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mer has sowed his winter corn, and begins to enjoy rest from his labours. He will soon have the satisfaction to see his fields gradually covering with a beautiful verdure, and giving the promise of a plentiful harvest. Nature at first, indeed, works in secrét, while the seed is opening: but its operations may be discovered, by taking some of the grains out of the ground when they are beginning to shoot. Two days after the grain is put into the earth, it is swelled by the juices, and begins to shoot. The shoot is als ways at one of the ends of the grain; and that part of it which is next the outside of the grain is the little root of the future plant. The part turned inwards is the stalk and head of the plant. The corn, when sowed, generally be gins in twenty-four hours to pierce through the coat, and unfold itself. The root and stalk become visible. The root is first wrapped up in a bag, which it bursts open, Some days after, other roots shoot out of their sides. The fifth or sixth day, a green stalk 'springs up above the ground. It remains some time in that state, till the fine season comes, when the ear of corn breaks out of the coats, in which it had been inclosed, and protected from cold and uncertain weather. 3 . · All this naturally leads us to reflect on the nature of human life. Our present existence is but the seed from whence everlasting life is to spring. We are here in the sowing season, and we see but little as yet sprung forth. We cannot here behold the fruit in maturity, or the com in perfection. The harvest will not be reaped on earth We live in hope. The farmer has sowed bis field. He leaves his grain to corruption, to the rain, the storms, and the heat of the sun, and he sees not what will be the result. This is precisely our situation in regard to spiritual seed. Let us not be vain of what we sow, neither let us be discouraged, if we do not reap the fruits of it. Let us
wait patiently, and without anxiety, till we reap the fruits of our labour; and, like the pious farmer, let us pray to God to shed his blessings on our fields !
Contempt of Earthly Greatness" w , ESEMPLIFIED IN THE CONDUCT OF hari LADY JANE GREY. THIS amiable lady was made an innocent victim to the vild ambition of the duke of Northumberland ; who having flected a marriage between her and his son lord Guildford Dudley, raised her to the throne of England, in defiance of the rights of the princesses Mary and Elizabeth. At he time of her marriage, she was but eighteen years of ige; and her husband was also very young.
Her heart, replete with the love of literature and serious tudies, and with tenderness towards her husband, who vas deserving of her affection, had never opened itself to the lattering allurements of ambition ; and the information of ier advancement to the throne was by no means agreeable o her. She even refused to accept the crown ; pleaded he superior right of the two princesses ; expressed her lread of the consequences attending an enterprise so danerous, not to say so criminal ; and desired to remain in that rivate station in which she was born. Overcome at last ly the entreaties, rather than by the reasons, of her father ind father-in-law, and, above all, of her husband, she subnitted to their will, and was prevailed on to relinquish her wn judgment. But her elevation was of very short coninuance. The nation declared for Queen Mary; and Lady Jane Grey, after wearing the vain pageantry of a crown luring ten days, returned to a private life, with much more
satisfaction than she felt : when royalty was teodered, tol her. . . . . . . i des
Queen Mary, who appears to have been incapable of generosity or clemency, determined to remove every person, from whom the least danger could be apprehended. Warning-was, therefore, given to Lady Jane to prepare for death ; a doom which she had expected, and which the innocence of her life, as well as the misfortunes to which she had been exposed, rendered no unwelcome news to her.
It had been intended to execute the Lady Jane and her husband on the same scaffold, at Tower-hill; but the council dreading the compassion of the people for their youth, beauty, innocence, and noble birth, changed their orders, and gave directions that they should be beheaded within the verge of the Tower. She saw her husband led to exe cution ; and, having given him from the window some token of her remembrance, waited with tranquillity till her own appointed hour should bring her to a like fate. She even saw his headless body carried back in a cart; and found herself more confirmed by the reports, which she heard of the constancy of his end, than shaken by so tender and melancholy a spectacle. Se me odd 0 . On the scaffold, she made a speech to the bye-standers, in which the mildness of her disposition led her to take the blame entirely on herself, without uttering one complaint against the severity with which she had been treated. She said, that her offence was not having laid her hand upon the crown, but not having rejected it with sufficient cosstancy : that she had erred less through ambition, than through reverence to her parents, whom she had been taught to respect and obey: that she willingly received death, as the only satisfaction which she could now make to the injured state ; and though her infringement of the laws had been constrained, she would show, by her volon
try submission to their sentence, that she was desirous to tone for that disobedience, into which too much filial piety ad betrayed her : that she had justly deserved this punishent, for being made the instrument, though the unwilling istrument, of the ambition of others : and that the story f her life, she hoped, night at least be useful, by proving rat innocence of intention excuses not actions that any ay tend to the destruction of the commonwealth.-After ttering these words, she caused herself to be disrobed by er women, and with a steady, serene countenance, sublitted herself to the executioner. On this virtuous and excellent young person, Bishop urnet makes the-following remarks: “She read,” says e, the Scriptures much, and had attained great knowdge of religious subjects. But with all her advantages f birth and parts, she was so humble, so gentle, and pious, laat all people both admired and loved her. She had a mind ronderfully raised above the world; and at the age, when thers are but imbibing the notions of philosophy, she had ttained to the practice of the highest precepts of it. She as neither lifted up with the hope of a crown, nor cast own, when she saw her palace made afterwards her rison; but maintained an equal temper of mind in those Teatrinequalities of fortune, that so suddenly exalted nd depressed her. All the passion which she expressed, ras that which is of the noblest sort, and which is the indiation of tender and generous natures, being much affected vith the troubles which her husband and father suffered on er account. She rejoiced at her approaching end, since othing could be to her more welcome, than to pass from bis valley of misery, to that heavenly throne to which she ras to be advanced.”...; ' ,. '
Sir Richard Steele "and the Shepherd. IN the year 1726, Sir RICHARD made a 'tour into Scotland, with several gentlemen in company. Not far from Annan, they observed a flock of sheep, and at a small distance the shepherd lying on the ground with a small book in his hand, on which he was reading. Desirous of prying into human nature in every character, Sir RICHARD proposed to his companions to have a little conversation with the shepherd; on which they immediately rode up to him; and, on Sir RICHARD's enquiring of him the name of the book in his hand, the shepherd directly started on bis feet, and told him the name of it. "Pray what do you learn from that book ? said Sir RICHARD. “I learn from it the way to heaven," replied the other.-—"Very well," says Sir RICHARD, “ we are travelling the same road, and it will be very obliging if you will shew us the way thither." -“ With all my heart," replied the shepherd, “ if you will attend me to yonder rising ground just at hand."..To this proposal Sir RICHARD and his company readily agreed, and followed the shepherd to the rising ground. The shepherd then, turning to Sir RICHARD, said, “You see, sir, yonder old tower at a distance: the way to heaven lies straight by it, and is the only safe and sure way to future happiness." Looking at one another, and being amazed at the oddity of the direction, Sir RICHARD enquired of him the name of the tower; to which the shepherd replied, ** the name of it is the Tower of Repentance." ki fo }}" *** *
Cruelty to Animals.. . A YOUNGSTER, whose pahre we shall conceal, because it is not for his credit it should be known, was amusing himself
with a beetle stuck on a pin, and seemed vastly delighted · with the gyrations it made, occasioned by the torture it felt.