a dark record of disappointment and misery, of hopes blasted, and characters ruined. Many promising youths have lost piety, character, and heaven, through the influence of worldly amusements. Young men beware. Their ways lead to the chambers of death.

If we look at the character of a large portion of our modern literature we shall see another source of danger. Whilst the press is annually sending into the world twentyfive millions of books for the promotion of virtue and godliness, it is pouring forth, like a destructive lava tide, twentynine millions, the tendency of which is to demoralize and ruin the soul. And many of these have found their way into many of our public libraries, and are eagerly read by thousands of our rising youth.

was.

In reference to the efforts of Popery, does it not behove us to be upon our guard; to arm ourselves with the armour of righteousness, and seek to be rooted and grounded in the truth, lest we be led away from the hope of the Gospel, by the assiduous efforts of the Man of Sin. "The spirit of love, of power, and of a sound mind," is especially necessary at the present time. Infidelity is as dangerous as ever it Nay, we believe it to be more so. It does not show itself in barefaced atheism, but it puts on a specious garb of rationality, and assumes to be the friend of truth, whilst it conceals the weapon of death. We need have our eyes open, to look around, and be prepared for our fces. A moment of unwatchfulness, a false step, may prove our ruin. It is important that we enter into a minute examination of the nature and claims of Christianity, and the pretensions of human systems; that we may reject every doctrine which is contrary to the Word of God, as being unworthy the credence of intelligent beings. Let us then apply ourselves with all earnestness and diligence to the great work of personal, moral, and intellectual improvement, that we may bear a noble part in the reformation of our world.

CANUTE AND CHRIST;

OR, THE CREATURE AND THE CREATOR.

J.

Hark! to the trumpets loud acclaim; hark! to the sounding drum;

With pomp, and cheer, and regal state, see England's Mo

narch come;

Around him chiefs and vassals throng; behind him princes

wait:

The splendour of his train bespeaks a sovereign's royal state.

A robe of purple wraps his form, bright gold and jewels gleam,

Upon his brow the diadem vies with the sun-light's beam: Down to the wild and foaming main, to the sea girt shore they go,

To where the ocean's foaming tide rolls in its ceaseless flow. There, on the verge of the dashing wave, he has taken haughty stand:

With jewels deck'd and princes girt, and he stretches o'er the sea his hand,

"Away!" he cried, "thou mighty sea, hence from this sacred spot,

Thy sovereign lord before thee stands-touch England's monarch not."

Vain was the sovereign's high command, vain was the glittering train,

Unchecked by king's or royal pomp, on swept the mighty main.

Down to Syria's rocky shore a lonely wand'rer came;

Weary and faint, and bent with toil, and travel-worn his frame;

No jewels glittered on his brow, no purple wrapt his form,
Simple and plain the homely garb that fluttered in the storm.
Sorrow upon that noble brow its cankering seal had set,
And tears of burning agony full oft that cheek had wet.
The forest-bird had formed a nest, the fox could find a bed,
But he had none to shelter him-"nowhere to lay his head;"
Onward he went his weary step had reached the ocean's
bed,

And, lo! upon the heaving main his gliding footsteps sped. Night o'er the wide and watery waste her dreary garb had cast,

Wild was the waves tumultuous dash, and loud the howling blast;

On right, on left, in billowy wrath the angry waves swept by, But bow'd their crests before his form, nor came his foot

steps nigh.

The wild wind rent the proud ship's sail, and bowed the mighty mast,

Yet left unwaved the robe he wore-peace was where'er he

past.

O'er the heaving main he rais'd his hand; he whispered, "Peace, be still!"

And, lo! the waves forget to roar-the winds obey'd his will! Vain to disguise his mighty power, was that plain homely

vest,

In that lone wand'rer o'er the sea, Messiah stood confest.

Extracted by JOHN JAMES BEw.

KING HENRY II. AT BECKET'S TOMB.

THOMAS A'BECKET, celebrated in English history as the murdered Archbishop of Canterbury, was born in London in the year One thousand one hundred and nineteen. His father, Gilbert Becket, when a young man, went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land. While there he was taken prisoner by a banditti of Saracens. While he was in captivity he became acquainted with the daughter of the captain of the banditti; and when he escaped and fled to England she followed him. She was then baptized by the name of Matilda, was married to Gilbert Becket, and became the mother of Thomas a'Becket.

When he was a youth, Thomas a'Becket was sent to the University of Oxford to acquire learning; he afterwards prosecuted his studies at Paris and Bologna. He possessed good abilities and was remarkably industrious. He soon became a favourite with the highest dignitaries of both Church and State. Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, conferred on Thomas a'Becket several valuable church preferments; and sent him, as his representative, on an important mission to Rome.

Soon after Henry the Second came to the throne of

England, the office of Lord High Chancellor became vacant, and the king conferred the office on Thomas a'Becket. Several other lucrative and important offices were conferred on him, by royal favour, and he was also entrusted with the education of the king's eldest son.

While Becket was Lord Chancellor he endeavoured to promote the interests of the king, and enjoyed a very large share of royal favour. He also lived in great style, kept a great number of servants, and gave magnificent entertainments to the nobility, and the king was frequently his guest. It is said that when the king was at war, the chancellor accompanied him to the battle field, with 700 knights on horseback, and 1200 foot soldiers, which were maintained at the chancellor's own expense.

King Henry was displeased with the great power claimed and exercised by the Romish priests. They assumed to be independent of the control of the king or the law of the land. The king, therefore, resolved to reduce them to submission. When Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, died, the king nominated Thomas a'Becket to the archbishopric. The king expected that Becket would aid in limiting the authority claimed and exercised by the ecclesiastics. From the previous conduct of Becket the king expected to have Becket's hearty assistance in reducing the arrogance of the clergy. In this, however, the king was greatly mistaken.

Thomas a'Becket was made Archbishop of Canterbury in the year 1162. When he was installed in this office he resigned his office of Lord Chancellor. He altered his mode of life, gave up his luxurious practices, and stately magnificence, dressed himself in plain attire, lived on coarse food, subjected himself to severe penances, washed the feet of poor beggars, and bestowed large sums in charity; but he was determined to uphold the high claims of the clergy, to exemption from submission to the authority of the civil power.

Immorality at this time awfully abounded among the clergy. Offences, which, by the law of the land, were punishable with death, were committed by the clergy with

impunity. If brought to account for their offences, they were tried in the ecclesiastical courts, in which the clergy were the judges, and the offenders were seldom punished. It is said that in eight years one hundred murders had been committed in the kingdom, by the clergy, and that in none of these cases had any serious punishment been inflicted. The bishops and archbishops threatened, if the civil power punished any clergyman, that the terrors of excommunication should be poured out upon all who abetted the civil power in the infliction of such punishment.

The king was determined to make the clergy subject to the law of the land, and that they should, if guilty of capital offences, be tried in the king's courts. Becket resisted the measures employed by the king, and publicly insulted the king. Becket went to France, sent a threatening letter to the king, and appealed to the pope for his protection. Abroad, Becket was received as a persecuted son of the church. King Henry banished the relations, and other avowed partizans, of the archbishop. This quarrel between the king and the archbishop lasted for six years, when the king-being very ill, and thinking he was near death-desired to be reconciled to the archbishop and the pope. Negotiations were entered into, and the king agreed to restore the archbishop and his friends to their honours and places, and also to make them reparation for the losses which they had sustained.

The archbishop returned to England, and brought with him authority from the pope to excommunicate the bishops of London, Durham, and Exeter, for having taken part with the king. He, therefore, excommunicated these bishops, and conducted himself so arrogantly, that when his conduct was reported at court, the king is said, in anger, to have exclaimed-"I am an unhappy prince, who maintain a great many lazy insignificant persons, of whom none has gratitude or spirit enough to revenge the affronts I receive from a single wretched priest."

Four of the barons in attendance on the king, without his knowledge, set out for Canterbury, determined to make the archbishop alter his conduct or to take away his life.