mark, the action of the advancing and retiring waves had washed away the lower part of the rock, and left them, when the coast was upheaved to its present height, in the position they now occupy."

Our morning hours were going past apace. Gladly would we have gone on to have a view of Glen Sannox, which may well dispute the palm with Glen Rosa, though the latter is exceedingly magnificent near the head, at a place which, independent of the grandeur of the scenery, should be visited by geologists, on account of a junction there to be seen in the channel of the burn. The best view of Glen Sannox is got from an elevated position, such as the deck of a steamer. But he who has thus had a view of it from without, will probably not rest satisfied till he has also had a view of it from within; and as he moves through this rugged scene of desolate grandeur, in which there is scarcely the appearance of anything that lives, he may be startled from his reverie by the bold, hoarse note of the heath-cock as he springs from the heather at his feet, or by the loud scream of the eagle as he rises from his eyry in Kiervore, or by the more astounding apparition of a noble red deer starting from his lair amidst the deep heath, and bounding away in antlered majesty. I have known this happen in Glen Sannox. A friend of mine told me that he on one occasion saw thirteen of these stately animals ambling in Indian file along one of the lofty ridges not far from this place. I considered it as no small treat to see even one of these nearly exterminated denizens of these romantic wilds, as he scudded along the sloping side of Glen Iorsa, till, having got beyond bow-shot or the reach of a bullet, he turned and looked down on me with an air of scornful defiance.

Neither would our limited time allow us to go on to the Fallen Rocks, a wonderful scene, where an immense projecting cliff of old red sandstone had at some remote period given way, and as it tumbled down the mountain side towards the sea, left along the whole of the declivity great masses of the conglomerate, huddled together in rugged grandeur. | Nor could we even venture to approach the Blue Rock, willing as we would have been to try the powers of its celebrated echo, which, according to the account of a facetious lady, when spoken to in English responds in native Gaelic. Turn then we must, and scarcely had we turned, till we came up to an old man, seated on one of the boulders on the shore, whom we recognised as the person we had seen a little before in the cottage where the milk refreshment was obtained. When I entered the house, I had observed him at an early breakfast, and thinking that he was one of the household, I attempted to hold conversation with him; but his answers to what I said were very brief. On coming out, the person who inhabited the house told us that he was a poor man who had seen better days; and before leaving them he was receiving this early repast. He had lodged, I think, with them during the night. Knowing this, I again accosted him as he was resting himself on the stone; and having given him a trifle, I found that he was more communicative. Unfortunately, we cannot often give credit to what is told of their own history by the wandering poor. They are

tempted to paint imaginary scenes of calamity ta excite our sympathy; and knowing this, the more woful their story, the less we are disposed to believe it. I doubt not that at times we do them injustice for the cup which they are drinking is often a bitter one, and not always mingled by their own hands. A few days ago a portion of family history was told ma by a person of undoubted credit, who knew the truth of the particulars, which, if mentioned by a stranger applying for aid, would probably have been regarded as fictitious. The death of a female of good character, a few days previous, being mentioned ta me, it was added, there was something peculiar in her history. She was the mother of fifteen children, only one of whom survived her. Thirteen of them died in infancy; and it might be said that the day of their death was better than the day of their birth, for there was some malformation about the head. which rendered them what is called objets. Ose lovely girl, free from any such defect, lived till she was about seventeen years of age; and what must have been the grief of her affectionate parents when, at this interesting age, they saw her drooping and pining away, and by rapid consumption brought down to the grave! One healthy daughter, however, still remained—their comfort, we doubt not, for a time. But did she continue to be their comforter? She was married, and it is believed well married; but it had been reported that she had contracted habits of inebriety. The father had gone, it was thought, to visit and counsel her; the mother in his absence was seized with shivering. At first no danger was appre hended; but as her state became more alarming her husband was sent for, and cre he returned, his be loved wife was no more! The old man's history, with whom I then conversed, was mournful, but less uncommon, and I was disposed to think that it was a true one. He told us that he was from the neighbourhood of Inverary-that he had been a shipmaster-that he had had a large family-that one of his sons had been a writer, and another a student of divinity under Dr M'Gill in Glasgow; but that all his family were dead. That the student had died after a lingering illness of many years; that, to crown his calamities, his vessel had been wrecked; and the: having lost his all, and being advanced in life, he was dependent on charity, and was now on his way to Brodick and Lamlash, in the hope of obtaining some aid from seafaring men who had known him in former years. I did not learn whether he had be come acquainted with Him who is as a hiding-place from the wind and a covert from the tempest. Happy they who have cast their anchor within the veil, and have fled for refuge to the hope set before them in the Gospel. I have still much to report of the day's walk, but I must reserve it for another communication.

THE POOR MAY DO GOOD.

You are not, though poor, shut out from doing good, any more than you are from being good. O! if you had a heart to be useful, you might find abundant opportunities to employ your energies. Many irstances might be adduced, if it were necessary, of persons in the humblest walk of life doing great good; and that not only by all kinds of ingenious

devices, but in the way of direct effort. Take the two following as specimens: There was a member of the Church under my care, who lived in an almsbouse, and was so distorted by rheumatism as to be quite a cripple, and able to walk or stand; and withal, her fingers, through the power of her disease, were twisted into all kinds of shapes. On entering her apartment one day I found her with some religious tracts. Well, Mrs II, said I, what are you doing? "O! sir," she replied, "I am sorting my tracts." What for? "To send out to my neighbours." The fact was, that she had received these tracts from richer friends from time to time, and then employed some one to carry them round the spacious court of alms-houses in which she lived, and other dwellings in the neighbourhood, and her work was to keep up a regular supply and exchange. Thus poor old Ellen in the alms-house could find some way to be useful. To give one more instance: I was visiting a brother minister a few years ago with a view to assist him at a missionary meeting which was to be held in his chapel. While I was in his house he called me into the kitchen, for what purpose I did not know till the scene explained itself. There, stood an aged woman about eighty years old talking with the minister, and looking with a smiling countenance, and with sparkling eyes, as far as such aged orbs could sparkle, upon some silver which my friend at that moinent held in the palm of his hand. It might have been supposed she was going to receive this money to multiply her comforts; for all her income was half-a-crown a week from the parish, and what the kindness of her friends might occasionally bestow, out of which she paid eighteenpence for lodgings; but no, she came to give, not to receive. That money, amounting to more than ten shillings, she had earned by knitting various articles and selling them, and she was then in the kitchen, where I saw her, to place it in the hand of her minister for the Missionary Society. So you see the poor can do something for God's cause, if they have a mind to work." But they may also do much in the way of direct effort for the conversion of souls. Can they not warn a profane sinner? or explain the way of salvation to those that are ignorant and out of the way? or distribute tracts, and talk about their contents? or invite the neglecters of public worship to the house of God? Let the poor understand, value, and enjoy their privilege.-Memoir of Elizabeth Bules, by J. A.

James.

WESTERN RILLS.

THE Rev. Dr Beecher said, on a public occasion, that he had had a dream, which, like other dreams, did not wholly explain itself, and in which some of the natural objects had the power of speech. He was travelling near the sources of the Monongahela, and in passing over a rough country, at every short distance met little streams which he could step over; but all of them were going the same way. At last he asked one where it was going. "Why," replied the little rill, “I am going to New Orleans.' I heard the people there want a great canal a thousand miles long and fifteen hundred feet wide, and I am going to help to make it." And pray, what can you do? "I don't know what I can do, but I shall be there."

And so saying, it hurried on. "He came to another, and asked the same question, and received the same answer. All were hurrying on to make the grand canal, on which the steam-ships of the West, with their heavy burdens, were to be transported. On the heads of the Alleghany, the Scioto, and the Mississippi, he found thousands more of fitful streams, hurried on by the same impulse, and which, while he yet spoke to them, hurried

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out of sight. None knew what it could do, but all were determined to do something. He passed on to the mighty Mississippi, and there he found the canal was made! The noble steam-ships rode proudly on its surface, and as its waters diminished, they were again replenished to the brim by every mountain-spring and every stream. Thus do the little rills make the stream, the stream the river, till the united waters of the whole pour on their way rejoicing to the glorious ocean.

So is man to the mass, and mass to the grand tide of human affairs. Each little mortal, weak and weary though he be, can do something in making up the mighty stream of human events as it rolls to the ocean of eternity.

BURNING.

Ir is remarkable that death by burning has always been considered as consecrated, if I may so speak, to the crime of a religious faith. It is the baptism of fire with which the Court of Rome pre-eminently has chosen to finish and perfect the etherealization of those noble spirits who, in the midst of torture and death, opposed her errors and her despotism. It is the only sacrament that Romish bigotry and superstition have ever granted to heretics-the sacrament with which a multitude of souls, of the best mould ever shaped, have been dismissed in a chariot of fire to immortality.-Cheever.

Miscellaneous.

RECREATION is intended to the mind as whetting is to the scythe-to sharpen the edge of it-which otherwise would grow dull and blunt. He, therefore, that spends his whole time in recreation, is ever whetting, never mowing-his grass may grow, and his steed starve: as contrarily, he that always toils and never recreates, is ever mowing, never whetting-labouring much to little purpose. As good no scythe as no edge. Then only doth the work go forward, when the scythe is so seasonably and moderately whetted that it may cut, and so cut that it may have the help of sharpening.-Hall.

In this world we are children standing on the bank of a mighty river. Casting our eyes upward and downward, along the channel, we discern various windings of its current; and perceive that it is now visible, now obscure, and now entirely hidden from our view. But being far removed from the fountain whence it springs, and from the ocean into which it is emptied, we are unable to form any conceptions of the beauty, usefulness, or grandeur of its progress. Lost in perplexity and ignorance, we gaze, wonder, and despond. In this situation, a messenger comes to our relief, with authentic information of its nature, its course, and its end; conducts us backward to the fountain, and leads us forward to the ocean. river is the earthly system of providence, the Bible is the celestial messenger, and heaven is the ocean in which all preceding dispensations find their end.— Dwight.

This

Sabbath is not a day to feast our bodies, but to feed our souls.

CHRIST AND THE SCRIPTURES.-The Scriptures are the circumference of faith, the round of which it walks, and every point of which compass it toucheth, That is the polar star yet the centre of it is Christ. on which it resteth.-Henry. A cripple in the way out-travels a footman or a post out of the way.

Daily Bread.

FRIDAY.

"To die is gain.”—PHIL. i. 21. Happy who in Jesus live;

But happier still are they. Who to God their spirits give,

And 'scape from earth away.

If communion with God and grace here afford us such a satisfaction, as surpasseth all the delights of the sons of men, what will the fulness of joy be in God's presence, and those pleasure for evermore? If the shadows of good things to come be so refreshing, what will the substance be, and the good things themselves? If God's tabernacles be so amiable,

what will his temple be? If a day at his courts, an hour at his table, be so pleasant, what, then, will an eternity within the veil be? If I find myself so enriched with the earnest of the purchased possession, what, then, will the possession itself be? If the joy of my Lord, as I am here capable of receiving it, and as it is mixed with so much alloy in this imperfect state, be so comfortable, what will it be when I shall enter into that joy, and bathe myself eternally in the spring-head of those rivers of pleasure ?— Henry.

SATURDAY.

"I was wounded in the house of my friends."-ZECH. xiii. 6.
Watch'd by the world's malignant eye,
As servants of the Lord Most High,
We ought in all his paths to move-
With holy fear and humble love.

We must be very cautious, that we never say or do anything to the reproach of the Gospel and Christ's holy religion, or which may give any occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme. If those that profess to be devout towards God, be unjust and dishonest towards men, this casts reproach upon devotion, as if that would consist with and countenance immorality. If those who call themselves Christians walk as other Gentiles walk, and do Satan's drudgery in Christ's livery, Christianity suffers by it, and Religion is wounded in the house of her friends. Injuries are done which cannot be repaired; and those will have a great deal to answer for another day, for whose sakes the name of God and his doctrine are thus evil spoken of.-Ibid.

SABBATH.

"And the Lord turned and looked upon Peter."LUKE Xxii. 61.

Jesu, let thy pitying eye

Call back a wandering sheep!

False to thee, like Peter, I

Would fain, like Peter, weep:

O for such a look as would bring me presently down, like Zaccheus, from the sycamore of my selfconceit and self-righteousness, and from my best beloved sins and idols, and cause me to receive Christ joyfully into my heart, and go with cheerfulness to his house, and receive the seal of his covenant, saying: "My Lord and my God!"— Willison.

MONDAY.

"In the Lord have I righteousness and strength."— ISA. XIV. 24.

Omnipotent Lord,

My Saviour and King, Thy succour afford,

Thy righteousness bring.

The Christian's strength lies in the Lord, not in himself. The strength of the general in other hosts lies in his troops; he flies, as a great commander once said to his soldiers, upon their wings; if their feathers

But streams of grace from Him o'erflow,
Their thirst to satisfy.

in a stream after them; so that you hear no more of
They had not only a draught at present, but it ran
their complaints for water: this rock was Christ.
Every believer hath Christ at his back, following
him with strength as he goes, for every condition and
trial. One flower with the root is worth many in a
posy, which, though sweet, yet do not grow, but
wither as we wear them in our bosoms.
strength, as the root, keeps our grace lively, without
which, though as orient as Adam's was, it would die.

-Ibid.

WEDNESDAY.

God's

"Why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it ?"— 1 Cor. iv. 7.

Teach me, blessed Lord, to walk
Softly while I live below,
Ever feeling from whose hand

My blessings, small and great, do flow. Remember, Christian, when thou hast thy best suit on, who made it, who paid for it: thy grace, thy comfort, is neither the work of thy own hands, nor the price of thy own desert; be not, for shame, proud of another's cost. That assistance will not long stay which becomes a nurse to thy pride. Thou art not lord of that assistance thou hast. Thy Father is wise, who, when he alloweth thee most for thy spiritual maintenance, even then keeps the law in his own hands, and can soon curb thee if thou growest wanton with his grace. Walk humbly, therefore, before thy God, and husband well that strength thou hast, reinembering that it is borrowed strength. will waste what he begs? or who will give that beggar that spends idly his alms? When thou hast most, thou canst not be long from thy God's door. And how canst thou look him in the face for more, who hast embezzled what thou hast received:—Ibid.

THURSDAY.

"My Lord and my God."-Jonx xx. 28. Let earth no more my heart divide; With Christ may I be crucified

To thee with my whole soul aspire; Dead to the world and all its toys, Its idle pomp, and fading joys,

Be thou alone my one desire!

Who

Christ I must have to teach me, to justify and sanctify me-none else can do; on him all my help is laid. How shall I go to a communiou table without him? How will I go to death without him? How will I go to a judgment-seat without him? Lord, my case is desperate without thee, wherefore I accept of thy offer, I believe thy love, I trust in thy merits, I apply thy blood, I appropriate thy purchase. And though clouds arise, and thou shalt threaten even to slay me, yet I will trust in thee, as one that "loved me, and gave himself for me." Willison.

Edinburgh: Printed by JonN JOHNSTONE, residing at 12. Windsor Street, and Published by him at 2, Hunter Square. London: R. GROOMBRIDGE & SONS. Glasgow: J. R. M'NAIR & Co.; and to be had of any Bookseller throughout the Kingdom.

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THERE are many remarkable features in the religion of the present day which engage the attention of thoughtful men. On the one side, there is the earnest search after truth; and on the other, the headlong rushing into error. We behold a relapse into the mere formalism of past ages, accompanied by a wondrous advance towards the region of pure and spiritual light. The eye rests simultaneously upon the revival of medieval bigotry, darkness, and superstition, and the fresh, vigorous, and rapid growth of a faith and practice which bears no uncertain resemblance to primitive and apostolic Christianity. The elements of division are increasing, and yet the desire and effort to obtain union are on the increase too. Never, perhaps, has there been a period in the history of the Church when worldliness and selfishness abounded so much-never, perhaps, one in which nobler and more self-denying efforts have been made for the cause of truth and the glory of God.

Amid all these various and conflicting characteristics, there is one grand deficiency-a deficiency which mars the face of Christian society, which paralyzes Christian exertion, which lowers the tone of Christian character, and opens a wide door to numberless evils. It is not necessary to affirm that this deficiency is in a special degree to be observed with reference to the religion of our own day, though it would not be very difficult to prove this; it is sufficient for the present to remark, that the peculiar circumstances of the present times tend to exhibit the evils of this deficiency most prominently and painfully.

The injunction of an inspired apostle will point to a requirement which at once marks the feature in our Christianity wherein we are deficient: "Let us walk honestly, as in the day." In our obedience to this precept, when weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, we are found wanting. There is a fearful lack of honest, honourable, worthy bearing in modern Christianity. This is an evil which presents itself before us in a variety of forms. It is as widely prevalent as it is deep-seated, and as withering to true godliness in its effects as it is subtle in its operation. It is a gangrene on the wide surface of the visible Church-it is base metal which alloys the pure gold of the sanctuary of Christ-it is the fruitful parent of unsteady principle and corrupt practice-it chokes up and perverts the fountains of truth, and puts a lie in the right hand of the people. No. 44.

Let us take a rapid sketch of this evil, from two or three points of view, narrowing the field of observation as we proceed. First let us notice it in reference to the whole body of the professing Church of Christ. It is an appalling statement to make, and yet it is true-it is indeed most appalling because most true-that if the great majority of professing Christians were honest men, they would be avowed Infidels. They profess to follow Christ-they profess to love him-they profess to serve him they retain this profession by retaining their name as Christians-they confirm this profession by either habitually or occasionally attending the public services of religion. This profession includes every variety of their condition. By it they profess to be guided as subjects, as citizens, as neighbours, as friends-by it they profess to be controlled in the senate and in the family, in the discharge of public duty in all its branches and dependencies, as well as in the private intercourse and relative obligations of daily life. The substance of this profession is, that they are Christ's; and this implies that they are "bound to glorify him in their bodies and in their spirits, which are his." There is no meaning in a profession of Christianity apart from this substance and this obligation.

What, then, is the case? Do the large proportion of nominal Christians mean what they say, and say what they mean? or do they say one thing and mean another? A man joins a congregation. Every outward act proclaims him as identified with the servants of Christ. He opens his Bible with them-he prays with them he sings praises with them-he listens to the Word of exhortation with them; and yet, after all, is he a Christian? Does he believe in the threatenings or the promises of the Word of God? Has he really chosen Christ as his Master, in preference to the world? Has he taken up his cross to deny himself and to follow Christ? Does he now live for eternity, and not for time? Does he know the force and feel the truth of these simple lines, as he makes them his own :

"Master, I would no longer be

Loved by a world that hated thee?"

Nothing of the kind. With all the dress of religion, he has none of the living thing. He give up the world to follow Christ! Why, if you were to ask him of his hopes of heaven or his fears of hell-if you were to tell him of the love of Jesus and the free grace of God-if you were to address him as one who must be December 26, 1845.

acquainted with the length and the breadth, the height and the depth, of the love of Christhe would either stare in ignorant astonishment, or think you a madman and a fool, or point his answer with a jest, and laugh the saint to scorn. And what is this? Gross dishonesty. It is a lack of all moral decency-a want of principle, which, when it is evidenced by man in his dealing with his fellow-man, is not tolerated for a moment, and is justly branded with disgrace and infamy. But man perpetrates it in the open day against God, and whatever may be the judgment hereafter, escapes without a blemish

here.

But it is said, that men do not consider so much to be attached to a mere profession. Assuredly they do not, and hercin exists their dishonesty. They use their religion as far as they think it needful, and then discard it. They profess with a mental reservation. Is this honourable?

Now mark a striking proof of this dishonesty. Let one out of the many become seriously alive to the solemn obligations under which he lies, as a professed servant of Christ. Let him truly repent of his sins-truly turn to God-truly love Christ-truly serve God-truly walk in the Spirit-truly give up the world and deny the flesh truly carry out in public and private all the principles of the Gospel of Christ; and what is the consequence? He is assailed on all sides as a fanatic-a fool-a knave. He is honest, and dishonest professors will tolerate anything but this. He is true to his God, and this is too grave a reflection upon themselves for those to pardon who trade in rain oblations, who speak lies in hypocrisy, and of whom the evangelical prophet has long ago emphatically declared, that even when they "make many prayers," their "hands are full of blood." What was the sin of Ananias and Sapphira? It was not simply the fact that they kept back a sum of money. This they might have done, had they pleased, and committed no sin. Their guilt lay in this, that they professed to give all, while they kept back part of the price. Herein lay their dishonesty. "Whiles it remained," said the apostle to Ananias, "was it not thine own? And after it was sold, was it not in thine own power?" You might have given it or kept it, as you pleased; but "why hast thou conceived this thing in thine heart? Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God." Oh! what a dishonest keeping back of what we profess to owe to God is there in the visible Church. How loud must be the cry for vengeance against a sinful and adulterous generation for the constant "lying unto God" of professing Christians! What forbearance on the part of God must there ever be, when the sin of Ananias is not always followed by an equally swift and awful judgment !

But we must be struck by the manifestation of dishonesty in religious matters from another point of view. The Church is at present torn

with disputes and contentions. It must needs be that these arise. Woe, indeed, unto those by whom they come! but existing as they do in the Church, and seemingly on the increase, it is painful to witness so much dishonesty mingled with them. Thus we find it openly and unblushingly avowed by some, that they must act upon the principle of "reserve," both in the vindication of their opinions from assault and in the urging of their opinions upon others. And what is this reserve? It is but a gentle epithet for dishonesty. Anything short of the truth is not the truth. Anything beyond the truth is not the truth. And whether the reserve be exercised on the side of excess or defect, it is equally dishonest in the sight of God, and utterly without excuse.

But even when this principle is not avowed, is it not too often in secret operation? When Christians are engaged in contending even for a good cause, do they not often set themselves to conceal or to palliate something of which they cannot approve, but which they fear may prove a weakness to them? And what is this but dishonesty? It is but an illustration of the old saying: "Doing evil that good may come;" while it manifests an unchastened dependence upon mere instruments and agencies, rather than upon the power, the wisdom, and the love of God, in prospering his own glorious cause of truth and righteousness. Such was not Paul's conduct at Antioch, when he withstood Peter to the face, because he was to be blamed, though he was one of his fellow-apostles. Such is not the way of inspired historians in the Sacred Scriptures. They give the weakness as well as the strength, the fallings as well as the risings, the sins as well as the penitence, the waywardness as well as the stedfastness of their party; and thus they are strong in the honesty of the truth. They rest their cause not on the "wisdom of man, but on the power of God:" and "walking honestly, as in the day," as "the children of light," they are mighty in reproving "the unfruitful works of darkness;" and impregnable on the everlasting rock of "truth, meekness, and righteousness."

But further: it is painful to reflect how even individual Christians, in their daily intercours with those around them, are in reality open to the charge of dishonesty in religious matters. The world respects honesty in everything but religion; but here it is not to be borne. That any one should strictly and conscientiously carry out the principles of truth by which he professes to be guided, is not to be endured. He is righteous over much-he is a hypocrite

"he hath a devil, and is mad." And how do the people of God generally meet such unjust, untrue, and dishonest estimates of their cha racter and conduct? Is it not too often the case that, under the plausible disguise of fearing to give needless offence, we shrink from the honest avowal or manifestation of our principles-perhaps chime in, after a manner, with sentiments