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you cannot tell-it may be-oh! it may be the next moment. Without the least warning, you may die 'suddenly-fall from your chair, drop in the street, or be found a corpse in your bed! But even if you should live to the full age of man, you must die at last. "Yes! the important day will come,

When you must quit this earthly home,
And sail upon the boundless sea,
A vast untried eternity.

Unknown the period of your stay,
You may be summon'd hence to-day,
Without a moment's notice given,

You may appear in hell or heaven!

No one ever returns from this journey to revisit his friends, or to report what he has seen, or heard, or felt. As the tree falls, so it lies; as death leaves us, judgment finds us. Death fixes our final state, nor can we come back, even for a short time, to rectify an error, or correct a mistake. There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou goest. (Eccles. ix. 10.) He that is unjust will be unjust still; he that is filthy will be filthy still; he that is righteous will be righteous still; he that is holy will be holy still. "Death to a christian," says Mason, "is putting off rags for robes." "It is," adds Dr. Watts, "but passing through a dark entry out of one little dusky room of our Father's house into another that is fair and light, glorious and divinely entertaining. O may the rays and splendour of my heavenly apartment shoot far downwards, and gild the dark entry with such a cheerful gleam, as to banish every fear when I shall be called to pass through!"

But what is death to the wicked, the impenitent, the mere professor of religion, the graceless, the prayerless, the unconverted? A dark valley without a gleam of light or hope, full of terror and agony, unutterable and indescribable! Death is terrible in the eye of nature, but far more terrible in the eye of conscience. It was the sad exclamation of Cæsar Borgia, when dying, "I provided in the course of my life for every thing but death, and now, I must die, though entirely unprepared for it." Very different was the state of the late Rev. Matthew Warren, who, when asked in his last hours how he was? replied, "I am just going into eternity; but I bless God, I am neither ashamed to live, nor afraid to die."

complete that they can never get out of order. And as the solar system itself is found to be constructed upon such principles of harmony and perfection, it is not possible for an intelligent mind to cut off a portion of that system without deranging the whole, and in this way I am persuaded philosophers must look at the whole machinery of the solar system, and of universal space itself, before they can pronounce that one portion of it is not dependent upon another.

The solar system itself then, being but an atom in creation, is found to be changing its place gradually in space to be slowly performing its revolution round the grand centre of the universethe effulgence of Deity, the place where the eternal councils gave laws to creation, the grand arcanum of creative intelligence: and hence our atmospheric phenomena are ever changing—our cycles ever varying our theories ever undergoing perpetual changes.

Do not philosophers allow the moon to have an influence upon the waters of our globe? If she have, let us look at the media through which she acts. As she is placed far above the reach of our atmosphere, how is her influence communicated? I reply, first by the etherial fluid, or electric fluid, that pervades the spaces between the planetary bodies, then by our atmosphere, which is about seven hundred thousand times more dense than the etherial fluid, and thence to the waters of our ocean. Now, the moon's effects are not only apparent twice in every twenty-four hours, but they are allowed by all,-and yet those very persons who allow the moon's influence, deny in toto that a body, Jupiter for example, which is nearly three hundred and twenty-two times the size of our earth, or more than sixty-two thousand times the size of the moon, has any influence at all upon the gases of our atmosphere! As regards the absurdity of the case, one is just as absurd as the other; and, therefore, if it be the generally received opinion that the moon has an influence over terrestrial objects, why deny the same influence, but differing in degree or intensity, to every other body composing the solar system?

Now, the moon and the earth travel together through space with a velocity of about eleven hundred and thirty-five miles in a minute; yet this, when compared to Mercury's motion in space is very slow; Mercury winging his way at the rate of two thousand miles in the same period; and surely this rapidity must have some


considerable influence on the etherial substances, be they what they may, if the merely moving a lady's fan in a very gentle manner, will agitate the atmosphere from one side of a room to the other. Professor Airy has stated that Jupiter is more than three hundred and twenty-two times the mass of the earth, or fifteen hundred times the mass of Venus, and that he travels through space with "kingly pomp the rival of the sun," at the rate of twenty-nine thousand miles per hour, and spins round on its axis at the rate of nearly thirty thousand miles per hour. Can such a vast body as this sweep through space, between the orbits of other planets, and not produce some influence on those bodies towards which his course may be directed? We are informed by Sir John Herschel, our prince of astronomers, that, "every planet produces an amount of perturbation in the motions of every other, proportional to its mass, and to the degree of advantage or purchase which its situation in the system gives it over their movements. The latter is a subject of calculation; the former is unknown otherwise than by observations of its effects." Now, if such a man as Sir John Herschel can determine the amount of disturbing force, or rather that there exists a disturbing force at all, on the whole mass of our earth, may we not fairly ask, can such disturbing force affect the whole mass of the planet and not disturb the equilibrium of its atmosphere? Let reason answer. Science opens to us many sublime subjects for contemplation, and none are more sublime than the laws of creative wisdom, and the splendour and magnificence of the great Creator himself; and hence I doubt not but science will, in due time, open to the intelligence of man the laws of universal influence of one portion of the creation upon another, and especially the universality of the planetary action and planetary influence.-White, on the Weather Prophets.


CHAPTER I.-The Scripture Lesson.

"WHAT Subject would you advise me to choose for our Bible lesson, this week, Esther?" asked Agnes Ormond, addressing her favorite school-fellow.

"Why, indeed, Agnes," returned her companion," I scarcely know; let us consider," added she, thoughtfully, "there have been so many good subjects already-duty to parents and


superiors; duty to brothers, sisters, and companions; prayer, truth, covetousness-O! Agnes, I have thought of one-PRIDE!-do have pride, there's a good girl; it will just suit Fanny Jackson with her finery and conceit: I shall delight in hearing her repeat that text about the lilies-won't it be excellent ?"

"Yes, indeed," said Agnes, laughing," pride shall be the subject; but Esther dear, did you not observe how nicely 'Covetousness' suited Mary Harwood?"

"To be sure I did, yet the mean thing never discovered it herself; really, I do assure you, I quite felt for her when she repeated that verse about doing good, and lending, hoping for nothing again; for I never saw any body so ill-natured, and careful about her things, as she is."

"You might have spared your feelings, my dear," observed Agnes," for she repeated it with the greatest complacency, and I do not believe she ever thought of applying it to herself. I wonder how any one can be so blind!"

"So do I," said Esther; "but were you not amused when Catherine Drummond choose Truth' for her subject, and went on, day after day, saying her texts with as much ease and selfsatisfaction, as if she believed herself to be as exact about the truth as any of us?"

"Perhaps she did believe it," returned Agnes; " for, as I said before, people are sometimes so blind to their greatest faults," As Agnes repeated these words, she experienced a very unpleasant sensation, something resembling a twinge of conscience, as conviction for an instant flashed across her mind, and said, as plainly as an audible voice could have done, "Physician, heal thyself!"

The two young ladies, introduced to the reader, were friends— most intimate friends, in the boarding-school acceptation of the word; but lest any of the readers of this Magazine should be unacquainted with such a species of friendship, it may be proper to inform them, that Esther and Agnes considered it an indispensable proof of their love to each other, to render themselves as disagreeable as possible to every body else. The grand bond of union between them was a sort of confidential gossip, in which they spared neither governess, masters, school-fellows, neighbours, nor (it is with pain we add it) their own family concerns. They sat together, walked together, slept together, and occupied themselves.

so constantly in discussing the faults of others, that they lost all inclination to correct their own; and attended so industriously to the business of others, that frequent disgrace overtook them for the neglect of their own duties. They were intelligent girls, and had been favored with much religious instruction, both at home and at school; but alas! they only afforded a sad proof, that religious knowledge may dwell in the head, whilst the heart remains unaffected and unsubdued.

But to return to the young ladies-it was a lovely Sabbath evening when the conversation, just related, took place. The friends were walking in the garden attached to the school where they were placed, and as one and another passed them, they lowered their voices, and exchanged some of those mystical glances so offensive to good manners, and opposed to good breeding.

Whilst thus employed, Agnes was joined by her sister Sophy-a well-disposed and kind-hearted girl, about two years younger than herself. It is natural to suppose, that if the exclusive preference manifested by Agnes for Esther's society, proved disagreeable to her companions generally, it should be especially so to Sophy, whose affectionate disposition rendered her extremely susceptible of unkindness or neglect; above all from one who should have proved her best and dearest friend. Sophy was a girl of very ardent mind-easily excited, and easily diverted. She had been a good deal affected by the sermon she had that afternoon heard at the village church, and she felt grieved, and perhaps a little provoked, that Agnes did not participate in her feelings, or at all events sympathize with them.

The church itself was distinctly visible through the openings in the shady walk round the garden. It was at one of these spots she put her arm through her sister's, and pointing towards it, said, in a somewhat reproachful tone, "I really wonder how you can behave in this manner, Agnes, after the sermon we heard this afternoon; you forget that it is Sunday evening, and that you might employ yourself better than by talking scandal about your schoolfellows.

"Who said we were talking scandal?" enquired Agnes, colouring deeply.

"Oh, no one has spoken to me about you, though indeed it is no secret; for your looks and manner tell it plainly enough."

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