« AnteriorContinuar »
Erskine on the Freeness of the Gospel.- The Old Sea-Port. 437 panorama, to see which alone, it is not too much, from the Bible. Read it in the secret of God's to say, that a journey of 1700 miles is not too presence, and receive il from his lips, and feed great a sacrifice."-vol. i. pp. 444–447. upon it, and it will be to you as it was to Jere
miah, the joy and rejoicing of your heart. The best advice which any one friend can give to another, is to advise him to consult God; and
the best turn that any book can do to its Extract from the Eclectic Review. reader, is to refer him to the Bible. ERSKINE ON THE UNCONDITIONAL but, in doing so, let us remember, that how
“Let us seek to know more of the Bible; FREENESS OF THE GOSPEL.
ever much we may add by study to our knowAs a specimen of the striking passages with ledge of the book, we have just so much true which the volume abounds, and of the forvent knowledge of God as we have love of him, and piety which glows in every page, we shall con
Our continual prayer ought to be, clude this article with the following excellent that our true notions may become true feel. remarks on the study of the Scriptures. ings, and that our orthodoxy and theology may
• • The world hath not known thee, but I become holy love and holy obedience. This have known thee. Oh, infinite knowledge, is the religion of eternity; and the religion of the knowledge of the Father by the Son! But eternity is the only religion for us,-for yet a we may have our share in this wondrous know few days, and we shall be in eternity."-p. 222 ledge. No man knoweth the Son but the --225. Father, neither knoweth any man the Father save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son « Reader, farewell I believe that what I will reveal him. And the Son of God has de have written is according to the word of God; clared bis Father's name, and will declare it; and as far as it is so, I may look up to him for he is standing and knocking at the door; wo a blessing on it. It would be an unspeakable have not to ascend into the heaven, nor to joy to me, to have any reason to think that it descend into the deep to find him; he is very has been really honoured by him to be the nigh thee, and he longs to reveal the Father bearer of a message to your soul. At all lo thee, and to give thee that knowledge which events, I trust it may not do you the injury of is life eternal.
exciting the spirit of controversy in you. If * And it is through the Bible read in the you don't agree with it, lay it down and go to spirit of prayer, that he chiefly communicates the Bible; and if you do agree with it, in like this knowledge. •Thy word is truth.' This
manner lay it down and go to the Bible; and is our Urim and Thummim, which will tell us
go in the spirit of prayer to him whose word what is the mind of God in all things. We the Bible is, and ask of him, and he will lead need not be ignorant of God's will or counsel, you into all truth-he will give you living wbilst we have a Bible to consult. We often water."-pp. 239, 240. place much importance on having the advice of particular persons in whose judgment and friendship we have confidence, and we have great pleasure in asking and hearing their opi. nions. Alas! what can they tell us ? What
From Blackwood's Magazine. can they do for us? Why should we not go to God, and consult him rather? Reader, do you
THE OLD SEA-PORT. believe that the Bible is the word of God? and that God spoke it for this very purpose, that by it he might direct, and support, and com
WAEX winds were wailing round me, fort man in his journey through time to eter
And Day, with closing eye, nity? And do you not need direction, or sup
Peeped from beneath the sullen clouds, port, or comfort? And if you do, will you not
Of pale November's sky, go to the Bible to seek it? Where else can you
In downcast meditation, expect it? We are so accustomed to the sight
All silently I stood, of a Bible, that it ceases to be a miracle to us.
Gazing the wintry ocean's It is printed just like other books, and so we
Unbounded barren flood. forget that it is not just like other books. But
A place more wild and lonely there is nothing in the world like it, or com. Was no where to be seen; parable to it. The sun in the firmament is
The caverned sea-rocks beetled o'er nothing to it, if it be really-what it assumes The billows rushing green; to be-an actual direct communication from
There was no sound from aught around, God to man. Take up your Bible with this Save, 'mid the echoing caves, idea, and look at it, and wonder at it. It is a treasure of unspeakable value to you, for it
The plashing and the dashing
Of melancholy waves. contains a special message of love and tender mercy from God to your soul. Do you wish High 'mid the lowering waste of sky, to converse with God? Open it and read. The grey gulls flew in swarms; And, at the same time, look to him who speaks And, far beneath, the brine upheaved to you in it, and ask him to give you an under- The sea-weed's tangly arms; standing heart, that you may not read in vain, The face of nature in a pall but that the word may be in you, as good seed
Dim-shrouded seem'd to be, in good ground bringing forth fruit unto eter. As silently I listen'd there nal life. Only take care not to separate God The dirges of the sea.
with us at present, we should no doubt bart
had mighty preparations for your reception #1
In twilight's shadowy scowling,
Remain'd the old dim sea-port, Not far remote, there lay
Beneath the scowl of night; An old dim smoky sea-port,
The sea-mews from their island cliffs Within a sheltered bay;
Had left the homeless sky; Through far-back generations
And to the dirges of the blast Its blacken'd piles had stood,
The wild seas made reply. And, though the abode of human things,
It look'd like solitude ;-
From the New Monthly Magazine.
SONG TO A SERENADER IN FEBRUOf lonely vessels beating up
AirWhy hast thou tanght me to love thee?"
Dear Minstrel, the dangers are not to be told I thought of venerable men,
of those strains that have trebly undone Whose dust lies in their graves ;
me, Who left that now deserted port,
A victim to pity, to love, and to cold,
I'll be dead by the time thou hast won me!
Oh! think for a moment-whoever thou art, Directed by the one bright star,
On the woes that beset me together,That points the stormy North.
If thou wilt not consider the state of my heart, And how when swept the tempest-blast,
Oh! think on the state of the weather.
How keenly around me the night breetes! Would cower beside the hearth,
blow,All sadly thinking on the ships,
How sweetly thy parting note lingers,That buffeting the breeze,
Ah! would that the glow of my heart could be Held but a fragile plank, betwixt
stow Their sailors and the seas !
A share of its warmth to—my fingers! Yet how, on their returning,
But though she who would watch while the Such wondrous tales they told,
nightingales sing Of birds with rainbow plumages,
scorn to let cold overcome her,And trees with fruits of gold;
Though, like other sweet birds, you begin in Of perils in the wilderness,
the Spring, Beside the lion's den;
I can't fall in love till the Summer! And huts beneath the palm-trees,
Where dwelt the painted men. 'Mid melancholy fancies,
My spirit loved to stray
From Blackwood's Magazine.
THE TWO EMILIES.
" WELL! this is sufficiently tantalizing," er: Beneath the waning moon.
claimed young Harry Ponsonby, as he sata
his solitary breakfast, sipping a cup of very in Yes! through Tradition's twilight,
different tea, and perusing å letter which had To days hath Fancy flown,
just been brought him. When Canmore, or when Kenneth, dree'd been for this month past, thinking, dreaming, The Celts' uneasy crown;
and talking of nothing else than my expected When men were bearded savages,
meeting with my dear little Emily; and at the An unenlightened horde,
very moment I am going to set off post on this 'Mid which gleam'd Cunning's scapulaire, delightful errand, comes this confounded letter, And War's unshrinking sword.
to quash all my hopes !— Deuce take me if I go
at all,” said the impatient youth, tossing the us And, in their rusty hauberks,
welcome epistle from him to the furthest cornet Throng'd past the plaided bands;
of the room. And slanting lay the Norsemen's keels
The letter which called forth this burst of On Ocean's dreary sands; And, in the moorlands dreary,
impatience from the youthful lover, The cairn, with lichens grey,
his guardian, Mr. Devereux, and we shall give Mark'd where their souls "shriek'd forth in Harry, we are rejoiced to hear of your sacero
its purport in his own words, as follows" Dear blood,
at Cambridge, and at the near prospect of On Battle's iron day.
seeing you here. Had your little mistress beste Waned all these tranced visions ;
But, on my pensive sight,
“Now, here hare !
Stokely, and you might have had the satisfac- sweet sounds which met his ear from thence. tion of throwing yourself and your laurels at Oh, what a voice was that! so soft, so full, so the young lady's feet in the true heroic style. sweet --but it was not his Emily who sang, and But joking apart, my dear Harry, though sorry a pang of disappointment thrilled through his for your disappointment, I think it may be just breast
. as well that my ward and you should not be Harry was passionately fond of music, and he thrown together until the childish impressions stood chained to the spot, drinking in the rich received when you were last here shall have melody which seemed formed to penetrate his undergone the test of time, and till the in- soul. The air was one he well knew,-it was a fluence of society, and the attractions of others beautiful French air from the opera of Joconde may have had free scope to act upon the un- _" Dans un delire extreme." There was somefettered hearts of both.
thing in the tenderness with which the words “ You no doubt thought me a surly fellow, " Et l'on revient toujours, toujours, when I forbade all childish promises; but you A ses premieres amours !" may live to thank me for my obduracy, and mean time you must console yourself as best were breathed, which thrilled through his you can, or if much at a loss, may practise heart. Had it been his Emily who sung, what pretty speeches at the expense of my Emily, a moment of delight would this have been! wbo, though not perhaps so gay as her lively But he had no time to sigh or to think about cousin, is very much what her father could the matter, for old John entered the room with wish her to be; and who, together with Mrs. candles, and at this moment an exclamation of Betty and myself, will be delighted to see you surprise, and, as Harry fancied, of pleasure, esat Stokely Priory,” &c. &c.
caped the lips of the lovely songstress—for “ Well! perhaps Mr. Devereux was right, lovely she indeed appeared, as she started from and I was wrong after all,” said Ponsonby, as the instrument, her cheek suffused with the after another perusal, he crumpled the letter brightest blushes, while she hastily extended, into his pocket, and threw himself into the and as hastily drew back, the prettiest little carriage which had been in waiting for some hand in the world. “Papa, it is Mr. Ponsonby," time. “But unfortunately the promise was said Emily, “and I have almost introduced mygiven before I was aware of his intentions, or at self to him.” Mr. Devereux rose to welcome least before I had done more than half suspect Harry, and complete the introduction, while them. And now, what if Emily should have Mrs. Betty rubbed her eyes, and, putting on grown up coarse !—but surely that is impos. her spectacles, exclaimed, Bless me! Master sible ;-she was so pretty and so playful.- Let Harry S-it surely can't be ;-why, he is a finer me see, it is just five years since I saw her last man than his father was, and that I thought -she was then but thirteen; and now she is hardly possible.”
"-"Do spare my blushes, dear eighteen-what a charming age!"-and in con- Mrs. Elizabeth,” said Ponsonby, grasping the templation of that golden age, and on the old lady's hand with much kindness ; " you change which five years must have made upon know I was always a modest youth, and I his Emily,—the hours rolled on, and so did the would not have my fair cousin think me othercarriage until he arrived at Stokely Priory.
although I have been so bold as to It was a bitter sharp evening in the end of steal upon you unannounced,—but the temptaFebruary; the ground was covered with snow, tion old John held out was not to be resisted, and the sound of the carriage wheels was and the sounds I have heard not easily to be scarcely to be heard as it swept round the forgotten.”- “ What, Mr. Ponsonby, and you circle, and stopped at the door of his guardian's have been a listener,” said the blushing Emily; mansion.
" well, my cousin Emily told me many of your Ponsonby was one of those youths who de- faults, but she did not give me reason to believe light in surprises, and who love to throw the you were so very unprincipled.”—"Did Emily whole precise arrangements of a quiet family speak of me to you?" inquired Harry with into confusion. He congratulated himself, eagerness; “and what did she say?-You must therefore, that no one appeared at the door to tell me what faults sho said I had, that I may receive him, except the old butler, a favourite set about reforming them.”—“Come, come," domestic of the family, and was still better said Mr. Devereux,“ we shall not enter upon pleased, when old John assured him, that he so ample a field at present ; see, the urn is might, if desirous of so doing, steal upon the fa- smoking on the table, and no tea in it yet. Why, mily quite unawares; " for," added he, master Emily, you are getting as giddy as your cou. always makes Miss Emily sing to him after sin; and I have been telling Harry here, that dinner until the candles come, while he sits you are a paragon of steadiness and regulari. listening with his eyes shut in one arm-chair, iy." An arch smile played for a moment and Mrs. Betty is sleeping in t'other; so if you around the rosy lips of Emily, as, without far. go in by the anteroom, sir, you may hear Miss ther reply, she rose and began to busy herself Emily sing, and she be never the wiser; but in the duties of the tea-table. Harry and his you know, sir, it's not your Miss—I mean, sir, guardian talked about his Cambridge studies that it's t'other Miss Emily, master's daughter, and future views; and thus, between the grave that's at home now."_“I know, I know, John; and gay, the evening quickly passed in pleaI shall be very happy to see Miss Devereux, and sant conversation. to make acquaintance with her."-So saying, When Ponsonby had retired at night to his Harry stept lightly up the staircase, and softly old quarters in the blue room, be cast around opened the door of the apartment which led to him a glance of cheerful recognition upon the drawing-room, he stopped for a moment, every familiar thing, grown dear from the lest the noise of his footsteps should arrest the recollections and associations of childhood,
“ Well," said he mentally, “were my little ting, him for college, the younger Emily had Emily but here, I should feel just as I used to been his only companion, and the natural condo, and we might be as happy as possible.” But sequence of their being thus thrown together, Harry was at that moment aware that in truth was a growing affection for each other. Ponhe did not just feel as he used, or as he ought sonby ihen thought that his love for Emily to have done. The beauty and attractions of was the sweetest, and would be the most enthe present Emily had filled his heart with a during, feeling of his existence; he had che troubled delight, and he felt the necessity of rished it during five long years of absence, wishing for the presence of the absent Emily, and had been proud to feel that it never was to protect his plighted faith.-" Then this stronger than at the moment when he expectEmily is so like her cousin,” reasoned he with ed to be restored to her. All this was true. his own conscience, “that I almost forget my: and even now he felt that sweet and young al
: self in her presence; and yet she is different fection warm at his heart!-ah no!--how dif. too-more grave, more thoughtful. My Emi- ferent from this was the wild tumultuous feels ly's face was ever speaking, even when her ing which now swelled his breast, and beat tongue was silent." Thus making out a cata every pulse, as woman, lovely, full-grown logue of his little Emily's charms, and confus man, asserted her sway, and burst upon him in ing them gradually with those of her lovely, all her charms! cousin; the bewildered Ponsonby fell asleep. But not unchecked did young Ponsonby per
A week had passed away, and Ponsonby was mit himself to indulge in this sweet intoxica. forced to acknowledge that his uncle's acquaint- tion; severely did he take himself to task, and ance with the human heart was greater than yet he scarce could say whence the blame bad his own, and that it would have been far better arisen. He had come prepared to love his own for himself, had he submitted to be governed long.cherished mistress, yet ere one wandering by it. But the fault of Harry Ponsonby had thought had sprung within his breast, he had ever been impetuosity, and it required all the listened to that voice which could never be generosity of his disposition, and all his high forgotten, and gazed on those bewitching eyes sense of honour, to atone for the imprudences which still would follow him wherever he went. which he too often committed.
Yet was it long before the youth would admit Little Emily, as she had always been called, the painful, humiliating truth, that his first to distinguish her from her cousin, who was a love was extinguished, or had never deserved few months older, and formed upon a larger the name of that omnipotent passion. His upscale, was the orphan daughter of a younger right honourable heari turned with pain from brother of Mr. Devereux. He had filled a high the possibility of such unfaithfulness, and be situation in India, and upon the death of his shut his eyes to the danger, and resolved to wife, sent home his only child to be educated struggle with it, if it indeed existed. with her cousin. His own death quickly fol Thus passed the time away, and Ponsonby lowed, and Emily's recollections of her parents felt his task becoming more difficult every and of India, were but as a dream, while all the hour, nor did Emily appear to aid him in it bright realities of youth were connected with It was true, she rather encouraged than checkStokely Priory, and the kind friends she had ed him in any allusion to his youthful attachfound there. Mr. Devereux was a widower, ment; nay, she dwelt with emphasis upon the but the two Emilies passed their earlier years minutest circumstances regarding it, which under the tuition of an excellent governess, be- had been confided to her by her artless cousin; tween whose attentive solicitude, and the ca. and Harry thought she almost took a malicious resses of good aunt Betty, the loss of a mo pleasure in attaching importance to them, at ther was never felt. Mrs. Elizabeth Devereux the very time when he was wincing under the was an unmarried sister of Mr. Devereux's fa- recollection of his fetters. Yet it was difficult ther, and consequently grand-aunt to the chil. to reconcile this mischievous triumph with the dren. She was the kindest of women, and the deep blush of pleasure which would suffuse ber sweetest of old maids. She did not attempt, cheek, when she herself was the exclusive obwith her old-fashioned habits and ideas, to re ject of his attention. Thus, as the conduct of form the ways and manners of the young; but Emily became every day a greater enigma to she entered into their tastes, and made allow Ponsonby, and consequently fixed more of his ance for their feelings and their manners, for observation, his heart became more and more which she was repaid by the tenderest affection filled with her image. He tried to satisfy bimand the most watchful care.
self as to the state of her feelings, but his efAs the cousins grew out of childhood, Mr. forts were vain. Her character was much too Devereux found it necessary to alter his plan open, and her disposition too generous to adof educating them together. Their governess mit the imputation of coquetry, and yet al had accepted an advantageous offer of superin. times her conduct was inconsistent_almost tending a limited establishment for young la- capricious. Puzzled with Emily, and dissatisdies; and the increasing infirmities of his aunt, fied with himself, Ponsonby resolved to turn made Mr. Devereux unwilling to deprive her from the dangerous contemplation. He would of the society of both the little girls at once. busy himself with books-he would only make A plan was therefore arranged, that the cousins his appearance when the assembled family should each alternately be for a year with their party would render the meeting less dangerous former governess, Mrs. Hartley, and with their to him. grand-aunt at Stokely, until their education It was after having thus absented himself for should be completed. Thus it happened, that some days, that he chanced to meet with Em uring the twelve months which Harry had ly on her return from an early walk, and
d with his guardian, previous to his quit. I though he had resolved on striking into an op
posite path, soch is the weakness of a lover's mission of this nature, to the cottage of an old forbearance, that his resolution failed him at Scotchwoman, a pensioner of Mrs. Betty's, the moment, and he could not resist joining that Emily and Ponsonby had been induced to the enchantress. He even induced her to pro- prolong their walk. The evening was sultry, long her walk, by observing that the day was almost to breathlessness; and as Emily leant on too inviting to allow of her returning to the the arm of her companion, slowly pursuing house, and requested permission to accompany their way, a more than usual constraint seemher. But no sooner had he made the requested to weigh on the spirits of both. Few words than he repented of it, for it seemed as if the had been uttered by either, until they reached lady was more disposed to resent bis unlooked blind Margaret's door, and they felt it a relief for attention than to accept of it. “ Pray, Mr. when the old woman appeared, seated in her Ponsonby," said the provoking girl,“ to what usual sunny corner at the end of the house. am I indebted for this unusual piece of gallant. She arose, and spreading down her apron, seemry? I rather think the sun has shone quite as ed prepared to welcome them long before the brightly for this week past, but neither it nor silent pair believed it possible for her to be any thing else has been able to draw you from aware of their approach. “ Well, Margaret, your room. I hope my absent cousin has had and how are you to-night?" said Emily admore of your thoughts of late than we of your vancing; “ I have brought a friend with me to company, or I fear she may have reason to re- see you, and you must tell who it is before he pent of her early preference. Does Mr. Pon speaks. You know I always said you was a sonby avoid thinking of the absent, as studio witch, Margaret, and now I am sure of it, for ously as he does talking of them?”—“What you rose to-night to receive us before even can you mean, Emily ? Surely I have never Fine Ear,' in the fairy tale, could have told avoided talking of your cousin when an oppor; we were coming." tunity has offered." '~" But you have avoided “Na, na, Miss Emily, I'm no a witch, nor as the opportunity," said the saucy girl," which little a fairy," said the old woman; "the gifts comes to the same thing.–Poor litile Emily! I which witches and fairies possessed are no befear she runs much risk of being forgotten al stowed on mortals now-a-days; yet God has together; and yet it's no fault of mine, for I given a sense to the blind which amaist maks am sure when we were together, I reminded up for that which he has seen fit to deprive you of her daily, hourly-did I not, Harry?”– them of, and I dinna think it needed ony witch* Oh, Emily!" exclaimed the agitated Ponson-craft to tell that it was Maister Harry, coning by, grasping her hand, "you do indeed remind up the loan, switching the thistles and nettles me of her, and that so powerfully, that at times wi' his cane, as he used to do when he was a I scarce know which Emily I am thinking of laddie, and little Miss Emily would aye bo or speaking to. I look on you as I should look trotting after him. His step is no sae light to, on her! I think of you when I should think of night as it used to be in ither days, and yet I ber, and wish, and wish-what is impossible would hae kent it amang a thousand!”. “ Thank that there was but one Emily in the world for you, Margaret, for your kind remembrance of me, and she was—," “Oh, do not say it, Har. me and my boyish tricks," said Harry, kindly re!" exclaimed the now trembling girl, placing shaking hands with the old woman. ber hand upon his lips, as if to stop the words not aware that I was disciplining the thistles she dared not hear. " Come, come, I must to-night. I think I might have been cured of not listen to this nonsense. I shall go to Mrs. that bad habit ere now.”“And I thought sae Hartley's and send Emily to you, and then you too, Maister Harry, for ye may mind weel it will have your wish, and I shall have mine ; cost you a sair heart when you was younger for believe me, dear Harry, there is nothing I than you are the day, and you nearly whipped desire so earnestly as that you should continue out liitle Miss Emily's een, driving about you true to your first affection." With these words with your switch-ay, I mind weel how you Emily returned to the house, leaving Ponson brought the dear bairn in to me, and I couldna by more bewildered than ever. "Nothing that mak out which of you had got the hurt, for you she desires so much as that I should be true to was crying and she was comforting you-till my first affection!" repeated Harry.—"Strange, the sweet bairn said, “Never mind, Harry, for unaccountable girl!—But be it so—The task if I am blind, you will lead me about, and probecomes easier, now that I know that she does mise never to leave me; and I shall be far hapnot love me. And now I have but to school pier than poor old Margaret, for she has nobody my own heart, and avoid the dangerous plea- to be kind to her'-And then you promised" — sure of being alone with this bewitching crea- “Oh, Margaret, you must not be remembering ture while she remains here."
all the foolish things I said and promised when But this schooling of the heart, Ponsonby I was a boy,” said Ponsonby, colouring deeply; found no easy task. Every member of the fa. "one gets wiser as they get older.”_"Aweel, mily appeared to have a plot to bring this un. aweel, see that it be sae, my young gentlefortunate couple together. Even good Mrs. man; but remember it's ae thing whiles to be Elizabeth innocently lent her aid,-she could wise, and anither to be honest, and I never saw not make out her evening walk unless support. muckle good come of the wisdom that made ed by an arm of each; and when she had reach- folk no like to hear of their youthful promises. ed her accustomed distance, she would urge -But winna ye step into the bouse, Miss Emi. Harry and Emily to continue their way a little | ly, as ye used to do, for I feel an unco weight farther, giving them frequently some commis- in the air, and I'm thinking we'll no be lang sion of benevolence to perform, which she her. without a shower ?”—“ Indeed,” said Ponson: self was unable to accomplish.
by, looking at the sky, “it is darkening all It was while proceeding one afternoon, on a round us; Emily, we must hurry homeward."