resting. Daily and most seriously do we experience the effects of dissolution,we die in the death of those whose existence was our life--we die in our parents, in our brethren, in our children; and when at last the mandate is put into our own hands, we often find " that death has not much to do." How miserable then were we, if left to the suggestions of "Nature" alone if Winter darkness were not dispelled by the advent and the glory of a Divine Nativity.

But amidst all this change of Form this visible "Passing away," are there no traces of permanency to be found? is there nothing that meets our eye, or challenges our reflection, of which it may be predicated that it remains the same in the midst of renewal and decay that it is uninfluenced by season-that it is "the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever?"-Yes; those very laws by which the ever-recurring change is regulated, are themselves un changeable; what occurs at this sea son in the kingdoms of animal nature has occurred of old, and will assuredly still continue to occur. Our Fathers, where are they? and whilst Individuals are continually perishing, the immortality of the species is carefully maintained. The seeds of many plants, and the eggs of many insects, are now buried, or about to be lodged in the earth; but the season of winter over, and the influence of light and of heat again fully established, and we shall behold, only without surprise, because experience has made it familiar to us, the animal and vegetable kingdoms repeopled the shell which encrusted and preserved the suspended energies of life shall burst, and from the grave of winter shall assuredly reascend every tribe, and species, and variety of animal and vegetable being. If we turn our eyes to the very fields by which we are surrounded if we lift our vision to the hills and the mountains by which these fields are bounded-these we now occupy, and with these our perception of existence and enjoyment are associated-upon and amidst these we have spent, it may be, our infancy, youth, and our more advanced

our

years; but these permanent Forms of nature are, in comparison with us, everlasting they have not grown with our growth, nor shall they decline with our decay-they have occupied the same share of the regards of men many thousand years ago; and when we, and our associations and recollections, shall have been forgotten on the earth, these will still continue the objects of perception and affection. Others, in all the buoyancy of childhood, in all the impetuosity of youth, in all the pride of life, and in all the solemnity of "November Breathings," shall occupy what we now possess, and claim a kind of temporary alliance and friendship with objects which have lent themselves to the accommodation of all ages and generations. The heavens display God's glory, and in nothing more visibly and impressively than in the unvarying permanency of their character. The stars which arrested the attention and directed the motions of the ancient Patriarch, in his desert migrations with his flocks and with his herds-the constellations which rose upon the adventurous bark of the Phoenician, as he boldly braved the uncertainty and turbulence of the Atlantic Ocean, and subjected the immutable features of heaven to his purpose and conve nience the same" clarissima mundi lumina" under which the Hesperian husbandman conducted his labours,under which he learnt

"Quid faciat lætas segetes, quo sidere

terram

Vertere."

The same "twilight Hesperus," whose ascent taught the shepherd of Arcadia to pen his flocks, and secure his foldthe same "Seven Stars," and "Elwand," and " Plough," whose elevation in the eastern heaven marked the advance of the winter night, and regulated, without the help of clock or watch-work, the evening pastime or repose of our more immediate and unsophisticated Ancestors;-these eternal demonstrations of God remain still the same; declaring, from generation to generation, that, whilst subordinate objects are liable to alteration and change in form and composition,

VOL. X.

4 M

there is behind the whole of this passing systeman Essence and an Existence which is permanent and immutable; it is to this!—oh, it is to this! that we cling. As the shipwrecked Mariner, amidst the tossing of the breakers, adheres to the solid and immoveable rock, -as the adventurous boy, when every bending and brittle branch has given way under his feet, and beneath his grasp, embraces eagerly the firm and unshaken trunk,-so closely, amidst the changes and the instabilities which a November state of being exhibits, do we adhere to-do we embrace, the "Rock of Ages,"-" the Tree of Life," which grows not in the outskirts, as it were, for there all is death and danger, but "in the midst," in the very "centre" of God's vast universal system. Our haven of eternity-our haven of everlasting repose, is, consequently, situated-not amidst the commotions, and littlenesses, and changes, and distractions of approximating forms, but far and away, into the unsearchable depths of that celestial distance, which ever, as it farther recedes, partakes more sublimely and invitingly of the glory and excellence of permanent being. Oh, to be there! where the “ Omnia mutantur" of philosophy, and the "Passeth away" of revelation, are felt no more-where the affections, and the objects upon which they are fixed,-where the elm that supports, as well as the ivy which clusters around it, are equally immortal;-oh, to be bathed in that immutability, which pervades, and supports, and hallows all around-which leaves no part vulnerable by accident, or exposed to decay, but which, whilst it unites, and associates, and combines, forbids all risk or fear of future separation! And thanks be to "Him" whose message we have heard, and whose name we bear, and whose authority we reverence,-" quod petimus hic est !"-" And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; and I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, "BEHOLD THE TABERNACLE OF GOD IS WITH MEN, AND THERE SHALL BE

mer sons and daughters of men, so different, in many respects, from those with whom we are ourselves conversant,-how comes it, that whilst we every day allow our imagination to be excited, and our hearts to be interested in such objects and associations,— we so seldom cast an eye of veneration, # or of corresponding interest, upon those great, ancient, and "immutable" works of God, within which we are entrenched,—and which from every eminence and valley, from the heaven above, and the earth beneath, so loudly challenge our attention? What is the comparative antiquity of that Castle or Abbey-of that pillar or pyramid, upon which the soul settles down in so deep a reverie of reflection and veneration, when contrasted with that of the Plain itself upon which it is situated, or the rock where it is founded, or the mountains amidst the recesses of which it hath arisen and decayed? Is there any object of Art which can contend in antiquity with the Luminaries of heaven-with that light which sprung embodied, and propelled into ceaseless motion, out of primeval darkness, and which carries the mind up even to a period incalculably anterior to the existence of Man himself? The Egyptians, and the Greeks and the Romans, built, or constructed, or framed this or that object of our soul's veneration, and we fall down and worship before these works which the skill and the strength of man have rendered so permanent. But what work of Man can come into competition with the durability of Nature? Can the form antedate the substance? Can the mole-hill, which shoots up, and subsides in a season-the gourd, which expands, and withers down in a day, claim, or gratify your antiquarian research, whilst the very rocks upon which you tread, and ocean over which your eye is carelessly glanced, are so manifestly impressed with the characters of duration and immutability?

But if at any time the antiquated remains of art-the ruined edifice, and decaying tower, become objects of more than ordinary interest, it is surely at this season. A few weeks ago— and the naked and mouldering ruins were concealed, and comparatively unobserved, amidst that profusion of beautiful and variegated form which field, and tree, and branch, and leaf exhibited. These forms have now disappeared

-chased rapidly away, by the breath of November; the surface of the earth is now equally bare and exposed with the decayed superstructure it supports; the trees of the surrounding forest are now themselves equally torn and ruinous with the turrets they surround; there is nothing now on the surface of the landscape to come into competition with those objects upon which the approach of winter effects no perceptible change with the mouldering battlement, which lifts its head amidst the clouds, or the mutilated archway, which opens up its Gothic span from beneath. These objects Row receive us like friends, who, without any parade of promise or of smile, have yet stood the test of time and adversity. They are the "Cordelias" of our winter rambles, and present us with subjects of interesting reflection, when their elder sister, Vegetation, has refused us other entertainment.

There is yet one "existence," which, as it never has partaken of form or modification of being, remains, and must ever remain, undissolved :"Mind-soul"-that within us, which thinks, and feels, and wills, and acts. Upon this "formless," uncompounded, simple Unity, neither time nor circumstances can act as a solvent. All that is visible-all that is even capable, by the power of imagination, to be pictured out into shape and substance, may, by some law or other of Nature, be decomposed, and the shape, and the particular substance, may be deranged and destroyed; but the soul of man, like the great " Parent Spirit himself," is one and indivisible. Into its native elements that cannot be reduced, which already exists, and can only exist in an elemental condition. Out of being that cannot, by any existing arrangements, be driven, which holds a charter of existence, equal in authority, and similar in privilege, with all the first elements of dependent existence. So long as " Nihil interit" is written over the doorway of the universe, so long must that which is, independently of mode and manner, continue to BE. What, then, is it to me that the woodland is now strewed with the wrecks of the season, and that the church-yard has become a November repository of dissolution and decay? The formless, unimaged, inconceivable "Existence," which is properly and incontrovertibly "Self,"

cannot, in any case, yield to the approach of winter, or disappear under the pressure of time.

Having pursued some such train of thought as the above, a few days ago, till I had drifted considerably, both mentally and corporeally, out of my reckoning, I was suddenly arrested in the current of my reflections, and my attention directed to a number of Children who were disporting themselves, seemingly with great glee and enjoyment, on the banks of the Eden in the immediate neighbourhood of the "good town of C****” The mind is never better prepared for the enjoyment of cheerful company, or exhilarating ideas and emotions, than after it has had its full swing of thoughtfulness and serious meditation-I have seen the truth of this exemplified by many an old woman at a "funeral dregy;" by many a venerable and pious Clergyman on a Sabbath evening,-and if I may be permitted the privilege of a reference to myself, by my own conduct and feelings upon the present occasion. So, ascending a little eminence from which I could observe the juvenile sports, I seated myself quietly upon a 66 mosscovered stone," and in a few seconds was completely and very agreeably interested.

Now, Mr Christopher, if you are one of those wise, sober, prudential personages, who, in all they do, and in all they say, and in all they write, have a constant reference to a certain length, and breadth, and altitude of character, which they have adopted for themselves as the proper standard, who are always saying, or thinking, or expressing by action, "how will this conduct or that deportment suit-how will it become me!" If, I say, you are one of those old musty fusty Prigs,-why you are not the man I took you for-nor will you enter at all into my present feelings.-I can sit, man! a whole day, and have often done it too, on the parapet of a bridge, striking stones into the smooth pool below, observing the "dead man's plump" which they cut, the bells which they raised, and the successive and widening circles which played off and off to both bank and stream. Did you ever skip slaties, man, or swim them, all scaly and dry, adown the current? Did you ever play with "Bent-heads" at "soldiers," decapitating hundreds of the enemy with one single veteran, but tough necked and

invincible warrior? Did you ever lay the "wabron-leaf" over the hollow of one hand, and crack it like a pistol by a smart application of the other? Have you never caught "Bumbees" in bluidy fingers," and held them buz zing and humming to your neighbour's ear? Have you never calculated the hour of the day from the "Dandelion?" Have you never made ponds of rain water after a flood, and exulted in seeing them fill? Have you never constructed a "boat" with a "paper sail," and launched her without the aid of helm or compass, upon the "flood" you had collected? Have you never suspended a water wheel by two props, over a gullet, and leapt to observe the success of your contrivance? Have you never flown your dragon, with a well papered and nicely balanced tail, and sent up from time to time the ra pidly ascending Messenger?-I speak not of the "Columbian"t mysteries of "Hy-spy, "Clecking-broad," and "Ring," these are sports into which even the most saturnine and heavy headed Dolt that props a class, is compelled to join. But I say, and I swear it-if you have never entered with a degree of enthusiasm, of which even yet, the very recollection is most pleasing, into the above-mentioned amusements, If you have never been," semel imbutus," you had better trudge. You are no fit Editor for Ebony, let me tell you, nor can you appreciate how much from my seat of grey stone and convenient elevation I enjoyed the "fun below." But my pleasure was only of short continuance, for chancing to look rather more attentively upon the face of a Scar beneath me, under and along which a new road had been lately driven, I thought I could discover something like a "bone" projecting out from the brow; and to my inexpressible surprise, upon a more accurate survey, I found that the materials out of which my young friends had constructed, and were still constructing, the implements of their fun and diversion, had once been appropriated to other purposes, having probably figured in the athletic form and manly deportment of their ancestors. Here a human thigh bone, with its knobbed extremity still smooth and en

3

tire, "did unco weel as a shinty," and 4 there a crooked and still elastic rib-bone was converted into "a bow," and like the martial breast, which in all likeli hood it once enclosed, it still delighted in warlike feats. Here a skull was laid upon its occiput, with the whole fami ly of the passions under water, and having a white stick by way of a mast thrust immediately across the organ of "veneration." Two Collies, (dogs) which had long shared the sport with the shinty-players, after having receiv ed some pretty intelligible hints from their associates in the game, to make themselves scarce, had taken to the graving of bones, and were venturing to erect a very respectable" Collyshangy" over the bleaching relics of mortality. "Surely," said I to a middle-aged and respectable looking personage, who t happened to be passing at the time, "surely, Sir, this is, or rather has been, hallowed ground, and must have been once appropriated to quite other purposes than those by which it is now so shamefully profaned." The Figure looked me stedfastly in the face, as if to inquire whether or not I were quite in earnest in my vituperative mode of interrogation; and, with its hands in its breeches pocket, proceeded, without taking any further notice of my inquiry, on its way. Frustrated in this attempt, I submitted quietly to my fate, waiting the approach of rather a more stylish looking appearance, which came up whistling, and seemed to take a particular interest in this new line of road. My inquiry, however, was equally unsuccessful on this as on the former occasion; and had not a workman who was within hearing of my question, referred me very attentively to" the Provost himsel," as he was pleased to designate a little figure, with a smart and a pleasing expression of countenance, I believe I should have departed just as wise as I came. From this metropolitan dignitary, I learnt, in the most condescending and obli ging manner possible, that I had, in the first place, been unfortunate in the Individuals to whom my inquiries had just been addressed, for that these were precisely the men who, in consequence of the active part they had taken in forwarding this new line of

“ THE MAGA."