtless rightly appreciated. Such a privilege is not now conferred on any of the disciples of the Redeemer; yet by faith we are permitted to contemplate the Son of God, in circumstances far more exalted than even those in which he appeared on the holy mount. For we now see Jesus—who, for the suffering of death, was made a little lower than the angels, that he might taste death for every man—crowned with glory and with honour. Let us, therefore, fix our thoughts upon Him who has obtained a name above every name. And let this particularly be the exercise of our mind when we have the near prospect of again observing that holy ordinance by which we commemorate that " decease" which formed the subject of discourse on the mount. In fine, let us remember that there is a day rapidly advancing, when the Son of Man shall appear resplendent with glory, shining bright in his own glory, in the glory of the holy angels, and in the glory of his Father. Our eyes shall see him, and happy indeed will it be for us if, when we see him, we shall be found to bear his image. Happy will it be for us if, in that day of the Lord, we are found among the number of the redeemed, who shall be carried away to the land of beauty and of bliss, where they shall for ever behold the glory of God and of the Lamb. Amen.


At the present moment, when this City has the prospect of obtaining something similar to the Cemetery of P6re la Chaise at Paris, by converting the Fir Park into a Garden Church-Yard, it will, perhaps, be not altogether inappropriate, to present our readers with two beautiful little pictures, from Eugene Roch's contribution to the " Livre des Cent et tin," illustrative of the feelings which are so frequently experienced during a visit to that last resting place of man. The first we extract is entitled—

"THE BRIDE'S GRAVE. 11 I held several garlands in my hand; but knew of only one tomb upon which I could place them! Eight years had elapsed since I assisted at the wedding of one of my friends. It was a funeral rife—the last consolation of pure and virgin love !— There exists a disease more cruel than every other, because it wages pitiless war against youth instead of age, and commences its very first attacks upon the breath of life. The physician, on discovering its well-known symptoms, turns away his head in sadness, for he is without resource against its ravages. The destructive germ of this malady, in its last stage of developement, was in the bosom of the bride. The young man, her betrothed, who loved her with an affection as passionate as her own, was not selfish enough to refuse this vain phantom of a marriage. It afforded her consolation, and he was eager to gratify her. She allowed no part of the ceremony to be omitted; and, in spite of its immediate danger, encountered the death-chill of B particularly damp and cold church It was, as I have already stated, the last consolation of a dying virgin. We conducted her to the house of her husband; I took her arm, and helped her to ascend the staircase. She moved with pain. Alas! how were my thoughts pre-occupied! I felt sure that this young and lovely creature would never again descend these stairs alive. On entering the nuptial apartment a ray of happiness beamed upon her pale features, and a spark of hope seemed to shine there,—but in an instant it disappeared, and left no trace behind. Exhausted with the fatigue, she immediately retired to her chamber; she had her chaplet hung up within view, and her wedding dress spread at her feet. For twenty days she looked Ht them with a sweet but heart-rending smile !—on the twenty-first she saw them no more. Having accompanied her to the altar, I had also to accompany her remains to the grave. She was buried on an eminence, opposite to the old entrance. A tear started in my eye as I looked round and saw before me the grave of the virgin wife."

Our next extract is one of a most touching kind, it is entitled :—

"MATERNAL AFFECTION. "I observed the motions of a young female, among the shrubs, where grief and sorrow retire to uninterrupted solitude. She was a gift-, aud had lost her first-born. With what care did she re

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