land parts of the kingdom towards the end of July, but principally at the beginning of this month; in the northern districts of Scotland, the harvest does not commence until the first or second week in September. And it is but rarely that, in these parts of Britain, it is finished, even in the most favourable situations before the end of October; and, not unfrequently, this time is protracted till the middle of Noveinber, till the corn has been ripened by the frost. At Inverary, the seat of the Duke of ARGyle in Scotland, the corn is so often spoiled by the rain, that the Duke has built an immense barn, with a draft of air through it, and pins to hang his wheat on to dry it.

- In the middle of the month, the Swift disappears, and probably migrates to more sonthern regions. Rooks begin to roost in their nest-trees, and young broods of goldfinches appear; lapwings and linnets congregate ; the nuthatch chatters; and, towards the end of the month, the redbreast is again heard. .

“ At the beginning of August, melilot rue, the water-parsnip, horchound, water-mint, the orpine, and the gentiana amarella, have their flowers full blown. The purple blossoms of the meadowsaffron now adorn the low moist lands. The geranium tribe now add to the beauty of the garden, and many pretty species also decorate our sunny banks; the malvaceous order, which abound with mucilage, and the spurges, with their acrid milky juices, bearing the seed always elevated on the flower, are seen in great variety. The purple fox-glove now shows its elegant flower.

" Insects still continue to swarm. The glow-worm, the solitary bee, and the white moth, are observed in this month : the ptinus pectinicornis also makes its appearance, the larva which are very destructive to wooden furniture, boring holes in tables, chairs, bed-posts, &c.

“ The southern counties of England, particularly Surrey and Kent, yield their valuable produce of hops in this month. The common hop is propagated either by nursery plants, or by cuttings."


FOR AUGUST, 1822. « The Moon is on the meridian, on the 1st, at eleven minutes past eleven at night. On the 20th, the crescent of the Moon is seen near the horizon, to the west of west-south-west, with MARS to the east of her; and though four days have elapsed since the conjunction, she is less than an hour above the horizon after sun-set. On the 22d, she is about an hour and three quarters above the horizon after sun-set. '

“ MERCURY is a morning star, in his superior conjunction on he 28th. At first, he is an hour and a half above the horizon before sun-rise, but the time of this duration is daily increasing.

“ VENUS is a morning star. “ Mars is an evening star.

"Jupiter rises about half an hour before midnight on the 1st, and at half past ten on the 20th;

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“ SATURN rises about three quarters past ten at night on the Ist, and half past nine on the 21st.

“ Herschel is on the meridian at thirty-two minutes past nine at night on the 1st, and every succeeding day earlier."

(Evening Amusements.)



Who died in the LORD, Feb, 12, 1822.
And is thy gentle spirit fled :
And art thou number'd with the dead?
Hast thou thrown off the mortal coil,
Escap'd from sorrow, pain, and toil,
And soar'd aloft to view the blaze
Of heavenly light, too dazzling far
For those who dwell in tenements of clay ?

Yes, thou art gone; life's fleeting day
With thee is ended. Where the Morning Star
Shines, and the uncreated Sun displays
His radiancy, there is thy station ; there,
Eathron'd in glory, dost thou bear
Thy part in heaven's immortal song,
And mingle with the blissful throng.
But why, dear saint, why would'st thou go,
And leave thy mourning friends below?
Why in such haste to mount the skies,
And grasp the Christian's final prize ?

Lo! here we sojourn in the plain ;
Temptations, trials, woes abound;
No bliss without alloy is found,

No pleasure without pain.
What wonder, then, if all on fire
With love divine, thou should'st desire

To cast encumbrances away ;
And, speeding on a seraph's wing,
Should'st rise above our earth, to sing

Thy SAVIOUR's praise in realms of day?
Surely it is better far,
To be where saints and angels are,

Than in this world of woe!
To see our Jesus face to face,
Explore the mysteries of his grace,

And all his glory know.

We will not then repine,
Nor murmur that the hand divine
So suddenly has borne thee hence,
Beyond the scenes of time and sense.
'Tis well! thou didst in early life
Choose the good portion, and maintain the strife

Against our common foe.
Thy flesh, indeed, has felt the blow,
That turns the human fabric into dust;
Yet, thanks to Him, in whom was fix'd thy trust !
Thy spirit triumpbs o'er the grave,
And proves his utmost power to save.

More than conqueror through thy LORD,
To perfect paradise restor’d,
Thou dost on earthly scenes look down,

Deck'd with an unfading crown.
And though we now lament thee yone,

We would not call thee back.
Thou dwell'st in bliss ; we follow on,

And mark the glorious track.
'Tis well ! the moment soon will come,
· That brings us our release;
Consigns our body to the tomb,
But opens, through its deepest gloom,
A passage to the land of peace.

There shall we meet at last,
When all our conflicts here are past.
When death, commission'd from on high,

Shall seize this mortal frame,
Our souls, dislodg'd, shall quickly fiy,

To mix with hosts above,
And through eternity proclaim,

How much we owe to Jesu's love.
Till then, departed saint, adieu !
We shall, in that blest world, renew

The friendship here begun;
United then, to part no more, i
Shall count EMMANUEL's favours o'er,
And gaze, and wonder, and adore,

While endless ages run. Penryn, Feb. 27, 1822.

W.P. B.


(Matthew vi. 28, 29.)
Fair Lily, prince of all the plain,

In scarlet robe, or spotless white;
My soul shall sweet instruction gain,

Whilst now thy splendours fix my sight.

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The card, the spinning-wheel, the loom,
· Have not thy goodly raiment wrought;
Neither was thy enchanting bloom

Of any Tyrian merchant bought.
The vernal sunbeam bade thee grow,

And rais'd thee from the moistep'd earth;
Yet it surpasseth man to show

The nature of thy wondrous birth.
God gives thy clothing to adorn

The garden for a little time;
But when arrives the fatal morn,

The tempest blights thee in thy prime.
Drooping beneath the sultry ray,

Soon perishes thy rich attire ;
Thou ling'rest out a summer's day,

And then thy beauties all expire.
How glorious was King Solomon,

When costly robes of every hue
Around him in rich splendour shone ;

Yet richer tints on thee we view.
Gay Lily, glow in all thy pride;

But teach this lesson, comely weed,
That I, for whom the Saviour died,

Shall never proper garments need.

Sung by the TEACHERS at the Sunday-School Anniversary in Hull,

April 8, 1822.
Childhood and youth, how vain they seem,
Their beauty passing like a dream,
And, soon or late, the loveliest bloom
Destin'd to wither to the tomb !.
On every breeze some danger springs
To sweep the field with poison'd wing;
Or life's gay flower, ere yet 'tis blown,
May lie in dust, uutimely mown
Yet here, with hopeful eyes, we trace
The features of a future race,
And, in these young immortals, see
The germ of churches yet to be.
God of the Church, which must remain
While generations wax and wane,
For this we toil ;-0 deign to bless :
The humble effort with success.

lo every heart,--and may we dare
To offer up so large a prayer ?
Yes,-from a King we importune,
With cheerful hope, a royal boon!
In every heart, Eternal King,
Upraise the purifying spring;
And let thy gracious Spirit rest
Th’indwelling Lord of every breast. *
Hence, fill thy courts with songs of praise,
Hence, Ministers and people raise,
And hence, supply the failing bands
Who bear thy word to heathen lands.
We plead thy promise, sovereign Lory,
While thus we pray with one accord ;
E'en as tby promise let it be,
Por louching this, we all agree.

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Sung by the CHILDREN at the Sunday School Anniversary in Hell,

April 8, 1822.
LORD, hast thou heard the solemn prayer ?

We make it now our own ;
May every child before Thee share

The blessings of thy throne.
Who would not join the fervent ery?

Who would not seek thy face?
And say, “My Saviour, is it I

Who shall refuse thy grace ?
Shall I a hardened sinner prove :

Shall I thy favour spurn?
Is my young heart too proud to move,

Too obstinate to turn ?"
Forbid it, LORD, we humbly pray,

And take us for thine own;
We would not live another day

With such a heart of stone!
0 let not one before Thee now,

Thy dreadful vengeance meet;
But make the boldest of us bow,

Repenting at thy feet,
So shall the solemn prayer be heard,

And so thy mercy shine ;
ALMIGHTY God, perform thy word,
May every one be thine !

A. G.
Printed by T. Cordeux, 14, City-Road, London,

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