me? Whatever I did was the act of God; I did not strike him without the will of God; and what power do I possess! And as he is compounded of earth, how can he suffer pain from that element?" The man was confounded, and the Cadi highly pleased with the dervise's answer.


FORMERLY, most of the inhabitants of Kintail, in Scot. land, were Roman catholics, though now it is otherwise. This poor man was tenantto a Roman catholic nobleman; and being greviously oppressed, he, in consequence, had arrears to a considerable amount with his landlord. The farmer applied to his lordship’s underfactor, or steward, to intercede for him, and procure him some redress. Ile promised t he honest man to speak to his lord in his favor; but he did no such thing. The farmer then addressed the superior factor, beseeching him to petition his lord for him; he too promised fairly, but did not perform. The man, in despair, at last took conrage, appeared before the lord himself, and told him his simple tale. The lord bad pity on him, and gave him a discharge in full for all ho owed him; and even condescended to accompany the peasant through the great hall, on the walls of which hung the pictures of saints and martyrs. His lordship asked him, if he knew whose pictures those were? “ No." “ They are the representatives of saints, to whom I pray that they will intercede for me with the great Lord of all, to forgive me my sins.” “But why not pray to the

great Lord of all yourself?” 66 Oh! That would be too great a presumption; it is far better to have such mediators, as saints, between God and man.” “I do not think so, my lord; and I will prove it; I first applied to Little Sandy, your underfactor, to intercede with you for me; he did it not. I then addressed Muckle Sandy, the other factor; he too promised, but did nothing neither. Then all at once I applied to yourself, my lord, and you have forgiven me cvery thing."

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While ruminating the other evening on the present state of religion in France, it brought to my recollection a conversation which took place between myself and Mon. sieur de Veine, one of the principal officers in the civil de. partment at Boulogne, at the time I was there, commanding a cartel, soon after the late war; his reply to my remark will show how extremely ignorant he must be of the nature of true religion. Seeing their chief market held on the Sabbathday; the boys at their games in the streets; troops innumerable lounging about the town, and as many upon the heights; the houses full, where their small wines are retailed; and many other symptoms unfavora. ble to religion; I observed to the above respectable offi. cer, that there appeared nothing like religion among the French people. He replied, “ Nothing at all. We have no religion among us now; but the convention are about to make one; then we shall go on very well.”

Ah, when will the glorious period arrive; when men shall cease manufacturing their own religions, and be brought to submit to the pure and undefiled religion of the Bible.


The gospel having been sent, by lady Huntingdon's infuence, to a place of public resort, it pleased God to bring nearly all the domestic servants of a noble personage under serious impressions. Their conversion was not merely to opinions; they lived under the influence of the gospel, and became distinguished for their exemplary conduct and zealous endeavors to promote the salvation of their neighbors. Their noble master being one day on the prome. nade, was jeered by some of the company, upon the revolution which had taken place among his servants, by a change of their religion. His lordship replied, “ As to the change of their religion, or what their religious senti. ments are, I cannot tell; but one thing I know, that since they have changed their religion, they have been much better servants, and shall meet with no opposition from me." How happy is it for hearers and professors of the gospel, when their good conduct puts to silence the ignorance of foolish speakers!


Like the fair rose, in vernal pride,
Or like the never slumb’ring tide,
Or like the blossom, fresh and gay,
Or like the early dawn of day;
Or like the cloud, ’mid tempest high,
That floats across the stormy sky,
E'en such is man, the heir of sorrow!
Aliye today, and dead tomorrow!

The blushing rose soon fades away,
His course the ocean will not stay;
The blossom fades, the tempest flies,

And man, the child of frailty, dies! VOL. I.

* 21.

Or like a tale that soon is told,
Or like a meadow gemm’d with gold,
Or like a bird with plumage gay,
Or like the dew drop pearls of May,
Or passing hour, or fleeting span,
E'en such, in all his pride, is man!

The grass decays, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended;
The span is short, the hour is past,
And his long home man seeks at last!

Or like a bubble in the brook,
Or glass, in which vain man doth look,
Or shuttle sent from hand to hand,
Or letters written on the sand;
Or like a thought, or like a dream,
Or like an ever gliding stream;
E’en such is man, who soon will know
That all is vanity below!

Bubbles our wasting lives betoken,
The shuttle stops, the glass is broken;
No letters traced on sand remain,
Our dreams are brief, our thoughts are vain;
And like the stream that passes by,

Is man, who only lives to die!
Like Autumn's leaf, or like the snote,
Or like the journey man doth go;
Or like the river s flow and ebb,
Or like the patient spider's web;
Or like the fruit, or like the flow'r,
Or like the short lived April show's
E'en such is man, who toils to gain
The chaff of the immortal grain!

The leaf decays, the snow is past,
The roughest journey ends at last;
The web is torn, the show'r is o’er,
The fruit delights the taste no more;
The flower fades, the flood's suspended,
Maa's hour is eome, and life is ended!

Or like an arrow through the air,
Or like the light’ning's sudden glare,
Or like the vapor of the sky,
Or like the goal for which we try,
Or like the minstrel's pleasant song,
Which we, tho’ vain, would fain prolong;
E'en such is life, with all its cares,
Fast floating down the tide of years!

The arrow soon to earth declines;
The lightning but a moment shines;
He stops who doth most sweetly sing;
The cloud is ever on the wing;
The race, tho' hard, will soon be o'er,
And living man be seen no more!

If ev'ry thing above, below,
Aloud doth mortal's frailty shew;
If we, ere long, must take our flight
From this revolving day and night,
And our eternal portion be
In realms of joy or misery;

Let us no more in trifles spend
The life which must so shortly end;
But, whilst the sun salutes our eyes,
To righteousness and God arise.
Let each, who has a soul to save,
Extend his views beyond the grave;
And, while salvation still is nigh,
To Christ, the friend of sinners, fly.
So, when this fleeting state is o'er,
And time with us shall be no more;
When e'en the elements around
Shall in consuming flames be found,
Upheld by faith, we will not fear,
For our redemption draweb nez.

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