of vapours separated us, yet we were not without our glimpses of sublimity. The wind, which now blew a hurricane, roared like thunder; and, gustily parting the clouds for an instant, showed us some huge, black, desolate cliff, or some vast hollow in which the vapour looked like the steam of a monstrous cauldron. These sights were but momentary; and then the clouds seemed to rush together and envelop us with increased density; so that, though but a few yards apart, we could scarcely see each other.

At length, we stood upon the Wyddfa (so the peak is called); but, from the point where we had fondly expected to descry three kingdoms, we could not see three yards. Such is the uncertainty of mundane anticipations. A few feet below the apex was a little ruinous hut, composed of loose stones: this we entered, and seated ourselves (the height not allowing us to stand upright), though the walls of the rude tenement excluded not the wind and rain. The guides advised us here to drink some spirits, in order to counteract the influence of the cold and wet. They therefore produced some brandy; but we had no goblet, and were puzzled how to distribute it. One of the party, however, searching his pockets, found a large shell which he had the day before picked up; and, having collected some water from the drippings of the roof, we compounded a mixture which certainly tended, shivering as we were, to invigorate us for our return to the regions beneath. Often have I since smiled at the figure we presented on the top of Suowdon. Not only were our garments soaked, but our faces were painted-literally painted-with colour washed out of the lining of our broad-brimmed straw hats. And many were the jokes which for this we passed upon each other.

We did not stay long upon the summit, 3,571 feet above the level of the sea. But the descent was more unpleasant than it had been to ascend. We were in greater danger of slipping; and there were torrents formed by the rain rushing down the gulleys on the mountain-side, through which we had to wade.

As we had found by experience a party of four sometimes too numerous for a village inn, we separated into two divisions; one taking the direction of Capel Curig, the other making for Beddgelart. I was of the latter company, and was rejoiced to learn that our journey was to be the shortest. In one part of the descent the guide stopped where the ground sloped steeply from each side of the narrow path we were treading, and told us that, if two stones were there placed one upon another, and kicked in opposite directions, they would be two miles asunder before they stopped. If this assertion be somewhat exaggerated, I can yet readily believe that to a vast distance they certainly would roll; for we were on a dizzy height, not far from the peak of the mountain. And I afterwards learned from an old mountaineer that this pass is noted for demanding in clear weather a firm foot and a steady head. To us there was no danger, as the clouds concealed the abysses below; and, therefore, we trod fearlessly and safely the verge of the preci

pice.

was passing over the cliffs with a pot of honey in his hand. The snow was lying deep; and, as the path was slippery, he missed his footing and fell. In vain he strove to save himself by catching at the crags over which he rolled. His companions speedily lost sight of him, and deemed him dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Hastily they descended to pick up the corpse; but, to their astonishment, found him, though full five hundred yards beneath the point from which he had fallen, scarcely injured, his hands only being torn by the ragged cliffs he had grasped. A deep bed of snow had received him at last; and there he sat, not-as one would have supposed-full of gratitude to God for his wonderful preservation, but murmuring at his misfortune in losing his pot of honey!

In the afternoon we arrived at Bedd-gelart, glad once more to be under the shelter of a comfortable roof; and, though disappointed of the prospect we had hoped to see, yet not a little elated that our ascent on such a dreadful day was considered a mark of no contemptible prowess.

A month later in the same season I mounted Snowdon again. It was fair and clear before I set out; but the clouds gathered gradually round the peak. While climbing to the blacksmith's forge, I had noble glimpses of the scenery. Anglesey was lying at my feet, surrounded by the sparkling waters. On the right were the green heights of Moel Aelia, separated from me by a deep valley in front was a huge black ridge, frequently hidden by the vapours which sailed grandly along it. As, however, I mounted higher, the clouds thickened; and, though it was a much calmer day than on my former ascent, yet from the peak nothing more was visible.

Years have since elapsed; and I have never again visited the Snowdon range. Yet those majestic solitudes, where God's hand has formed everything, and man's puny workmanship appears not, are painted indelibly upon the tablet of my memory; and I love to retrace the picture. I love to recall the impressions then made. They are interesting: they are healthful. From nature the thoughts rise upward to nature's God; and the humble Christian can admiringly acknowledge: "My Father made all this."

"These are thy wondrous works, Parent of Good!
Almighty! Thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then !"
U.

THE LOVE of God.

Occasionally, accidents happen on Snowdon. A very remarkable one was related to me. winter or two before I visited the country, a man

the organ of the mind. Therefore, although the soul is a pure, immaterial spirit, incapable of change or decay, yet its powers of manifestation in this life is through the medium of corporeal organs. Some suppose the heart to be the seat of the moral faculties; but a very little reflection will prove the fallacy of this idea. In scripture we read, that, "out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, and blasphemies;" but this does not prove the heart to be the seat of the mind or soul. It is very common in scripture to express things, not according to the strict rules of philosophy, but according to their appearances, and the vulgar apprehension concerning them. For instance, Moses calls the sun and moon two great lights: but, however this appellation may apply to the sun, it cannot describe the moon, which is now well known to be but a small body, and the least of all the planets, and to have no light apart from what it borrows by a reflection of the rays of a sun; and only appears to us larger than the other planets because it is placed nearer to us; and it is from this appearance that the scriptures give it the title of a great light.

Descartes informs us, "that, although the soul is joined to the whole body, there is a certain part in which it exercises its functions more immediately than in the other parts." "The common opinion," says he, "is that that part is the heart, because the passions are felt there." Thus is the language of the holy scriptures accommodated to the understanding of the multitude. The design of God being to lead men to virtue rather than to make them philosophers, such terms are employed as are most conformable to the testimonies of the senses.

If the brain were the seat of the intellectual faculties and the sympathies and feelings, and the moral faculties appertained to the heart, in cases of insanity and idiotcy, when the heart is sound and healthy, the moral faculties would always retain their vigour unimpaired; and in all cases of a diseased heart the development of the moral faculties would be more or less obscured. But experience proves that neither of these instances is followed by such consequences, but that injuries of the brain affect, and frequently weaken the action of the moral powers as well as the intellectual faculties. "Now, whether this material organ become stiff and rigid from age, or inflamed and diseased, as in fever and in insanity, in either case the free action of the mind will be obstructed." It is well to acquaint ourselves with this truth, in order that we may carefully abstain from intemperance or any other indulgence

which may render this organ unfit for the free and unfettered action of the soul. Religion does not call upon us to renounce the world, nor does it require us to abstain from recreation and innocent amusements; although it discountenances vanity and dissipation, it encourages us cheerfully to participate in social pleasures. It is committing high treason against religion to clothe it in an unnecessary, austere, and forbidding garb; and nothing more effectually restrains vice and folly than the presence of good and virtuous characters. But, although we may cheerfully enjoy the various gratifications by which we are surrounded, yet we must part with all when duty or conscience demands the sacrifice.

To conclude: do we acknowledge the importance of public worship? Do we hail the arrival of each returning sabbath, and with joy repair to the temple of the Lord, there with the assembled multitude to offer adoration to the great God of heaven? Is the God of our sabbath the God also of our week? Are love and veneration towards our heavenly Father the habitual temper of our souls, amidst the occupations of the world, as well as in the more silent moments of retirement? Is every day commenced and closed with prayer and praise? Do we from our heart forgive when we have been offended? Do we, regardless of self, endeavour to relieve the sorrows, wants, and distresses of others? If such is not the case, rest assured we are not yet reconciled to God, we are still in a state of hostility to our Maker: we do not, we cannot love God. And, if communion with the Father of Spirits is a weariness while on earth, until the heart is changed we are incapable of appreciating the joys of heaven.

But if from our heart we can individually respond an affirmative to each of these questions, then we may take comfort to ourselves in the blessed certainty that we do indeed and in truth "love the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our strength, and with all our mind, and our neighbour as ourselves." S. A. E.

AUTHENTICITY OF THE APOCALYPSE VIN

DICATED*.

have so little weight in the estimation of the writer, that he doubts if evidence so strong can be adduced in favour of any of the four gospels; and such was the opinion of sir Isaac Newton and dean Woodhouse. But there are further reasons for his entering upon this vindication; for, while the events foretold in it appear to him some of the strongest proofs of the truth of Christianity, the expositions of this prophecy usually given are so discordant and unsatisfactory as to bring the work itself into discredit, and create a distaste for the study of it. At the same time, the views about to be offered being for the most part peculiar to the writer, founded on the spiritual principle advocated by the late dean Woodhouse, their introduction cannot be deemed irrelevant, nor a vindiIcation of the work itself uncalled for. The evidence we shall bring forward in its defence is taken from the dean's valuable "Treatise on the Apocalypse," and the testimonies will be cited in

the same order.

The first named by the dean, as the most positive and direct, is that of Irenæus. He was the auditor of Polycarp, and other apostolical men, who had conversed with St. John, and had thus the best means of information concerning its authenticity. Irenæus in many passages ascribes this book to John the evangelist, the disciple of the Lord; that disciple who leaned on his Lord's breast at the last supper. Lardner, speaking of this testimony, says, it is so full and strong as to put it beyond all doubt that it was the work of John the apostle.

The testimony of Polycarp is proved by and included in that of his auditor Irenæus, and need not be farther dwelt upon here.

The testimony of Justin Martyr, who was born in the first, and suffered martyrdom in the middle of the second century, next stated, is full, positive, and direct. He expressly names John as the writer of it.

To pass over others mentioned by the dean, we shall cite the following as admitted to be undoubted testimony to the genuineness of the apocalyse, even by Michaelis, though himself a doubter, for reasons very insufficient, as will be shown hereafter.

Of these testimonies, one is that of Melito, a bishop in high repute, according to Tertullian, about the year 170. He wrote on the apocalyse, according to Eusebius; but his work is unfortunately lost.

Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, about ninety years after the publication of the apocalypse, also appears to have written upon this book.

Clemens, bishop of Alexandria, who flourished within the first century after its publication, has frequently quoted from it, and referred to it as the work of an s postle.

Tertullian, who wrote about the same time as Clement, is also admitted as undoubted evidence in its favour. So much for direct testimony: besides others omitted for the sake of brevity.

Now, it is here to be observed that the testimony to the authenticity of any work is allowed to be the stronger the nearer it comes to the time of its publication; but, as the apocalypse was avowedly written much later than the gospels, probably by thirty years, the testimony of the same authors in favour of both is so much stronger to the apocalyse as so much nearer.

So

much for the direct testimony; but not less strong is the indirect testimony in its favour. Although this book was not objected to by any orthodox writers at this early period, yet, along with the gospel of Luke, it was objected to by the heretic Marcion, who came to Rome in the year 127. Now, this is full thirty years earlier than any direct testimony, wherein the writer is expressly mentioned by name, that can be brought to the other gospels; and, whatever weight may be attached to his objections to books that did not favour his peculiar views, his objections serve, at least, to prove that these books were then in existence. But his objections go farther than that, and show that these books were received as genuine by his orthodox opponents, or he would not have thought of raising objections to them; while the total absence of any objections handed down from that early period, except those of Marcion himself, confirms that they were so received by the church.

The fact of the authenticity of this book having never been disputed by the church at this time, sufficiently answers the objection of Michaelis, namely, that Papias says nothing to clear up the question of its authenticity; a question which appears never to have been mooted in his day, and was, therefore, never likely to be noticed by him (Woodhouse, p. 69).

Another objection of Michaelis, drawn from an expression in the epistle to the church of Thyatira, ver. 27, which speaks of ruling the nations with a rod of iron, an expression irreconcilable, as he conceives, with the mild sway of Christ, appears to have as little weight. With equal reason might the second psalm be objected to, from which this expression is borrowed, and figuratively applicable to the Messiah, that is, to his religion as ruling over paganism, and not to his personal sway over the pagan nations. In this sense, as denoting the triumph of Christianity over paganism, which is destined to be utterly abolished, the expression of "ruling with a rod of iron" and "breaking like a potter's vessel" is appropriate, and cannot be too strong. But the figurative sense appears to have been overlooked by the learned professor.

Similar objections to that of Michaelis have been urged against other expressions in the apocalypse; as the "wrath of the Lamb, and "the souls of the martyrs calling down vengeance from heaven;" but it should be remembered that these expressions, intended for admonition, and therefore clothed in the strongest terms, bespeak not the feelings of individuals, but merely describe the vision as it appeared to the prophet; figuratively foreshowing the evils of false religion, and its hatefulness in the sight of heaven.

The internal evidence of the prophetic character of the apocalypse, when the spiritual instead of the political interpretation is closely adhered to, according to the principle adopted by dean Woodhouse, but with a different chronological arrangement, will be found more full and convincing, more complete and satisfactory, than in any prophecy that can be named. As in other instances, in prophetic annunciation, the latest written, and the nearest to the time of fulfilment, is the most minute and circumstantial, such is the case with the apocalypse.