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it them if they dare! We are all of one mind; are we not ys?". This speech was followed with loud shouts of approtion. Well said, BARTON! Well said, AINSLEY! Hear em dear master! hear them! We're all of one mind. O, me, Sir-come and help us! We will defend you to the st!” were reiterated from fifty voices. I was affected ith this proof of attachment almost to tears, but suppresng my feelings, “Children,” said I, “you distress me exemely, and if you persist you will do me a material injury. ly friends here, and I, are on the point of settling our misnderstanding on amicable terms, and your interference is kely to spoil all. Go, and believe me, when I tell you once fore, that I am quite safe. Can you really suppose

that

my wn neighbours, with whom I have been acquainted for so nany years, from whom I have received so much civility, and cho have always, till this occasion, given me credit, I am ure not without reason, for good intentions, should all at once so cruelly change their opinion of me, that my personal safety should be in danger from them? How can you be so silly and childish? Some designing people have misrepresented my motives, and I am glad of an opportunity to explain them. Away with these foolish weapons," added 1, smiling “You have got the heart of heroes; but you must not mistake friends for enemies again.”

I spoke this with a chearful and unconstrained voice, and it produced on all parties the effect I wished. The boys returned to their play. Some of the most violent of my accusers went home with their children, half ashamed of themselves, but for the sake of consistency, muttering something about never again entering the school-door, and the rest accompanied me to the schoolhouse, where I fully detailed to them iny plan and object, and convinced them that the experiment had already been tried in various places with suc

I assured them, at the same time, that if, on trial, the scheme did not appear to succeed, I should certainly not pere sist in it, my only motive being the advantage of my scholars. The greater part of those who were present confessed themselves satisfied with the explanation I gave them, and all of them were pleased, I believe, with the desire I discovered and really felt to conciliate their favour. Besides, as I shewed no disposition to temporize, but, though not tenacious of lesser matters on any subject which I thought of importance, maintained my opinion with

mild yet steady firmness, they were convinced that I had no wish to deceive, and that I acted on principles which I was not ashamed to avow. I have always thought that an open, candid, and intrepid adherence to the truth, under all circumstances, is, even in a

worldly

cess.

worldly point of view, the soundest policy; and in the present instance I was not mistaken. By the exercise of this prin. ciple, accompanied with a cautious guard over my temper, and the unwearied exertion of prudence and forbearance, I suc: ceeded in quelling a formidable opposition, which threatened to put a stop, at their very commencement, to improvements that have since been of such essential benefit to the chikiren under my care. The system I have, on mature deliberation, adlopted, is, in many respects, different from that recommend ed by Mr. Bell or Mr. LANCASTER, as it was necessary tn accommodate it to the circumstances of a parochial school; I am happy to say, however, that it has fully answered my expectations, and that there is scarcely a single individual in the parish, John Wilson excepted, who does not now acknow. ledge its superiority to my former method. I do not enter into particulars, as I have already detailed, at some length, the plan put in practice by my wife before our marriage, on which mine was founded; a plan which she has since followed with great success in her new female school. In what I have said on the subject, I shall probably be accused of egotism and vanity, and I ain certainly not the proper judge to decide how far I may or may not be free from these failings; but as my chief object has really been not to exhibit myself, but to afford useful hints to persons in my situation, I shall rest satisfied with the consciousness of good intentions, leaving to others to determine the difference between an ostentatious display of selfcomplacency, and an honest unreserved avowal of virtuous principles and feelings.

The Book of Nature laid Open.

(Concluded from p. 563.)

" WHAT THEN AMI-amidst applauding worlds .?

REFLECTIONS ON MYSELF. I CONCLUDED the subject of my last paper with the ex:

clamation of the Psalmist-"What is man that thou art mindful of him ? and the son of man that thou visitest him?" and I would begin the present by answering for myself, in the same devout and inspired language: “I AM FEARFULLY AND WONDERFULLY MADE.” Yes, notwithstanding the great disparity that sinks him into nothing and littleness itself, when put in comparison with those amazing orbs, and worlds beFond worlds, which I have just been considering, the body of

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in is a most curious piece of mechanism; and were it not at my limits are more exhausted than my subject, I could re enter upon the delightful theme, and long expatiate on the onders of the little WorldMAN. Circumstanced as I now 1, I must, however, forbear this gratification, by briefly state

}, that

THE WONDERS OF THE HUMAN BODY e such, whether we consider the composition of its parts, eir suitable structure, their convenient situation, the various es to which they are adopted and may be applied, or, the autiful symmetry and harmony of the whole, that we cannot flect upon them for a moment without a mixture of astonishent, admiration, and the most heartfelt gratitude. To inance only what we discover of the wisdom and goodness of le Deity in the vertebræ of the human neck and back-bone: I challenge any man,” says Dr. Paley, “to produce in the ints and pivots of the most complicated, or the most flexible achine that ever was contrived, a construction more artifi. al, or more evidently artificial, than that which is seen in the ertebræ of the human neck;" and again, “Bespeak of a workan a piece of mechanism, which shall mprise all these urposes, (i. e. the various difficult, and almost inconsistent fices which are executed by the back-bone or spine,) and let im set about to contrive it; let him try his skill upon it: t him feel the difficulty of accomplishing the task, before he e told how the same thing is done in the animal frame. Noning will enable him to judge so well of the wisdom which as been employed; nothing will dispose him to think of it so ruly.” In the structure and conformation of his material rame, no more, however, can be said of the body of man, than ay he adyanced respecting the different ramifications of nimated nature. The bodies of all the individual species are risely formed, and wonderfully adapted to their respective abits and pursuits ;--the wisdom of the Almighty is not nore conspicuous in the spine of the human body than it in he vertebræ of the serpent; and the legs of a man are not letter accommodated to his motion, than are the vermicular ings of a worm, to enable it to draw itself forward.

THE SOUL $ the great enobling principle that chiefly distinguishes man rom the beasts that perish. Man has a Soul as well as a body, and it is this immaterial and thinking part, which is possessed with the powers of judging, invention, and memory, ind capable of knowing, obeying, imitating, and praising its great Creator, that chietly distinguishes him from the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea. It is this spark of Divinity that unites the earthly to the heavenly ezture, and constitutes man the lord of the inferior creation, the .connecting link that unites it to superior intelligences.

this discoveria

But what, above all things, renders the Soul of man infinitely valuable and deserving of his most serious concern, is the

: IMMORTALITY, which, although it has been more clearly brought to light by the preaching of the gospel, is neverteles deducible, to a certain degree, from some of the sublime para of the Book of Nature.

We all know that we are to die, and the many vexations and crosses, troubles and losses, pains, afflictions and disease. which we here experience, we have reason to beliere, are wisely and benevolently sent by an indulgent providence ti prepare us for the change. But when death arrives,-sensation fails, -and the stiff inactive body is stretched on the silent bier

Dream we "that lustre of the moral world," that thinking, immaterial part in the composition of man

goes out in darkness.”—Is it possible to conceive, that, whi not an atom of the earthly tabernacle can possibly be lost is suffering its decomposition in the grave, or in any other situas tion undergoing the process which reduces it to its first princis ples-the light of the soul shall be utterly annihilated, and that lamp of the Lord be forever extinguished.

To reason from analogy, and what we have seen of the works of the Creator, have we not rather reason to conclude, that the soul here, is, as it were, in a state of embryo, or preparation for another and a future world, where its feeble powers shall be ripened into action, and the glorious studies of its Maker's works here begun, shall be perfected and come pleted. “How," says the pious and judicious Addison, “can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capa able of such immense perfections, and of receiving new ima provements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing ala most as soon as it is created? Are such abilities made for no purpose ? A brute arrives at a point of perfection that he can never pass : in a few years he has all the endowmenti he is capable of: and were he to live ten thousand more, would be the same thing he is at present. Were a humaz soul thus at a stand in her acconiplishments, were her faculu ties to be full blown, and incapable of further enlargements I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop once into a state of annihilation. But can we believe a thing ing being, that is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after baring jus looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a fer

scoveries of his infinite goodness, wisdom and power, must rish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her inliries ? The silk-worm, after having spun her task, lays reggs and dies. But a man can never have taken in his full easure of knowledge, has not time to subdue liis passions, esblish his soul in virtue, and come up to the perfection of s nature before he is hurried off the stage. Would an innitely wise Being make such glorious creatures for so mean purpose? Can he delight in the production of such abortive telligences, such short-lived reasonable beings ? Would he ve us talents that are not to be exerted ? Capacities that e not to be gratified? How CAN WE FIND THAT WISDOM, HICH SHINES THROUGH ALL HIS WORKS IN THE FORMATION

MAN, WITHOUT LOOKING ON THIS WORLD AS ONLY A URSERY FOR THE NEXT, and helieving, that the several generaons of rational creatures which rise up and disappear in such cick successions, are only to receive their first rudiments of extence here, and afterwards to be transplanted into a more friendclimute, where they may spread and flourish to all eternity ?It is true, that if nature is left to herself, doubts and fears ill sometimes spring up in the mind of man, and those tranporting views that arise from a belief of the immortality of ve soul be at times darkened and overclouded; but what Ise can be expected in an imperfect stale like this, where we ee but darkly as through a glass. From what we do see we have reason to conclude, that all nings are ordered in the best manner possible; and it is no oubt equally necessary, that the more substantial joys of a iture life should be veiled from our eyes in this world, as it is hat the glory of the sun should be concealed below the hori. on, and the atmosphere enveloped in the shades of night, in hose intervening seasons, when deep sleep falleth upon manind, because man stands in need of repose. I remember, says St. PIERRE,) that when I arrived in France, in a ship vhich was returning from the Indies, as soon as the sailors' erfectly distinguished the land of their native country, they ecame almost entirely incapable of attending to the ship. some fixed their eyes upon it, incapable of turning them away; others put on their best clothes as if they were immeliately to disembark : there were some who stood talking to hemselves; and others wept. As we approached, the conision of their senses increased. Having been absent during jeveral years they admired incessantly the verdure of the hills, he foliage of the trees, and even the rocks of the shore, covered with sea-weeds and mosses, as if every object was new to the m. The spires of the villages in which they were Vol. II. DUD

born,

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