vegetation as essential elements of the jungle and the forest; and, where life expires in the embraces of perpetual winter, grasses are the last of flowering plants that linger on the verge of those silent regions of frost and death. In South-Shetland islands, at an elevation of seven thousand feet, Aira antarctica blooms alone in a region of " thick-ribbed ice ;" and in the far North, in Iceland, Greenland, and the extreme latitude of 70°, Trisetum subspicatum, which has perhaps a greater geographical range than any plant with which we are acquainted, braves the sleet and darkness, and during the short arctic summer puts forth its pretty blossoms, and ripens abun dance of seeds. If we did not count among the grasses the sources of our staple foods in wheat, barley, rye, oats, Indian corn, rice, and sugar; of our beverages, the food of our cattle, the materials for numerous manufactures, including matting, cordage, baskets, plait, thatch, and paper; the grasses would, nevertheless, claim a high consideration for their beauty, their wide distribution, their bright green verdure, and the immensity of their numbers. The glorious carpeting of green spread over hill and valley, whether the soil be a hungry sand or a clay submerged in water, is the most distinctive feature in the scenery of Britain, and the admiration of every foreigner who sets foot on our shores.

Neither the olive growths of the south of Europe, the palm-tree-dotted plains of Asia, the vast umbrageous leafiness of tropical jungles, nor even Vallombrosa itself, whose "autumnal leaves" rustle in the most mellifluous line of English poetry, ever present, in the best of their several seasons of highest luxuriance, anything to compare with the rolling sward of a fine old English park, or the velvet breadths of verdure of our agricultural pastures. In our gardens, grass lawns complete the luxury of the scene, while flowers, fountains, and bright-eyed children, with English health upon their cheeks, combine to render it homely and national; and in the hour of meditation we remember that the grass of the field is an emblem of the life of man, and close the reflection by repeating the solemn words of Holy Writ: "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever."

In the exercise of that spirit of thankful affection with which the true naturalist surveys the world around him, the universality of grass is a fact accepted as a distinct teaching of the kindly regard for the happiness of all creatures which is so prominent a feature in the plan of creation. In herbage and grain, the grasses furnish a larger amount of sustenance to animal life than all other tribes of plants together; and so profusely have they been shed abroad in every conceivable variety, as climate, soil, and situation may influence their growth, that the earth has taken their colouring for a garment, and presents a firmament of green almost as unbroken as the upper firmament of blue, which is the only other prevailing tint in nature. No matter how elevated or how barren the spot, grasses of some kind will make themselves a home in it; and when every variety of soil and climate has

been furnished with its appropriate kinds, others find for themselves sites in water, carpeting the bed of the brook, or binding the shingle together on the shore of the sea; others, on ruins, housetops, or subterranean retreats, if but a glimpse of daylight reach them. In that remarkable work, “The Flora of the Colosseum," in which Dr. Deakin has described four hundred and twenty plants found growing spontaneously on the ruins of the Colosseum at Rome, there are no fewer than fifty-six grasses entered as flourishing in various parts of that venerable ruin.

It may be stated as an axiom, that, in spite of the attractions of the subject, grasses are less studied than most other tribes of plants. You shall cut a square turf from any wayside common, and submit it to a farmer, a gardener, or an amateur student of horticultural botany, and it will be a rare chance if any one of the three can tell you how many species of grasses there are in the turf, or anything respecting their habits and history. Yet to the farmer it is a matter of serious moment to know which are the grasses that produce the earliest crops; which, the heaviest and most fattening; which make the best hay; and how far the most productive are adapted to various soils and climates.

The grass-garden at Kew is the best and most easily accessible for the botanists of London; and it has now attained to such completeness, that it constitutes a grand Hortus gramineus for all purposes of reference and comparison, the species being carefully named and arranged in botanical order. Similar gardens are needed at all the popular out-door establishments which profess to combine the means of instruction with those of recreation and amusement.

As the majority of the species of Gramince belong to the temperate zone, an English garden may be made a place of culture for the chief of the grasses of the entire world, as far as plants and seeds can be obtained for the purpose.

The species of grass known at the present day number far beyond a thousand. Of these, the British isles claim at least a hundred and fifty. The botanical characteristics of a grass are the production of cylindrical stems from either a bulbous or fibrous root-stock. The stems are usually hollow and jointed, and in this they differ from the sedges, in which the stems are solid. The leaves of grasses spring from the joints, and sheathe the stem; in the sedges the leaves grow together round the stem, and form a kind of tube to 'enclose it. The flowers come in spikelets, and consist only of the essential organs of fertility-stamens, anthers, and ovaryenclosed in bracts. When these bracts are highly coloured, the species are attractive to the popular eye as beautiful grasses; but it is the form, proportions, foliation, and the peculiar grace, of the spikelets generally, that constitute their beauties; and, if we except a few which are prized for their snowy and golden stripes and blossoms, their attractions will range with the same quiet order as those of the ferns, many delightful shades of refreshing green, and outlines unsurpassed in gracefulness.

THE "ALTAR TO HEAVEN," AT PEKIN.

AMONG the wonders of the Chinese capital, the most wonderful is the "Altar to Heaven," described by the Rev. Jonathan Lees in the journal of his first visit to Pekin.* It is difficult, indeed, to form, from any description, an adequate conception of this spectacle; and when it is remembered that these surprising objects of power and skill were originally dedicated to the services of religion, the whole scene is adapted to awaken both admiration and regret, that a people distinguished by civi lization and art should have been the victims of a system of idolatry so splendid, and yet utterly powerless for the improvement of their hearts or their character.

After breakfast, (writes Mr. Lees,) two or three of our party went to the "Altar to Heaven." It is impossible to reproduce in language one's feelings on visiting such a place. To me it is of all others in China the most intensely interesting; not merely on account of the rare artistic taste shown in the design and its execution, but on account of its being the sole remaining memorial of the ancient Monotheism of China. As I stood in the slaughter-house, and walked through the long covered way by which the victim was led to the altar,—and, above all, as subsequently I stood upon the magnificent south altar, with all its associations, and looked round on the groves and temples, with the blue sky overhead, of which their glittering roofs were intended to remind me,-I felt how strong was the impulse to worship; and how grand, defaced and mingled though it be by the accumulating superstitions of ages, is the traditional faith in the "Supreme Ruler," of which all these things are symbols.

I attempt no description either of this or of other Pekin "lions;" one would need to write a book, and a great deal has already been well said. I extract a few lines from Sir John Davis's "The Chinese," which is one of the best books for friends at home to read as a popular summary of information on China :

"The Altar to Heaven' stands in a square enclosure, measuring about three miles in circuit, near the southern wall of the Chinese city. The terrace (the altar itself) consists of three stages, diminishing from 120 to GO feet in diameter, each stage being surrounded by a marble balustrade, and ascended by steps of the same material. Toward the north-west of the enclosure is the Palace of Abstinence, where the Emperor fasts for three days preparatory to offering sacrifices to heaven at the winter solstice. On the other side of the great central street leading to the Tartar city, and just over against the Altar to Heaven,' stands the Altar to Earth. This square enclosure is about two miles in circuit, and contains

* Missionary Magazine, January, 1865,

the field which is annually ploughed by the Emperor and his great officers, and the produce reserved for sacrifice."

I may add, that Sir John cannot have visited the place himself, or he would have spoken of the slaughter-house, with its enormous pans for flaying the bullocks used in sacrifice; of the covered way, most elaborately painted, along which the victim is led in solemn procession to the place of burning; and of the smaller temples, marble and bronze, with their magnificent roofs, in which the tablet to Shang-ti, and those of the Emperors, are placed. The altar is wholly distinct, and at some distance from these. On the great day the tablets are brought out and arranged upon the altar, that of Shang-ti being in the centre; and the Emperor then, surrounded by high officers, in his own name, and as representing the people, worships the Great Supreme. The park, in addition to the avenues already named, contains many fine old trees, and has a fine herd of black cattle reserved for sacrifice, which we saw.

THE LAW OF CHRISTIAN GIVING:

BEING AN ATTEMPT TO ASCERTAIN WHAT PROPORTION OF OUR PROPERTY IS DUE TO RELIGIOUS AND CHARITABLE USES.

"Honour the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine increase." (Proverbs iii. 9.)

"Let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him." (1 Cor.

xvi. 2.)

PROPERTY has its advantages; it is one of God's "good gifts" to man. On the other hand, it has its corresponding duties and responsibilities. Clearly to understand its duties, then, and rightly to feel its responsibilities, must be a matter of the highest importance in all cases, and especially when God in His good providence has given a large amount of it. The notion, that man is an absolute proprietor, and that he " may do what he will with his own," is not only false, but exceedingly mischievous. And yet this is the theory on which most men seem to act. According to the teaching of holy Scripture, however, the amount of property which a man has in his possession, whether it be little or much, is not to be regarded as his own, but as held in trust, under the great Lord, who will ultimately call him to account for the manner in which he has discharged that trust. In the parable of the talents, the master, who placed a portion of his wealth in the hands of his servants, did not by so doing relinquish his proprietorship: for, in reproving the unfaithful servant for burying his talent, he still speaks of it as his own :-"Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the exchangers." The property may have been acquired by incessant toil and severe privation, during a great number of years; but this makes not the slightest difference. It is still true, that we have nothing that we have not received: for "it is the Lord thy God that giveth thee

power to get wealth." The physical and mental energy, which may be regarded as the tools by which it has been produced, were God's gifts; and He claims, not only all we have, but ourselves also. "Ye are not your own, ye are bought with a price." In relation to our fellow-men, indeed, the rights of property must be admitted and respected. If a man should lay his hand on what he admits to be ours, and claim the right to take it away, we could easily show that he had no right to do so, and that we had a better claim to it than he could have. But no man could lay his hand on any portion of his substance, and, looking up to God, say, "This is not Thine, but mine :"-for, by what arguments could he establish his claim? If we are in a right moral state, we shall look up to Heaven, and say most devoutly, "All mine is Thine, and I too belong to Thee. Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do?" God is the great Proprietor, and man is but His steward, put in trust with a smaller or larger portion of His goods, according to the injunction, "Occupy till I come."

It is to be feared that we are often misled by the term voluntary, as applied to our pecuniary contributions. This cannot mean that a man is at liberty either to give or to withhold, or to give the smallest amount he pleases; and that, however he may choose to act, he will remain guiltless in the sight of God. The simple meaning is, that the matter is left so far in his own hands, that, if he choose to keep his money, he cannot be compelled to part with it. But were not even the Jewish tithes voluntary, in this sense? God, indeed, commanded His people to give "tithes of all that they possessed;" and, therefore, they were under a moral obligation to do 80. But we do not find that there was any legal machinery to be put in operation for the recovery of the tithes, if any chose to withhold them. In the days of Malachi, the Lord charges the whole nation with having "robbed" Him, by withholding the "tithes and offerings." Could this have been so, if the authorities had exercised any power to enforce payment? Again: although a man cannot be compelled to part with his property, yet if he choose to keep it, when he is under a moral obligation to give it away, or if he refuse to give a due proportion of it, he must take the consequences. There is a sound sense, then, in which giving, whether in relation to the fact or to the amount, is not voluntary: for, though there is no legal obligation to give, there is a moral obligation, which no man can disregard but at his own peril. And if he hoard his property, or expend it merely for personal gratification, while religious institutions are languishing for want of adequate support, or while the poor around him are in want, will he not fall under the withering rebuke of his Lord when He "cometh and reckoneth" with him?

As we are manifestly under a moral obligation to devote some proportion of our substance to religious and charitable uses, our object is to ascertain, if possible, what that proportion is. Not, observe, to determine the proportionate claims which the home ministry, or Missions to the heathen, or the suffering poor, may have; but to consider what are the claims of God. This is a point which should be settled first of all; otherwise all will be