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able, useful, and benevolent inhabitant; and the writer of this Memoir one of the most sincere friends,- a friend who will ever be remembered by him with the warmest gratitude. Time will not be able to erase it; and he thinks it no small honour. to pay this last tribute of respect to his memory. But, above all, the church of Christ has lost one of its most useful members,-one whose life appeared almost absolutely essential to the promotion of the gospel in this country: but God sometimes removes such useful persons, to convince us that he can do without them; and sometimes, lest we should put them in his place: and, blessed be his name, though Mr. Post is no Lore, his glorious gospel continues to prosper! This servant of God had the honour to build the first place of worship in Demarara; and we trust that others will be raised up to follow his example, in building many more*.

On Lord's Day, April the 30th, at five in the afternoon, Mr. Post was interred on his own estate, in his own burial-ground, under a large mango-tree. A great number of people of colour attended his funeral; and many more would have come, had not the day proved so rainy. Eight of his own negroes, whom he selected for the purpose several days before his death, car ried him to the grave; and, with many others, made great lamentation over him. He had enjoyed the happiness to see Some of the negroes that carried him to the grave baptized, and walking in the fear of the Lord. The 634 hymn of the second book, was sung at the door of his house; the 88th of the first book; and the 107th of the second book, at the grave. An exhortation was also given from Amos iv. 12, Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel! On this and several succeeding days, the estate appeared as though it were in mourning for its late owner. I much wished him to give his consent that he might be buried in the chapel; but he would not allow it on any ac count, lest there should be any appearance of pride in it, or any should say he had built it for his tomb. On Lord's Day, May 14, a funeral-sermon was preached, from Rev. xiv. 13.

Thus, dear Sir, I have given you a faithful account of the Life and Death of Mr. Post. Undoubtedly, he had his imperfections, which he daily lamented; but if we consider him in every point of view, and make proper allowances for the county in which he lived, he appears to have been a truly excelat man, and almost a miracle of grace.

I am, Rev. Sir,

your most obedient and humble servant, JOHN WRAY.

Demarara, August 13, 1810.

Through the exertions of the Rev. Mr. Straglian, a very neat chapel has since been built in town, and is well attended. The Dutch people also have it in contemplation to build one; but building churches for white people will meet with no kind of opposition.

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XVII.

THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER.

THE ATMOSPHERE.

THE mass of air which encircles the whole globe is called The Atmosphere, from a Greek word, which signifies a body of vapour in a spherical form :'-it moves with the Earth, round the sun, and touches it in all its parts, ascending to the tops of its highest mountains, and penetrating all its cavities:-it consists of that fluid which we inhale, from the first to the last moment of our existence. The atmosphere is generally sup posed to extend about forty-five miles from the earth; it is an invisible permanently elastic fluid; for, however much com pressed, if the pressure be removed, it will occupy its former space. Mr. Boyle found, by experiment, that the same portion of air may take up 52,000 times the space it doth at another time; and that, by taking off the weight of the atmosphere, an expansion would be occasioned of 13,000 times its former bulk. The weight or pressure of the atmosphere on the earth varies considerably; but its mean weight is about 14 pounds on a square inch; at which time a column of air will counterbalance a column of mercury of the same size at 29/ inches high. It the body of a man contains 15 square feet, it sustains a pressure equal to 15 tons; but it must be observed that the air presses in every direction, and it is owing to this circumstance that the human frame is able to endure it. If any person's hand be placed over an orifice in the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, the upward-pressure will be taken off, and the hand held down with a weight which will render it impossible to move it until the air be re-admitted into the receiver. This property of pressing in all directions, (upwards, downwards, and sideways) is common to all fluids; hence we feel no difficulty in moving, though the greater part of our body be under water, the upward pressure of the fluid counteracting its weight, or downward-pressure. The weight of the atmosphere is also resisted by the internal pressure of the air within, and the other fluids; it is, nevertheless, an instance of the care of Him who knoweth our frame,' that the changes which take place, often in the course of a few hours, in the atmospheric pressure, should not produce the most serious and distressing effects, when it is considered, that the difference between the least and the greatest pressure upon our bodies is equal to 3982 pounds.

It is certain that the pressure of the atmosphere is of great utility, as it prevents the heat of the sun from converting all the water and other fluids into vapour; and, perhaps, were it not for this, even the solids themselves would be dissipated. It is known that water requires more than three times the heat

to boil it in the open air, to what will make it boil in vacuo. The atmosphere gives a proper temperature to the rays of the sun, and renders the face of the heavens lucid and bright. 'If there was no atmosphere, only that part of the sky would appear light in which the sun is placed; for, in that case, there would be no substance to reflect his rays; -but the atmosphere being strongly illuminated by the sun, turns the light towards us, and makes the whole heavens shine with such splendor, as to render the light of the stars invisible ** It is this property in the air of reflecting the light, which produces the twilight. The atmosphere is also the cause of dews and rains, which fertilize the earth; it sustains the clouds, is essential to the conveyance of wind, and to the existence of whatever lives and moves on the face of the earth, or in the great deep. The Syrians, we are told, worshipped the air as a god; and a striking emblem it certainly is of that Great Power which pervades, invigorates, and animates all nature; but it is only a creature; He who made it could, in one moment, cause it to pass away;-and another day he will do so; for the heavens and the earth shall pass away. O, then, let Him be the great and only Object of our worship, our faith, our love, and our obedience, who is God over all, blessed for ! evermore. T. P. B.

Gregory's Lessons, p. 78.

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REFLECTIONS ON DEATH,

AS AN OBJECT OF TERROR TO MAN.

THERE is nothing which exhibits to our view greater variety and change than the life of man. It presents to us, from beginning to end, a mixture of joys and sorrows, of hopes and fears, until, at death, the scene is closed, to be repeated no more. In whatever manner life is spent, the approach of death is sufficient to damp the joys of the most of men. Few look forward to it without dismay; and the greatest part anticipate the change with terror. To be entirely separated from the world, from all we have seen and known, and with which we have been long familiar and happy to bring to a close the friendship of our dear and intimate acquaintances, that had subsisted for years, and which gave a relish to all the enjoyments of life; to have this body dissolved, and laid down to be consumed, forgotten, and neglected in the grave; to enter a world of spirits; to stand at the tribunal of the great God of heaven and earth, to receive a just and irreversible sentence, these things present to our view such images of terror as are sufficient to shake the fortitude of the

hardiest of men. These are the terrors in which Death is clothed; and in which he becomes so horrible to the human race. This is the object which, amidst all the hurry and bustle of life, often obtrudes himself upon the view, and casts a gloom over the most delightful hours of the prosperous and gay. This is the object which, however long he may be shut out, can never entirely be banished from the mind, and will, at last, force himself on the troubled imagination, whether men choose or refuse.

Death is an object clothed with terror to man, as it puts en end to his present existence, by the separation of soul and body. Death is a change at which human nature revolts; and there are few. who look forward to it, but under the idea of pain in dissolution, or in those distresses which are usually its forerunners. There is no doubt but human nature then undergoes a shock, of which it has had no experience, and of which it can receive no information by any who have felt it. As we can have no knowledge of it till it is experienced, we can now form no just conceptions of it; and probably by an imagination easily alarmed, its terrors are heightened beyond the reality. The shock, however, must be great, beyond any other that is felt, in our separation from objects with which we are loth to part. The union betwixt soul and body is intimate and close. It is the dearest of all connections! All that a man hath will he give for his life;' and that stroke by which he is deprived of it must cut deep, and with the greatest vioJence to his feelings. Since death puts an end to life, that darling object of man's affections, it cannot be viewed without dread, especially when we conceive of it as preceded by a multitude of distresses that may be both tedious and painful. These distresses, which are the forerunners of death, add not a little to the gloominess of the prospect. The scene which the dreary vale of the shadow of death presents to view, be"comes the more awful from these many harbingers of death's approach. Afflictions, these heralds of this king of terrors, are most unwelcome to all; and the event which they announce is, of all others, to human nature the most forbidding. When we see one iauguishing on the bed of distress, crying out, in the bitterness of his heart, in the evening, Would God it were morning! and in the morning, Would God it were evening!-we have a view of dying as a painful thing; and under such an impression we look forward to our own dissolution.

Death is an object of terror to man, as it closes this scene of terrestrial things, and puts a final period to all the enjoyments of life. There is nothing to which man is more unwilling to submit than death; and, no doubt, the change that is produced in his relative circumstances, is one cause of this reluctance. He sees he must leave all the enjoyments of this pre

sent life, take a farewell of his beloved friends, and carry nothing with him of all the labour he has taken under the sun. That day his thoughts perish,' his connection with earthly things is dissolved, and all his concern about them is for ever at an end. Such a prospect produced the deepest sorrow on the mind of Hezekiah, and wrung from him this affecting complaint, I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to the gates of the grave; I am deprived of the residue of my years. I said, I shall not see the Lord, even the Lord, in the land of the living: I shall behold man no more, with the inhabitants of the world.'

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It is difficult even for a good man to part with what has long been dear to him, and what has often imparted to him comfort and delight. Experience has often already taught us all, that the last sight of objects, in which we felt a deep interest, has occasioned an uneasiness, not soon nor easily removed; and what must man feel when that moment comes, in which he is to be separated from all that is dear to him, and his intercourse with so many beloved objects is to be closed for ever? He is carried to his long home, insensible to all that passes among those whom he leaves behind, and unconcerned about their condition. His sons come to honour, and he knoweth it not; they are brought low, but he perceiveth it not of them.' The light continues to diffuse its gladdening beams over the face of creation, and the seasons to run their accustomed round; but to him they return no more: darkness, as darkness itself, sits down upon his dwelling, and no ray of light can ever penetrate his dreary abode; nor shall he awake, or be raised out of his sleep, till the heavens

be no more.

The prospect of such a change' as this cannot but excite sensations of uneasiness. It closes this scene of terrestrial. things, it deprives men of all their earthly possessions; it cuts short their schemes, and interrupts their business for ever; it cuts asunder the cords of friendship, and separates betwixt those who love and are beloved; it puts an end not only to the pains, but to the pleasures and enjoyments of this mortal existence. It is this which makes death frightful and forbidding. This also is a sore evil :-That, in all points, as he came, so shall he go; and what profit hath he that hath laboured for the wind?'

Death is an object of terror to man, as it is a passage to an eternal state. There is something in the idea of entering a world of spirits, of standing at the tribunal of God to be judged and sentenced for eternity, which even the most devour iind cannot reflect on without dread; but to these objects, so naturally calculated to awaken fear, death will introduce all men; and none have returned from death, or from the boundless undiscovered region beyond it, to describe to those

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