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deep regrets at what had recently been en-1 acted, and things gave promise of speedily resuming their wonted aspect. Meanwhile, I remained an observing spectator of passing occurrences. I still cherished feelings of kindliness to Zion, and alwaye consi. dered I should one day be numbered among her inhabitants, which, had my friend remained in the town, would probably have been the case. But about this time, circumstances removed him to a distance. With him went one of Zion's attractions. My feelings towards her assumed more the character of indifference than they had ever before felt. Subsequent injuries received at the hands of her disciples, have induced a feeling partaking more of the hostile than the indifferent; and if I am not in a state bordering upon open infi. delity at the present moment, it is certainly not because I have not witnessed quite sufficient of guile, evil speaking, malice, and wrong doing within her walls, to warrant my relapsing into so fearful a condition. I am, Sir,

Yours truly, VERITAS.

(We hope all our readers will learn from the above statement the solemn lessons it is calculated to teach. At the same time, we must think it singularly unphilosophical and unreasonable to forsake any system on account of the inconsistencies of its professors. The inconsistencies of which “Veritas" speaks, are to be accounted for either on the principle of the apostolical remark_" They went out from us because they were not of us,”-or they occurred through the weakness and imperfection of our nature, which no principles, however noble, can entirely remove. In any case, as has been said many a time, the counterfeit would not exist were there not sterling coin. It is CHRISTIANITY we ask men to accept: not to receive as unalloyed the always imperfect embodiments of it which are presented by its professors.]

Notices of Books.


HAM. London: Benj. L. Green.

Mr. Edwards has taken the course, in regard to Papal assumptions, which commends itself most of all to our minds, viz., that of availing himself of awakened attention to enlighten Protestants on the almost forgotten abominations of Popery. He availed himself of a public lecture, which we think much better than so employing our ordinary services, to expose the leading imposture of the system, the “Supremacy of the Pope.” The lecture makes a very excellent tract, characterized by the writer's well-known lucidness of thought and expression, and therefore peculiarly suitable for general distribution. In the town where the writer resides, the Catholics are making great efforts by means of a large establishment, a prodigious mass of buildings, filled with priests, nuns, sisters of mercy, &c., imported from no one knows where, but especially by getting into their schools a number of poor children, to train no doubt as tools for the priests, to spread their en

slaving and impious dogmas. The contents of the tract are :

“Papal pretensions at the public bar.
“ Priestly denunciations rebuked. "

"I. Pope's claim to Supremacy asserted. 1. Cannot be proved by mere assertion. 2. Nor by the testimony of Scripture. 3. Nor by the conduct of Christ towards Peter. 4. Nor by Peter's own conduct and history. 5. Nor by the traditionary records of Rome. 6. Therefore a groundless assumption.

"II. Pope's claim viewed in relation to Prophecy. 1. A grand Apostacy foretold in Scripture. 2. Popery its exact counterpart. 3. The Pope identical with the ‘Man of Sin.' 4. Pope's arrogance dovetailing with Prophecy. 5. An invasion of God's prerogative. 6. A contravention to the Divine Will. 7. A gross insult to God.

“III. Duty of British Protestants respecting this claim. 1. To give all possible publicity to correct views on the subject. 2. To avoid neutrality and inaction. 3. Address to Roman Catholics.”

We hope Cardinal Wiseman's impudence will call for hundreds of such telling tracts,

and that Oxford and Roman Popery will be objects for which it has professedly been shamed out of the land. We thoroughly established. agree with the writer's concluding remarks

THE DANGER AND DESTRUCTIVE TENDENCY on the undeserved and pernicious polite

OF NOVEL READING: A LECTURE. By ness with which Popish impostures have The Rev. W. WALTERS. Pp. 16. Presbeen treated of late by Politicians from

ton. selfish motives, and by Dissenters from an

An eloquent and effective protest against overstrained view of religious freedom.

the mere novel reading so painfully prevaNotes, ExPLANATORY AND PRACTICAL, ON lent in the present day. We wish there THE GOSPELS: DESIGNED FOR SABBATH

had been a London publisher to the tract.
SCHOOL TEACHERS AND BIBLE CLASSES. as, in that case, it would have been much
BY THE Rev. ALBERT BARNES. CARE more easily accessible, and we should have
FULLY REVISED BY THE Rev. SAMUEL been glad to give it a hearty recommenda-
GREEN. Pp. 858. London: Benjamin tion to our readers.
L. Green.

Recent Publications.
This edition of Barnes's Notes on the
Gospels has already sold so extensively,

Biographical Memoirs of Deceased Bapthat it seems almost useless now to recom

tist Ministers. No. 1. To be continued mend it. We doubt not that it is already

Monthly. By Benjamin Swallow and W. in the hands of a great many of our readers.

A. Blake. (Pp. 24. London: Benjamin We are much gratified, however, to be able L. Green.) to give it our cordial approval. It is the Tract Society's Monthly Volumes,Ninehandsomest and best printed of the cheap veh and the Tigris,-Lives of the Popes, editions we have seen; and, as far as we vol. 1. Both these volumes are valuable have been able to examine it, it appears to

additions to the Series of which they form be carefully edited and correctly printed,

a part. The latter work will be an acand we understand that it has met with the quisition to those who are unable to purhigh approval of the author himself. We chase larger and more expensive ones. have no doubt that those who have sub The Scholar's Friend, designed for the scribed for the volume before us, will be Use of Sabbath School Scholars. (Nos. 1, 2, encouraged to do so for the succeeding and 3. Price One Penny. London: C. A. volumes on the remaining books in the Bartlett.) New Testament.

The Poetic Companion for the Fireside, The Public Good. A MONTHLY MAGA the Fields, the Woods, and the Streams. ZINE. Price TwoPence. London: J.

(No. 1. London: J. Passmore Edi Passmore Edwards.

The Claims of Christian Missions on This is a monthly publication of a popu Young Men: a Lecture. By W. A. Blake. lar character, “devoted to the advocacy of (Pp. 14. London: J. Kennedy.) great principles, the advancement of useful A Letter to the Hon. and Rev. Baptist W. institutions, and the elevation of man.” Noel, M.d., on the Holy Spirit's Presence We can honestly recommend it to our read in the Church of God. By one who has ers, as interesting and instructive, and ad been a Member of John Street. (Pp. 14. mirably calculated to subserye the great | London: F. A. Ford.)

A Page for the Young.


rFrom the German.) Fancy, dear children, you are standing on the coast of Kent. Yonder, on the high shore, stands a fisherman's hut, inhabited by a poor fisherman and his wise. But it will not be so long, at least not by .both. The fisherman's trade is a danger.

ous one. You know that even on the little sea of Genesareth sometimes a storm arose which made the boatmen quail ; how much more so on the open sea, where the waves are sometimes a hundred times bigger than a fishing boat! One day the man

set out alone in his boat in good health and I spirits, to cast his nets in the sea, hoping,

by God's blessing, to have a rich draught of fishes ; for he and his family depended on the produce of the fishing. If all goes well, he will return in the evening; at least his wife hopes 80; and in this hope she follows him with her eyes, as long as she can catch the least glimpse of the little ship, till it appears but a speck in the distance, and then it vanishes altogether. Sitting down with her needle-work at the open window of the hut, she cast her eye upon the sea and round the horizon. Yonder clouds, which are rising from the distant · boundary of the sea, seem to her experienced eye to forebode a storm. She goes into the open air to examine the threatening danger, but soon the heavens are overcast; the breeze becomes a gale; the rain pours down in torrents, and the wind whistles and moans around the hut. She returns to her seat and strains her eyes to see if there is no appearance of the little boat upon the shore. She rings her hands, and sighs, and cries, “Have mercy, O God, and bring my husband safe to land !” Is yon not the white sail of his boat ? Ah, no, it is only the illusive foam on the wavetop. Ever darker becomes the prospect; dusk comes on, and rapidly passes into the darkness of night. The lamp is trimmed and placed in the window to guide the poor fisherman to his hut if he should reach the shore; dry clothes are laid for him, and the teapot at the fire ready to afford refreshment. What an anxious night was that! But, like the longest night, it passed away ; like the nights of the North, which last one half the year; like the night of death, to which the joyful resurrection morn succeeds. But no cheerful morning dawned upon this night. The storm, indeed, was past; the rising sun shone forth in a cloudless sky; the sea alone continued high, and beat its angry, restless waves upon the downs; but far and near no vessel could be seen. On a rock by the shore sat poor Margaret, gazing sorrowfully on the heaving billows, her hair fluttering in the fresh morning breeze, while her only son sat on her knee and rent her heart still more by his childlike questions. Long might she have sat waiting there, before the little boat would come dancing over the waves towards her. Her eyes would never see it more. He for whose return she was watching, had long ere this been engulfed in the raging deep, and the waves over which he had often rowed so bravely, now rolled above his corpse.

At last the mourning wife was convinced : it was vain to wait for his return, and that, this time, it had not pleased her heavenly Father to listen to her heartfelt prayer. Poor widow, where shall you find consolation! True, she had no reason to regard her husband as lost. He had been a christian, and for many years had lived in the faith of the living God and his son Jesus Christ. And his parting words to her had heen, “ Margaret, trust in the Lord at all times; for if we fear God, we need fear nothing else. Bring up your child, while he is young, to render obedience and filial respect towards his mother; then, by Divine grace, he may be also led to render obedience to God, and reverence to all his commandments." This was very consoling, yet it cost the good Margaret no little struggle before she could bow to God's will without a murmur.

Indeed, her position was far from being an easy one, for she must now endeavour to maintain herself and her son; whereas, hitherto, she had had a faithful and industrious provider. And now Margaret committed an error, one of frequent occurrence with parents : she made her son, in a great measure, her idol; she was excessively afraid of losing him; which, especially in a widow who has an only child, is not to be wondered at, though not to be justified. Afraid that he might form a liking for the trade of his unfortunate father, and be as

unfortunate as he, she made him promise | solemnly, that he would never go to the

fishing with the neighbours; thinking if she bound him in this way there could be no danger, for she never dreamt that he would venture alone upon the sea.

Willy kept his promise, and would not listen to the persuasions of his father's old comrades, nor to his young companions, who were most anxious to take him along with them in their expeditions. He was now twelve years old, a fine, stroug boy. Whenever he could render his mother assistance, he did it with the greatest alacrity ; but he had not yet fixed upon a trade; and, in fact, there were few other trades on that coast besides that of a fisherman.

But another severe trial now befell the poor widow and her son. Margaret became ill, and she could no longer work. She shewed great patience and submission in her sufferings. Willy loved his mother dearly, and would have removed her afilietion if he could, and borne the pain him

self; but this he could not do, for, you I never doubted but he would be able to reknow, there is only One of whom it could turn as easily as he was now sailing out, be said, surely he hath borne our griefs, and this was altogether easy and delightful. and carried our sorrows." But, on the In the joy of his heart he waved his cap other hand, his constant thought was, how towards the shore, although nobody could he could earn a little money to buy sugar, see him, and uttered a loud, joyful burrah ! and tea, and a piece of flannel to keep her Foolish boy! wind and tide were now warm, and render the pain more bearable. quite favourable, but when he would wish He saw no means but that of catching fish. to return they would be all against him. But having been trained to be an obedient, Onwards went the boat, always further into truthful boy, and having promised his mo the channel which separates England from ther not to go with his neighbours to the France. Happily he did not lose his prefishing, he resolved anew to keep pointedly sence of mind. He noticed that he still his promise. Yet he was most anxious to made progress without any effort of his get these comforts for his mother, and often own, and that if he were to row against he ran up and down the beach reflecting the wind and tide the boat would inevitably how to effect his object; when the thought capsize. Still he was quite confident that suddenly occurred to him, was it not pos sooner or later he would be able to return. sible to keep his promise and effect his ob Now, however, a danger befel him which ject too? Here he was listening too much

the little rogue had never dreamed of. It to the wishes and plans of his own mind;

was just at this period, that the great war he was entering into a compromise with his

between France and England, some forty conscience, and was wishing to do evil that

years ago, was at its height, when Napoleon good might come. He reflected how he

Bonaparte had become the terror of all could keep the commands of his mother to

Europe, and had assembled in Boulogne, the letter and evade them in spirit. His

opposite to Dover, a great army for the pureyes frequently rested on a little boat, sel

pose of invading England. His war-ships dom used, which was dancing on the rip

were cruising about the channel, on the pling waves near to his hut. Willy placed look-out for English fishing vessels; for himself in the way of temptation, and no

Napoleon had commanded every one to be wonder, therefore, he was ensnared. He

seized that could be met with, and brought wished to catch fish, and was himself in the

to France. One of these French ships had net before he was aware. At first he only

perceived Willy's little boat, and bore down looked at the boat with a pleased and long

upon it. But the French found only one ing eye, like Eve on the tree of knowledge;

poor boy; and Willy, who did not know then came the desire to step into it; and

they were enemies, never doubting but they what was the danger in that; could not he

would receive him kindly, began to relate step out again when he liked ? But having

his adventure, and tell them where he once stepped in, he thought he would loose

wished to go. But when he saw they did it and try if he could row it as he had seen

not understand him, and perceived their his father do ; perhaps he might then be

strange language, a light broke in upon his able to set out alone to catch fish, and sell

mind : he had been caught by the French, them for his mother.

whom his poor neighbours on the coast The boat went straight forwards, and were in continual dread of, and whom he Willy's heart bounded with it over the heav had been taught to hate, as at that time all ing waves. Onwards it continued to glide, the boys in England were taught to do. and beautifully receded from the land.

Willy was now in a sad plight indeed. Wind and tide were in his favour-a light

They put him on board the great French wind and a strong tide. Foolish boy!

war-ship, and bore him away from his nalike so many other thoughtless young

tive land, away from those who understood wanderers through the wilderness of life,

his language, and, worst of all, away from he rowed merrily on, without ever reflect

his poor, sick, and helpless mother. As ing whither the fresh breeze and the lightly

Willy thought of all this, he could not recurling waves were bearing him,-without

strain his tears, and though the sailors did ever a thought of how he could return.

not understand him, he still continued to He had a certain idea that all was not

beg and pray them to put him again in his right; that the general direction of his little boat, and said, pointing to the English course was seaward; but then, again, he | shore, “Yonder; I want to go yonder."

But they only laughed at his sad counte. | shoot at me if they liked.” So courageous nance, pointed to their coast, and cried in were Willy's thoughts, for his spirit was their own language, “ It's yonder we're roused, and his heart wellnigh bursting. going !" Now the English national pride But as he became more calm, repentant rose within him,-the French shall not see thoughts arose in his mind, and he began to him cry,--So he stood apart by himself. see he had been in a forbidden path, and was “What will they do with me now ?” he said justly punished for his sin. Just now he to himself; “do they think to make a had been quite sure of God's protection, French sailor of me? no, that they won't ; though he were swimming in the sea, and I'll rather die ; for if I were in the French the balls of the French were flying over service I would need to fight against the him ; but now this confidence vanished; English, and that they never will bring me he felt he had erred. It is only when in to. No, if an English ship were just now the path of obedience to God, that we can to attack the French, I would jump into the depend upon his protection. sea and try to reach it, and they might |

(To be continued.)


God's CONSTANCY. - Various circum- l that have been turned; of the fields where, stances have changed your human fellow as a child, he used to frolic amidst a wildership. Those in whom you once confided, ness of flowers, but which are now covered are not what you thought they were. with grim factories, straight streets, and Peculiar excitements, outside life, the ro stark brick walls. He must have mournful mance of the spirit, concealed the real thoughts, indeed, when he reviews the hischaracter, as the wreath of lighted and tory of changes in the fellowship of spirit. tinctured cloud conceals the savage rock; “ Joseph is not, Simeon is not,” and death but now the charm is fled, the colour gone, is about “to take Benjamin away." "Our and you see only what is cold and unappeal friend Lazarus sleepeth." “Demas hath ing as the ice, the snow, and the rugged forsaken me.” But in God he may have a stone. The companions of your youth are friend “who changeth not." Man diesnot always the same as the companions of God lives. Man forgets to love; but,"whom your age. There is often a change from God loveth he loveth to the end." Man the warm affection, to the shy advance, the changes; but God is “the same yesterday, timid notice, the actions of polite formality. to day, and for ever;" so that, amidst weakAnd when faithful friends are faithful still, ness and weariness, amidst farewells and perhaps they live in another country or in mournings, he can lift his dim eye and clasp another world. You miss the “ watchers,” his trembling fingers, and say, “Thou, Lord, the “ holy ones," who were the guides of in the beginning didst lay the foundations your youth, or the sharers of your matured of the earth; they shall perish, but thou affection ; you have missed one after another remainest; they all shall wax old as a garfrom “the place that knew them once;' ment, as a vesture thou shalt change them, have seen the gentle fading of nature, the and they shall be changed; but thou art the slow gradations of decay. You have stood same, and thy years have no end."-friendalone in the chamber of mourning. With ship with God, a Sermon, by C. Slan ford. awe-with the creep of a strange panic chill over every faculty-you have lifted the THE IMPORTANCE OF MOMENTS. - We melancholy drapery of death, to gaze on commonly estimate the value of our time the sad ruin, the still and stony brow, the by what we can effect in it. And doubtless dim, unconscious, transfixed face of your God will estimate its value on the same friend. You have heard, "earth to earth, principle. The great purpose for which ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” pronounced time is given us is to prepare for eternity. over what was once lighted up with thought, By the standard of eternity the true value and passion, and sensibility. You have felt of time is to be ascertained. And that we the crowded solitude of life, the crushing may by this standard form some conception sense of desolation. You have walked for of the value of passing hours and moments, a time in the “ valley of the shadow of it may be wise to consider what single hours death." For you the star has lost its and moments have done, and can do, in sparkle, the flower its beauty, the spring its reference to eternal interests. Zaccheus song- I see some of you grey and drooping went up into the tree a sinner, a rich exwith years. An old man must feel pensively tortioner; he came down a humble, liberalwhen he thinks of the many changes, even hearted christian. A moment only was rein the outward world, which he has witness quisite for the dying malefactor to raise the ed since his youth. He must feel a stir of penitential prayer, and receive the gracious tender sorrow even when he thinks of the assurance from the Saviour's own lips. alterations in the country, of the old roads Three thousand in one assembly, earnestly

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