that lifts its head above the forest trees; like the strong oak that strikes its roots deeply into the earth. He feared no danger—he felt no sickness. His mind was vigorous like his body; he was perplexed at no intricacy, he was daunted at no difficulty into hidden things he searched, and what was crooked he made plain. He went forth fearlessly upon the face of the mighty deep; he surveyed the nations of the earth; he measured the distance of the stars, and called them by their names; he gloried in the extent of his knowledge, in the vigour of his understanding, and strove to search even into what the Almighty had concealed. And when I looked on him I said, "What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties in form and moving how express and amiable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god!"

I returned his look was no more lofty nor his step proud! his broken frame was like some ruined tower; his hairs were white and scattered; and his eyes gazed vacantly upon what was around him. The vigour of his intellect was wasted, and of all that he had gained by study nothing remained. He feared when there was no danger, and when there was no sorrow he wept. -His memory was decayed and treacherous, and showed him only broken images of the glory that was departed. His house was to him, like a strange land, and his friends were counted as enemies; and he thought himself strong and healthful while his foot tottered on the verge of the grave. He said of his son -he is my brother; of his daughter-I know her not; and inquired what was his own name. And one who

supported his steps, and ministered to his many wants, said to him, as I looked on the melancholy scene"Let thine heart receive instruction, for thou hast seen an end of all earthly perfection."

I have seen a beautiful female treading the first stages of youth, and entering joyfully into the pleasures of life. The glance of her eye was variable and sweet, and on her cheek trembled something like the first blush of the morning; her lips moved, and there

was harmony-when she floated in the dance, her light form like the aspen seemed to move to every breeze.

I returned but she was not in the dance-I sought her in the gay circle of her companions, but I found her not. Her eyes sparkled not there-the music of her voice was silent--she rejoiced on earth no more. I saw a train, sable and slow paced, who bore slowly to an open grave, what was once animated and beautiful. They paused as they approached, and a voice broke the awful silence:-"Mingle ashes with ashes, and dust to its original dust. To the earth whence she was first taken, consign we the body of our sister." They covered her with the damp soil, and the cold clods of the valley--and the worm crowded into her silent abode. Yet one sad mourner lingered, to cast himself upon the grave, and as he wept he said: There is no beauty, or grace, er loveliness, that continueth in man: for this is the end of all glory and perfection."

I have seen an infant with a fair brow, and a frame like polished ivory. Its limbs were pliant in its sports -it rejoiced and again it wept--but whether its glowing cheek dimpled with smiles, or its blue eye was brilliant with tears, still I said to my heart "It is beautiful." It was like the first pure blossom which some cherished plant has shot forth, whose cup is filled with a dew drop, and whose head reclines upon its parent stem.

I again saw this child when the lamp of reason first dawned in its mind. Its soul was gentle and peaceful -its eyes sparkled with joy, as it looked round on this good and pleasant world. It ran swiftly in the ways of knowledge-it bowed its ear to instruction-it stood like a lamp before its teachers. It was not proud or envious, or stubborn, and it had never heard of the vices and vanities of the world. And when I looked upon it, I remembered that our Saviour said :-" Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven."

But the scene was changed, and I saw a man whom the world called honorable: and many waited for his smiles. They pointed out the fields that were his, and

talked of the silver and gold that he had gathered: they admired the stateliness of his domes, and extolled the honor of his family. And his heart answered secretly, "By my wisdom have I gotten all this," so he returned no thanks to God, neither did he fear or serve him. And as I passed along I heard the complaints of the laborers who had reaped down the fields, and the cries of the poor whose covering he had taken away-but the sound of feasting and revelry was in his apartments, and the unfed beggar came tottering from his door. But he considered not that the cries of the depressed were continually entering the ears of the Most High. And when I knew that this man was once the teachable child that I had loved-the beautiful infant I had gazed on with delight-I said in my bitterness" I have seen an end of all perfection,"and I laid my mouth in the dust.

THE ATONEMENT.

In the wide ranges of the human mind, there is no subject on which we can reflect with more satisfaction and profit, than the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, and justification through his merits. With wonder we see the unbounded love of the deity; with profound awe and overwhelming astonishment, we behold the Son of God descending from heaven to earth, from thrones, honors, adorations, praise and consummate bliss, to the manger, to severe poverty, to reproaches, to contempt, to persecution, to curses, to the cross, to death, to the Grave! Incomprehensible love! Unmeasurable grace! Wonderous era! At his birth the songs of heavenly hosts are heard. His life is fraught with marvellous and miraculous events.-But at the hour of his crucifixion still higher wonders rise. In deep silence his death wraps all nature! His expiring breath rends the temple, shakes the earth's deep foundations, clothes in sable night the noontide sun, makes kings tremble, enemies fear, infidels confess, astonished angels gaze, while the God-like innocent sufferer exclaims. "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken

me!"

To this hour, the law with its types and shadows, patriarchs and prophets, pay homage and retire. At this, Satan, like lightning falls from his usurped throne, and a crimson tide of meritorious sanctifying efficacy gushes forth, and swells a mighty stream flowing back to the first transgression of man, and forward to the end of time, and on every side to the utmost limits of human guilt. From this hour, victims cease to bleed, and altars smoke no more. A flood of divine illumination is poured forth upon the benighted world, and life and immortality are brought to light O may my redeemed soul, in holy rapture, tune her grateful songs aloft, and resound through heaven's wide expanse, redemption in his blood! 0 may I mend my pace towards my heavenly inheritance, and make this all-sufficient atonement the only foundation of my hopes by a living faith in its divine reality and personal application.

ANECDOTE OF THE REV. JAMES ARMSTRONG.

SOME months ago the Rev. Mr. Armstrong preached at Harmony, near the Wabash, when a doctor of that place, a professed Deist or infidel, called on his associates to accompany him, while he "attacked the Methodist," as he said. At first he asked Mr. A. if he "followed preaching to save souls?" he answered in the affirmative. He then asked Mr. A. "if he ever saw a soul ?" "No." "If he ever heard a soul?" "No." "If he ever tasted a soul?" "No." "If he ever smelt a soul? "No." "If he ever felt a soul?""Yes, thank God," said Mr. A. Well," said the doctor, "there are four of the five senses against one, to evidence that there is no soul." Mr. Armstrong then asked the gentleman if he was not a doctor of medicine? and was answered in the affirmative. He then asked the doctor "if he ever saw a pain? "No."" If he ever heard a pain?" " No." "If he ever tasted a pain ?" " No." "If he ever smelt a pain? "No." "If he ever a felt a pain? "Yes." Mr. A. then said, "there are also four senses against one, VOL. I.

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to evidence that there is no pain, and yet, sir, you know there is pain, and I know there is a soul." The doctor appeared confounded and walked off.

REAL BENEVOLENCE

The late Archbishop of Bordeaux was remarkable for his tolerance and enlightened benevolence. The following anecdote will not be read without interest. "My lord," said a person to him one day,-" here is a poor woman come to ask charity-what do you wish to do for her?" "How old is she?" " Seventy."- "Is she in great distress?" "She says so."-" She must be relieved; give her twenty-five francs."-" Twenty-five francs! my lord, it is too much, especially as she is a Jewess." "A Jewess?" "Yes, my lord."

O, that makes a great difference, give her fifty francs, then, and thank her for coming."

GOOD CHARACTER.

A young man who is entering upon life with a fair ruputation, feels that he possesses a treasure that is above all price; and he will be likely to guard it from the contamination of evil; he will also be excited to make higher and still higher attainments in excellence. Character is like stock in trade-the more of it a man possesses, the greater are his facilities for making addition to it or, it is like an accumulating fund, constantly increasing in value, and daily acquiring to itself fresh accessions of stability and worth.

THE THREE TEACHERS.

To my question, how he could, at his age, have mastered so many attainments, his reply was, that with his three teachers, "every thing might be learned, common sense alone excepted, the peculiar and rarest gift of Providence." These three teachers were Necessity, Habit and Time. At his starting in life, Necessity had told him that if he hoped to live, he