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LIFE AND IMMORTALITY.
tions, and that the generations whom they have raised from the dust, shall enjoy the inheritance bequeathed them, when their benefactor "sleeps the sleep that knows no waking?" And is there nought of immortality in those tender outpourings of affection and love, which, while we witness them, assure us that, though fallen from our high estate,
ished noble-in the wildest savage, or in the gravest the daily intercourse of life. And when we witness philosopher. The soul, leaving the beaten track of ev- one of our species, whose expansive heart sympathizes ery day experience, seeks for pleasure in the airy fic-with suffering humanity, wherever it is found-whose tions of the imagination, and launching forth in fields diffusive benevolence obliterates every local or sectional of fancy, revels in the day dreams of its own creation. prejudice, and finds its own reward in the practice of Dissatisfied with the past and the present, it wanders to true benevolence—or where we behold the patriot forethe future; and finds only in the anticipation of endless going ease and comfort, and toiling day after day with progress towards perfection the full measure of its desires. unremitted zeal, sparing no sacrifice, and avoiding no With a full conviction of its own eternity, which no danger, but willing to lay his life upon the altar of his arguments can strengthen, it feels that this life is not native land, if thus he may thwart the tyranny of the the circle which limits its vision, and therefore it strives oppressor, and give freedom and equality to his counto leave the memory of its deeds in the recollection of trymen, can we suppose that either the one or the other its successors. Else why is it that men rear the tow-will find in the grave the extinction of these noble emoering pyramid, and the regal mausoleum-why perpetuate their memories in the breathing marble, and the glowing canvass-why wish their deeds eternized in the page of the historian, and the inspiration of the poet, if the soul is blotted out from the universe of its fellows, when the last grim messenger summons it to the silent halls of death? Why this restless pursuit of knowledge-this fond desire "to grasp the soul of ages in a single mind"-to talk familiarly with the dead of former times, and incorporate their wisdom with our own stores? Why this thirst to penetrate the inmost arcana of nature, and seek the hidden causes of the ceaseless changes which are going on around us, if, when we have "strutted our brief hour," we must sink unconscious "to the vile earth from whence we sprung." And when we consider how vast are the fields of science that one discovery is but the stepping-stone to new and grander revelations of truth, which rise like "Alps on Alps" in endless perspective, where is the sceptic so bold as to assert that the few moments which we can snatch-when the necessary calls of nature and the conventional demands of society are complied with-is the limit that bounds our investigation of these multifarious phenomena? And if, as is the fact, we acquire new ardor in the pursuit of such inquiries, until the mind is, as it were, sublimed of the appetites of sense, and the groveling predilections of self-interest, then why-if annihilation is the goal of our pursuitswhy is the soul but refined to be debased below matter, and tantalized with hopes that lure us on, but like Dead Sea fruits turn to ashes when in our grasp? Not to know, in such a case, were a pleasure, and "Where ignorance is bliss,
'Twere folly to be wise."
But in all the investigations of the most scrutinizing analysis, philosophy has not found, amid all the mutations of matter, one instance of annihilation; and can we believe that the soul, so superior in its energies and essence to matter, shall meet with a direr destiny than the clods of the valley which we spurn from our feet? But not only in intellect is the dignity and grandeur of the soul seen, but even more so in the moral powers which it possesses. These unite us more closely than the former with our fellow beings around us; for it is by benevolence, reciprocity, patriotism, and the tender emotions of the heart, that civil society is upheld and embellished with all those courtesies which give zest to
"Some flowers of Eden we still inherit ?" The fond mother who bends over the bier of her departed infant, and seems to have drained the bitterest dregs in the cup of humanity, yet is soothed in the agony of her bereavement by the hope that though death hath chilled the fair fountain,
"It but sleeps 'till the sunshine of heaven unchains it,
To water that garden from whence was its source." And how often do we see the spotless in soul, and the refined in intellect fall into the snares of the crafty, or the malice of the cruel, until crushed and bleeding, earth has no charm for the eye, and no balm for the wounded spirit, yet even in the midst of sorrow," "Like the plants that throw
A fragrance from the wounded part," exhibiting nothing but patience and innocency, meekness and resignation!
Time forbids me to dwell upon, or even to enumerate all those warm sympathies and tender sensibilitiesthe ties of friendship-the softer influences of love— those promptings of the free heart which form the "green spots in memory's waste," and throw their rainbow tints athwart the lowering realities of human existence. These are the feelings
-to mortals giv'n,
With less of earth in them than heav'n;" and it needs no train of reasoning to establish the fact of their destiny; for they flash forth the doctrine of immortality to the soul of man. Besides these arguments, adduced from the universal belief of mankind, the nature of the soul itself, its powers and capacities, intellectual, moral, and social, we might dwell upon that unequal distribution of justice, by which the proud are exalted in their oppression, while the virtuous and good are trampled to the earth-upon the disorder and confusion consequent upon this unnatural state of things-upon the terrors and forebodings of the guilty, and upon the necessity of this doctrine to vindicate the benevolence and wisdom of the Creator; but we hasten to a close, convinced that so impregnable are the
defenses of this doctrine, that the madness of the sceptic, and the miserable expedient of him who gives the rein to his appetites and passions, by denying what his fears wish not to be true, will alike fail in their endeavors, until reason is transformed into her imitator, sophistry, and the teachings of sound philosophy into the dreams of the wildest enthusiast. Were any thing wanting to fill out the proof, or shed light upon what has already been said, the pages of inspiration furnish abundant evidence, that though the body returns to its parent earth, yet the soul, free and unfettered, will spring up radiant with immortality, ever progressing in the knowledge of nature's works-its powers strengthening-its capacities enlarging, until the mysteries which enshroud our being shall become clear to the eye of reason, and the "great eternal scheme, involving all," shall evince the expanding intellect, the wisdom, benevolence, and omnipotence of Him who, at his creation, breathed immortality into the spirit of man.
more naturally amiable. There was yet one thing needful, which she sought and found. The love of Jesus (as I trust) was shed abroad in her heart. How delightful to behold the morning of life devoted to the service of the Redeemer! and how expressive those lines of the poet
I saw my young
"A flower, when offered in the bud, Is no vain sacrifice!" The hour of separation came. friend pledge her hand and heart to "the long betrothed"-the parting embrace was given, and she left us for her distant home. Three years have passed; and with her, as with all others, "time hath wrought a change." She is now a mother. May she be an ornament to that sacred character, and spend a useful as well as a happy life!
The morning that saw Ann K. a bride, witnessed the marriage of one of her companions. The same bright horizon dawned upon both-hope penciled for each a gay perspective of the future; but while one was permitted to remain "the loving and the loved," the other was summoned to the spirit world away. L. H. had early been a child of sorrow; for she had early lost her mother-a loss which time can never restore. Her demeanTHIS chapter shall be dedicated to remembrances of or in school was uniformly cheerful, yet sedate and the past. I have before me a long list of names, all as obedient to every wish of her instructors. She was not familiar as household words-the names of those who calculated to dazzle the gay world, or to attract obserfor the last six years have at various times been under vation; for she was of a thoughtful disposition; but my instruction. The bond of affection between teach- those who knew her intimately, loved her well. Soon er and pupil (if not rudely severed by misconduct) is after her marriage I met her in the house of God, and one that time can never destroy. Months and years was somewhat surprised at the settled look of sadness may pass away-other friends may share in the affec- which she wore. Although at the time I attributed it tions-other scenes interest the heart; yet will faithful to a slight indisposition, yet when I next saw her, the memory often recur to school-room avocations, renew-pallid brow and laboring cough told too well her desing upon the retina of the mind the imagery of many tined fate. Consumption had fastened upon her with pleasant hours. It may be called enthusiasm; but if || a relentless grasp. For some weeks she was not aware it be, it is an enthusiasm which many share. In con- of her danger; and when the appalling consciousness versation with a valued friend, (the strength of whose that she must die came home to her heart, she trembled life has been spent in teaching,) she observed, "I have and seemed to cling to life. Her affectionate husband many memorials of my former pupils; but I cannot watched daily and nightly by her bed-side, supplying look upon them-I dare not think of them. They blind the place of father and mother, of brother and sister, my eyes-they fill me with thoughts which I cannot for of these she had none living. Why did she thus indulge, without detriment to my health and comfort." cling to earth-thus dread to grapple with the king My friend has other duties now devolving upon her; of terrors? Why was the tear ever glistening in her but those who are not thus circumstanced may be al-eye, and the sigh ever bursting from her bosom? She lowed to cherish the reminiscence so grateful to their feelings.
had connected herself with a Church sometime previous to the events I have narrated; but she did not feel satI return to the manuscript which has elicited the isfied of her acceptance with her God. The prayer of above remarks. Upon reviewing it, how many inter- faith was raised to heaven for the dying one, and earnesting associations are revived! The first name in- est were her own efforts to find that peace which the scribed is that of a dear girl from the far-the sunny || world knoweth not of. He who tempers the wind to south-as warm, as generous, as ardent in her nature the shorn lamb, spoke peace to her soul, and there was as are the rays of her own native sun; yet restrained light and gladness thrown around the gloomy grave. by a firm moral principle, she yielded not to levity of She lingered some weeks after this event, patiently action. Her conduct towards teachers and schoolmates bearing every trial, and ever ready humbly to give a was ever a standard for her youthful companions; and reason of the hope that was in her. She died calmly if any envied her the suffrage of universal admiration, and happily, and her death was blessed to him who had the kindness of her attentions to each and all soon con- been her only earthly support in time of trouble. He verted envy into respect and love. I would not imply connected himself with the people of God the day after that she was faultless; but I have seldom known onell her burial, and was soon enabled to rejoice that he
DEITY AND NATURE.
had been called to mourn by a God of infinite wisdom | and goodness.
DEITY AND NATURE.*
BY W. F. LOWRIE.
THE next metal which we shall notice, as being highly useful to man, is mercury, which was well known to the ancients.
The principal localities where it is now obtained are the mines of Idria, in Carnolia, and Almaden, in Spain. It is also found in Mexico and Peru; but a large proportion of the mercury of commerce comes from Idria, where it occurs in beds of bituminous shale, gray sandstone, and limestone, at a depth of several hundred feet below the surface. The mines of Almaden run through clay, slate, and shale; and though they have been worked for a period of more than two thousand years are still prolific.
Mercury differs from all other metals, by possessing the property of fluidity at all common temperatures. Its color is tin white, and its lustre strongly metallic. At 39° or 40° below zero it becomes solidified, and in so doing shows a strong tendency to crystalize in octohedrons; at the same time contracts so greatly, that while its density at 47° is 13.568, when frozen it is 15.612. When solid it possesses nearly the malleability of tin, and may be extended into thin sheets, or cut with a knife. When its temperature is raised to 662° Fah., it enters into ebulition, and the rising vapor condenses again on cool surfaces into metallic globules. If, however, it be subjected to the action of oxygen gas, it slowly absorbs it, and is changed into the peroxide of mercury. Mercury, when quite pure, is not tarnished in the cold by exposure to air and moisture. If, however, other metals be amalgamated with it, though in very small portions, oxydation will take place, and a film be collected on its surface. The only acids which act on this metal are the sulphuric and nitric, the for
It would be difficult to represent, at length, the varied characteristics of mind and heart, all fresh before the writer, or to describe the many changes which have passed in a few short years; and neither do I feel at liberty to use freely even the initials of my scholars, though it were "to point a moral, or adorn a tale." However, I have ventured to speak of the absent and the dead, in hope that their example may be beneficial. I feel that I am almost on hallowed ground; but if unwarily I have intruded upon that sensitiveness which fain would shrink from observation, my motive must be my apology. Yet, did time permit, I would delight to dwell upon the highly gifted who struggled through adverse and opposing circumstances, to acquire an education-upon the nobly aspiring, who, though reared in the lap of luxury, were not content to remain in ignorance-the gentle and unassuming, whose yielding sweetness saved them from unpleasant collision-the playful-the sad-upon all, yes, all, save the wayward and ungrateful. Where are they now? Many of them have gone forth into society. The principles or passions which then alternately governed or overcame them have now a wider sphere of action, and are powerful in their influence, either for good or for evil. Many of them have learned what it is to suffer from the frowns of adversity. One has buried her first-born beneath the clods of the valley. Several, upon whom memory rests with sadness, are moldering in the dust. They mingle no longer with earthly friends; yet could they return to this busy, trifling world, would they not whisper in our ears, "Be ye also ready!" One just entering into graceful womanhood, is enjoying the vanities of this frail life, and dreaming of nought but pleasure, while another, another, and yet another, have lain for weary months upon beds of suffering. O, could I tell them how sweet are the consolations of religion-mer of which is inefficient in the cold; but when heat how dear the promises of the Gospel to the sick and the sorrowful! They have other and better monitors. Kind hearted Christian friends are near them, ready to advise and cheer-the ambassadors of heaven are there to warn and to encourage, while the still small voice of the Spirit of God is even now knocking at the door of their hearts for admittance. Yet not alone around the sick are these sacred influences thrown-they encircle all, and none are free from their gentle visitations, though with them none may trifle with impunity; for God hath said, "My Spirit shall not always strive with man.' Then, whether in sickness or in health, let us all, while time and opportunity are ours, seek that preparation of heart which alone will fit us for the trials of life, or sustain us under the agonies of death.
M. A. DE FOREST.
INTIMACY has been the source of the deadliest enmity, no less than of the firmest friendship; like some mighty rivers, which rise on the same mountain, but pursue a quite contrary course.
is applied the mercury is oxydized, pure sulphureous acid is disengaged, and sulphate of mercury formed. Nitric acid acts strongly upon mercury, both with and without heat, oxydizing and dissolving it with the evolution of binoxide of nitrogen.
Mercury occurs in a variety of forms. Thus we have the native mercury, native amalgam, muriate and sulphuret of mercury, as natural productions. The primary form of native mercury, when crystalized, is the regular octohedron; but it is found in small fluid globules, scattered in various quantities through its gang, or vein-stone. Pure mercury is a metal rarely found, that which is used in the arts being obtained from the sulphuret, or, as it is commonly termed, cinnabar. Cinnabar, in its crystalization, assumes, as its primary form, the shape of an acute rhombohedron, and as its secondary, various modifications of the primary. Its imperfect crystalizations are granularly massive, with the particles small, often impalpable, and sometimes forming superficial coatings on the minerals or ores
* Continued from vol. ii, p. 45.
The similarity of its composition with the calomel prepared by art would seem to be the result of more than accident. Klaproth, a celebrated chemist, analyzed it, and found its components to be oxyd of mercury 76, hydroclhoric acid 16.4, sulphuric acid 7.6. Artificial calomel is composed of mercury 84.74, chlorine 15.26.
Iron. This is the most important metal which the earth contains. It is even more valuable than all the precious metals together, and is more extensively dif fused than any other. Iron was known to man in the most remote ages, and has a peculiar gray color and metallic lustre, which is susceptible of being heightened by polishing. It occurs in a great variety of forms and combinations, and to a greater or less extent in every part of the world. Among the most common of its
with which it may be in a state of proximity. Its color varies from cochineal red, to brownish red and lead gray-its lustre adamantine, inclining to metallic, and dull in the darker and friable varieties. Some varieties are subtransparent, others translucent-fracture conchoidal, and may be cut with a knife. This mineral is usually associated in beds with native mercury, native|| amalgam, and occasionally with calcareous spar and quartz; yet it has been observed in veins with iron ores. The finest crystals occur in the coal formations of Moschellandsburg and Wolfstein in the Palatinate; also, in Japan, Mexico, and Brazil, and several districts of Germany. This ore is the great source from which commerce is supplied, and from which the mercury is obtained by sublimation—the modus operandi' of which is as follows: The ore is first pulverized, then combined with one-fifth of slacked lime, and put into re-ores are the magnetic, specular oxide, brown hernatite, torts which hold about half a hundred weight each. chromate of iron, &c., &c. Magnetic iron ore, when From forty to fifty of these are built into a furnace, crystalized, puts on as its primary form, the regular ocand have receivers fitted to them. Heat is then applied tohedron-its secondary, are numerous modifications till the aqueous vapors are expelled. The receivers are thereof. Its structure is frequently granular. It is then luted, or closely stopped with clay, the heat in- strongly attracted by the magnet, and sometimes poscreased, and the mercury comes over in the form of sesses polarity. Magnetic iron ore occurs in beds in vapor into the receivers, where it is condensed. One primitive rocks, as gneiss, clay slate, hornblende slate, hundred pounds of ore yields on an average from 6 oz. &c. The beds of ore at Arendal, and nearly all the to 10 oz. of pure mercury. Cinnabar, when pure, is celebrated mines in Sweden, consist of this ore. Danidentical with the manufactured vermillion of com- nemora and Taberg, in Smaland, are entirely formed merce, a beautiful and valuable pigment, employed in of it. Still larger mountains of it exist in Lapland, a variety of operations in the useful and fine arts. and the most powerful native magnets are found in the Hartz mountains in Siberia. Very extensive beds of this ore occur at different places upon the western side of Lake Champlain, and in the mountainous region of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Virginia, and also large masses in the Ozark mountains.
Specular iron ore is a variety possessing a dark steel gray, or iron black color, and a metallic lustre, which is often beautifully splendent with the richest hues of the rainbow. The most magnificent specimens of this species are brought from Elba, famous for the residence of Napoleon Buonaparte, and which is celebrated by Ovid as the "Insula inexhaustis chalybdum generosa metallis." Europe and the United States abounds in localities of the different varieties of this species of iron ore, and it furnishes a considerable portion of the iron of commerce.
Mercury is of great importance in the extraction of gold and silver ores, (see article in February number,) for which purpose it is transported in large quantities from Europe to South America. An amalgam of tin and mercury made to adhere by pressure to one side of plate glass constitutes the mirror in which beauty and deformity alike may gaze. Combined with gold it forms another amalgam with which the works of timepieces are gilded to protect them from the corrosion produced by the oxygen and moisture contained in the atmosphere. In its pure state it enables man to form various instruments, as the thermometer and barometer, &c., which not only aid him in his researches in natural science, but also frequently minister to his physical wants, and by warning him of approaching and important changes in the atmosphere enable him to avoid certain destruction from the boisterous wind and howling tem- Brown iron ore, under its various names of brown pest. Mercury is also prepared by chemical processes to hematite, bog iron ore, brown ochre, &c., is one of the act as a corrective to most of the physical ills which flesh most important ores of that metal, as it yields a pig is heir to, and in the hands of the skillful practitioner is iron easily convertible into steel. Though iron is infedoubtless an efficient agent in controling disease and pro- rior to several metals in ductility and malleability, it longing life. Nature would appear to have anticipated surpasses all in tenacity. At ordinary temperatures it man in this use of the metal; for she has prepared in is very hard and unyielding, and its hardness may be her deep and silent laboratories a substance of a similar increased by heating and then suddenly cooling it. In kind to the preparation made by art. This substance is combination with other substances, and especially with named muriate of mercury, and native calomel. It is oxygen and sulphur, it is abundantly distributed throughfound in small quantities in the cinnabar mines in Ger- out the whole field of nature. There are but few memany, in crystaline coats of a granular massive struc-tals or minerals with which it is not in close associature, adamantine lustre, yellowish gray, or yellowish tion. It is a necessary ingredient in good soils. It white color, and when crystalized its primitive form is enters into the structure of vegetable matter, imparting a right square prism. to the woody fibre strength, and to the leaves and flow
THE SISTERS OF BETHANY.
ers many of their loveliest bues. To it man owes many of the colors which he uses in the decoration of his home and his person, as well as of the blood which courses, full of life and vigor, through all his frame. The iron is extracted from its ores by their exposure, after previous roasting and pulverizing, to the action of charcoal and lime at a high temperature. The carbon in the charcoal removes the oxygen from the ore, while the lime acts as a flux, by combining with all the impurities of the ore, and forming a fusible compound called a slag. The whole mass being thus fused, the particles of metal descend by their greater specific gravity, and collect at the bottom, while the slag forms a stratum above, and protects the melted metal from the action of the air. This, as it collects, runs out at an aperture at the side of the furnace, and the fused iron is let off by a hole at the bottom, which was previously filled with sand. This is the cast iron of commerce, and contains a considerable quantity of carbon, unreduced ore, and earthy substances. It is subsequently converted into soft or malleable iron by exposure to a strong heat, while a current of air plays on its surface. By this means the decomposed ore is reduced, earthy impurities rise to the surface as a slag, and the carbonaceous matter is burned. The oxide formed on the surface being stirred with the fused metal below, facilitates the oxydation of the carbon. As the iron increases in purity, its fusibility diminishes, until at length, though the heat be the same, the iron becomes solid. It is then, while hot, subjected to the processes of rolling or hammering, by which its particles are approximated, and its tenacity greatly increased.
How numerous the purposes to which man has applied this most useful of all metals! It aids him in commerce, agriculture, manufactures, and domestic operations. Scarce a physical instrument is used by him into the formation of which iron does not enter. It ministers to his wants and necessities in peace, and to his defense and protection in war.
'Tis night! No zephyr stirs the leaves-the breeze
All nature sleeps, lull'd by the murmuring rills,
In each the veteran of a race gone by.
Amid her virgin train, and smiles on earth, And earth returns the smile, and all is bright;
Those twinkling orbs, as at creation's birth, When this fair world first greeted new-born light, Hymn the Creator's praise, in heavenly mirth, And shine like quenchless lamps, to light thy halls, O night!
To sacred thought in souls of worth." How hallowed, then, is the land of Palestine! sacred associations are connected with every spot rendered memorable by our Savior's matchless precepts, his wondrous miracles, and consummate wisdom, benevolence, and love! How often, in imagination, have I followed the lowly Jesus in his wanderings amid the delightful scenery of the Holy Land! But, alas! he was a persecuted wanderer-a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. Yet though his precious counsels were often disregarded, some there were who received his doctrines, and to many hearts, and especially to the daughters of Israel, he spoke in accents of mercy. The village of Bethany is consecrated ground; for there dwelt Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, the interesting family that Jesus loved. Let us contemplate the character of the sisters of Bethany; for those whom our Savior approved must be worthy of imitation.
They were distinguished for their hospitality. In all ages and among all civilized nations, hospitality has been esteemed, and its rites held sacred; but among the chosen people of God, whether under the Jewish or Christian dispensation, it is enjoined as a duty; and often in the performance of its obligations unexpected blessings have been realized. Angels have been the guests of mortals, and frail man has held converse with the messengers of Heaven. The sisters of Bethany had a guest whom angels delighted to honor; but such was the darkness that vailed the minds of even the pious Jews, that it is probable, though our Savior was at first received as a teacher come from God, yet the exalted character of his mission was but faintly understood. How great, then, was their reward, when, by receiving instruction from his lips, they were prepared to accept him as the long expected Messiah.
Another interesting characteristic of the sisters, was their affection for each other. Martha, on one occasion, complains that her sister had left her to serve alone. From this we infer that Martha had not been accustomed to bear alone the burden of service, but had ever been sustained by the cheerful co-operation of Mary. Martha erred in being perplexed and troubled "about many things," while Mary was commended, not that she was unmindful of her sister's claim, but for choosing the "better part" of sitting at the feet of Jesus, and listening to the important truths he uttered. Both sisters were eager to show proper respect to their Lord; and piety to God can only dwell in hearts where pure affection glows. The strong affection of the sisters for their brother was also exemplified during his sickness and subsequent death. The message sent by them to the Savior appeals directly to the heart: "He whom thou lovest is sick." Commensurate with their love was their grief when death ensued before the arrival of the great Physician.