of disapprobation! The reader will naturally think that the editor, in inserting it, meant to say, "Bravely done!" Or does not silence give consent?

We do not mean to say, of course, that there are not important interests involved in the said bill; but here comes in the good old rule, "a place for every thing and every thing in its place." The papers, the reviews, the rostrum are open to "eloquence and sarcasm;" but for the sake of all that is sacred in religion and in the associations of the pious heart, let there be to our spirits one "holy place," which the vaporings of political demagogism shall not desecrate.

Let any one refer to any Philadelphia paper on Saturday-the Ledger for instance-in which the various pulpit performancesfor what else is it but a performance-are announced for the Sabbath, and his heart will sicken to think that the various flocks are to sustain their spiritual life on such food! The popular ear may be tickled; the smart preacher may be praised as "a man for the times;" but true piety bleeds with the wounds thus inflicted upon it by its own professed friends.

While we are writing about the pulpit, preachers, and preaching, we cannot refrain from giving Cowper's master-piece on this subject. The reader will discover that more follies in the same line with the one adverted to, are here handled with earnestness and effect.

The pulpit, therefore-(and I name it fill'd
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware
With what intent I touch that holy thing)
The pulpit-(when the satirist has at last,
Strutting and vapouring in an empty school,
Spent all his force and made no proselyte)
I say the pulpit (in the sober use

Of its legitimate, peculiar powers)

Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand

The most important and effectual guard,

Support, and ornament of Virtue's cause.

There stands the messenger of truth; there stands

The legate of the skies!-His theme divine,

His office sacred, his credentials clear.

By him the violated law speak out

Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet

As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace.

He 'stablishes the strong, restores the weak,
Reclaims the wanderer, binds the broken heart,
And, arm'd, himself, in panoply complete

Of heavenly temper, furnishes with arms
Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule

Of holy discipline, to glorious war,

The sacramental host of God's elect!

Are all such teachers?-would to Heaven all were!
But hark-the doctor's voice!-fast wedged between
Two empirics he stands, and with swollen cheeks
Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far
Than all invective is his bold harangue,

While through that public organ of report

He hails the clergy; and, defying shame,
Announces to the world his own and theirs!
He teaches those to read whom schools dismiss'd,
And colleges, un taught, sells accent, tone,
And emphasis in score, and gives to prayer
The adagio and andante it demands.

He grinds divinity of other days

Down into modern use; transforms old print

To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes

Of gallery critics by a thousand arts.

Are there who purchase of the doctor's ware?

O, name it not in Gath!-it cannot be,

That grave and learned clerks should need such aid. He, doubtless, is in sport, and does but droll,

Assuming thus a rank unknown before

Grand caterer and dry- nurse of the church.

I venerate the man whose heart is warm,

Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit, lucid proof

That he is honest in the sacred cause.

To such I render more than mere respect,

Whose actions say that they respect themselves.
But loose in morals, and in manners vain,

In conversation frivolous, in dress
Extreme, at once rapacious and profuse;
Frequent in park with lady at his side,
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes;
But rare at home, and never at his books,
Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card;
Constant at routs, familiar with a round
Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor;
Ambitious of preferment, for its gold,
And well prepared, by ignorance and sloth,
By infidelity and love of world,

To make God's work a sinecure; a slave
To his own pleasures and his patron's pride;

From such apostles, O ye mitred heads

Preserve the church! and lay not careless hands
On skulls that cannot teach, and will not learn.

Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul,
Where he on earth, would hear, approve, and own,
Paul should himself direct me. I would trace
His master-strokes, and draw from his design.
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.
Behold the picture!-Is it like?-Like whom?
The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again; pronounce a text,
Cry-hem; and, reading what they never wrote
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.

What!--will a man play tricks, will he indulge

A silly, fond conceit of his fair form,
And just proportion, fashionable mien,
And pretty face, in presence of God?
Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes,
As with the diamond on his lily hand,
And play his brilliant parts before my eyes,
When I am hungry for the bread of life?
He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames
His noble office, and, instead of truth,
Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock.
Therefore, avaunt all attidude, and stare,
And start theatric, practised at the glass!
I seek divine simplicity in him

Who haudles things divine; and all besides,

Though learn'd with labor, and though much admired By curious eyes and judgments ill inform'd,

To me is odious as the nasal twang

Heard at conventicle, where worthy men,
Misled by custom, strain celestial themes
Through the press'd nostril, spectacle bestrid.
Some, decent in demeanor while they preach,
That task perform'd, relapse into themselves;
And, having spoken wisely, at the close
Grow wanton, and give proof to every eye,
Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not!
Forth comes the pocket mirror.-First we stroke
An eyebrow; next compose a straggling lock;
Then, with an air most gracefully perform'd,
Fall back into our seat, extend an arm,
And lay it at its ease with gentle care,
With handkerchief in hand depending low:
The better hand, more busy, gives the nose
Its bergamot, or aids the indebted eye

With opera glass, to watch the moving scene,
And recognise the slow retiring fair.-
Now, this is fulsome, and offends me more
Than in a churchman slovenly neglect

And rustic coarseness would. A heavenly mind
May be indifferent to her house of clay,
And slight the hovel as beneath her care;
But how a body so fantastic, trim,
And quaint, in its deportment and attire,
Can lodge a heavenly mind-demand a doubt.
He that negotiates between God and man,
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns
Of judgment and of mercy, should beware,
Of lightness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful
To court a grin, when you should woo a soul.
To break a jest, when pity would inspire
Pathetic exhortation; and to address
The skittish fancy with facetious tales,

When sent with God's commission to the heart!
So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip

Or merry turn in all he ever wrote,
And I consent you take it for your text,

Your only one, till sides and benches fail.

No! he was serious in a serious cause,

And understood too well the weighty terms

That he had ta'en in charge. He would not stoop

To conquer those, by jocular exploits,
Whom truth and soberness assail'd in vain.

THE BIRDS OF THE BIBLE.

NO. XVI.-THE EAGLE.

BY THE EDITOR.

King of the mountain, there are few like thee!
Whose steady eye defies the sun itself,
Whose wings, cleaving the clouds of middle air,
Fold only on the rock where night comes down
In double depth, and thou art poised alone,
In self-reliance almost terrible!

THE eagle was well-known to the sacred writers; and it is often referred to in the scriptures. It is still an inhabitant of the Holy Land; travelers have found numerous large eagle's feathers scattered on the ground beneath the lofty cedars which still crown the summits of Lebanon. It is said the eagle has a particular partiality for cedars. This accords exactly with the prophet's allusion to this bird. "A great eagle, with great wings, long-winged, full of feathers, which had diverse colors, came unto Lebanon, and took the highest branch of the cedar.' Ezek. xvii, 3.

Its name in Hebrew is derived from a verb which means to lacerate, or tear to pieces. As its name indicates so does it deal with its prey-it being exceedingly fierce and terrible.

There are a great many different species of eagle. Goldsmith describes fifteen kind; but all have very much the same general form and habits. The noblest among them is the golden eagle; it was called by the Ethiopians" father long beard," on account of its having a tuft of hair growing out below its beak.

Job, in general, shows a masterly acquaintance with the various departments of natural history to which he refers, and his description of the eagle is remarkably comprehensive and correct. (See Job, xxxix, 27-30.) "The eagle," says Paxton, "is the strongest, the fiercest, and the most rapacious bird of the feathered race. He dwells alone in the desert, and on the summits of the highest mountains, and suffers no bird to come with impunity within the range of his flight. His eye is dark and piercing, his beak and talons are hooked and formidable, and his cry is the terror of every wing. His figure answers to his nature; independently of his arms, he has a robust and compact body, and very powerful limbs and wings; his bones are hard, his flesh is firm, his feathers are coarse, his attitude is fierce and erect, his motions are lively, and his flight is extremely rapid."

We have a beautiful poetical description of the eagle by Mrs. Barbauld:

"The royal bird his lonely kindgom forms
Amid the gathering clouds and sullen storms:

Through the wide waste of air he darts his flight,
And holds his bounding pinions pois'd for sight;
With cruel eye premeditates the war,
And marks his destined victim from afar.
Descending in a whirlwind to the ground,
His pinions like the rush of waters sound;
The fairest of the fold he bears away,

And to the nest compels the struggling prey."

The eagle is a solitary bird, like the lion among animals. Two pair of eagles are seldom seen in the same mountain. It is so voracious that it requires a large territory to supply it with sustenance. Besides, it must have space to display its feeling of sovereignty and independence. Hence it is properly called the king-bird. It is truly royal in its ambition. It disdains dependence, and hence it seldom makes depredations on the habitations of men. It will not condescend to stoop for small prey; small and harmless birds are beneath its notice. When a little pressed by hunger it will sometimes call on the farmer in the shadow of its mountain for geese, turkeys, lambs and kids; but it prefers to exercise its own skill upon hares, fawns, and the larger kind of wild fowl. It never drinks water, but it loves blood, and especially the blood of fawns, which it kills for that purpose.

It finds great pleasure in cheating the fish-hawk of its prey. On some high frowning rock, along the slope of the mountain around which the river winds, sits the solitary eagle watching with the keenest eyes the movements of his friend, the fish-hawk. When the hawk has secured the fish he swoops down toward him, not to take the fish there, but to cause him to mount in the air with it— up, up they go, until at length the hawk drops the fish, and that moment the eagle darts down like an arrow and seizes the fish before it reaches the earth.

It is almost impossible to tame an eagle. It is with it as it is with the lion; it may for a time seem to have submitted its wild nature to the wish and will of its master; but at an unexpected moment it casts off all its restraints, and its original fierceness appears. On account of its perniciousness, severe measures have in some countries been taken to extirpate it. In the Orkney Islands there is a law according to which the person who kills an eagle is entitled to a hen out of every house in the parish in which the plunderer is killed.

The most fearful of all which is connected with this bird is, that it sometimes even seizes little children and bears them away through the air to its nest. There are many mournful instances of this kind upon record. We will give but one example, which we translate from a small German work on "Biblical Natural History."

A shepherd of the Alps lived with his wife and three children, which were boys, in his shepherd-hut on the Alps, near the source of the river Durance. The oldest boy was eight years old and

VOL V

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