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harbour in the direction of the emigrant ship, a large vessel of about 1000 tons. I knew by her build that she was an American. She had not sailed from this port originally, but having met with adverse winds, had put in for shelter until the weather should allow of her proceeding on her voyage to New York. I was soon alongside; and having made fast my little boat, and allowed her to drop astern a few yards, I climbed the rope-ladder which hung down the ship's side, and paused for a moment in the gangway. All on board was bustle and confusion: some of the crew were aloft, furling the sails; others were "swabbing" the deck, or belaying rope ends; the shriek of the boatswain's whistle was heard from stem to stern; and the hoarse orders of the captain and mate were distinctly audible above the rustling of the rising breeze through the rigging. Crowds of emigrants were on deck, all looking with intense curiosity to the shore, and making their remarks thereupon, both in genuine Irish, and what you would call murdered English. I lost no time in mixing with the crowd; and observing an old man sitting apart, with a pretty little rosy-cheeked, black-haired girl, of about ten years old, seeking protection between his knees, I approached him.

"Well, my friend, so you have been obliged to put back into port again. I suppose you must be greatly disappointed."

"Sorra' a bit yer honour! Sure it does my poor ould eyes good to see the land I was born an' bred in once agen, though may be I was never in the 'xact spot afore; still it's a piece of th'ould counthry that Mick Doolan 'll never set foot on agen. Och hone! but its hard to lave the land of one's fore-bearers, an' in old age to go and die among sthrangers." "And why are you going, my friend?”

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'Well, yer honour, its the childre's doin entirely. My daughter, God bless her,—she's mother to this one, (stroking the child's head,) -follied her husband out, four years agone come Christmas.-I was left alone with the child; an' 'Father,' said she, 'I'll make what I can in Amerikey, an' send over money for An' you an' little Kitty to come afther me.' so she did; an' now we're going. I know its all well; well for me, an' well for the little one: an' its God's will, an' his will must ever be done; but its racking to an ould man's heart to lave the counthry that's nourished him for three score an' eight years. But she's been a good daughter to me: may the heavens be her bed. Amin."

I offered him a couple of tracts, and said,

"May the Lord Jesus Christ, who came into the world to save you and me from our sins, be with you and your little grandchild, and give you a joyful meeting with your daughter, and, above all, fit you and yours for an entrance into his kingdom."

At the Saviour's name, he rose and uncovered his head; and then having put on an antique pair of spectacles, he examined the title of the tract I left him, and passing from one to another, I soon found that my stock was exhausted; and not willing to lose so happy an opportunity, I returned to my lodgings on shore, and having laden myself with a fresh supply of divers tracts, I once more found myself on board.

I was delighted to see groups of emigrants scattered here and there over the deck; one individual reading the tract aloud, and others listening attentively. As soon as my being on board with a fresh supply became known, numbers of the emigrants clustered around, asking for them. Most of these, in answer to my queries, said that they were (Roman) Catholics, while about twenty or thirty declared themselves Protestants. My supply was nearly exhausted, when the captain of the ship, naturally enough, came to me, and asked me who I was. I replied, that I was one of the chaplains of the Mariners' Episcopal Church, and that part of my duty consisted in visiting ships, and conducting the public worship of God on board such of Her Majesty's vessels as might chance to be in port without a chaplain of their own. This satisfied the captain; but alas! it led to untoward consequences. An Irishman, a papist, had heard the conversation, and holding two of my tracts in his hand, he advanced to me, and, with rather a doubtful expression of countenance, said, touching his hat,

"Is it one of the Clargy ye are ?"
"Yes."

"Is it a priest ye are?”

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Yes, I am; but one who "

Och, Tare an' ages, they're heretic books! don't read one of 'em boys; yer sowls 'ill be damned for ever! Och, murdher to think of me reading the 'jumper's' tract! what would Father M- say? Holy Vargin and Saints deliver us! Look ye, boys, do as I do." And the deluded man tore the unoffending tracts into shreds, throwing the fragments over the side of the ship. Remonstrance was in vain, the infection was

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him, seeking after truth. In town and country, from school-houses filled with little ones, the songs of praise arise, not to the Virgin Mary, nor St. Peter, nor St. Paul, but to the Incarnate God, the living Saviour, the only Mediator; and verily we believe that the day is approaching when the green hills of Erin shall beam with radiant beauty under the influence of the pure, clear light of truth; while, of the clouds of superstition and error, there will only remain a sufficient portion unset above the horizon, to throw out with brilliant beauty the dazzling colours of the rainbow, the emblem of mercy and peace vouchsafed to the sons and daughters of Adam, through the medium of the atoning blood of the crucified Son of God.

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USURY.

caught, and the greater portion of my little marvellous rapidity. Light is penetrating messengers of mercy," were either scattered the darkness,—warmth is thawing the icy to the winds, or torn to atoms, and trampled chains of ignorance,—in the streets and lanes under foot. Some two or three dozen of the of the city, as well as on the green hills, and emigrants now crowded round me, using sequestered glens of Connemara, the Roeither insulting language or joking at my ex-manist is found with his open Bible before pense. The American sailors, too, attracted by the commotion, left their employment, and joined the emigrants. My position was anything but pleasant. I looked about for the Captain, hoping that he would restore order, and take my part; but he was standing on the quarter-deck, quietly looking on with a smile upon his face, evidently enjoying the scene. I reached the ship's gangway, and there made a last attempt to be heard; but my words were drowned by the derisive shouts of the poor papists, encouraged by the crew. I was in the act of descending the rope ladder, and rather nervous lest some missile should be thrown down after me, when a young sailor abruptly called after me, "Can you save my soul?" "No," said I; "but "Can you save my soul?” he repeated in a louder tone. "No, I cannot," was my answer; "but "Be off then," he cried: 66 we don't want any canting yarns spun here, I guess." These words were followed by an immoderate peal of boisterous laughter. Truly, thought I,—as I loosened my boat, and shoved her off from the vessel's side,truly the "offence of the cross" hath not ceased. Mournfully I looked upon the surface of the water, speckled with the tatters of my tracts; and then, raising my eyes to the proud ship from which I had been so summarily dismissed, I prayed for those blinded ones on board, who had thus wilfully refused the light, rejecting the free and full offer of pardon and salvation, which had lain within the pages of the despised and illused tracts. But, as I toiled hard to bring my boat to shore against the wind which had considerably risen, I recollected that there were Protestants there who had kept the 'messengers of peace." I remembered that the "word of God is quick and powerful;" and even now I like to think that my visit to the emigrant ship in Kingstown harbour has not been altogether ineffectual, and that the few crumbs of the bread of life thus scattered upon the waters, may be found even after many days. Popery has hitherto been the dark cloud that has enveloped poor Ireland, depriving her of the enlightening, warming beams of the Sun of Righteousness; but thanks be to God, the cloudy mist is observed to be rolling away, and that with

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THE modern reader finds something remarkable in the emphasis with which lent, that is, interest absolutely, and not 'usury,"-meaning thereby interest of money merely excessive interest,—is forbidden to the Israelites. In Psalm xv. 5, "He that putteth not out his money to usury," is reckoned among those who are specified in answer to the question (in verse 1), "Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell in thy holy hill?"

been

Yet the Jews are, and have for ages the most usurious people in the world;—this being, in fact, the trade of a large proportion

of them. And this involves no infraction of

their law, so long as their doings of this kind are limited to strangers. Indeed, it may be doubtful whether a law expressly framed among others, to suit their condition as an agricultural people in Canaan, has not ceased to operate since that land has been lost to them, and they are no longer anywhere an agricultural people. The following considerations extracted from a modern work * will elucidate this subject.

Commerce, to be carried on to any considerable extent, requires the use of credit. A community, whose citizens have little or no command of borrowed capital, can never engage in the transactions of trade, on any but the most limited scale. But, where the *Palfrey's "Academical Lectures." Boston. (United States.) 1838.

taking of interest for money lent is not allowed, no loans will be made except in the way of charity to the indigent (which none could be esteemed to be, who borrow money to invest in business); since, if I may have no rent for my money, I shall, rather than lend it, prefer to purchase something with it, from which I may obtain a profit. The law of Moses, accordingly, in prohibiting the taking of interest, struck a blow against any tendency of the people to engage in those pursuits of commerce, which, by leading them to too much intercourse with other nations, would have endangered the purity of their faith. I say, by prohibiting the taking of interest; for the law, by the word which our translators have rendered usury, intended not excessive interest, but all interest whatever. The object of depriving the Israelite of the use of borrowed money, except for the supply of his necessities, was attained by successive steps. The first direction, touching the subject, was introduced into the original legislation at Mount Sinai, to the effect, that, from a poor Israelite, interest on money lent might not be exacted.* A little later, apparently to create a greater familiarity with the approved practice, the rule was extended to loans made to strangers dwelling among the Israelites, and to loans of articles of food, as well as money. Hitherto the danger of the people's addicting themselves to commercial pursuits was remote. But when they were about to be established in the Promised Land, the rule for which preparation had been making, was at length announced in its whole breadth, that a Jew might take no interest from a countryman for the loan of money, or of merchantable commodities of any sort; from which, as I have said, it would follow as a certain consequence, that very little money would be lent for purposes of traffic. With credits given to foreigners, the law declared itself to have no concern, it being no part of its province to limit their commercial operations.

ARABIAN BREAD.

My own large tent was no less a place of resort than that of Mohammed Emin, and as we were objects of curiosity, Bedouins from all parts flocked to see us. With some of them I was already acquainted, having either received them as my guests at Mosul, or met them during excursions in the Desert. They

* Exodus xxii. 25. + Leviticus xxv. 35–38. Deuteronomy xxiii. 19, 20.

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generally passed one night with us, and then returned to their own tents. A sheep was always slain for them, and boiled with rice, or prepared wheat, in the Arab way: if there were not strangers enough to consume the whole, the rest was given to the workmen or to the needy, as it is considered derogatory to the character of a truly hospitable and generous man, to keep meat until the following day, or to serve it up a second time when cold. Even the poorest Bedouin who kills a sheep, invites all his friends and neighbours to the repast, and if there be still any remnants, distributes them amongst the poor and the hungry, although he should himself want on the morrow.

We brought provision of flour with us, and the Jebours had a little wheat raised on the banks of the river. The wandering Arabs have no other means of grinding their corn than by hand-mills, which they carry with them wherever thy go. They are always worked by the women, for it is considered unworthy of a man to engage in any domestic occupation. These hand-mills are simply two circular flat stones, generally about eighteen inches in diameter, the upper turning loosely upon a wooden pivot, and moved quickly round by a wooden handle. grain is poured through the hole of the pivot, and the flour is collected in a cloth spread under the mill. It is then mixed with water, kneaded in a wooden bowl, and pressed by the hand into round balls ready for baking. During these processes, the women are usually seated on the bare ground: hence, in Isaiah xlvii. 1, 2, is the daughter of Babylon told to sit in the dust and on the ground, and "to take the mill-stones to grind meal.”

The

The tribes who are always moving from place to place bake their bread on a slightly convex iron plate, called a sadj, moderately heated over a low fire of brushwood or camel's dung. The lumps of dough are rolled, on a wooden platter, into thin cakes, a foot or more in diameter, and laid by means of the roller upon the iron. They are baked in a very short time, and should be eaten hot. The Kurds, whose flour is far whiter and more carefully prepared than that of the Arabs, roll the dough into large cakes, scarcely thicker than a sheet of paper. When carefully baked by the same process, it becomes crisp and exceedingly agreeable to the taste. The Arab tribes, that remain for many days in one place, make rude ovens by digging a hole about three feet deep, shaping it like a reversed funnel, and plas

tering it with mud. They heat it by burning brushwood within, and then stick the lumps of dough, pressed into small cakes about half an inch thick, to the sides with the hand. The bread is ready in two or three minutes. When horsemen go on an expedition, they either carry with them the thin bread first described, or a bag of flour, which, when they come to water they moisten and knead on their cloaks, and then bake by covering the balls of dough with hot ashes.

All Arab bread is unleavened.

If a Bedouin tribe be moving in great haste before an enemy, and should be unable to stop for many hours, or be making a forced march to avoid pursuit over a desert where the wells are very distant from each other, the women sometimes prepare bread whilst riding on camels. The fire is then lighted in an earthen vessel. One woman kneads the flour, a second rolls out the dough, and a third bakes, boys or women on foot passing the materials, as required, from one to the other. But it is very rare that the Bedouins are obliged to have recourse to this process. I have only once witnessed

it.—LAYARD'S Nineveh and Babylon.

THE LORD'S RENT.

SOME years since, as the venerable Father Patterson of Philadelphia, of excellent memory, was riding in a public conveyance through one of the most fertile countries of Pennsylvania, his attention was attracted by the many large farms in that part of the country. He admired the beauty of the landscape, the richness of the soil, the luxuriance of vegetation, the extensive meadows and ample fields waving with the yellow harvest, and ripening for the sickle. As he looked abroad, over the highly cultivated fields on the right hand and on the left, he said to a friend, Indeed, indeed, the Lord has many fine farms in this region; but I fear He receives very little rent from them all." We fear this passing remark is applicable to farms in many other parts of this as well as other countries.-BELCHER'S Clergy of America.

A LUCID INTERVAL.

OH! light is pleasant to the eye,

And health comes rustling on the gale; Clouds are careering through the sky

Whose shadows mock them down the dale; Nature as fresh and fragrant seems As I have met her in my dreams.

For I have been a prisoner long
In gloom and loneliness of mind,
Deaf to the melody of song,

To every form of beauty blind;
Nor morning dew, nor evening balm,
Might cool my cheek, my bosom calm.
But now the blood, the blood returns,

With rapturous pulses, thro' my veins;
My heart, new-born within me, burns,
My limbs break loose, they cast their chains;
Rekindled at the sun, my sight
Tracts to a point the eagle's flight.

I long to climb those old grey rocks,
Glide with yon river to the deep;
Range the green hills with herds and flocks,
Free as the roe-buck, run and leap;
Then mount the lark's victorious wing,
And from the depth of ether sing.

O Earth! in maiden innocence,

Too early fled this golden time;
O Earth! Earth! Earth! for man's offence
Doom'd to dishonour in thy prime :
Of how much glory then bereft!
Yet what a world of bliss was left!

The thorn, harsh emblem of the curse,
Puts forth a paradise of flowers;
Labour, man's punishment, is nurse
Plague, famine, earthquake, want, disease,
To halcyon joys at sunset hours;

Give birth to holiest charities.

And Death himself, with all the woes

That hasten, yet prolong, his stroke,Death brings with every pang repose,

With every sigh he solves a yoke; Yea, his cold sweats and moaning strife Wring out the bitterness of life.

Life, life, with all its burdens dear!
Who would forego a smile, a tear,
Friendship is sweet, Love sweeter still:

One generous hope, one chastening ill?
Home, kindred, country!-these are ties
Might keep an angel from the skies.
But these have angels never known,

Unvex'd felicity their lot;
Their sea of glass before the throne,

Storm, lightning, shipwreck, visit not; Our tides, beneath the changing moon, Are soon appeased,-are troubled soon. Well I will bear what all have borne,

Live my few years, and fill my place; O'er old and young affections mourn, Till suffering ends, and I have done Rent one by one from my embrace, With all delights beneath the sun.

Whence came I?-Memory cannot say :
What am I? Knowledge will not show:
Bound whither?-Ah! away, away,

Far as eternity can go:-
Thy love to win, thy wrath to flee,
O God! Thyself mine helper be.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.-Prose, by a Poet.

SPARKLETS AND PEARLS.

I FIND my soul carried forth to a secret resting, relying, leaning, staying, and hanging upon Christ for life and happiness. Though I know not how it shall go with me, yet I have thrown myself into his arms. I lean upon him; there will I hang; there I will rest and stay: if I must perish, I will perish there.-Brooks.

THE wicked heart never fears God, but when thundering or shaking the earth, or raining fire from heaven: but the good can dread him in his very sunshine; his loving deliverances and blessings affect them with awfulness.-Bp. Hall.

CONSIDER what hardships and difficulties the men of this world run through, to get the world, and undo their own souls. They rise early, go to bed late; they go from one end of the world to another, and venture, through all manner of dangers, deaths, and miseries, to gain those things that are vain, uncertain, vexing, and dangerous to their souls: and wilt not thou endure a little hardship for the honour of thy Captain, and thine own internal and eternal good?-Brooks.

IF God hath sent thee a cross, take it up and follow him; use it wisely, lest it be unprofitable; bear it patiently, lest it be intolerable: behold in it God's anger against sin, and his love towards thee, -in punishing the one, and chastening the other. If it be light, slight it not,-if heavy, murmur not. Not to be sensible of a judgment is the symptom of a hardened heart; and to be displeased at his pleasure is a sign of a rebellious will.-Quarles.

THE clearest sight and vision of God does always give a man the fullest sight of his own emptiness, sinfulness, and nothingness.-Brooks.

THE greatest happiness which we can feel in this life is that of comforting others.-Madame de Genlis. Ar the first entrance into thine estate, keep a low

sail. Thou must rise with honour: thou canst not fall without shame. He that begins as his father ended, shall end as his father begun.—Quarles.

IT often falls out that we fall out with God because we find cause of offence from man; and give God just cause to abhor us because we abhor his service unjustly.-Bp. Hall.

Dost thou complain that God hath forsaken thee? It is thou that hath forsaken Him. 'Tis thou art mutable: in him there is no shadow of change. In his light is life. If thy will drive thee into a dungeon, thou makest thine own darkness, and in that darkness dwells thy death, from whence, if he redeem thee, he is merciful,-if not, he is just. In both he receives glory.—Quarles.

THE journey cannot prosper that takes not God with it. The way to receive blessings at home is to be devout at the temple.-Bp. Hall.

If you have any doubt whether an action is good or bad, abstain from it altogether.-Zoroaster.

GOD will rather work miracles than faithful prayers shall return empty.-Bp. Hall.

How wonderful is it that the Christian religion, whose sole object seems to be our happiness in a future life, also secures it in the present.-Montesquieu.

GOD knows how to dispense with necessities; but if we suffer idle and needless occasions to hold us from the tabernacle of God, our hearts are but hollow to religion.-Bp. Hall.

NOT to think of God except we be beaten into it, is servile.-Bp. Hall.

It is a sad thing to be often eating of the tree of knowledge, but never to taste of the tree of life.— Brooks.

As it is with ill humours, that a weak dose doth but stir and anger them, not purge them out, so it fareth with sins;-an easy reproof doth but encourage wickedness, and makes it think itself slight as that censure imputeth.-Bp. Hall.

As one scale goes up the other goes down; so as faith goes up the heart goes down.-Brooks. IN vain do we rebuke those sins abroad which we tolerate at home.-Bp. Hall.

IT is much to be feared that that man is Christless and graceless that is earnest in craving mercies, but slow and dull in returning praises. It is a sign that the dumb devil hath possessed such a man.— Brooks.

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THERE can no offence be justly taken, even at men, much less at God, for the sake of men. man's sins should bring the service of God into dislike. It is a dangerous ignorance not to distinguish between the work and the instrument.-Bp. Hall. THOUGH men often lose their earnest, yet God His earnest is very obliging. will never lose his. [constraining?]—Brooks.

MAN is but a reed, the most feeble in nature, but It is not endowed with the power of thought. necessary for the universe to arm itself to crush him: a vapour, a drop of water, is enough to kill him. But, should.the universe crush him, man would still be more noble than his destroyer, because he knows that he dies. The universe is ignorant of the advantage it has over him. Hence all our dignity is derived from thought. It is from this point that we must rise,-not from space and time. Let us labour, then, to think well: this is the principle of morality.—Pascal.

HE that drew Alexander whilst he had a scar upon his face, drew him with his finger upon the scar; so when the Lord comes to look upon a poor soul, he lays his finger upon the scar,-upon the infirmities, that he may see nothing but grace, which is the beauty and the glory of the soul.

Brooks.

THE trial of sincerity is the abandoning of our God will never acknowledge any conwonted sins. vert that stays in a known sin.-Bp. Hall. If we would live well, we must abstain from all which we disapprove in others.-Pythagoras.

To read much and practise nothing, is to hunt much and catch nothing.-Brooks.

INDULGENT parents are cruel to themselves and their posterity. Parents need no other means to make themselves miserable than sparing the rod.— Bp. Hall.

ONE writing of the tree of knowledge says, that it bears many leaves, but little fruit.-Brooks.

EVERY man can open his hand to God while he blesses; but to expose ourselves willingly to the afflicting hand of our Maker, and to kneel to him while he scourges us, is peculiar only to the faithful. -Bp. Hall.

LONDON: Printed by ROBERT NEEDHAM, 9, Ave Maria Lane, Paternoster-Row; and Published at the Office of "Sunday Reading for Christian Families," 8, Amen-Corner, Paternoster-Row.

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