"I meant, George," replied Mr. Washington, "by means of it to teach you an important lesson." "What, father? to plant seeds?" "More important than that. I wish to prove to you that there is a great God." 66 Why, I believe that now, father. Mother has often told me all about that." 66 Well, but, George, how do you know that there is a God ?" "Because mother says there is." "But what I mean, my son, is, how would you prove that there is a God?" "I never studied that, father, and I don't know." "Well, that is the very point which I wish you to know. Attend, and I will explain. "A short time since, and you discovered these letters in this bed; they appeared wonderful; you called me; you wished to know how they came here; I told you they might have come by chance; this did not satisfy you; can you tell why?" "Because, it seemed as if somebody must have sowed the seed here just so," said George. "True, it does appear so; and now can you tell, my son, why it appears so?" “Because,” said George, "I think somebody had a design in it; and you told me that you had some design in it, father." "Just so, George. I had a design in it; and the marks of design prove that the plants did not grow thus by chance, but that some agent, or being, was concerned in them: is it not so ?" Yes, sir." 'Now, then, George, look around; you see this beautiful world; you see how nicely all things are contrived; what marks of design there are. We have fire to warm us when we are cold; water to drink when we are thirsty; teeth to eat with; eyes to see with; feet to walk with; in a thousand things we see design. There must then have been a designer-some one who formed these things for a purpose -for some end.' "Ah!" said George, "I know whom you mean, father." "Whom, my son?" "God Almighty. Do you not?" "Yes, I mean Him. It was he that created all the beautiful and convenient things which you see around you." "Father, did you ever see God?" "No, my child; no man ever saw Him." "But if no one ever saw him, how is it known that he made all things?" "And did you see me, when I prepared this bed and sowed this seed?" "No, sir.' "Yet you believe that some one prepared and sowed it, because you see the marks of design about the arrangement of the plants. Just so we may infer that some one made this beautiful world which we see, because we perceive such marks of design about it; and we call that being God. "God, then, is Lord and Owner of all things, and should be acknowledged and worshipped as such." "But, father, isn't this garden yours? and that house, and all things round us, here?" "No, my son," replied Mr. Washington, "they are not mine. True, I call them mine, and they are mine to use, rather than my neighbours'; but they are only entrusted to my care. All things belong to God. He created them, and they are his. But he has given the care of them to his creatures here, and will one day require an account of them." "But, father," said George, "you built your house, did'nt you; and is it not yours, then ?” "Yes, George; but if I did build it, did I create the materials of it? Who made the trees from which the timber, the boards, the shingles, were obtained? Whence did the iron come, from which the nails were made? God formed all. And it was he, too, who formed the oxen, and the horses, and the sheep, and every thing which you see on the farm." George now became silent, and appeared for a time lost in the reflections of his own mind. A good impression had been made. He seemed to feel the force of the argument which his father had used; and, from this time, it is believed, never questioned the truth, which lies at the foundation of all religion, that there is a God, the Author and Proprietor of all things. HIS AFFECTION FOR HIS MOTHER. That a mother should love such a son, as George proved himself to be, and that a son should love such a mother, as Mrs. Washington certainly was, is not at all surprising. From his earliest days, she had exerted her whole influence to embue him with a love of "whatever was lovely and of good report," and her exertions had not been in vain. How well he repaid her for her kind care may be seen in the following story : When about fourteen years of age, he became strongly inclined to go to sea, with a view of enlisting in the service of " the mother country," at that time engaged in a war with France and Spain. It was surprising that a youth so young, and who had been abroad so little, should have had the moral courage to quit country and friends, on a purpose so full of danger. But, so it was. He was resolved to go. Preparation had been made. A midshipman's birth had been procured for him on board a British man of war, then lying in sight of his mother's house; and even his trunk was on board. When the precise time arrived when he was to go, he passed into the sitting-room of his mother, to take his leave of her. She was seated and in tears. He approached her, and putting his arms about her neck, affectionately kissed her. He was about to bid her " farewell;" but he hesitated. Her affection and affliction unmanned him. He was young and ambitious; and at that early day the spirit of patriotism, which so nobly characterized him in after life, in respect to his country, was stirring within him. Yet, the filial feelings of his heart were stronger than any other ties; and here, nobly sacrificing his pride and ambition, he relinquished his purpose, and stayed to comfort her who gave him birth. It was a noble self-denial. And in the now more than forty years that the writer of this has been upon the stage, and watched the course of human events, he can bear his testimony to the uniform prosperity of such as have honoured father and mother. There is a promise recorded in favour of filial piety, and a God, who never forgets it, and never fails to fulfil it. But my story is unfinished. The boat, which was conveying officers and men and baggage from the shore to the ship, continued to ply. At length, she returned on shore for the last time. A signal flag was hoisted to denote that all was ready. Several of his com - George was standing, viewing the movements. panions now entered the boat, which presently was urged towards the ship by several lusty oarsmen. As they approached her, the signal gun for sailing was fired. The flash followed by the report were noticed by George, soon after which the sails rose majestically one after another. George could no longer bear the sight with calmness, but turned away, and entered the room where his mother sat. She observed the grief which sat upon his countenance; upon which she said, “I fear, my son, that you have repented your determination to stay at home, and make me happy." 66 My dear mother," he replied, at the same time placing his arms about her neck, and giving vent to his feelings with a gush of tears, "I did strongly wish to go; but I could not endure being on board the ship, and know that you were unhappy." "Well, my dear boy," said Mrs. W., returning his embrace, "I deeply feel your tenderness towards your mother, and trust that God will not let your filial affection go unrewarded." CURIOUS FACT IN NATURAL HISTORY. THE following curious account we copy from a paper, written by the Rev. H. Caunter, M.A., in the Oriental Annual, for 1835 : It is generally imagined, (says Mr. Caunter,) and by persons too who have been some time resident in India, that the cobra di capello, exhibited by the jugglers in this country, is perfectly harmless, in consequence of its fangs being extracted by these practised adepts in the art of legerdemain ; but this is altogether a mistake. The fangs are positively not extracted; and the creature is presented to the spectator, possessing all its natural powers of mischief unimpaired. The bite from a snake shown by any one of these itinerant conjurors, would as certainly prove fatal as from one encountered in the jungle. This will, perhaps, appear strange to those who have heard of these reptiles being L constantly shown in the houses of the curious, and more especially when they are told that this snake is frequently permitted to put its head against the cheeks of the children of those who show them. The dexterity of the jugglers in managing these dangerous reptiles is truly extraordinary. They easily excite them to the most desperate rage, and, by a certain circular motion of the arm, appease them as readily; then, without the least hesitation, they will take them in their hands, coil them round their necks, and put their fingers to their mouths, even while their jaws are furnished with the deadliest venom, and the slightest puncture from their fangs would produce not only certain, but almost instant death. The power which these people exercise over this species of venomous snake remains no longer a mystery, when its habits are known. It is a remarkable peculiarity in the cobra di capello, and, I believe, in most poisonous reptiles of this class, that they have an extreme reluctance to put into operation the deadly powers with which they are endowed. The cobra scarcely ever bites unless excited by actual injury or extreme provocation; and even then, before it darts upon its aggressor, it always gives him timely notice of its design not to be mistaken. It dilates the crest upon its neck, which is a large flexible membrane, having on the upper surface two black circular spots, like a pair of spectacleswaves its head to and fro with a gentle undulatory motion, the eye sparkling with intense lustre-and commences a hiss so loud as to be heard at a considerable distance; so that the juggler always has warning when it is perilous to approach his captive. The snake never bites while the hood is closed; and so long as this is not erected, it may be approached and handled with impunity. Even when the hood is spread, while the creature continues silent, there is no danger; its fearful hiss is at once the signal of aggression and of peril. Though the cobra is so deadly when under excitement, it is nevertheless astonishing to see how readily it is appeased even in the highest state of exasperation; and this merely by the droning music with which its exhibitors seem to charm it. It appears to be fascinated by the discordant sounds that issue from their pipes and tomtoms. TIME. OLD! call you me! Ay, when the Almighty spoke creation into birth, I was there. Then I was born. Mid the bloom and verdure of paradise, I gazed upon the young world, radiant with celestial smiles. I rose upon the pinions of the first morn, and caught the sweet dew-drops as they fell, and sparkled on the bowers of the garden. Ere the foot of man was heard sounding in this wilderness, I gazed out upon its thousand rivers, flashing in light, and reflecting the broad sun, like a thousand jewels, upon their bosoms. The cataracts sent up their anthems in these solitudes, and none was there to listen to the new-born melody but I! The fawns bounded over the hills, and drank at the limpid streams, ages before an arm was raised to injure or make them afraid. For thousands of years the morning star rose in beauty upon these unpeopled shores, and its twin-sister of the eye flamed in the forehead of the sky, with no eye to admire their rays but mine. Ay! call me old! Babylon and Assyria, Palmyra and Thebes, rose, flourished, and fell, and I beheld them in their glory and their decline. Scarce a melancholy ruin marks the place of their existence; but when their first stones were laid in the earth, I was there! Mid all their glory, splendour, and wickedness, I was in their busy streets, and crumbling their magnificent piles and their gorgeous palaces to the earth. My books will show a long and fearful account against them. I control the fate of empires, I give their period of glory and splendour; but, at their birth, I conceal in them the seeds of death and decay. They must go down, be humbled in the dust, their proud heads bowed down before the rising glories of younger nations, to whose prosperity there will also come a date, and a day of decline. I poise my wing over the earth, and watch the course and doings of its inhabitants. I call up the violets upon the hills, and crumble the grey ruins to the ground. I am the agent of a higher power, to give life and to take it away. I spread silken tresses upon the brow of the young, and plant grey hairs on the head of the aged man; dimples and smiles, at my bidding, lurk around the lips of the innocent child, and I furrow the brow of age with wrinkles. Old, call ye me? ay, but when will my days be numbered? When will time end, and eternity begin? When will the earth and its waters-the universe be rolled up, and a new world commence its revolutions? Not till He, who first bid me begin my flight, so orders it. When His purposes, who called me into being, are accomplished, then, and not till then-and no one can proclaim the hour-I too shall go to the place of all living. A CHILD'S HYMN. Poetry. O Lord, a little child forgive, Forgive my sins, O Lord, I pray, |