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when we worship; but of a much larger [class: of those whose influence is felt in the relations of neighbour, friend, daughter, wife, mother. Who wait at the couch of the sick to administer tender charities while life lingers, or to perform the last acts of kindness when death comes? Where shall we look for those examples of friendship, that most adorn our nature; those abiding friendships, which trust even when betrayed, and survive all changes of fortune? Where shall we find the brightest illustrations of filial piety? Have you ever seen a daughter, herself, perhaps, timid and helpless, watching the decline of an aged parent, and holding out with heroic fortitude to anticipate his wishes, to administer to his wants, and to sustain his tottering steps to the very borders of the grave?

But in no relation does woman exercise so deep an influence, both immediately and prospectively, as in that of mother. To her charge is committed the immortal treasure of the infant mind. Upon her devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline, which is to form, out of a being perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless ruler of animated creation, and the devout adorer of its great Creator. Her smiles call into exercise the first affections that spring up in our hearts. She cherishes and expands the earliest germs of our intellects. She breathes over us her deepest devotions. She lifts our little hands, and teachts our little tongues to lisp in prayer. She watches over us, like a guardian angel, and protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares and her anxieties on our account. She follows us into the world of men, and lives in us, and blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon the earth. What constitutes the centre of every home? Whither do our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts sick with disappointment? Where shall the truant and forgetful husband go for sympathy, unalloyed and without design, but to the bosom of her, who is ever ready and waiting to share in his adversity or his prosperity? And if there be B tribunal, where the sins and the follies of a froward child may hope for pardon and forgiveness on this side heaven, that tribunal is the heart of a fond and devoted mother. J. G. Carter.

THE WIDOW TO HER DYING CHILD.

That sighs for thee, thou precious one! Life's pulse is ebbing fast,
And o'er thy once all-joyous face, death's sickly hue is cast:
The azure eye hath lost its ray, thy voice its buoyant tone,
And, like a flower the storm has crush'd, thy beauty's past and gone.

Another pang, and all is o'er; the beating heart is still:
Meekly, though sad, thy Mother bows to the Almighty's will.
Grief presses heavy on my heart, my tears fell thick and fast,
But thou, thou art in heaven, my child! Life's chequer'd dream is past.

The busy feet that gladly ran thy mother's smile to greet;
Theprattling tongue that lisp'd her name in childhood's accents sweet;
The glossy curl that beam'd like gold upon thy snowy brow;
The lip, meet rival for the rose.—Oh, Death! where are they now?

Wither'd beneath his icy touch; lock'd in his dull cold sleep;
Whilst all the joy a Mother knows, in silence is to weep,
Or start, as Fancy's echo wakes thy voice to mock her pain,
Then turn to gaze upon thy corse, and feel her grief is vain.
The grave, the dark cold grave, full soon will hide thee from my view,
Whilst I my weary path through life in solitude pursue:
My early, and my only love, is number'd with the dead,
And thou, my last sole joy on earth, my boy, thou too art fled!
Hereford. K. D'W.

A Black cloud makes the traveller mend his pace, and mind his home; whereas a fair day and a pleasant way waste his time, and that stealeth away his affections in the prospect of the country. However others may think of it, yet I take it as a mercy, that now and then some clouds come between me and my sun, and many times some troubles do conceal my comforts; for I perceive, if I should find too much friendship in my inn, in my pilgrimage, I

should soon forget my father's house, and my heritage,

Dr. Lucas,

MODERN INFIDELITY. Modern Infidelity is a soil as barren of great and sublime virtues, as it is prolific in crimes. By great and sublime virtues are meant, those which are called into action on great and trying occasions, which demand the sacrifice of the dearest interests and prospects of human life, and sometimes of life itself; the virtues, in a word, which, by their rarity and splendour, draw admiration, and have rendered illustrious the character of patriots, martyrs, and confessors. It requires but little reflection to perceive, that whatever veils a future world, and contracts the limits of existence within the present life, must tend, in a proportionable degree, to diminish the grandeur, and narrow the sphere, of human agency.

As well might you expect exalted sentiments of justice from a professed gamester, as look for noble principles in the man whose hopes and fears are all suspended on the present moment, and who stakes the whole happiness of his being on the events of this vain and fleeting life. If he be ever impelled to the performance of great achievements in a good cause, it must be solely by the hope of fame; a motive which, besides that it makes virtue the servant of opinion, usually grows weaker at the approach of death: and which, however it may surmount the love of existence in the heat of battle, or in the moment of public observation, can seldom be expected to operate with much force on the retired duties of a private station.

In affirming that infidelity is unfavourable to the higher class of virtues, we are supported as well by facts as by reasoning. We should be sorry to load our adversaries with unmerited reproach; but to what history, to what record, will they appeal for the traits of moral greatness exhibited by their disciples? Where shall we look for the trophies of infidel magnanimity, or atheistical virtue? Not that we mean to accuse them of inactivity; they have recently filled the world with the fame of their exploits; exploits of a different kind, indeed, but of imperishable memory and disastrous lustre.

Though it is confessed, great and splendid actions are not the ordinary employment of life, but must, from their nature, be reserved for high and eminent occasions; yet that system is essentially defective which leaves no room for their production. They .are important, both for their immediate advantage and their remoter influence. They often save, and always illustrate, the age and nation in which they appear. They raise the standard of morals; they arrest the progress of degeneracy; they diffuse a lustre over the path of life; monuments of the greatness of the human soul, they present to the world the august image of virtue in her sublimest form, from which streams of light and glory issue to remote times and ages; while their commemoration, by the pen of historians and poets, awakens in distant bosoms the sparks of kindred excellence.

Combine the frequent and familiar perpetration of atrocious deeds with the dearth of great and generous actions, and you have the exact picture of that condition of society which completes the degradation of the species: the frightful contrast of dwarfish virtues and gigantic vices; where every thing good is mean and little, and every thing evil is rank and luxuriant; a dead and sickening uniformity prevails, broken only, at intervals, by volcanic eruptions of anarchy and crime. Robert Hall.

God doth sometimes permit the wicked to have, but impiety permitted them not to enjoy, no not temporal blessing,

upon earth, Hooker,

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ripened in September, are immersed in fine white cotton. The Cotton which is produced in China, and of which the cloth called Nankeen is made, is said to be tinged with red in its vegetable state, which is supposed to be the cause of its washing of a better colour than any cloth that we can manufacture to imitate it. Few plants are more useful than this: it furnishes clothing to the four quarters of the world; and the seeds are an article of food to the inhabitants, where it is cultivated.

*l There are six species of this genus, of which the Barbadoes cotton is the most cultivated in the West Indies, and forms a considerable branch of their exports. It is set in rows, about five feet apart, grows from four to six feet high, and produces two crops annually; the first in eight months from sowing the seed, and the second four months afterwards. Each plant, at the two gatherings, is reckoned to produce about one pound weight of cotton; and an acre of land to produce 270 pounds weight on an average.

The certainty of gathering a good crop, however, is very precarious; since it may be almost literally said of this plant, that in the morning it is green and flourishing, and in the same evening, withered and decayed. For when the worms begin to prey upon a whole plantation, though they are, at first, scarcely perceptible to the naked eye; yet in three days they will grow to such a size, and prove so destructive, that the most verdant field, thickly and beautifully clothed with leaves and flowers, is reduced to as naked and desolate a condition as trees are, in the month of December, in England.

When these worms, which, in their caterpillar state, effect all this mischief, have attained to their full growth, they spin and inwrap themselves, as in a bag, or web, like silk-worms, in the few remaining leaves, or any other covering; and, after remaining a few days in this, their chrysalis state, they turn into

dark-coloured moths, and fly away. Duppa's

Botany.

The Cotton-plant is also found growing naturally in all the tropical regions of Asia, Africa, and America, whence it has been transplanted, and has become an

important object of cultivation, in the southern parts of the United States, and to some extent also in Europe.

Cotton is distinguished in commerce by its colour, and the length, strength, and fineness of its fibre. White is usually considered as characteristic of secondary quality; yellow, or a yellowish tinge, when not the effect of accidental wetting or inclement seasons, is considered as indicating greater fineness.

There are many varieties of raw cotton in the market; their names being principally derived from the places whence they are brought. They are usually classed under the denominations of long and shortstapled. The best of the first is the Sea Island Cotton, or that brought from the shores of Georgia; but its qualities differ so much, that the price of the finest specimens is often four times as great as that of the inferior. The superior samples of Brazil Cotton are reckoned among the long-stapled. The Upland or bowed Georgia Cotton forms the largest and best portion of the short-stapled class. All the Cottons of India are short-stapled. The inferiority of Bengal and Surat Cotton is sometime ascribed to the defective mode in which it is prepared; but it is doubted whether it can be grown in India of a better kind. The raw Cotton of the Indian islands has hitherto been almost entirely consumed on the spot. A small quantity of very superior Cotton has been imported from New South Wales.

The manufacture of Cotton has been carried on in Hindostan from the remotest antiquity. Herodotus mentions that, in India, there are wild trees, that produce a sort of wool, superior to that of sheep, and that the natives dress themselves in cloth made of it. The manufacture obtained no footing worth mentioning in Europe, till last century. M'culloch's

Commercial Dictionary.

In a future number, we shall give a history of the Cotton manufacture in this country.

THE HORN OF THE ALPS.

The Horn of the shepherds of the Alps is chiefly known among us by the accounts we have heard of the effect of its wild mountain music, in calling in the cattle from their pastures j but it is also used for a more noble purpose, namely, as a signal for the performance of a solemn and religious ceremony. When the sun has quitted the valley, and his lingering beams still cast a glow of fading light on the snowy summits of the mountains, the shepherd whose hut is placed on the highest mountain peak, takes his horn, and pronounces through it, as through a speaking trumpet, the solemn injunction to the world below,—" Praise ye the Lord." Every shepherd in the neighbourhood, as he catches the sound, repeats, in succession, the same sentence at the door of his cabin. Thus, perhaps, for a quarter of an hour, the cliffs and rocky precipices fling to each other the oft-repeated echoes of the sublime "Praise ye the Lord." A solemn stillness succeeds the last reverberation, and all kneel, bare-headed and in silent devotion. When darkness rests on the earth, and veils the towering mountains, the horn again sounds, and a peaceful, social " Good night" is pronounced; this is repeated from rock and cliff, till the distant echoes melt away, and the shepherds then retire to the peaceful cabins. C. M.

The churlish man will necessarily think worse of human nature than it deserves. As there are some flowers which never open but when the sun shines upon them, so there are many hearts, whose good qualities must be drawn out by sympathy and kindness,

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The Griffon, or Fulvous Vulture,

The Vultures, and the Griffons, in particular, are, perhaps, more widely scattered over the warmer parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa, than any other tribe of birds, and are of great use in those climates, in devouring the carrion and other filth, that accident, or the uncleanly habits of the people, may have left exposed; by this means preventing, or staying the progress, in many instances, of contagious disease.

The instinct of another division of the birds of prey, the Eagles and the Hawks, teaches them to live a solitary life, and to hunt their prey singly, or in pairs, seeking chiefly living animals for food: the vultures, on the other hand, when attracted by the scent of carrion, hasten to their banquet in hundreds; the air is darkened with their numbers, and the nuisance is rapidly removed.

The following description of this individual species is copied from Griffiths' edition of Cuvier's Animal Kingdom.

"The Fulvous Vulture, which M. Viellot calls ' le Griffon,' is about three feet and a half in total length, and eight from the tip of one wing to that of the other. Its head is covered with small white and slender feathers. The neck is almost naked: the short and scanty down with which it is sprinkled does not prevent the brown and bluish tints of the skin from being visible. At the bottom of the neck some long feathers are arranged, like a ruff, of a dazzling white. There is a large hollow, furnished with hairs, at the top of the stomach: this marks the situation of the crop. The feathers of the body are of a reddish-gray: the quill-feathers, and the wings and tail, are black; the beak blackish, with a blueish tinge in the middle; the circle round the eye, of a fine orange; the feet and claws, blackish.

The plumage of this Vulture varies with age; in the first year, the body is of a fawn-colour; in the second and third, varied with gray and fawn, more or less deep above j in a more advanced age, it is totally of

a beautiful ash-colour, nearly blue." When the bird is full grown, the short feathers, with which the neck was covered, entirely disappear, and the skin becomes quite smooth. This appears to be a beautiful provision of Providence, to enable the animal to shake off the more readily whatever portion of its uncleanly meal may remain on its head, which it is in the habit of thrusting into the carcass of its prey.

USE OF RUSHES.

I Shall make no apology for troubling you with the detail of a very simple piece of domestic economy, being satisfied that you think nothing beneath your attention that tends to utility: the matter alluded to is the use of Rushes instead of Candles. As I have considered the subject with some degree of exactness, I shall proceed in my humble story, and leave you to judge of the expediency.

The proper species of Rush for this purpose seems to be the Juncus Conglomerate, or Common Soft Rush, which is to be found in most moist pastures, by the sides of streams, and under hedges. These rushes are in best condition in the height of summer; but may be gathered, so as to serve the purpose well, quite on to autumn. It would be needless to add, that the largest and longest are best. Decayed labourers, women, and children, make it their business to secure and prepare them. As soon as they are cut, they must be flung into water, and kept there; for otherwise they will dry and shrink, and the peel will not run. At first, a person would find it no easy matter to divest a rush of its peel or rind, so as to leave one regular, narrow, even rib, from top to bottom, that may support the pith; but this, like other feats, soon becomes familiar, even to children; and we have seen old women, stone blind, performing this business with great despatch, and seldom failing to strip them with the nicest regularity. When these rushes are thus far prepared, they must lie out on the grass to be bleached, and take the dew for some nights, and afterwards be dried in the sun.

Some skill is required in dipping these rushes in the scalding fat or grease; but this knack also is to be obtained by practice. The careful wife of an industrious Hampshire labourer obtains all her fat for nothing, for she saves the scummings of her bacon-pot for this use -, and if the grease abounds with salt, she causes the salt to settle to the bottom, by setting the scummings in a warm oven. Where hogs are not much in use, and especially by the sea-side, the coarser animal oils will come very cheap. A pound of common grease may be procured for fourpence; and about six pounds of grease will dip a pound of rushes, and one pound of rushes may be bought for one shilling; so that a pound of rushes, dipped and ready for use, will cost three shillings. If those who keep bees will mix a little wax with the grease, it will give it a consistency, and render it more cleanly, and make the rushes burn longer; mutton-suet would have the same effect.

A good rush, which measured in length two feet four inches and a half, being minuted, burnt only three minutes short of an hour; and a rush of still greater length has been known to burn one hour and a quarter.

These rushes give a good clear light. Watchlights (coated with tallow), it is true, shed a dismal one, "darkness visible •" but then the wicks of those have two ribs of the rind, or peel, to support the pith, while the wick of the dipped rush has but one. The two ribs are intended to impede the progress of the flame, and make the candle last.

lu one pound, avoirdupois, of dry rushes, which I caused to be weighed and numbered, we found upwards of 1600. Now, suppose each of these burns, one with another, only half an hour, then a poor man will purchase eight hundred hours of light, a time exceeding thirty-three entire days, for three shillings. According to this account, each rush, before dipping, costs one-thirty-third of a farthing, and one-eleventh afterwards. Thus a poor family will enjoy five and a half hours of comfortable light for a farthing. An experienced old housekeeper assures me, that one pound and a half of rushes completely supplies her family the year round, since working people burn no candle in the long days, because they rise and go to bed by day-light.

Little farmers use rushes much in the short days, both morning and evening, in the dairy and kitchen; but the very poor, who are always the worst economists, and therefore must continue very poor, buy a halfpenny candle every evening, which, in their blowing open rooms, does not burn much more than two hours. Thus have they only two hours' light for their money instead of eleven. White's History of Selborne.

THE VILLAGE CHURCH.

Dear Is the ancient village church, which rears
By the lone Jew, on lime or elm-girt mound,
Its modest fabric: dear, 'mil' pleasant sound
Of bells, the gray embattled tower, that wears,
Of changeful hue, the marks of by-gone years;
Buttress, and porch, and arch with mazy round
Of curious fret or shapes fantastic crown'd;
Tall pinnacles, and mingled .window-tiers,
Norman, or misnamed Gothic. Fairer spot
Thou givest not, England, to the tasteful eye,
Nor to the heart more soothing. Blest their lot,

Knew they their bliss, who own, their dwelling nigh,
Such resting-place; there, by the world forgot,
In life to worship, and, when dead, to lie 1 I D. C.

REFLECTIONS ON THE STUDY OF NATURE. By Linnaeus.

I Know not what to think of those people who can, without emotion, hear or read the accounts of the many wonderful animals which inhabit foreign countries.

What principally strikes us agreeably at first sight, is colour j of which the good and great Creator has given to some animals a rich variety, far beyond the reach of human art. Scarcely any thing can equal the beauty of birds in general; particularly the splendour of the Peacock.

India boasts a number of fishes, whose painted scales almost equal the plumage of birds in beauty; the sword-fish, whose sparkling white colour excels the purest and most polished silver: or the goldfish of the Chinese, which shines with such golden splendour.

The Author of Nature has frequently decorated even the minutest insects, and worms themselves, which inhabit the bottom of the sea, in so exquisite the manner, that the most polished metal looks dull beside them. The great golden beetle of the Indies has its head studded with ornaments like precious stones, brilliant as the finest gold; and the Aphrodita Aculeata, reflecting the sunbeams from the depths of the sea, exhibits as vivid colours as the peacock itself, when spreading its jewelled train.

The difference of size, in different animals, must strike us with no less astonishment; especially if we compare the huge whale with the almost invisible mite; the former, whilst it shakes the largest ships

with its bulky body, is itself a prey to the diminutive Onisci, and is obliged to have recourse to the seabirds, who, sitting on its back, free it from these vermin.

We are as much amazed at the prodigious strength of the elephant and rhinoceros, as we are pleased with the slender deer of Guinea, which is, in all its parts, like our deer, but scarcely so large as the smallest lap-dog. Nature has, however, in the nimbleness of its feet, abundantly compensated this animal for the smallness of its size.

The Great Ostriches of Arabia, whose wings are insufficient to raise their bulky body from the ground, excite no less admiration than the little hummingbirds of India, hardly bigger than beetles, which feed on the honey of flowers, like bees and flies, and, like those insects, are the prey of ordinary spiders; between which, and the large spider of Brazil, there is as much difference in size, as between the humming-bird and the ostrich. This great spider often attacks the largest birds, dropping on their backs, by means of its web, from the branches of trees; and while they vainly seek for security in flight, it bites them in such a manner that they not unfrequently fall lifeless to the ground.

The singular figures of some animals cannot fail to attract our notice. We wonder, with reason, at the angular appendage to the nose of the American bat: nor is the short and slender upper mandible, or jaw, of the Indian woodpecker less remarkable; the form of the latter being as unusual among birds, as is among fishes the figure of the American fishing-frog, which is furnished with feet, but cannot walk; while another kind of fish, when the rivulet which it inhabits becomes dry, has a power of travelling over land, till it finds more copious streams.

The plaice, the sole, and many other fishes, although the only animals which have both eyes on the same side of the head, do not, perhaps, astonish us so much, being common fishes, as the horned frog of Virginia, whose head is furnished with a pair of horns, at the extremities of which its eyes are placed; its stern aspect cannot fail to strike with horror all wrho behold it. This frog is unable, however, to move its eyes in different directions at the same time, like the chameleon, which appears to have a power of contemplating at once many distant objects, and of attending equally to all: for this animal certainly does not live on air, as many have reported, but on flies, which it follows with its piercing and sparkling eyes, till it has got so near them, that by darting forth its long tongue, they are instantly caught and swallowed. While the slender ant-bear, which has no teeth, and which the Creator has appointed to live on ants alone, by coiling up its tongue like a serpent, and laying it near an ant hill, collects the little animals, and devours them entire.

He who has given life to animals, has given them all different means of supporting it: for, if all birds were to fly in the same manner, all fishes to swim with the same velocity, and all quadrupeds to run with equal swiftness, there would soon be an end of the weaker ones.

That wisdom which deliberates on all future events, has covered the porcupine-fish, like the hedgehog, on every side with a strong guard of thorns; has bestowed on the armadillo, as on the tortoise, a hard shell, in which it rolls itself up, and bids defiance to its enemies; and has enveloped the Canada pike with a coat of mail.

The same Almighty artist has given the flying squirrel a power of extending its skin on each side of its body, in such a manner, that, being enabled to descend by a precipitate flight from one branch to another, it easily avoids its enemies. He has fixed wings to the sides of the little dragon, with which, by the help of its feet, it supports itself in the air, in the manner of a bat. Thus also has he lengthened out the fin on the breast of the flying-fish, that it might seek for safety in the air, when pursued by its enemies in the water: and he has likewise formed an appendage to the tail of the great cuttle-fish, by means of which it springs out of the sea: at the same time being furnished with a bladder, full of a sort of ink, with which it darkens the water, and eludes the sight of its pursuers.

Other animals are preserved by means of their dismal cries, as the capuchin-monkey, whose horrid yellings are intolerable to the ears; and the sloth, whose piercing voice puts all the wild beasts to flight: the slow-paced maucauco is supplied with double ears, that he may betake himself to the trees in time to avoid danger; there he gathers the fruit in safety, always first tasting what he presents to his mate. The Creator has indulged the opossum with a retreat for her young in her own body, to which they betake themselves in case of an alarm.

The torpedo, of all animals the most tender and slow-paced, and therefore most obnoxious to the attacks of others, has received from its Maker a power denied to other creatures, of giving those who approach it a shock, of such a nature that none of its enemies can bear it.

Truly formidable are the arms which the Lord of Nature has given to some animals. Though he has left serpents destitute of feet, wings, and fins, and has ordered them to crawl on the ground, exposed to all kinds of injuries, yet he has armed them with dreadful envenomed weapons: but, that they may not do immoderate mischief, he has only given these arms to about a tenth part of the various species; at the same time arraying them in such habits that they are not easily distinguishable from one another; so that men and other creatures, while they cannot well distinguish the noxious ones from those which are innocent, shun them all with equal care. We shudder with horror, when we think of these cruel weapons. Whoever is wounded by the hooded serpent expires in a few minutes; nor can he escape with life, who is bitten by the rattlesnake in any part near a great vein.

But the merciful God has distinguished these pests by peculiar signs, and has created them most inveterate enemies; for, as he has appointed cats to destroy mice, so he has 'provided the ichneumon against the former serpent, and the hog to persecute the latter. He has, moreover, given the rattlesnake a very slow motion, and has annexed a kind of rattle to its tail, by the shaking of which it gives notice of its approach.

The ravages of the crocodiles are restrained within very narrow limits; not only by means of the cruelty with which it devours its own young, and of the bird which destroys its eggs; but also by the striped lizard, which informs men of the approach of the crocodile. Just in the same manner the human race are preserved from lions and tigers, by means of the little lizard called gecko; which being alarmed for its own safety, runs hastily to man, and acquaints him with his danger.

Man, ever desirous of knowledge, has already explored many things; but more and greater still remain concealed; for I cannot avoid thinking that those which we know of the Divine works, are much fewer than those of which we are ignorant.

DOGS AND RATS.

The following curious anecdote is sent to us on such un questionablo authority, as to leave no doubt of its authenticity.

At Bishop's Stotfford, in Hertfordshire, there are two dogs, who belong to nobody, and live upon the quay of the river or canal there. These dogs take the greatest delight in rat-hunting: and, when the maltsters go about at night, to see that all is safe, these dogs invariably follow at their heels.

Their mode of proceeding is very ingenious. As soon as the door is unlocked, one rushes in, and courses round the warehouse, not chasing any rat which may start, but pursuing his way among the malt. The other stands at the door, and snaps at the rats as they endeavour to escape. The one standing at the door has been known to kill six rats, all of which rushed to the door at the same time. The next room they come to, they have been known to change posts; the one which hunted before, standing at the door and seizing the prey. By this means, these two dogs have killed, in the malting-houscs of one maltster, upwards of 2000 rats in the course of a year! One of them once killed sixty-seven rats in less than five minutes! They seem to pursue the sport simply for their own amusement; but of course they are welcome compa nions to the workmen.

Instance Of Confidence In British Humanity.— Frazer, in his account of the war between the British and the Ghoorkha nation, in the Nepal country in India, during the year 1814, gives an interesting account of the confidence which even an enemy placed in the humanity of the British character. During the attack of the British on the fort of Kalunga, the Ghoorkha garrison solicited, and obtained, of the besiegers, surgical aid for their wounded. On one occasion this gave rise to a singular and interesting scene. While the batteries were playing, a man was perceived on the beach, advancing and waving his hand. The guns ceased firing for a while, and tho man came to the batteries: he proved to be a Ghoorkha, whose lower jaw had been shattered by a cannon-shot, and who came thus frankly to solicit assistance from his enemy. It is unnecessary to add, that it was instantly afforded. He recovered, and when discharged from the hospital, signified his desire to return to his corps to combat us again; exhibiting thus, through the whole, a strong sense of the value of generosity and courtesy in warfare, and also of his duty to his country, separating completely, in his own mind, private and national feelings from each other, and his frank confidence in the individuals of our nation from the duty he owed his own, to fight against us collectively. —Frazer's Journal.

Content.—I knew a man that had wealth and riches, and several houses., all beautiful and ready furnished, and who would often trouble himself and family by removing from one house to another. Being asked by a friend why he removed so often, he replied, it was to find content in some one of them. "Content," said his friend, " ever dwells in a meek and quiet soul." Walton's Angler.

Upon Occasion Of A Redbreast Coming Into His Chamber.—Pretty bird, how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing, and yet knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next meal: and, at night, must shroud thyself in a bush for lodging! What a shame is it for me, that see before me so liberal provisions of my God, and find myself sit warm under my own roof, yet am ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dulness. Had I so little certainty of my harbour and purveyance, how heartless should I be, how careful, how little list should I have to make music to thee or myself! Surely thou comest not hither without a Providence. God sent theo not so much to delight as to shame me; who, under more apparent means, am less cheerful and confident: reason and faith have not done so much in me, as in thee mere instinct of nature: want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not more happy here, than the foresight of better things maketh me.

O God, thy providence is not impaired by those powers thou hast given me above these brute things: let not my greater helps hinder me from an holy security, and comfortable reliance upon thee. Bishop Hall.

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