must travel by steam-boat, by canoes, on horseback and on foot; swim rivers, wade quagmires, fight mosquitoes, patch his moccasins, and patch them again and again, and his breeches; live on meat alone, sleep on the ground the whole way, and think and dream of his friends he has left behind; and when he gets here, half starved, and half naked, and more than half sick, he finds himself a beggar for a place to sleep, and for something to eat; a mute amongst thousands who flock about him, to look and to criticise, and to laugh at him for his jaded appearance, and to speak of him as they do of all white men, without distinction, as liars. These people are in the habit of seeing no white men in their country but traders, and know of no other; deeming us all alike, and receiving us all under the presumption that we come to trade or barter; applying to us all indiscriminately, the epithet of 'liars' or traders. "The reader will therefore see, that we mutually suffer in each other's estimation from the unfortunate ignorance which distance has chained us in; and, as I can vouch, and the Indian also who has visited the civilized world, that the historian who would record justly and correctly the character and customs of a people, must go and live among them." -Catlin. -- the sea. PATMOS. We were close in with "the isle that is called Patmos" several hours, and I had a good opportunity of examining its appearance, so far as is possible, from It is about twenty miles in circumference, and its aspect is forbidding and cheerless. The shores are in most places steep and precipitate, and from our vessel it appeared as if the inhabitants would be in constant danger of rolling down into the sea. The highest part of the island is surmounted by a monastery, dedicated to St. John, round which are built the houses of a respectable town. We could discover very few trees. The sailors were lavish in their praises of the inhabitants. It was with unutterable feelings I gazed upon this dreary rock. The situation of the weeping exiles was before me, who were banished from the pleasures and applauses of imperial Rome, and were sent to inhabit this dull and distant region, with none to converse with but sufferers in the same calamities, whose very attempts at consolation would only add still deeper sorrow. What must they have felt, and how must they have wept, when they beheld from the horizon the little speck that was to constitute their world? There was one among these exiles whose brow was calm, whose eye was bedimmed by no tear, and from whose countenance seemed to beam the serenity of a spirit in bliss. It was the beloved disciple of the Lord. The banishment of the venerable apostle was from a cause perhaps different to that of any of the exiles who had preceded him, as it was "for the word of God, and for the testimony of Jesus Christ," Rev. i. 9. Standing upon one of the eminences of the island, and turning towards the continent, St. John would be able to distinguish mountains that might also be seen from the whole of the seven churches of Asia; and as he had planted some of them with his own hand, and probably visited all of them, can we doubt he often would stand thus, and looking towards these interesting spots, lift up his hands to heaven, and pour out his soul in prayer, that He who walked among the golden candlesticks would continue to visit them in mercy, and save them from the power of the Antichrist that was to come. It is one of those thoughts upon which the mind so much delights to dwell, that from this rock, surrounded only by other similar rocks, and looking out upon distant mountains, there should have been an insight given into futurity further and and clearer than in any other place was ever afforded unto mere man.-Hardy's Notices of the Holy Land. THE CHRISTIAN NO MADMAN. WHEN Paul stood before Agrippa, and, with a heart swelling with desire to benefit his illustrious hearer, spake of Christ and the resurrection, Festus, the governor of Judea, who thought such language the mere ravings of one who was beside himself, cried out with a loud voice, "Much learning doth make thee mad." But the apostle, unmoved by the charge, calmly replied, "I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth the words of truth and soberness." Acts xxvi. 24, 25. It is not an unusual thing to hear an insinuation like that of Festus thrown out against those whose minds having been enlightened so as to perceive the sublime | him. When he says, "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world, 1 John ii. 15, they cannot suppose they obey that solemn injunction, if they seek its pleasures, and bow down at its shrines. When he says, "Give me thine heart," Prov. xxiii. 26, they do not regard it as a compliance with his request, if they seek to divide it between God and the world; neither, when his voice solemnly declares, "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God," Psa. ix. 17, do they imagine they may go on in the commission of evil and the neglect of God, and so they feel it to be their duty to obey him with filial affection, whatever construction the world may put upon their behaviour. Are they deserving of the charge of madness for so doing? Who act with soberness and sound judgment? those who believe God to be true, or those who think that he will not do as he has said, who make God "a liar?" 1 John v. 10. truths of revelation, and to understand their thrilling importance, dare openly to profess before the world their faith in the Saviour, and their determination to live in obedience to the precepts of his word. Now, although they may reason calmly and conclusively about divine things, and show the wisdom and the duty of a life of faith, the world, because they dare to be singular, and because it hates pure and undefiled religion, often sets them down as mad. No matter how strong may be their minds, nor how unlikely it is that they should be led away by mere fancies, nor how sensibly and properly they may behave in other things, they are marked; the finger of scorn and contempt is pointed at them; they are regarded as mad. Because the ungodly cannot comprehend the subject of real religion, and are ignorant of its joys, they think the want of comprehension arises, not from their own incapacities, but the wildness of the opinions entertained by the real Christian. But they have yet to learn that "the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned," 1 Cor. ii. 14. Whether the servants of God deserve such an opprobrious epithet to be applied to them, may be seen if two or three things are considered. 1. They think that, above all things, they ought to seek the salvation of their souls. They know they are to exist for ever, in happiness or woe. They are, with the rest of the world, exposed to hell by their sins; and are aware that, if they are not redeemed by Christ, they cannot enter heaven. The one place, they know, is the abode of unmingled blessedness; the other, of everlasting horror and despair. If, then, they are anxious to escape hell and secure heaven, and, in order to accomplish their desire, give themselves to a life of faith upon the Son of God, who loved us, and hath given himself for us, is this an evidence of madness? 2. They feel it to be their duty to act in obedience to the word of God, whatever may be the opinions of men. God is their Lord and Lawgiver. He makes known his commands, and requires attention and obedience. Christians fear to disobey him by treating them lightly, or thinking a partial obedience will satisfy 3. They believe in the grand doctrines of the gospel, and insist upon the reception of these as necessary to eternal life. When, however, the subjects of repentance, or faith, regeneration, justification, and sanctification are spoken of, Christians are often assailed with the unseemly insinuation of Festus. They who are in the habit of giving utterance to it, think that, if they pay every man his due, observe those common rules of morality which the social community generally recognizes, and go to church or chapel on the Sabbath, they do all that God requires, and are sure men are infatuated if they insist upon anything else. Such persons profess to believe the Bible. Well, what "" it? says Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God," John iii. 3. This is the language of Christ. Could he be wrong? "Without faith it is impossible to please God," Heb. xi. 6. "A man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law," Rom. iii. 28. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," Acts xvi. 31. Are Christians mad in giving faith so great a prominence in their creed? Follow holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord," Heb. xii. 14. Does the maintenance of the doctrine of sanctification, then, warrant a gainsayer to fix the stigma of enthusiasm, or fanaticism, or of something worse, upon the Christian? What reasonable mind, that bows to the authority of God's word, can | grave and edifying when you want infor a moment justify such a proceeding? struction, or merry as the merriest when 4. The servants of Christ often speak you are disposed for mirth. At one time of the bright hopes they cherish of a it will carry you, as with the wand of a future world, and express their longing magician, to some far-off country, and desires to depart and be with Christ. bring before you the living forms of men And this sometimes subjects them to the who ruled the world, or taught it a thoucharge before mentioned. But does not sand years ago; at another, it will speak the Bible warrant these hopes, and kindle to you about every-day things and perthese desires? Does it not point to the sons, will tell you what may be useful in "land of pure delight;" and, by a repre- your trade, or teach you lessons of prusentation of its joys, sustain and cheer dence which shall be a part of your the hearts of the faithful, when they are household stock. It will act the part, inclined to faint. when needful, of a kind and faithful friend, bidding you commune with your own heart in secret, and reminding you of the good Physician who can heal it of all its plagues; or it will take up at times the apostle's strain, and discourse to you movingly and eloquently of "righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come," of the Christian's struggles and hopes and crown.-From Rev. J. H. Gurney's Lecture to the Lutterworth Mechanics' Institute. Reader, you may be one who has thought Christians too strict, righteous and overmuch infatuated. Ponder seriously what has been written, and say, Are we not right who act thus, if the Bible be the book of God? You do not reject that book. You have been accustomed to reverence it. Oh, listen to its solemn admonitions. Seek the salvation of your soul. Flee from the wrath to come-the consuming agonies of an eternal hell. Strive after a crown of glory and a throne in heaven. Now they are offered. Accept them now. The hour glass of your life may be almost run out. "Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation," 2 Cor. vi. 2. This is the language of God. These are "the words of truth and soberness." T. A. BOOKS. OLD HUMPHREY ON ASSOCIATIONS. and practical in making remarks, at THOUGH it be a good thing to be plain times it is pleasant to indulge in imagination. However excellent a joint may be, very few people would like to sit down to it every day of the year. Whether the banquet be substantial or ideal, in either case variety is a pleasant appendage. It is well known that the pleasure or pain we derive from many things, is altogether dependent on the associations we attach to them. Some people are more imaginative and susceptible than others. In my own case, there is hardly a sight meets my eye, or a sound salutes my ear, without bringing with it a train of associations. If you can look me tamely in the face, and ask me what I mean when I speak of associations, it is not to you that I now speak. To such of my readers only as fully comprehend my meaning, the following observations are addressed. YOUR book, besides being profitable company, will be the most sociable, pleasant company you can find any where; always ready to talk when you are willing to hear, yet never forward, never tedious, never overbearing. It will tell you something new every day, or, if you prefer the old, will repeat it patiently again and again. It will accommodate itself to all your wishes,-will make entertainment for you when you desire it, and yet will be silent in an instant at your bidding. If you should forget to notice it for weeks together, there will be no grudge between you; the next time you are dis- Oh what a goodly hoard of secret, posed to listen, it will be as pleasant and silent, and sweet enjoyment has the susfree-spoken as before. If you desire to ceptible and grateful heart all to itself! be private and confidential, it will chat When about to revel in the pleasures of with you in a corner by the hour toge-association, it knows not where to begin, ther; or it will take its place in the family or how to end. I am just now in the circle, and have old and young for its mood to indulge my thoughts in my own willing hearers. It will discourse to you wild way; and if I am too wild, if a on any subject you like best,-will be thoughtless step should bear me beyond the boundary in which a pilgrim should walk, a reproving glance will be sufficient to bring me back again silent, sorrowful, and grateful for the timely warning. Not willingly in my thoughts will I run into error. Riches shall not make me covetous or servile, nor creation's beauty lure me to idolatry. Gold shall not become my hope, nor fine gold my confidence; neither when the sun shineth, or the moon walketh in brightness, shall my heart willingly be enticed, or my hand in homage be kissed by my mouth. I am about to put down a few of my associations. Egotist as I am, who will care for them? This is a question that I cannot answer, but as I care much for the associations of others, let me imagine that some few will care for mine. It may be, that while I appear to be drawing only on my own mind and memory, I may in reality be also calling forth the mental resources of my friends. I have strange, yet pleasing associations with many trifling things, such as the smell of a cedar pencil, a nasturtion flower, writing paper, and indian rubber. The sight of a cocoa nut, an old china jar, a guinea fowl, a camel's hair pencil, and a box of water colours, and the taste of a walnut and a tamarind. These associations, however, are indefinite and undefined, I will speak of some that are more intelligible. A rainbow is rich in association. When I think of one it is with me a dull, dark, drenching day, care sits on my brow, and sadness in my heart, my soul is cast down, and my spirit is disquieted within me. The sun breaks forth suddenly, mine eyes are lifted up and a glorious rainbow is in the skies, my care is scattered to the winds, my sadness is dispersed; the bow is not set in the clouds of heaven only, but in my heart. I have vivid, though somewhat melancholy associations with an ivy leaf. An arbour comes before me covered with ivy leaves, fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Tall and stately wild lilies are growing near. A lovely face looks up to laugh at the dancing ivy leaves. Will that face never again shine upon me but in memory and associations? Never till this mortal shall have put on immortality. There is a green hillock in an isle of the ocean, and she that sat in the bower lies pale beneath it, but she died in the faith, and has entered, I have no doubt, into the rest prepared for the people of God. The sight of sealing wax is influential; it reminds me of a score of mottoes, "Dinna forget," and "Gen. xxxi. 49," among them; and it sets before me a crystal seal, picked up in the rude stone on Mont Blanc, engraved with my initials at Rome, and set in gold in London. The sound of a flute, or the sight of a shining, low-crowned, broad-brimmed, sailor-like hat, brings before me a mild and thoughtful countenance, gentle, expressive eyes that look kindly on me. A clear rich-toned voice that tells of wild scenery in distant lands-rocks and caverns, and midnight adventurous excursions. And then comes a throng of sunny scenes and sunny faces, but the spirits that animated some of them are now beyond the stars. I must soon follow, oh, let me hear the cheering appeal, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life," Rev. ii. 10. The name Nancy conjures up to my sight a ship that bore that name. There is one on board her that was the friend of my boyhood; we roamed the same path, climbed the same tree, sat at the same table, and slept in the same bed. The storm is abroad, the ship is a thousand miles from land and not sea-worthy. Her sails are torn, her masts are gone by the board, her bulwarks and her bows are broken. The Nancy is among the "missing," and how, and when, and where she sank through the cold, dark waters, is known only to Him who knows all things. The purple heath flower is associated with a moor and a mountain, a cairn and a cromlech, a sweet cottage, by-gone seasons of joy, a bookcase ornamented with trellis-work of brass wire, the portrait of a bard, the sound of a piano; talent, worth, and kindness. Hark! the dissonance of a rail-road is dispelling the association, and smoky clouds of steam engines are blackening the air. A loud explosion is fearfully eloquent in my ears, and recalls a dreadful scene. I hurry to the spot. A house is involved in smoke, the roof is blown off; the walls are burst asunder, a dozen wounded sufferers are mingled in the wide spread ruin, and among them a friend is stretched dead at my feet. Wait! watch! be ready! "for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh,' Matt. xxiv. 44. The long-legged, long-necked heron has splendid associations. I am in front of a magnificent palace. Dense masses of soldiery are drawn up in imposing array, guards, cuirassiers, and lancers glitter in the sun. Generals and field marshals in the gorgeous trappings of military attire, are passing to and fro on proud and prancing chargers. Princes, dukes, and ambassadors from crowned heads, are assembled in costly carriages, with sumptuous equipages; tens of thousands of spectators are pressing forwards to gaze on the glowing spectacle, and Britain's Queen, right royally arrayed, drawn by eight matchless steeds, is on her way to her coronation. Above the throng a heron is majestically soaring and sailing round and round, a thousand feet in the air. A common brier is associated with shade and shine, with pain and pleasure. It is bound around the sods of a new made grave that I have visited at midnight in all the unreasonableness and rebellion of grief that refuses to be comforted. The stars are high in heaven, and silence has spread her mantle on the resting place of the dead. I could almost in my frenzied sorrow, tear the beloved one from the grave. A change has come over me: an arrow from the Holy One has reached my heart, a convulsive sob has escaped me, my eyes are streaming, my unreasonableness, my rebellion are gone; and as a chastened child, with an humbled heart repenting, adoring, and praising, I leave the place. A sere leaf is closely connected with forest scenery. I am walking in the woods, my feet deep in the dry, rustling, ruddy leaves thickly scattered on the ground. The winds are up, and the giant trees are waging battle with their huge and agitated arms. My feelings are excited, my heart is happy, and my spirit grateful. The word "eternity" is clothed with recollections. I am sitting in the house of God with a goodly throng of fellow worshippers. Prayers have been offered and sacred psalmody has rung around the echoing roof and walls. The minister of grace to guilty men is standing up high in the pulpit, fixing his eyes on vacancy as though he could see beyond the narrow limits of the earth, and pronouncing with energy and earnestness the words, "Millions of ages crowding on millions of ages; millions of ages crowding on millions of ages; and again, mil lions of ages crowding on millions of ages, are but the beginning of eternity!" Thus might I prate without intermission of my own associations, without any of them claiming kindred with yours. No doubt, however, you have associations, and they may be of a calmer character than those I have enumerated. May such be our thoughts, meditations and associations, that they may serve in some measure to dispel the gloom of earth, and increase our desires for the glory of heaven. BERN. THE public institutions, and the literary and scientific societies of Bern, reflect the highest honour on its citizens, whose taste and refinement have kept pace with their love of freedom, and excited by their example, a most beneficial influence on the surrounding states. The academy, divided into the higher and lower, embraces a system of education, commencing with the first rudiments of language, and extending to the highest pitch of modern science and erudition. One of the finest points of view in the environs of Bern is the Enghi, which every stranger should visit; and if at different hours of the day, so much the better; for it thus presents itself under such striking modifications, as to give novelty and freshness to every succeeding view. This is the point which, of all others in German Switzerland, presents the most sublime spectacle, during the evening illumination. Half obscured in the shadows of twilight, the mountains in the foreground appear softly blended into a blue ethereal mass. dazzling summits of the snowy range seem for a time to lose their lustre; then, suddenly, as the rays of the departing sun shoot upwards, they catch the quivering light, and seem transformed into a flood of rosy effulgence. This evening blush continues, for a few minutes, to tint the snowy regions with the warm hue of life: then, slowly fading away, finally disappears, and leaves the snows in their pale, cold, and shroud-like uniformity.-Beattie. AFFECTION. The LOVE is the great instrument and engine of nature, the bond and cement of society, the spring and spirit of the universe.-Dr. South. |