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THE BIBLE. How comes it that this volume, composed by able men, in a rude age, when Art and Science were but in their childhood, has exerted more influence on the human mind and on the social system, than all other books put together? Whence comes it that this book has achieved such marvellous changes in the opinions of mankind-has banished idol-worship - has abolished infanticide-has put down polygamy and divorce-exalted the condition of womanraised the standard of morality-created for families that blessed thing, a Christian home-and caused its other triumphs, by causing benevolent institutions, open and extensive, to spring up as with the wand of enchantment? What sort of a book is this, that even the winds and waves of human passions obey it? What other engine of social improvement has operated so long, and yet lost none of its virtue? Since it appeared, many boasted means of amelioration have been tried and failed, many codes of jurisprudence have arisen, and run their course and expired. Empire after empire has been launched upon the tide of time, and gone down, leaving no trace upon the waters. But this book is still going about doing good, leavening society with its holy principles-cheering the sorrowful with its consolation-strengthening the tempted- encouraging the penitent-calming the troubled spirit - and smoothing the brow of death. Can such a book be the offering of human genius? Does not the vastness of its effects demonstrate the excellency of the power to be of God?
And nerve thee for a lofty flight,
Full of philosophy and light.
Far in the depths of ages past
A most surprising dance took place, Ere light a single ray had cast
Into the vast abyss of space.
Had all inert and useless been,
A very strange and curious scene.
And then to form a ball begun, Each atom understood the plan,
A countless number made a sun. Thus suns and worlds from chaos rose,
And order from disorder sprung, A grand effect without a cause,
And everthing on nothing hung. Now life from lifeless earth proceeds,
And plants to deck the world appear, That never grew from any seeds,
What deep philosophy is here! And animals from plants arise,
The lesser give the greater birth, Till beings now of various size
Inhabit all the spacious earth. This was the origin of things
The Atheist sagely declares, He soars on absurdity's wings, His system all folly appears.
THE MONUMENT. Soon after the fire of London, which happened in September, 1666, Sir C. Wren submitted to the public a design for rebuilding the city in a manner which he considered worthy of the metropolis of England. His plans were rejected, as requiring too much time and money. His talents, however, were called into action in re-erecting churches and public buildings : among others, St. Paul's, St. Stephen's, St. Mary-le-Bow, and St. Bride's. To commemorate the fire, a Monument was erected on the spot where it began; it is considered one of Wren's finest structures. It is a Doric column, 202 feet high. At the top is seen to rise a huge mass of flames, strongly gilt, proceeding out of an urn. This is not part of Wren's design, which was to place at the top a colossal statue of the reigning monarch, Charles II. Within, is a stairease of black marble, of 354 steps; and on the exterior a roomy balcony within thirty-two feet of the summit. The view
from this position on a clear day is extremely fine. The number of steps is 311. The building was begun in 1671, and finished in 1677, at a cost of 14,0001.
On the north side of the pedestal is an inscription stating some particulars of the calamity, by which were consumed “89 churches; various public buildings; 400 streets; 13,200 dwelling-houses ; the ruins of the city being 436 acres.” It says, “ that the fire was merciless to the property of the citizens, but to their lives very favour able; and that after three days from its commencement, during which time it had bafiled all human endearours towards extinguishing it, it stopped, as if by the Will of Heaven." On the south side is described the remedy applied by Charles II, while the ruins were yet sinoking, for the comfort of the citizens and the ornament of the city, by remitting the taxes; by engaging to restore the churches, &c. The east side has the dates of the foundation and completion. On the west, or front, is an allegorical subject, representing London, as a female figure, lying distressed on the ruins. Time, however, is in the act of lifting her from the earth, while Providence points to the skies. The king is seen in a Roman dress, giring encouragement and directions for the rebuilding; while Liberty, Genius, and Science, in a group about him, await his orders. Behind the king are labourers at work, scaffolding, &c., and other signs of cheerful occupation near him; almost under his feet, Enry is shown enraged at the prospect of success, and blowing fames towards the prostrate city. Emblems of war are also introduced (the fire having occurred during a time of war); while Mars, with a chaplet in his hand, signifies that honourable peace was at hand. Round the base of the pedestal was an inscription attributing " the dreadful burning of the Protestant city to the treachery and malice of the Popish faction." In the time of James II., the inscription was cut away, but restored in deep characters in that of William III. It has lately been again erased. It is believed that there was no foundation for the charge.
A SOLDIER'S STORY. Of me it might justly be said, I “went astray from the womb." From my childhood up I wandered from God, till, when but a lad, I had become notorious for mischief and wickedness. My name was not only associated with the vile and abandoned, but stood first on their list. Often did my parents pray with me and for me ; many were the instructions they imparted, the warnings, the admonitions, the entreaties, and the corrections I received ; and many, too, the tears of sorrow and anxiety they shed for me. But I was proof against all their efforts, and my heart remained hard and unmoved ; and I longed for the time I should be of age, that I might have it in my power to leave my father and mother, and, unrestrainedly, take my fill of sin. The holy Sabbath and the daily hours of family devotion I hated, and longed to get away from. Many were the plans I laid, and the schemes I formed, to get from under the parental roof; not because I was in love with a military life, but because it would at once deliver me from parental authority and restraint, I enlisted to be a soldier; and the more effectually to get rid of all and everything having the appearance of religion, or even the form of godliness, I chose to enlist into a regiment then in the West Indies.
Being the only son and the only child, it was too much | for the already broken heart of my tender mother to bear up under; and, praying for her unworthy child, she sunk into the peaceful grave soon after my departure. My father's grief was equally severe, and with tears entreated me to allow him to buy me off. But, no; my hatred of religion, and perceiving no other way of escape from it, determined me to reject his kind offer. Up to this time, my mother had hoped that I would repent of what I had done, and permit my father to buy me off, and stay at home. But the language is not yet framed which could paint her sorrow and my hardness, her love and my indifference, on this