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our hand to assist him in his difficulties, and to rescue him from his perils. There are many with whom we have intercourse whose emotions of pleasure and of pain are so intense, that although their lives are not very eventful, they would excite the most lively interest in our bosoms, and whose powers for action are such, that they might become most useful to society, but who are restrained by timidity or false shame from exertion, and their better feelings through life lie hidden in the most secret recesses of the heart, like treasures which are deeply embedded in the earth, whilst nothing but a rough and uninteresting exterior is presented to our view.

But could this state of things be changed, and could we institute in its stead a noble independence of character, an universal confidence between man and man-could all our language be the language of the heart, how

beautiful would life then be. With united

exertions and united sympathies, we should form but one large family inhabiting the earth, each holding his respective station in life, yet having the welfare of the whole community at heart.

What a noble, what a magnificent part of the creation is man; and yet, though endowed with all the capabilities of yielding the richest produce, how much more cultivation does he require than any thing beside in nature. The toil of the husbandman, when forcing the unfruitful soil to yield him produce, is not to be compared with the arduous and watchful care that is need

ful in the culture of man. What a wilderness does he become if left to his own

guidance-a trackless wilderness of thorns and briars, with here and there, perchance, a sweet wild flower striving to raise its gentle head of innocence, but which is so

surrounded by and entangled with every description of weeds, that it inhales their pernicious perfume, and full soon droops and dies. Yet needful as it is, we see even in the highest civilized countries, this cultivation but partially attended to.

Could we ascend an eminence, and look down upon the people of a country as we can upon its soil, we should perceive now and then a verdant spot, which told that it had been nurtured with the tender anxiety and industry of a wise and watchful parent, but all around would be wild, and bleak, and desolate, whilst from the very exuberance of the weeds and wild flowers, we should have sufficient evidence that the soil was not in fault, that it required only the hand of culture and the skilful use of the pruninghook, to render it a fair and fertile land, from east to west, and from north to south. The truth would break in upon us, that the

harvest might indeed be plentiful if the labourers were not so few; and serious reflection would convince us, that did the lofty ones of a land - those whose power is great, and whose responsibilities are equally so-extend the hand

extend the hand to commence the mighty work, their bright example would not prove unavailing. But I will commence my narrative without anticipating results.


“Why o'er the globe thus swiftly do we range,

But to kill time, and sate the love of change.”


" And welcome to that vessel's wave-worn crew,

Yon star-like isle, amidst the boundless blue;
And warm the greeting which its dwellers gave
To the far wanderers of the faithless wave,
Though mixed with awe and wonder; for that shore
The foot of stranger ne'er had trod before."

MALCOLM's “ Lost Isle."

I LEFT this country in early youth, in company with a friend who had a most unbounded love for travelling. My time, as well as an ample fortune, were at my own disposal. I was anxious to while away the three following years of my existence, which appeared to stand between me and happiness (in what way I will show in due

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