others, the true Christian will strive to catch Finally, brethren, let there be no mistake about the matter we are considering. Go away with a right understanding of it. I have said that the tendency-observe the word, the tendency I only say the tendency of calamities is to break men's attachment to the world, and bring them to God. I have said that to effect this good object our heavenly Father sends his visitations. But I have not said, I do not say, I would not say, that there is any necessary connexion between temporal misery and eternal bliss. Far be it from us to entertain so dangerous an error. That depends upon the way in which the dispensations of heaven are received. A man may both here fare with Lazarus in his poverty, and with Dives in his wretchedness hereafter; because, while cares and troubles coming upon a heart touched by the Holy Spirit draw one to the foot of the cross, and to throw himself for comfort and consolation upon his Saviour, they often, too often, leave another, as they found him, obstinate and impenitent: they strike, but rebound from, his hardened heart; even as from the same cloud light shot forth its beams upon the Israelites, while darkness rested from it upon the Egyptians. But I have done. May we be of those in whom "the chastening of the Lord shall yield the peaceable fruit of righteousness," of the number of his true disciples in the world that now is, and partakers of his glory in that which is to come. THE CAMEL*. "Long is her neck; and, when she raises it with celerity, it resembles the stem of a ship, floating aloft on the billowy Tigris" (Extract from an Arabian poet).—SIR WM. JONES. "WE learn from holy scripture that in camels" The knees and hocks are fortified by a hard, "Of all the natural objects of interest and novelty," continues Mr. Fisk, "perhaps ther was nothing that more arrested my attention than the camel, its nature and habits; and the evidence which it constantly afforded of the adaptive providence of God. It seems to have been designed and constructed for 1 desert life, for its toils and privations. Of all bulky animals, perhaps, it is satisfied with the least food, and the coarsest. It never eats greedily, but like one who simply desires to sustain lite. The capability of travelling many days without instance of the peculiar adaptation of the camel to fresh supplies of water affords another well-known desert life; added to which, the remarkable atience depicted in the very countenance, and Prisible in all its demeanour, cannot fail to impress he traveller with a sense of wise design on the art of its great Creator." OCTOBER*. How often are the words "fallen grandeur" ised, when we are gazing upon the mementos of ther days, the ruined abbeys and castles which re so thickly scattered over our country; how pplicable would they be to forest scenery in the nonth of October! A wood, at this season forcibly reminds us of the nagnificent ruin, that stands to testify the power and grandeur of the feudal times. The trunks of he trees remain, when the last evening of October is losing in, strong as ever; the branches bend and orm the graceful arch or grotesque loop-hole, as when the green leaves opened in their fresh beauty, and formed a rare and curious roof to the noble aisles of the forest; like as the massive tower of the eudal castle, or the remains of a monastic edifice, with its windows of richly-carved stone, and doorways of architectural magnificence, yet stand, hough dismantled of their ornaments and their costly ceilings. The light of heaven now streams in and illumines the bare castle walls, which, in earlier lays, echoed the merciless decree of the proud victor, and the defiant sarcasın or the cry for mercy of the captive, and tinges with radiance the cell where the midnight appeal of the sinner was made to some departed saint. And seldom, we fear, in the middle ages was the mind of the devotee lighted up by gleams of noble feeling and a firm belief in the love of an ever-present Saviour; for gross superstition darkened all; and the penitent of those days of monkish error thought more of scourging his body, and clothing it with sackcloth, and gathering riches to be spent in masses for his soul, than of stedfastly fixing his gaze upon that door by which alone he could enter heaven, and clothing his soul in the robe of Christ; that so, when he was unclothed of the body, his never-dying spirit may not appear naked, or merely the tattered robe of a poor sinner's good works cast about it. The noblest sentiments of those days were tainted with fearful errors, even as the berries of the mountain-ash, which in October would vie with the fairest and brightest of spring's flowers in rich and brilliant colours, are rife with poison; like the Pharisees of old, who clothed themselves in rich vestments, making broad their phylacteries and enlarging the borders of their garments, yet were likened by him who could not err "unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, "It was a pleasant thing to observe the sense of refresh. ment, and the perfect satisfaction which these poor animals experienced, while leisurely filling themselves at a desert fountain, for the next stage of the journey." We lately noticed Mrs. Milner's work illustrative of the months of the year; a volume in some respects similar to that has now been brought before us, viz., "Thoughts on the Months; their Beauties and their Lessons." By M. A. Meredith. Bath: Binns and Goodwin. We are unable to say which of the two books claims the priority in time, as, by a singular omission, there is no date to that we now extract from. Our readers will best judge of it by the chapter we have borrowed.-ED. and all uncleanness;" who outwardly appeared righteous unto men, but within were full of hypocrisy and iniquity. "Charlemagne," it has been said, "expired like a meteor, that, having broken suddenly upon the night of ages, and blazed brilliantly over a whole world for a brief space, fell, and left all in darkness, even deeper than before." So was it not when the monk of Erfurt unclasped the bible, and light broke forth, as when the sun rises in the morning. The light that then broke upon Europe was a burning and a shining light; never to be entirely put out, but steadily to burn till it mingles with the rays from that "Sun of Righteousness" which, ere long, shall rise upon the world never to go down again. And the gleams of sunshine which, when the forest aisles lose their leafy roof, rest upon the green sward, which through the summer months had been lying in deep shade, are beautiful types of those brighter rays which, now that the abbeys of yore have lost their noble roofs and their carved images, rest peacefully upon those who wander among the ruined buildings where darkness and superstition and death once reigned; clad in the same beautiful trappings that so hide their deformities, and rendered dazzling by the false lustre that radiates from the jewelled tiara of him who is throned on the seven-hilled city, that their votaries see not the "mystery of iniquity" under their vestments of crimson and purple; and multitudes, whilst still gazing on upon relics and gold and precious stones, miss the "pearl of great price," which all may find who seek it in the right way. But "When autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world," we would not willingly, surrounded by so many natural beauties as a wooded district presents at this season, suffer our thoughts to be drawn far from them, and we have not yet, so busy have we been with the past, noted yon dull brown elm, standing majestically in its dark beauty among the tall poplars and the maple trees, dressed in their autumnal colours of straw and light yellow, which again contrast beautifully with the red brown of the chesnut and the beech, the pale orange of the lime, and the bright rose of the wild cherry. Graceful living creatures too are there: bounding from bough to bough may be seen, now that the many fallen leaves have made openings for us, our favourite little forester, the squirrel; seated on a moss-covered branch, he there quietly enjoys his repast of ripe nuts; and, though but an inhabitant of a wild wood or an untrodden forest, retires, when the shadows of the night are spreading themselves over the earth, to a dwelling of leaves and moss, so exquisitely interwoven with fibres of trees, that man looks on and wonders how ought else than man could fashion a thing so beautiful. "O, nature! all-sufficient, over all! Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works! * Thomson. O'er that the rising system, more complex, A search the flight of time can ne'er exhaust! In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid always encourage; they show that individual exertion in a country's cause is appreciated and honoured long after the patriot's heart has ceased to beat with pride or with anguish for his country's weal or woe-when century after century has passed away, and one generation after another been laid in the silent tomb. Ofttimes it is an old tree that keeps alive all these recollections: and so we would have them stand in their ancient grandeur, living monuments of olden times, ne suffer the woodman's axe to approach that which the storms of ages have spared. We love our beautiful English trees: they a suited to us and to our country; and, if we study their various uses, we shall be convinced that the wisdom of God has ordained that our climate shoul produce those which are essential to the comfert and happiness of its inhabitants; but, to see the vegetable world in all its magnificence, we must go to the tropical regions. Here grow the giant palms, towering a hundred, and a hundred and sixty feet above us. A tall slender stem rises from the ground; and, noble objects are they, crowned with immense leaves springing from the top, gracefully hanging down, with bunches of brilliant blossoms attached to their stalks. In the present month, when the forest-trees, from the varied colouring of their foliage, excite admiration and general attention, it is natural for the mind to dwell upon any or every thing connected with them. Their growth, their structure, and their duration, are points of equal interest. The mode of growth of the palms and other tropical trees is to increase, when young, in diameter, until a certain magnitude is attained, and then it shoots up a stem which does not materially alter in diameter; any additional matter to a trunk of this kind being given by the insinuation of longitudinal fibres into the inside of the wood near the centre-hence such trees are called endogenous; while the other class, exogenous, has a different mode of growth, increasing from the beginning In hot countries, the people requiring light and simultaneously in length and breadth, the new refreshing food, most of the trees bear fruit: al matter being added by the insinuation of longi- are adapted to the country and its inhabitants. tudinal fibres immediately beneath the bark, and The date and the cocoa-nut palms bear fruit in on the outside of the wood. Thus by the rings such profusion that they form the chief food of the of growth in this class of timber trees we can people. The Palo di Vaca yields plentifully, accurately trace the age of the tree, and by well- cutting the bark, a nourishing juice, resembling attested evidence we know that many of them in appearance milk; and the wild pine of Cam attain to an extreme old age. Apart from their peachy has its leaves so formed, so deep, so strong, beauty, their wonderful structure, and their anti-that, when the heavy tropical shower descende, quity, how numerous are the incidents related by tradition which cast a smiling spell around them, and the events recorded of historical interest in connexion with them. If we go to Staines we shall see, within a short distance of the town, an ancient yew that graced the same spot on which it now stands when the unworthy John swayed the sceptre of England, and the English barons held their famous meeting at Runnymede. The knowledge that this tree was standing, when such events as we read of in historical records were passing around it, surely adds interest to it. And, if we turn toward the north, around Fountains' abbey, we may look upon yews to which an age of twelve hundred years has been assigned, underneath which the friars of old time perhaps chanted their Pater nosters and intoned their Ave Marias. Pursuing our course farther north, if we stop at Ellerslie, the birth-place of the noble Scottish hero, Wallace, we shall see an oak which tradition tells us once covered a Scotch acre of land, in the branches of which Scotland's patriotic chieftain is said to have concealed himself with three hundred of his followers. Somewhat of the marvellous there may be in this, but it matters little: we would not be without these old stories, which, if they served no other purpose than amusing a traveller's mind, might be welcomed, smiled at, and forgotten. But they do more than this; they show that love for recollections of by-gone times that we would * Thomson. they are filled with water, but not borne down, "Bird of the broad and sweeping wing, Sir Humphry Davy tells us he once, during * Anon. THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND MAGAZINE. slowly, apparently flying better as they mounted; and they continued this sublime kind of exercise, always rising, till they became mere points in the air, and the young ones were lost, and afterwards their parents, to our aching sight." "What an instructive lesson to Christian parents does this history read! How powerfully does it excite them to teach their children betimes to look towards heaven and the Sun of Righteousness, and to elevate their thoughts thither, more and more on the wings of faith and love; themselves all the while going before them, and encouraging them by their own example"*. Many are the thoughts that crowd upon us in October; we would willingly retain them all, but so rapidly they follow one another, that, like the flight of the humming-bird, looking, in its resplendent dress, like a blazing meteor, as it darts through the air with the velocity of lightning, they are gone ere memory can store them; they speed on, and are lost as the huntsman, in hot pursuit of the flying stag, appears for a moment in an open space, and is quickly hid from view by hill and wood. We must, however, pause awhile upon the hunt: it is a favourite October sport, and distinctively the national sport of England. Upon the mountain's southern brow, Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Monteith." Fine and stirring is the account of the chase tha follows, and nobly does Scott give the gallant stag the victory. "Dashing down a darksome glen, Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken, There, while close couched, the thicket shed Chiding the rocks that yelled again." Who but the huntsman could do other than rejoice at the escape of the stag, or mourn the fate of the harmless creature, or even of the huge fox, which started by the blood-thirsty hounds from a fancied place of security, is hunted through the tangled thicket and forest brook, and driven across the wild underwood for the amusement of man-who stands by, and unmoved, save by a feeling of triumph at a successful chase, sees the noble stag or the fox lying down among the brown leaves which the frosty nights of October loosen from their stems, and the chill air wafts to the ground, and dying-the stag to furnish him with a pair of branched antlers to grace his hall; the fox a brush to deck his hunting-cap? Hunting has been a favourite sport, it would seem, in every quarter of the globe, in all ages. In Genesis we read that Nimrod, the great grandson of Noah, was a mighty hunter;" and downward to the present day this original sport has been continued, varying according to the country and its inhabitants, but still eagerly fol-ing the hounds throw off, and the huntsmen in lowed; and an exhilarating scene it is. Much has been written on the subject: in ancient times it was a royal sport: long is the list of royal and noble huntsmen who have distinguished themselves in the chase; and well has a stag-hunt been described by one whose pen was guided by a hand which traced characters illustrative of the great mind that gave a vivid, yet truthful colouring to all he saw, and lent a witchery to all he wrote upon. "The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay And faint, from farther distance borne, To arms! the foemen storm the wall!' The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; A moment list'ned to the cry That thickened as the chase drew nigh; With one brave bound the copse he cleared, Onward the poet leads us to where "The noble stag was pausing now, *Kirby's Bridgewater Treatise. We cannot but feel-exhilarating as we admit the scene to be, when, on a bright October morn their bright scarlet jackets, mounted on fleet steeds, dash across the country-that disappointment on the one hand, or suffering and death on the other must close the day's sport; and we do seriously question whether man is justified in seeking amusement where the suffering and death of even the meanest of God's creatures forms the basis of it, and the only result, the only aim, a trifling, and at best an useless triumph. Those (and they are many) who hold the dangerous doctrine that "the end justifies the means" might here apply it advantageously; and bright was the smile, and hearty, and well deserved the welcome, which greeted the ancient Briton on his return from a successful day's sport in the woods, when on his skill in drawing the bow depended the comfort and provision of a family. In our day it is not so, amusement is the only aim; but— "These are not subjects for the peaceful muse, Nor will she stain with such her spotless song; More in accordance with our feelings will it be to retire to the warm fireside, which in so many English homes glows brightly at this season, and, thankfully acknowledging uncounted mercies, close a happy October evening in the words of Pope "Father of all! in every age, In every clime, adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. "To thee, whose temple is all space; Whose altar-earth, sea, skies; One chorus let all being raiseAll nature's incense rise." * Thomson. Poetry. a solitary lamp swung from above, and glanced upon the glossy coat of a huge royal tiger, which, impelled HYMNS FOR THE SUNDAYS IN THE YEAR. by hunger, and attracted by the cries of the child, had THE saints are call'd to faith in Christ, And seeking all his grace to prove. The fruit of faith in every heart; And thus the saints are called to hope; To bear the sharpest ills of time; The ransomed family of God; How peaceful would my spirit be! Then hope would light my clouded way To realms of pure felicity. Miscellaneous. THE CHILD ANd the Tiger.-In the far east, on a stern and rock-bound coast," the encroaching waters of the ever-restless ocean have formed an estuary, separating from the mainland a bold and beautiful promontory, called, from its singular appearance, "The Dolphin's Nose," on whose green and richly-wooded summit, man, with good taste, has erected a castellated building, with turrets and towers overlooking the sea. A covered way leads from the house to a detached building, surrounded by a very high wall, by way of protection from beasts of prey. This formed the sleeping apartment of the widowed master of the mansion; and in an inner room was the little bed on which reposed his son and heir, a lovely boy. A lamp was burning; and the light fell on a mirror which stood opposite the door, the only article of furniture to mark that woman once "had part and portion there." It was midnight: the infant slept "calm as child's repose"; but the father could not sleep fast-thronging memories of bygone days, the thoughts of that dear partner separated from him by the hand of death, anxiety about the welfare of his child, and official duties, stole over him, and combined to keep him watchful. The weather was oppressive, though every door and window stood open to woo each passing breeze. His child awakes and cries, and the attention of the lonely watcher is at once arrested. Suddenly he observes a dim and shadowy form creep by him, with stealthy step, into the room that held his child. Is it a dream, or phantom conjured up by the memories of the past? The light of sprung over the protecting wall. O the intense, the breathless agony of that moment, which allows searce time for thought-none for action! The royal brute sees his own image reflected in the mirror, to him as the image of an enemy; scowl reflects scowl, and he crouches for a spring his silent enemy is prepared also one wave of his snakelike tail, one indignant growl, one bound, and the mirror falls clashing around him in countless glittering fragments. Scarce two more bounds, the first through the suite of chambers. the second over the wall; and he sped far away to his solitary lair, far away in the deep forest, where the still night echoes the deep throbbing of his panting heart; and the father kneels with clasped hands over the bed of his child. And, when the animation had returned, when the mantling blood flowed back through his veins, his gratitude to the Almighty hand which had willed that his child should be spared was not loud, but deep. He soon followed his beloved partner to the tomb; and they both lay buried in 2 shady spot, side by side, unheeding the " summer sun's most piercing rays, and the vexed ocean at the topmost swell." The infant thus preserved has since been amidst the roar of cannon and the clang of war. He bears a charmed life. The hand of the God of mercy is upon him, and has not suffered that one hair of his head should perish.-Colonial Magazine. WATER.-Some four-fifths of the weight of the human body are nothing but water. The blood is just a solution of the body in a vast excess of wateras saliva, mucus, milk, gall, urine, sweat, and tears are the local and partial infusions effected by that liquid. All the soft solid parts of the frame may be considered as ever temporary precipitates or crystallizations (to use the word but loosely) from the blood, that mother-liquor of the whole body; always being precipitated or suffered to become solid, and alway being re-dissolved, the forms remaining, but the matter never the same for more than a moment, so that the flesh is only a vanishing solid, as fluent as the blood itself. It has also to be observed that every part of the body, melting again into the river of life ocatinually as it does, is also kept perpetually drenched in blood by means of the blood-vessels, and more tha nine-tenths of that wonderful current is pure wat Water plays as great a part, indeed, in the economy a that little world, the body of man, as it still m evidently does in the phenomenal life of the world a large. Three-fourths of the surface of the earth ocean; the dry ground is dotted with lakes, > mountain-crests are covered with snow and ice, a surface is irrigated by rivers and streams, its edg eaten by the sea; and aqueous vapour is unceasin ascending from the ocean and inland surfaces through the yielding air, only to descend in portions and at intervals in dews and rains, hails and snows. Water is not only the basis of the juices of all the plants and animals in the world: it is the very blood of nature. as is well known to all the terrestrial sciences; and old Thales, the earliest of European speculators, prenounced it the mother-liquid of the universe. In the later systems of the Greeks, indeed, it was reduced to the inferior dignity of being only one of the four parental natures-fire, air, earth, and water; but water was the highest in rank.-Westminster Re view. 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