derived, was coloured with the pencil of their fertile and luxuriant imagination; their idolatry was poetical and imposing. The Thor and Odin of the Scandinavian nations of old, are essentially the gods of a fierce and warlike race, to whom battle was ever welcome, and rapine and slaughter a delight. Vishnu and Seva, and the multitudinous protean deities of the Hindoos, accord with the extravagance of their imagination, which delights in the fantastical and perplexed. The extensive spread of the Mohammedan superstition among the nations of the East, is, in reality, less to be attributed to the sword than to its meeting, in the feelings and inclinations of the Mongol, Tartar, and Arab races, a congenial soil. If the character, then, of a superstitious system of religion be tinctured with that peculiar to the mental constitution of a nation or people, the system itself re-acts on that nation, thus rendering more indelible those traits from which it took its own lineaments. Such systems do not tend to raise the human species; and when man, under their influence, attains to refinement, it is in spite of them, and not on account of them; and, even then, they produce a discordance in the harmony of social existence, they are out of keeping (as the artist would term it) with the rest of the picture. But there is a religion founded on eternal immutable truth, which takes its lineaments from no race, which is tinctured with no national characteristics, but which appeals to the unbiassed mind and the inmost heart of every man, of every nation. It is a religion which shows us, what, indeed, we cannot but feel, that man is a weak and guilty being; that God is infinite in justice, power, and mercy; and that in his sight, the whole world lies in ruins and death. But while it teaches these truths, it points out the way to life and immortality, it leads us to a refuge to a ransom-to an intercession -and it promises a crown of glory, an abundant entrance into a brighter paradise than the garden of Eden-a paradise where sin cannot intrude, where labour and disappointment are not known, and where " sorrow and sighing shall flee away." Happy is the nation that knows these truths-happy the man into whose heart they have entered. But we must conclude. Enough has been said to prove that man, as we have already stated, stands in the midst of the animal world—as in it, but not of it that his destiny and that of the lower animals are diverse; as are, also, the final causes of their existence; and that they belong to two different parts in the great scheme of creation. Their springs of action are different, and opposite are the parts allotted to them by the God of all wisdom. M. THE VALLEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. Ir is now (1842) says the Rev. R. Baird, about sixty years since the tide of emigration from the Atlantic States set fairly into the valley of the Mississippi; and though no great influx took place in any one year, during the first thirty-five of that period, it has wonderfully increased during the last twenty-five. When this emigration westward first commenced, all the necessaries that the emigrants required to take with them from the east, had to be carried on horseback, no roads for wheeled carriages having been opened through the mountains. On arriving at the last ridge, overlooking the plains to the west, a boundless forest lay stretched out before those pioneers of civilization, like an ocean of living green. Into the depths of that forest they had to plunge. Often would whole years of toil and suffering roll away before they could establish themselves in comfortable abodes. The climate, and the diseases peculiar to the different localities, were unknown. Hence, fevers of a stubborn type cut many of them off. They were but partially acquainted with the mighty rivers of that vast region, beyond knowing that their common outlet was in the possession of foreigners, who imposed vexatious regulations upon their infant trade. The navigation of those long rivers could be carried on only in flat-bottomed boats, keels, and barges. To descend them, was not unattended with danger; but to ascend by means of sweeps and oars, by poling, warping, bush-whacking, and so forth, was laborious and tedious beyond conception. Far different are the circumstances of those colonists now! The mountains at various points are traversed by substantial highways; and, still further to augment the facilities for intercourse with the vast western valleys, canals and railroads are in progress. It is accessible, also, from the south, by vessels from the gulf of Mexico, as well as from the north by the lakes, on whose waters from fifty to a hundred steamboats now pursue their kills the large trees by notching them round so as to arrest the rise of the sap, and sows the ground with Indian corn, or maize, as it is called in Europe. He can easily make, buy, or hire a plough, a harrow, and a hoe or two. If he find time, he surrounds his field with a fence of stakes. At length, after prolonging his stay until his crop is beyond the risk of serious injury from squirrels and birds, or from the growth of weeds, he shuts up his house, commits it to the care of some neighbour, living perhaps one or two miles off, and returns to his paternal home, which may be from fifty to three Take the following case as an illustra- hundred miles distant from his new settion of the process that is continually tlement. There he stays until the month going on on the frontier. A man removes of September, then marries, and with his to the west, he purchases a piece of young wife, a wagon and pair of horses ground, builds a house, and devotes him- to carry their effects, a few cattle or sheep, self to the clearing and tillage of his forest or none, according to circumstances, sets acres. Ere long, he has rescued a farm out to settle for life in the wilderness. from the wilderness, and has reared a On arriving at his farm, he sows wheat or family upon it. He then divides his land rye among his standing Indian corn, then among his sons, if there be enough for a gathers in this last, and prepares for the farm to each of them; if not, each receives winter. His wife shares all the cares inmoney enough to buy one, as he comes of cident to this humble beginning. Accusage. Some may settle on lands bestowed tomed to every kind of household work, on them by their father; others, preferring she strives, by the diligence of her fingers, a change, may dispose of their portion, to avoid the necessity of going to the merand proceed, most commonly unmarried, chant who has opened his store at some to "the frontier country," as it is called; village among the trees, perhaps some that is, to those places of the west where miles off, and there laying out the little the public lands are not yet sold. There money they may have left. With econohe chooses out as much as he can conve- my and health they gradually become niently pay for, receiving a title to it from prosperous. The primitive log - house the district land-office, and proceeds to gives place to a far better mansion, conmake for himself a home. This is likely structed of hewn logs, or of boards, or of to be in the spring. Having selected a brick or stone. Extensive and well-fenced spot for his dwelling, generally near some fields spread around, ample barns stored spring, or where water may be had by with grain, stalls filled with horses and digging a well, he goes round and makes cattle, flocks of sheep, and herds of hogs, the acquaintance of his neighbours, resid- all attest the increasing wealth of the ing within the distance, it may be, of owners. Their children grow up, perseveral miles. A day is fixed for build-haps to pursue the same course, or, as their ing him a house, upon which those neigh-inclinations may lead, to choose some bours come and render him such efficient other occupation, or to enter one of the help, that in a single day he will find a learned professions. log-house constructed, and perhaps covered with clap boards, and having apertures cut out for the doors, windows, and chimney. He makes his floor at once of rough boards riven from the abundant timber of the surrounding forest, constructs his doors, and erects a chimney. Occupying himself, while interrupted in out-door work by rainy weather, in completing his house, he finds it in a few weeks tolerably comfortable, and during fair weather he clears the underwood from some ten or fifteen acres, BE THANKFUL. THERE are many people in the world who, surrounded by unnumbered_blessings, perceive them not; who, like Jonah, sit under their gourds in sullen sourness of heart, refusing to enjoy the present gratifications of life, because of the absence of some one thing, the possession of which they have fondly imagined to be essential to happiness. The spirit of unthankfulness poisons the sources of en his bosom had never warmed with the pleasures of friendship, he had never joined in the prayers and praises of a Christian congregation. What little feeling he possessed seemed to concentrate round his pieces of string, and a fresh piece which I offered him was clutched with a strange eagerness and an inco he heeded not; and, ejaculating a silent prayer for one who was unable to pray for himself, I left him with mingled emotions of pity and thankfulness. Reader, you are in possession of your mental faculties, you can think, learn, read, remember, associate with your fellows: you are not an idiot. Be thankful. joyment; and, depreciating their own blessings and magnifying those of others, they refuse to enjoy while anything remains unpossessed, and are more miserable at the recollection of what they have not than happy with what they have. How salutary an influence might it exert on such persons, were they occasionally to visit the abodes of poverty and sick-herent growl of joy. I spoke to him, but ness, and make themselves familiar with the privations and sufferings there are in the world! How often would the man who started on such an expedition unthankful and envious, return home contented and cheerful, his heart lifted up to God in gratitude, for making him what he is, placing him where he is, and giving him what he has! If the reader is in danger of joining that unhappily too large class, the unthankful, and cannot at present personally make himself acquainted with many of the phases of human suffering, perhaps the contemplation of a picture or two, meanwhile, may help to strengthen that thankfulness which is so healthful to our own minds, and so acceptable to our Creator. We may have chosen extreme cases, but modifications of them are to be met with in the range of every one's observation. I knew a blind man: he was born blind. Truly the light is sweet," says the royal preacher, "and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun, Eccl. xi. 7: but this unfortunate being never knew the pleasure spoken of. He never gazed upon the glittering stars at night, he never saw the beauties of the bright blue sky; all is one long dreary night to him. A thousand objects of beauty and sublimity, that are common things to others, were never seen by him. He never beheld the grace or the colour I called at a cottage the other day, and of the summer flowers; he never saw the while talking to the mistress of the house, glorious rainbow; his eye never wandered observed in an inner room a young man. with delight over the changing tints of He was very meanly dressed, and seemed the landscape, or the vast expanse of the absorbed with something he was passing mighty ocean. He never knew the dethrough his hands. His manner was light of watching the varying tints of the so singular, that I questioned the person golden clouds round the setting sun, nor I was speaking with about him. Alas, ever saw "the cold round moon" shining he was an idiot. I entered the room serenely on the placid lake. The smile where he sat, but he took no notice what- of affection, the look of sympathy, the ever of my approach, and continued beaming eye of kindness, are all unknown earnestly to pass pieces of string fastened to him. If he stay at home, his hours together through his hands, and when he pass wearily, for he is debarred from the had exhausted its length he commenced pleasure of reading; and if he walk out, again. His poor mother, with tears in her he has need of some one to lead him by eyes, told me he had always been thus, the hand. He cannot procure his own that he was quite helpless, and that this living, and vainly sighs to be able to was his only amusement. He was harm-work, and be independent of the liberality less, and pursued his dull monotonous occupation with the most imperturbable gravity and seeming interest, regardless of anything else. There he sat, a man in stature, but without a man's understanding: a child, without the beauty, the promise, and the engaging artlessness of a child. There he sat, virtually cut off from society, alive yet dead, unknowing and unhoping, depending upon his friends. for his subsistence. He had never known the enjoyment of reading, he had never felt the pleasure of doing a good action, of his friends. You have the faculty of sight. Prize the senses God has endowed you with, and be thankful for the power of vision, and the numberless gratifications it affords you. Be thankful. A beggar knocked at the door the other day, soliciting alms. He told a piteous tale-of better days, false friends, unkind relations, and bad times. There was an air of truth about his statements. I would not be so credulous as to believe all that is often said on such occasions, but I could not but believe him. He was an old man, bent with years; his hair was silvered with the snows of age. Misfortune and poverty seemed to have long dogged his steps. His shoes were worn out, his feet were swollen with continually tramping along the dusty road, and he leaned on his stick as though faint and weary. I gave him some refreshment, and a trifle, and wished him all that is good. As I looked after him, I thought he had benefited me more than I him; for, while I deeply sympathised with his destitute condition, I thought of what I owed to the love and mercy of God, and feelings of contentment and thankfulness came welling up fresh from the inmost recesses of my heart, that I was not tramping along the road, a homeless and destitute beggar, and I chided my oftenrepeated murmurings, and causeless dissatisfaction, and bade myself be thankful. A few months ago I was making a short stay at one of the watering-places on our coast. Its mild salubrious air has long rendered it a favourite resort for the invalid, and especially the consumptive; and it was melancholy to read on the gravestones in the churchyards the names of so many who had come here from the mighty city and various other parts, doubtless attracted by the mild healthfulness and beauty of the situation, in the vain hope of recruiting the ebbing springs of life. Youth, beauty, childhood, manhood, had hither come from afar, but only to pine and die, and to lay their bones where they had hoped to find health and vigour. I was walking on the beach one glorious morning. The broad round sun shone fiercely out from a cloudless sky, and the fresh gigantic ocean seemed to sparkle with more than usual life, when I met a livery servant drawing a chaise-chair, in which sat a young man. I was shocked and affected at his appearance, so strongly contrasting with the joyous scene around me. He could scarcely have been twenty-five years old, but his cheeks were sunken, his eyes dim, his lips colourless, his bony hand white and transparent, and it was evident that his hours upon earth were numbered. met him again several times taking his usual airing; and, feeling a deep interest in him, I made inquiries, and ascertained that he was the son of a gentleman of fortune, that the most eminent physicians had been consulted respecting him, that everything which skill or kindness could devise or wealth procure had been tried, but in vain. It was pitiable to see a I young man in the prime of his days wasted away to a shadow, his sun going down at noon; born to riches which he could never inherit, and surrounded with luxuries which he could not enjoy. Alas, what were estates, or titles, or equipages to him? He might have envied the rough fisherman whom he passed every day his stalwart frame and bronzed cheek; and I doubt not would have cheerfully parted with the half of his possessions to have been able to enjoy life as well. Ere this his earthly course is doubtless run. Oh be thankful for health. If your body is as a strong and active servant to obey the wishes of your higher nature, you have what thousands lack, and of which you should be thankful indeed for the possession. But we need not add to these pictures. It would be a tedious task to describe the thousand forms of mental and bodily suffering, the varieties of sickness, the endless phases of sorrow and trouble, which men endure. Be thankful for what you have that is good, and for what you have not that is evil; fix your eyes on the many who are enduring, rather than on the few who are enjoying. Remember that all suffering is the effect, mediate or immediate, of sin; think less of your trouble, and more of your sin. If you thus contemplate suffering as the effect of sin, you will be constrained to admit that whatever desires you may have ungratified, you already possess far more than you could have been justified in expecting from a God whose laws you have so flagrantly broken, whose providence you have so often distrusted, and whose mercies you have so grievously abused. S. W. P. THE PURE IN HEART. THE Bible resembles an extensive and highly cultivated garden, where there is a vast variety and profusion of fruits and flowers: some of which are more essential or more splendid than others; but there is not a blade suffered to grow in it, which has not its use and beauty in the system. Salvation for sinners is the grand truth presented everywhere, and in all points of light; but "the pure in heart" sees a thousand traits of the Divine character, of himself, and of the world some striking and bold; others cast, as it were, into the shade, and designed to be searched for and examined; some direct, others by way of intimation and inference. -Cecil, ment would be futile, if James was in any way considered monarch, and urged the bill of exclusion, and the impeachment of earl Danby. JUST before the assembling of the new parliament, king Charles concluded another treaty with France, by which he was It was not to be expected that such to receive a large sum of money, upon proceedings should be allowed to go withdrawing from his alliance with Spain. forward. On March the 28th the king The parliament met at Oxford in March, dissolved the parliament, and hastened 1681, their debates were brief and stormy. to Windsor. Shortly after, he sent forth Many of the members, in particular those a declaration stating the reasons for disfor the city of London, arrived with arm-solving the last two parliaments, which ed attendants, and the cry against popery made a favourable impression upon the was general through the nation. The nation. There was now a re-action session began March 21st, when the against the Whigs, and on July 2nd the Commons ordered that their votes should earl of Shaftesbury was committed to the be printed. Tower on a charge of high treason, hooted by the rabble; but in November a bill against him was thrown out by the grand jury of London, and great rejoicings followed. A man, named College, an active partisan against the Papists, was accused of a design against the king, and though nothing could be brought against him except some exaggerated expressions he had used, he was found guilty, on being tried at Oxford, by the influence of the court, and executed. The question as to excluding or limiting the duke of York came immediately under consideration. It was proposed that, upon the death of the king, the government should be vested in a regent: first, the princess of Orange; in case of her death the princess Anne, unless the duke should have a son who was educated a Protestant; then the regency was to last only till he came of age. But that the duke should reside five hundred miles from England, and though the government was to be carried on in his name, he was to be deemed guilty of high treason if he returned to his kingdom. The king approved of this expedient, but the leaders of opposition saw that such an arrange In the summer, the duke of York returned from the Continent. He opened the parliament in Scotland as high commissioner, and there matters were carried with a powerful hand, an act being passed P |