DESIGN OF THE DEATH OF CHRIST. O BLESSED Jesu! we confess that we have nothing to plead for ourselves before thee; we adore and magnify thy name, that thou vouchsafedst to suffer for our sins. But we loathe, we abhor ourselves before thee, that we have not as yet sufficiently loathed and abhorred our sins for which thou wast pleased to suffer: we humbly crave thy pardon for what is past, and for the future beseech thee to endow us with that measure of thy grace and Holy Spirit, that, as thou wast pleased to offer up thyself for us, so we may offer up ourselves wholly unto thee, as we desire to do this day. This, indeed, was one great end of our Saviour's death, and therefore we ought so to mourn for our sins, which was the occasion of it, as to detest and hate them; and so detest and hate them as to forsake and leave them, and for the future, live wholly unto him that died for us: without which, all our fasting and mourning, and whatsoever else we do this day, will avail us nothing. And certainly, as the death of Christ is the most effectual means whereby we may, so it is the strongest argument in the world, too, why we should, forsake our sins, and turn to God. For what! shall the eternal Son of God condescend so far as to become man, in order to the expiation of our sins, and shall we yet continue in them? Shall he suffer reproach in his name, pain in his body, sorrow at his very heart for them, and yet we continue in them? Yea, shall he be arraigned, condemned, and crucified for them too, and yet we continue in them? Oh, "tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon, lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised be glad;" tell it not in hell, publish it not in the regions of darkness, lest the devil himself rejoice, and his friends triumph, to see the Son of God dying for the sins of men, and yet the sons of men still living in their sins! What is, if this be not, to crucify to yourselves the Son of God afresh, and to put him to an open shame? I know you cannot but all blame Judas for betraying, Pilate for condemning, and the Jews for crucifying your blessed Saviour. But what! will you act the same tragedy over again, and do that yourselves which you so justly abhor in them?—Beveridge. from north to south, was called, in our Saviour's time, the granary of the Roman empire. It was indebted, for its great fruitfulness, to the yearly overflowing of the Nile. When an Englishman, accustomed to the varieties of hill and dale, the changes of the weather and of the sky, in his native country, lands at Alexandria, and travels into the interior, the sight of a fruitful plain, as far as the eye can reach, cannot fail to excite the utmost astonishment. This prospect, however, soon becomes fatiguing, for not the slightest rise in the ground is perceptible, except the embankments of the canals, which are the work of human skill. Yet it makes a great difference, what part of the year our traveller arrives. If it happens to be in December, he enters a paradise of fertility, such as can scarcely be found in any other part of the world. But in May, when the harvest is over, nothing is to be seen but the parched, dusty soil, and the whole land is like a barren desert. If we come in June, we meet men and beasts ready to faint with heat and thirst. The Nile, that celebrated river, which the ancient Egyptians worshipped as divine, and which the Christians and Mahommedans of the present day never mention but with a kind of reverence, flows with a sluggish, muddy, and almost putrid current; but all eyes are fixed watchfully on the stream, each one eager to be the first to observe and announce the marks of its rising. Now is the time when the waters, descending from the mountains, bring on that fertilizing inundation. If we arrive in September, we find the whole land in its length and breadth, changed into a sandy-coloured, slimy lake, and here and there, just rising out of it, are to be seen cities, villages, and date-palms, and narrow mounds, serving as causeways. The traveller sees, with astonishment, the whole population, every evening, diverting themselves, and taking their pleasure, in boats and canoes on the water, while such a flood in our own country, would be regarded as a most disastrous event. But here the waters are covered with thousands of vessels with snow-white sails, decked with flags and streamers of all colours, adorned with garlands, while the bands are playing Turkish music, and the whole scene is a complete jubilee. As long as the inundation is under sixteen feet, all is quiet. But no sooner does it rise above this EGYPT, a long narrow valley, stretching mark, than the general rejoicings begin; EGYPT.-No. I. never heard there. But it is said, that not only has the weather, for some centuries past been gradually altering, but that since Ibrahim Pacha has given a new form to Cairo, by his extensive garden grounds, and the planting several become still more marked, and violent storms of thunder and lightning frequently visit the land as beneficent guests. for when it reaches that height by the Nile meter at Cairo, then the great canal is broken through, and the whole land is watered. An ordinary harvest may then be expected. If it rises to twenty or twenty-three feet, the harvest will be very abundant; but if it exceed twenty-millions of fruit trees, this change has four feet, it is injurious. Every body is anxious to hear the report of the officer, who proclaims the height of the Nile; if it reaches twenty feet, the joy of the poor Arabian fellahs (or agricultural labourers) knows no bounds. Generally, the canal is broken through in the beginning of September: on September 27, the water has reached its greatest height. In October the waters subside. The seed is immediately sown in the rich dark soil; and during our winter, which is the spring in Egypt, the freshness and strength of the luxuriant vegetation can only be equalled by what is to be met with in the most fertile parts of the promised land. During this beautiful season of the year, Egypt, from one end to the other, is like a meadow fragrant with the most lovely flowers; but with the increasing heat in February or March, changes into a waving sea of ears of corn. The wheat sown in the middle of November is cut in the beginning of April, but the barley, towards the end of February. The rice, which is sown in the beginning of March, requires almost seven months to ripen. The splendid appearance of Egypt passes away with the harvest. The ever scorching sun, the dead level of the ground, and the unchanging sky-for in the morning and evening it is not red, nor blue at noon, but shines with a white dazzling light are to Europeans intolerable, though all this suits the Egyptians, who wish for nothing better. The advantages of the overflow of the Nile are in part the rich soil which the waters deposit, and in part the filling the canals and ponds with water, from which the higher grounds can be watered through the spring, by means of water wheels, turned by oxen and asses, or by the feet of men. In allusion to the latter method, Moses says to the Israelites, “The land whither thou goest in to possess it, is not as the land of Egypt, from whence ye came out, where thou sowedst thy seed, and wateredst it with thy foot," Deut. xi. 10. In former times, rain was one of the rarest natural appearances in Egypt; and thunder, the ancients maintained, was In the account of the plague of hail, given in Exod. ix. 31, the sacred historian informs us, that "the flax and the barley were smitten; for the barley was in the ear, and the flax was bolled. But the wheat and the rye were not smitten; for they were not grown up." This enables us to determine in what part of the year the ten plagues came on the Egyptians. The first plague which affected principally the Nile, took place, no doubt, after the inundation, and, therefore, about October. For if it happened before, the consequence would have been the delay of the harvest, and the wheat and the barley would not have sprung up. The time of the first six plagues was, therefore, between October and December; for this is the month when the flax is in bloom, and the barley is in the blade. Before the harvest, that is, in February, came the plague of locusts; and shortly before Easter, was the tenth plague. The whole period of the ten plagues lasted, therefore, half a year. You may now picture to yourselves the land in which Abraham sojourned, on account of the famine in Canaan; the land in which God tried Joseph, in order, as the event proved, to make him the instrument of preserving a whole nation; the land in which Jacob's family became a great people, on whose account God smote the Egyptians with ten plagues, until they let them go. From the earliest ages, this, which was one of the most renowned and mighty kingdoms, was also one which was equally distinguished for "changing the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things," Rom. i. 23. From the time of the prophets, it began to decay, and for the last 2000 years it has been gradually sinking so low, that it may now be looked upon with compassion, as a land sold into the hand of the wicked, and laid waste by the hand of strangers, Ezek. xxx. 12. On the borders of Egypt, on a small peninsula on the western mouth of the Nile, stands the chief commercial city of modern Egypt, Alexandria, named after the great conqueror, who founded it 333 years before the birth of Christ. Alexander was an eminent protector of the Jews, and hence a multitude of Jews, from all countries, settled in this place. Alexandria, in time, became celebrated as a seat of Jewish learning, of which several traces may be found in the New Testament. From its favourable situation, Alexandria was always an important place of commerce. The two vessels in which Paul was conveyed as a prisoner to Rome were both Alexandrian merchantmen, Acts xxvii. 6; xxviii. 11. This ancient Egyptian city is still adorned by magnificent memorials of its departed greatness. A lighthouse called Pharos, which guided the course of vessels that entered the port at night, by means of a large metallic concave mirror, was considered one of the wonders of the world. By night, this mirror reflected a strong light; and by day, the ships could be seen in it from a great distance, as they were approaching the coast, long before they could be seen in a direct manner. But of this lighthouse there is left only a ruin about one hundred feet in height. Another beautiful monument of antiquity is that usually known by the name of Pompey's Pillar. It is nearly 100 feet high, and stands on the south of the city walls. It is very serviceable to mariners, when they are approaching the land, as it is visible at sea long before the city and the flat coast come in sight. Still more remarkable are the so-called Cleopatra's Needles. They are two obelisks of red granite, seventy feet high, each consisting of a single stone besides the pedestal. One of the obelisks has been thrown down. Still more famous are those massive structures called the Pyramids. About forty of these colossal buildings are still standing in Lower Egypt. The best known and largest are those at Djizeh, not far from Cairo, on the banks of the Nile; the largest is 447 feet high, that is, about forty feet higher than St. Peter's, at Rome, and 133 higher than St. Paul's, in London. Yet the interior of these gigantic piles is almost entirely unknown. It is not yet ascertained at what period the pyramids were erected, nor what purpose they served. Some suppose that they were intended for sepulchres, which is denied by others. If it should happen that any one should some day find, in one of the pyramids, the mummy of the ancient Cheops, or Kephrenes, the supposed founder of the pyramids, and decipher the inscription on his coffin, what an honour would that be! The mummy would then be deposited in some antiquarian cabinet, and the name of the discoverer would, for ten years, be more famous than that of the great king, who, in order to make himself a great name, erected this memorial of his power. You may thence estimate what is the greatness of human fame.-Dr. Barth. THE OAK. CURIOUS EXPERIMENT. TAKE an acorn at this time of the year, tie a string round it in such a way that, when suspended, the blunt end of the acorn, where the cup was, is upwards. Hang it thus prepared in the inside of a bottle, or hyacinth glass, containing a little water, taking care that the acorn does not reach the water within an inch; wrap the bottle all over in flannel, so as to keep it dark and warm, and put it in a warm place. In three or four weeks the acorn will have swollen, its coat will have burst, and a little white point will make its appearance at the end opposite the water. This point is the root; the acorn is now changing its nature and becoming an oak; still, however, it must be stationed in the dark, still it must be kept clear of the water, and so it must continue till the young root is at least half an inch long. Then the water may be allowed to rise higher; but it is only when from the neck of the root a little point begins to turn upwards that it is safe to allow the water to touch it. At that time the acorn has ceased to be an acorn, and has really become a young oak; for the little point directing itself upwards is the beginning of that trunk which a century later may form the timber of a frigate. As soon as this young stem begins to shoot, the oak will require a dose of light, a little every day; and it also yearns for more food, so that its root, which is in reality its mouth, must be allowed to touch the water, and to drink it. After these events have come to pass, the little creature breathes, and must have air; digests, and must have light; sucks greedily, and must have fresh water given to its root, which, however, should never be permitted to be wholly covered; just that point where the stem begins should always be kept out of the water. The pet having been brought to this its first state of existence, must be put in the window. At first it will be a stout thread, whitish, and covered with tiny scales; then the scales will expand a little, and the end will become greener. Next will appear some little leaves; hair will begin to grow, veins will branch; the old scales will fall off, and by slow degrees the leaves will arrange themselves upon the stem, each unfolding from the bosom of the other.-Gardener's Chronicle. HASTY THOUGHTS. How hasty is temper, how blind is prejudice, and how unreasonable is selfishness! Were the defects of the mind as visible to the eye as the deformities of the body, how often should we be compelled to blush! saucy fellow, and determined that I would give him no more than sixpence for a ride, ask what he would. Now what right had I to conclude, that, because there are uncivil cabmen in the world, he was one? On the same principle, he might have taken me for a highwayman! Nearer and nearer came the cab, and I knew, by the sound of the wheels, that it had drawn to my side of the road. I had worked myself up, even in that short time, to feel bitter against all cabmen; and I considered it a duty which I owed to the public, not to allow their barefaced impositions. I would walk every step into the city, that I would! rather than be imposed upon a single farthing! On came the cab till it was close at my side; but I was too proud, too patriotic, too every thing, to turn my head, not doubting that the cabman would be quick enough to secure me. To my amazement, he drove by without stopping, speaking, or seeming inclined to speak. This brought down my pride at once; I was in a hurry: it was really of consequence that I should get to the city; and I would rather have given half a dozen sixpences than be disappointed. I was in great haste the other morning to get into the city, from one of the suburbs of London, at an hour when the omnibuses are usually laden with city I cried aloud for the cab to stop, and clerks, so that my prospect of obtaining was instantly obeyed; when, to my morthe convenience of a seat was but a poor tification, I made the discovery, that the Two omnibuses passed, without impudent cabman was a very civil man; so much as favouring me with a look, that the empty cab contained two passenand the conductor of a third, when ap-gers, and that I, instead of being the pealed to somewhat urgently, cried out, virtuous upholder of the rights of the by way of derision, "Fine morning for public, was a poor, hasty, prejudiced, una run, sir!" reasonable, and selfish promoter of my own private ends. one. At no great distance behind the last omnibus a cab came rumbling along, at a leisurely rate. "Here," thought I, "is a fellow that will take me to the city, but then he has seen by my manner that I am in a hurry, and that the omnibuses will not take me; he will be wanting a shilling, while the fare of the omnibus is but sixpence." How princely we are on some occasions, and what poor pitiful screws we are on others! I tried to walk on with the mien of a man in no hurry, and to whom it signified not a penny piece whether he went to the city or not; but I could not help turning round once, to give another glance at the cabman. His sharp eye was fixed on me: his hat was worn a little on one side, and he was whistling. I well knew that many cabmen were uncivil, ill-behaved men, so I at once set him down as an extortionate, impudent, If we all had but a little less selfishness, and a little more consideration for others, it would defend us from many unlovely tempers; from the exercise of great injustice, and from much disappointment and mortification.-G. THORNS. As none of those particulars which make up a description of the thorn, or kotz, are given in the sacred writings, we have only a part of its history to guide us in deciding to what particular species of thorn the allusion is made in Gen. iii. 18, and in other places where the same word occurs in the original. That part of its character upon which we rest our conclusion is implied in the passage just referred to, which is, that it should be at 66 war with the husbandman, by greatly multiplying his labour when preparing the soil, and by tending to baffle the object of his solicitude by choking the seed when sown. This character is due to none so much in the east as to the rest-harrow, or brionis spinosa, for Theophrastus expressly says of this plant, that it is an enemy" to the cultivators of the soil. "The rest-harrow, that most pernicious and prickly plant," says Hasselquist, covers entire fields and plains in Egypt and Palestine. I make no doubt but this is referred to in some parts of the Holy Scripture: I shall leave philologists to determine which of the thorns there it is. The Arabians at present in Egypt call it 'akol.' This is that which Moses meant when he curses the earth; it grows in great plenty, and promiscuously with large thistles in the uncultivated parts of Egypt." The vivacious and reproductive nature of this plant is in a particular manner noticed by Theophrastus. It is hard to be destroyed, says he, and grows in most cultivated ground, in a rich and clammy soil, and though it dies down to the root, it is prodigiously multiplied by offsets that are sent obliquely from the root, which in their turn strike root, and after a while send forth new offsets, so that unless every particle below the earth be removed, it will not fail to shoot, grow, and propagate its species. How fit an emblem is it, then, of worldly, corroding care, which chokes the good seed, and preys at large upon the vital parts of soul and body! Care, says the Roman poet, cannot be outstripped by the fleetest horseman; it is ever close at the back of the rider, nor will it, like the rest-harrow, be destroyed, though it fade never so often, till the last fibril of sin has been root ed out of the human heart by the grace of God. The anonis, or, as it is sometimes written, ononis, or the thorn, is very common in loamy soils in most parts of this country. The generic marks are a calyx, with five linear or narrow segments; a standard, or upper petal, striated, or marked with lines; a swelling or turgid pod; filaments, or the ten threads which compose a bundle in the centre of the flower, all united at the base into one brotherhood. The anonis spinosa, or that particular species of anonis now under consideration, has a woody stem, armed with sharp prickles, and a red papalionaceous or a pea-shaped blossom. The shrubby stem, sharp thorus, red flower, and round pods will easily denote the anonis spinosa, and suggest it to an attentive observer, not previously acquainted with it. The English name, rest-harrow, seems to imply that our forefathers thought that its presence would interrupt the husbandman's toil, and make the business of harrowing the ground unnecessary. The Latin name of resta bovis, among old botanists, indicates that they thought it would put a period to the labours of the ox. The extensive propagation of this troublesome plant is not only secured by the multiplying of its offsets as before described, but has a further provision in the seeds, which are sown at a distance by a very simple contrivance. If, in the warm days of August, we stand near the spot where a quantity of this shrub is growing, a smart cracking noise is heard, which is occasioned by the bursting of the pods. The sun acts upon the husk or shell; the valves, in consequence, separate, and roll up with some violence, like a piece of paper when held close to the fire. By this easy mechanical contrivance, the seed is jerked to a considerable distance, and the means of propagation augmented. Whenever we hear this noise, we may take it as an admonition of that curse which was communicated from man to the ground. A HINT FOR THE YOUNG. "POOR dined with us," says the late Mr. Wilberforce, in his journal; “it is quite melancholy to see him. When and pleasant; but there was nothing young, he was, I understand, cheerful solid, nothing of labour; and now all is flat and feeble." Let this affecting record impress on the minds of the young the trite, yet important sentiment, which it so painfully exemplifies. Youth is the seed time, and except that season be diligently improved, age can yield no rich and satisfactory harvest. THE USKEEME. THIS national appellation, by which the Greenlanders are distinguished, is not Esquimaux, as has been so long received, but is, by themselves, pronounced Uskeeme; and of this appellation they are as proud, as a native of this country is of the name of Briton.-O'Reilly. |