Lord, let it not be terrible, and then take thine own; I submit to it. Let not mine, O Lord, but let thy will be done :" with which expression he fell into a dangerous slumber,-dangerous as to his recovery. Yet recover he did, but it was to speak only these few words, "Good doctor, God hath heard my daily petitions; for I am at peace with all men, and He is at peace with me; and from that blessed assurance, I feel that inward joy which this world can neither give nor take from me: my conscience beareth me this witness, and this witness makes the thoughts of death joyful. I could wish to live to do the Church more service, but cannot hope for it; for my days are past as a shadow that returns not."

More he would have spoken, but his spirits failed him, and after a short conflict between nature and death, a quiet sigh put a period to his last breath, and so he fell asleep. And now he seems to rest like Lazarus in Abraham's bosom. Let me here draw his curtain, till with the most glorious company of the patriarchs and apostles, and the most noble army of martyrs and confessors, this most learned, most humble, holy man, shall also awake to receive an eternal tranquillity, and with it a greater degree of glory than common Christians shall be made partakers of. In the mean time, bless, O Lord, bless his brethren the clergy of this nation, with effectual endeavours to attain, if not to his great learning, yet to his remarkable meekness, his godly simplicity, and his Christian moderation; for these will bring peace at the last: and, Lord! let his most excellent writings be blest with what he designed when he undertook them, which was glory to Thee, O God on high, peace in thy Church, and good will to mankind! Amen, Amen.

STAFFA is one of a group of islands called the Hebrides, or Western Islands of Scotland. It is of an irregular oval shape, about a mile and a half across, and is a sort of table-land, supported by cliffs of various heights. These cliffs are formed of a stone called basalt, which rises up to a great height, in the shape of lofty pillars. In many parts of the coast

these pillars have yielded to the action of the sea, and caves have been formed of remarkable beauty.

The caves are most easily seen along the eastern side of the island; the surge, which constantly beats on the other sides, rendering an approach difficult and dangerous. So beautiful and regular are these caves, that they appear to have been built up by the hand of man; the lofty columns are like those of a cathedral, supporting a richly carved roof, adorned with various hues, while the ends of innumerable small columns of basalt give the ground the appearance of a tessellated pavement.

The most celebrated of these caves is that known as Fingal's Cave. The entrance is an irregular arch, fifty-three feet broad, and one hundred and seventeen feet high. The interior is two hundred and fifty feet in length. The sides are straight, and are divided into pillars, some of which, on the eastern side, are broken off near the base, and form a path to the farthest end. The rest of the floor is washed by a deep, and often tumultuous, sea. In fine weather boats can reach the farthest end of the cave, but with the least swell they are liable to be dashed to pieces. When the sea is boisterous, the waves rush to the farthest extremity with a deafening noise, hurling aloft volumes of spray and flakes of foam. the extreme end is a kind of natural throne, from which the spectator commands a fine view of that magnificent hall, which by its beautiful symmetry resembles, yet surpasses, the imitative efforts of man. Walter Scott notices the cave in poetical language, thus :—

"Here, as to shame the temples deck'd

By skill of earthly architect,

Nature herself, it seem'd, would raise
A minster to her Maker's praise!

Not for a meaner use ascend
Her columns, or her arches bend;
Nor of a theme less solemn tells

That mighty surge that ebbs and swells,
And still, between each awful pause,
From the high vault an answer draws
In varied tone, prolong'd on high,
That mocks the organ's melody.
Nor does its entrance front in vain
To old Iona's holy fane,

That Nature's voice might seem to say,

'Well hast thou done, frail child of clay!

Thy humble powers that stately shrine

Task'd high and hard-but witness mine!""

At

Sir

ANECDOTES OF ELEPHANTS.

AN artillery officer in India witnessed a circumstance which he thus relates:-"The battering train going to the siege of Seringapatam had to cross the sandy bed of a river that resembled other rivers of the Peninsula, which leave, during the dry season, but a small stream of water running through them; though their beds are mostly of considerable breadth, very heavy for draught, and abounding in quicksands. It happened that an artillery-man, who was seated on the tumbrill of one of the guns, by some accident fell off in such a situation that in a second or two the hind wheel must have gone over him. The elephant which was

stationed behind the gun, perceiving the predicament in which the man was, instantly, without any warning from its keepers, lifted up the wheel with its trunk, and kept it suspended till the carriage had passed clear of him."

When the elephant passes through a crowd, he is very careful to open a way with his trunk, that he may not injure any one. A remarkable instance of this humanity (as we must call it) is related by the Baron de Lauriston, who, being at Lacknaor when an epidemic distemper was raging, and when the road to the palace was covered with the sick and dying, the Nabob came out with his elephant. The prince being in haste, his slaves made no attempt to clear the road, and it appeared impossible for the elephant to do otherwise than tread upon and crush many of these poor wretches in his passage. The elephant, however, without appearing to slacken his pace, and without having received any command for that purpose, assisted them with his trunk,-removed some, and stepped over others with so much care that not one person was wounded. It has been attempted to explain this anecdote on the supposition that the elephant has an aversion for smaller animals, especially such as cross his path. It is much more satisfactory and pleasing to refer it to a kind and gentle disposition; besides, it is not true that the elephant dislikes smaller animals about it. Major Smith relates that an elephant, exhibited a few years ago in the United States of America, had a great affection for a dog, and the spectators, to tease her, used occasionally to pull the dog's ears, and make it yelp. On one occasion, when this was being done at the side of a barn, within which the elephant was kept, as soon as she heard the voice of the dog in distress she began to feel the boards which separated her from it, and, giving one blow, appeared surprised that they did not fall; she then struck with greater force, made the boards fly in splinters, and looked through with such menacing gestures, that the tormentors of the dog thought proper to make off.

Of all the visits that are paid by us amongst the humbler classes, few, perhaps, are more interesting than those paid to the aged; for, where we find the "hoary head in the way of righteousness" it is indeed a crown

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of glory;" whether it be seen in the palaces of kings, the mansions of the noble, or the cottages of the poor. Who is there that does not feel himself humbled, when he contemplates age and infirmity coupled with poverty, and yet contentment speaking in every word and look? Surely the sight of it makes us feel, often perhaps in spite of ourselves, that happiness comes indeed from within, and not from without; and that those who, judging them merely from external appearances, seem to be the most miserable, are, in fact, often the happiest of mankind. I am not, however, going to sketch a picture of one of the most afflicted of God's servants, but rather of one who, having, as he describes himself, enjoyed many blessings in this world, calmly awaits his change, neither fearing death, nor desiring it, but entirely resigned to his Maker's will.

The first time that I saw old Adamson was some years ago. He was then seventy-seven years of age. I was in search of a person to wash and iron for me; and I was told by a woman, that, if any of the Adamsons were living, (and she was sure she could not say whether they were or not, for she had heard of the death of one or more,) I could not meet with better washers if I searched all the country side over; but they had gone two miles off for the sake of getting better water, and since then she had seen nothing of them, excepting once, when she went to see their brother who lived with them, and who had had the rheumatic fever. She then described the place where they lived, adding, "You cannot fail to know the house, maʼam, for it's the cleanest in the row; that is, if the Adamsons are still in it, as I suspect they are. I shall be sorry, however, ma'am, if I should be sending you a wild-goose chase; but you'll thank me if I've not, for, as I said before, better washers there cannot be." I told her that, in any case, I should thank her for trying to help me; and off I set, determined to hunt out the Adamsons if they were still in the land of the living. I found it was a good three miles' walk, instead of two, as my friend had told me; but the day was fine and frosty, so the distance was of little consequence; and when I came to the row of cottages to which I had been directed, I espied an old man gathering up some little bits of stick; and as I saw that when he raised himself up he could not stand erect, and that he moved one leg with difficutly, I immediately fancied that this might be the rheumatic brother whom the woman had mentioned. I therefore went up to him, inquiring if he could direct me to the house of a washerwoman called Adamson. "Oh! yes, ma'am," he said, pointing to the house just behind him, "I'll tell my sister that a lady wants her." I saw that he was trying to go faster than he could conveniently, so I told him I would step in, if his sister was at home.

I did so, and there I found Margaret Adamson, the very picture of neatness and cleanliness. She was not dressed in a gown, but had on a dark blue cotton jacket over a black petticoat, and an apron and cap which would have vied with the snow in whiteness. She was just placing on the table two tea-cups and a small white loaf. The coffee was boiling on the fire, and though, it was not much after four o'clock, it was evident they were going to take their evening meal. I told her that I would not interrupt her long, but that I had called, having heard that she took in washing. She curtsied in that good old-fashioned style which it always does my heart good to see, and, taking hold of her white apron, she wiped down a chair, (though it was so clean that the apron was no worse for its office,) and begged I would be seated, as there was no hurry about their meal.

10

stationed behind the gun, perceiving the predicament in which the man was, instantly, without any warning from its keepers, lifted up the wheel with its trunk, and kept it suspended till the carriage had passed clear of him."

It has been

A remarkable When the elephant passes through a crowd, he is very careful to open a way with his trunk, that he may not injure any one. instance of this humanity (as we must call it) is related by the Baron de Lauriston, who, being at Lacknaor when an epidemic distemper was raging, and when the road to the palace was covered with the sick and dying, the Nabob came out with his elephant. The prince being in haste, his slaves made no attempt to clear the road, and it appeared impossible for the elephant to do otherwise than tread upon and crush many of these poor wretches in his passage. The elephant, however, without appearing to slacken his pace, and without having received any command for that purpose, assisted them with his trunk,-removed some, and stepped over others with so much care that not one person was wounded. attempted to explain this anecdote on the supposition that the elephant has an aversion for smaller animals, especially such as cross his path. It is much more satisfactory and pleasing to refer it to a kind and gentle disposition; besides, it is not true that the elephant dislikes smaller animals about it. Major Smith relates that an elephant, exhibited a few years ago in the United States of America, had a great affection for a dog, and the spectators, to tease her, used occasionally to pull the dog's ears, and make it yelp. On one occasion, when this was being done at the side of a barn, within which the elephant was kept, as soon as she heard the voice of the dog in distress she began to feel the boards which separated her from it, and, giving one blow, appeared surprised that they did not fall; she then struck with greater force, made the boards fly in splinters, and looked through with such menacing gestures, that the tormentors of the dog thought proper to make off.