We have only room for one quotation. We have seen it before; but it deserves the widest circulation, not only for the beauty of the composition, but for the moral sentiment it conveys.

CHRIST, THE PURIFIER.

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY.

"The following story (I know not on what authority) is abroad in the religious world:-Some ladies in Dublin met together, from time to time, at each other's houses, to read the Scriptures and to make them the subject of profitable conversation; and when they came to the third chapter of the prophecy of Malachi, nad some discussion over the second and third verses, respecting the method of purifying the precious metals. As none of the company knew any thing about the process, one undertook to inquire of a silversmith, with whom she was acquainted, how it was effected, and particularly what was the business of the refiner himself during the operation. Without explaining her motive, she accordingly went to her friend, and asked him how his silver was cleaned from any dross with which it might have been mixed. He promptly explained to her the manner of doing this. But,' said the inquirer, do you sit, sir, at the work?" 'Yes,' he replied, for I must keep my eye steadily fixed on the furnace; since if the silver remains too long under the intense heat, it is sure to be damaged." She at once saw the beauty and propriety of the image employed: "He shall sit as a refiner of silver;" and the moral of the illustration was equally obvious. As the lady was returning with her information to her expecting companions, the silversmith called her back, and said that he had forgotten to mention one thing of importance, which

was, that he only knew the exact instant when the purifying process was complete, by then seeing his own countenance in it. Again the spiritual meaning shone forth through the beautiful veil of the letter. When God sees his own image in his people, the work of sanctification is complete. It may be added, that the metal continues in a state of agitation till all the impurities are thrown off, and then it becomes quite still,-a circumstance which heightens the exquisite analogy in this case; for, O how Sweet to lie passive in his hand, And know no will but his !'"

The subject was embodied in the following stanzas, at the urgent request of a friend, who, with her young family, was about to leave her native country, and settle in a distant part of the globe; but the writer's mind had received the first ineffaceable impression of the similitude and the inference in the year, 1832, from the lips of another dear friend, when she was nearly in her last agony, who meekly applied it to herself and her affliction, which had been long and excruciating, yet borne by her, as such pains can alone be borne, in God's presence and under his eye.

"HE SHALL SIT AS A REFINER AND PURIFIER OF SILVER." Mal. iii. 3.

"HE that from dross would win the precious ore,
Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye,
The subtle, searching process to explore,
Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by,
When, in the molten silver's virgin mass,
He meets his pictur'd face, as in a glass.
Thus, in God's presence, are his people tried:
Thrice happy they who to the end endure!
But who the fiery trial may abide?

Who from the crucible come forth so pure,

That He, whose eyes of flame look through the whole,
May see his image perfect in the soul?

Nor with an evanescent glimpse alone,

As in that mirror the refiner's face;

But stamp'd with heaven's wrought signet, there be shown
Immanuel's features, full of truth and grace;
And round that seal of love this motto be,-
'Not for a moment, but eternity.'"

"SYRIA" is a work of noble enterprise, and worthy of the age and country which alone could have called it into existence, is thus introduced to the world::-

"The publishers of this work are most anxious that nothing on their part should be wanting to render it worthy of the subjects they have undertaken to illustrate, and the consequent approbation of the public. Deeply impressed, not only by the interest but by the sanctity which is attached to every memorial of the HOLY LAND,-to its ancient and much-loved recollections, and to the prophesied contrasts of its existing condition, -they have secured the literary co-operation of a gentleman whose name carries with it the assurance that the task could not have been committed to talents more eminently fitted to do it justice; while, in the various departments of the fine arts, they have spared no efforts which liberality could suggest, to improve the effect of the written matter by pictorial representations of the highest class."

It is only by dwelling for hours upon these truly oriental scenes that, by a kind of magic, present themselves to the eye as we turn over the pages before us, that any adequate estimate can be formed of their surpassing excellence. Where all is so exquisite, it is difficult to select; and description by mere words can do nothing towards conveying any thing like an impression of what must be seen to be felt. To us the whole appears to be enchantment; and, spellbound, in vain we attempt to criticise. Why, the illustrations alone furnish at least a month's study; and an article to do them justice must be elaborated through many a page, and would be read with little interest. This is but the first series, others will follow, and we are assured by the prospectus that the forthcoming ones will increase in interest and beauty, their artist, now in Palestine, having lately taken a series of views, the subjects of which have never been touched on before.

Mr. Carne's fervid style and imaginative spirit are admirably adapted to sustain the splendid character of the pictorial representations. His competence to execute the task assigned to him, in a literary view, none will question; and of his other qualifications the following passage is sufficient evidence :

"Most of the places illustrated in this work had been visited by the writer previous to the Egyptian invasion, when the land was in a state of comparative quiet, very favourable to a successful progress. To the oriental traveller, the pleasures of memory are greater than those of hope; on his devious way clouds and darkness often gather; the feuds of the chiefs may suddenly forbid all approach to the favourite ruin or city, imprison him in some hamlet or desert, where he is alone with his baffled hope and despair. Perhaps disease or contagion overtake him where there is none to help. But when his warfare is over, and his objects attained, when his own hearth and rooftree receive him-then memory wakes to "sleep no more." In the murmur of his native wave he fancies he hears the distant rush of the Nile or the Euphrates; in the night-wind the blast of the desert again passes by; and, on the bleak moor, that "Rock of ages," that has been his shadow from the heat, again stands before him, desolate yet precious. These feelings may by some be deemed enthusiastic; but no man ever succeeded in an eastern journey, plucked its roses from its many thorns, and, in spite of fears and sorrows, went on rejoicing in his way who was not an enthusiast."

Why are not more gems from our early prose-writers scattered over the country by the periodicals? Great old books of the great old authors are not in every body's reach; and though it is better to know them thoroughly than to know them only here and there, yet it is a good work to give a little to those who have Beither time nor means to get more. Let every book-worm, when, in any fragrant, scarce old tome, he discovers a sentence, a story, an illustration that does his heart good, hasten to give it-COLERIDGE.

the social cravings of our nature; their compassion is too much dissipated by the multiplicity of its objects and the varieties of distress, to suffer it to flow long in one channel; while the sentiments of congratulation are still more slight and superficial. A transient tear of pity, or a smile of complacency equally transient, is all we can usually bestow on the scenes of happiness or of misery which we meet with in the paths of life. But man naturally seeks for a closer union, a more permanent conjunction of interest, a more intense reciprocation of feeling; he finds the want of one or more with whom he can intrust the secrets of his heart, and relieve himself by imparting the interior joys and sorrows with which every breast is fraught; he seeks, in short, another self, a kindred spirit, whose interest in his welfare bears some proportion to his own, with whom he may lessen his cares by sympathy, and multiply his pleasures by participation.-Robert Hall.

TEMPER. Of all qualities, a sweet temper is perhaps the one least cultivated in the lower ranks of life. The peculiar disposition is not watched; care is not taken to distinguish between the passionate child, the sulky, the obstinate, and the timid. The children of the poor are allowed a latitude of speech unknown among the higher orders; and they are free from the salutary restraint imposed by what is termed "company.' When in the enjoyment of full health and strength, the ungoverned temper of the poor is one of their most striking faults; while their resignation under affliction, whether mental or bodily, is the point, of all others, in which the rich might with advantage study to imitate them.-Tales of the Peerage and the Peasantry.

PEACE ON EARTH.-At the glad period of our Lord's nativity, there was peace in all the earth. The prevalence of public peace upon earth had ranked among the number of those interesting signs and tokens which were to accompany the coming of the long-expected Saviour to the scene of his ministry. When we read in the page of prophecy, of the myrtle and the fir-tree taking the place of the bramble and the thorn; when we hear of swords beat into pruning

MEN AND

MUSIC. An excellent clergyman, possessing much knowledge of human nature, instructed his large family of daughters in the theory and practice of music. They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable and happy. A friend inquired if there was any secret in his mode of education. He replied, "When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to them, 'Sing; and if I hear them speak against any person, I call them to sing to me; and so they have sung away all causes of discontent, and every disposition to scandal." Young voices around the domestic altar, breathing sacred music at the hour of morning and evening devotion, are a sweet and touching accompaniment.-Mrs. Sigourney.

REV. WILLIAM GILPIN.-The late Rev. William Gilpin, vicar of Boldre in the New Forest, was in the habit of devoting a part of his leisure time to drawing; and he published several of his sketches, which were well received by the public, as also a work on the beauties of forest scenery. His residence in the New Forest afforded him many opportunities of sketching the majestic oaks with which the forest abounded, till the late war demanded them to recruit our navy. With the profits of his drawings, and solely from them, he endowed a school in his parish, for the instruction of the children of poor labourers, which he lived to see completed; and the parish is now deriving very great advantages from his benevolence. There is a schoolhouse, with a permanent salary for a master.

OPIUM MANUFACTURE.-The greatest part of the

hooks and ploughshares, we are led to fix our attention on that state of outward peace in this world which was to form the commencement of the gospel age, and to denote the time of the Redeemer's manifestation among men. Accordingly, these predictions were fulfilled in a remarkable manner at the date of our Lord's birth, which may be regarded as the commencement of his kingdom upon earth. Thus the reign of Augustus Cæsar, after its first conflicts were decided, was accompanied by a season of profound and settled peace. The temple of Janus at Rome, which had been shut but twice since the foundation of the city, was at that time closed, in token of this public peace —Archdeacon Pott.

LONDON.-There is no tomb so vast as London, which swallows up the most illustrious names for ever; it has an omnivorus maw. The celebrity of a man in London blazes and vanishes away like a firework; there are a great noise, numberless invitations, endless flattery and exaggeration, for a few days, and then an eternal silence. Paoli and Dumourier, after having, at their first appearance, made a crash like thunder, excited, when they died, no more attention than a falling leaf. General Mina, when he landed at Portsmouth, was carried to his hotel in triumph, and deafened with applause for a month together at the theatre in London; he was more famous than the Nemean lion. What then? He fell very soon into oblivion, and the grave closed over his name. The English people are greedy of novelty: childish in this alone, it makes no great distinction between good and bad-they want only what is new. They pay for the magic lantern, and pay well; but they always want fresh figures. To feed this insatiable whale, that always pants with open jaws,

"And after meals is hungrier than before,"

toil incessantly journalists, engravers, historians, travellers, philosophers, lawyers, men of letters, poets, ministers with schemes for new enactments, the king with schemes for new palaces and buildings, and the liberals with schemes for parliamentary reform.Observations of an Italian Exile.

THINGS.

opium used in Europe is brought from Asia Minor. It was now just the opium harvest, and the people were all in the fields gathering it. I went in among them, and saw the process, which is very simple. When the flower falls off, the capsule or seed-vessel is formed; they go in the evening to the plantations, and, with a hooked knife, they make a circular incision round the capsule; from this there exudes a white milky juice, which, being exposed next day to the heat of the sun, concretes into a dark brown mass, which is the crude opium of our shops. On the next and several succeeding evenings, they come and scrape this off, as long as the plant continues to exude it. The opium sent to Europe is always adulterated: they boil down the poppy heads with other narcotic plants, and having inspissated the juice, wrap it up in poppy leaves, and send this impure mass in cakes for our use.-Walsh.

EPITAPH IN CAMBERWELL CHURCHYARD.-" Sacred to ye memy of James, son of James and Sarah Robertson, of this parish, chimney-sweeper, died 14th Sept. 1828; also Jane, dau. of the above, died Jan. 8th, 1834, both infants.

Their ashes and their little dust
Their Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise and break
Their long and dreary sleep."

The "dust" and the "ashes" of the small sweeps are as natural as poetical.

An author, by profession, had need narrowly to watch his pen, lest a line should escape it which by possibility may do mischief when he has been long dead and buried.”COWPER.

"We are a nation of readers :" literature, from a luxury, has become a necessary of life. It circulates through all classes. The press every hour teems with publications, which are devoured with avidity, especially among what may be called the people, as distinguished from the aristocracy. Yet is it a remarkable fact, that mere authorship leads to neither emolument nor fame. A few brilliant exceptions establish, but do not contradict, the general assertion. As the cause or the consequence of this, men who follow literature as their only pursuit have no fixed principles: thus many of them are ready to espouse any party, or any cause, in which they can enlist their mercenary services. But as they are, for the most part, sceptics and infidels when they appear, as they frequently do, on the side of religion, whatever church or sect they may defend, they soon discover either their profound ignorance of the truths of Christianity, or their total alienation from its genius and spirit. What pious divines! what mild and gentle Christians are those zealous advocates of the church militant! who edify, from day to day and from month to month, the admiring readers of the "Times" newspaper, the "Standard," the "John Bull," | and "Fraser's Magazine." Nor are some of the most popular and liberal Journals and Periodicals a whit superior to these in their strictly moral and religious tendency. In publications from which we might expect better things, we sometimes meet with passages as opposed to Christianity as they are to good taste, and which excite our unqualified disgust. This censure, of course, is not intended to fall where it is not deserved.

66

our

While it is too obvious to be denied that our periodical literature is essentially at variance with the truth, the purity, and the charity of what it nevertheless is in the habit of designating holy religion," we are sorry to be compelled to bring the same charge against some of the most able, and therefore the most influential, writers in every department, whether of science or letters. It was remarked, some thirty years ago, in one of the most eloquent productions that ever issued from the press, that "a considerable proportion of those who pursue literature as a profession, might justly be considered as the open or disguised abettors of atheism ;" and we know not whether, since that period, the generality of writers of this description have much improved. Something, it is true, has been effected in the way of counteraction. Infidelity assumes not, perhaps, quite so bold a front, or so high a tone as formerly. Backed, however, by the genius and talents of the writers of the preceding age, [No. 2. JAN. 11, 1837.-2d.] VOL. I.

among whom are ranked profound philosophers, subtle reasoners, splendid historians, and captivating poets, who still hold and charm the public mind, the writers of our own day feel their influence, and follow in their steps. Thus we have works of mathematical science, critical dissertations, systems of theology, voyages and travels, with a legion of airy and sentimental novels, which seem to be written, if not with the intention, yet with the certain effect, of bringing into general discredit the peculiar and characteristic principles of the gospel. Nor can any man whose opinions are not fixed, and whose religious character is unformed, rise from the perusal of these insidious and dangerous productions without imbibing a spirit or receiving an impression unfavourable to his eternal interests.

The most serious evils to society result from the debasement of learning, and the prostitution of genius. For when intellectual talent, combined with literary acquirements, takes the wrong side, multitudes are first allured and then destroyed. If a man of the highest order of mind misleads when he ought to instruct, he may do mischief as long as the world lasts; he is a nuisance to future ages, and lays a snare for those who are yet unborn. Genius is immortal : the bloom upon its countenance cannot fade: the music of its voice never falters, nor does it ever cease to charm. The sons of Genius seem destined by the God of nature to be the master spirits of the world; but great talents are too often united with little virtue-frequently they are in corrupt alliance with vice; thus some of the finest efforts of the human intellect are but the splendid memorials of depravity, and yet they live. The pen and the tablet of genius are like those which Job passionately desired, that he might transmit his faith in a Redeemer to generations; and when writers of this high character pollute their works with those corrupt sentiments, which are more injurious to society than the pestilence, they "poison a fountain that runs for ever." When Lord Byron's works were in the zenith of their popularity, an author, extensively acquainted with the world of letters, thus expresses his painful apprehensions of the results of so much impiety and licentiousness having been industriously circulated among the people. "I confess I look at the daily accumulation of our infidel literature, especially in the form of cheap and popular poetry, with a dread, something like what is felt by the traveller who, amid the mountains of Switzerland, beholds the slow moving glacier, from whose surface rise pyramidical crystallizations and precipices,-most wonderful forms of sublimity and beauty, invested with all the colours of the rainbow, and shining with dazzling splendour. He is overpowered with the greatness and majesty of the scene;

с

but, as he gazes, the mighty mass moves on, withering and destroying in its progress all the beauty of the spring, the verdure of the fields, and the habitations of every living thing." If we cannot sympathize in all the feelings which dictated this powerful passage, yet we can understand and appreciate the causes which produced such an impression on the mind of its author. Some there are, though we are not of the number, who ridicule the notion that poetry, whatever be its moral qualities, can inflict any very serious injury upon society; who maintain that it is to be regarded rather as a source of amusement than as a vehicle of principles. We admit that the immediate end of poetry, as indeed of all the fine arts, is to impart pleasure; and, as far as art alone is considered, the pleasure afforded is pure and innocent-it is that of taste; which is, perhaps, the most refined and delicate of our intellectual enjoyments. But who will contend that the arts, and especially poetry, have not an ultimate as well as an immediate end; that, because they impart pleasure, they cannot convey instruction?

Character is formed by a combination of thoughts and impressions acting together upon the heart in the form of principles. Whatever operates upon the mind with the greatest vividness and force, is a moral instrument of inconceivable value. Such an instrument is poetry, and it is mighty for evil as well as good. When of the highest order, its intellectual forms become living realities, and produce impressions which no time can efface :

-"A thing of beauty Is a joy for ever."

we

Poetry is most attractive at that period of life when we are most susceptible. It comes upon us in the morning of existence like another sense; a new world rises like a new star in the heavens; it is the world of imagination; gaze upon it with delight, and henceforth it becomes the star of our destiny. If its course be directed heavenwards, we pursue it; if it wander towards the regions where there is "blackness of darkness for ever," it entices us downward, and "our ambition is to sink." In other words, the thoughts and impressions which poetry conveys to our youth, become more or less the elements of our moral being, and unless a mightier counteracting energy interpose, they may decide our fate for ever. Hence it is impossible to measure the guilt implied in the publication of certain works which we forbear to name. That they are invested with the charms of poetry, and bear the impress of genius, only increases their power for mischief. In such pages, those who seek amusement may in the end, find despair.

It is high time to commence the great work of purification in every thing that regards the

future; nor are we to be hopeless even of the past; for, if we are true to the rising generation, and arm and sustain their minds with all that is wise and holy, those writers of former times, who now fascinate, will disgust; at least, the good they contain will be winnowed from the pernicious, like wheat from chaff. Little do men of powerful intellects and of high attainments imagine how much of evil it is in their power to repress-how much of happiness to impart. "Observe a man of talents," says a writer of some celebrity, "bowing to the sacred obligations of a religion, the essence of which consists in the purest love to God and man. He appears in the world clear as the sun,' and 'fair as the moon.' His sterling abilities are universally acknowledged; but they never appear so striking and excellent as when employed in defence of the gospel-in repelling the attacks of infidelity-in wiping off every foul reproach from the insulted character of Jesus of Nazareth, and his humble followers."

What

But we want writers of such a character in every department of letters; not directly to take up the defence of religion, but rather to guard its honour from assault, to repudiate every thing false in principle, and impure in sentiment. might eloquent historians and genuine poets accomplish for virtue, and truth, and religion, if they were to consecrate their genius to the wellbeing of mankind?

If Rollin had possessed Gibbon's superior talents, and Byron Milton's sublime devotion, how lofty, how permanent, would have been their fame! because it would have been the meed of usefulness, the voice of universal gratitude echoing from age to age till the end of time. Rollin is entitled to the reverence of all the friends of virtue and piety; Byron, alas! and all of his pernicious school, are worthy of their execration. Rollin is not like Gibbon-universally read; and the writer of "Paradise Lost," it is to be feared, in numberless instances, is compelled to give place to the blasphemous author of "Cain."

But

If our feeble voice could be heard in the lofty circle of mind where intellects of every capacity are engaged in the various pursuits to which they are impelled by their interests or their passions, we would call upon them to reflect on their moral responsibility. Their obligations to their fellow-men are just in proportion to their power of conferring benefits upon them; and they are accountable to almighty God for the abuse of those talents with which he has endowed them, and which he will require of them another day. We doubt not that there is more than one living writer that would willingly see the disastrous light extinguished which the early efforts of his genius cast around him, and which, like the seducing meteors of the swamp and the morass, have allured many to their destruction.

It has often occurred to us that the heaviest

weight of responsibility rests on that class of writers denominated" Reviewers." Our monthly and quarterly sheets of criticism, as they are for the most part written, belong to party rather than to mankind; and, instead of exhibiting Christian virtue in the meekness of wisdom, they breathe, too commonly, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Yet what important services are they capable of rendering to the cause of human happiness, as the vehicles of moral and religious instruction. Genius and science, taste and learning, are indeed the legitimate and immediate subjects of criticism.

But

the attention of Reviewers neither can nor ought to be restricted to these: they not only stand, as sentinels in the avenues of fame, to examine the pretensions of every candidate for immortality, and to interrupt the progress of stupidity, ignorance, and folly, but they ought also to be the guardians of morals and religion.

Infidelity, arrayed in the garb of genius, should be arrested in its course, and branded with the mark of reproach. The writer who, by innuendos or sophistry, would awaken suspicion of the truth of revelation in the minds of the ingenuous and uninformed; who, ostensibly aiming at a different object, takes occasion to maintain a secret warfare with the Saviour of the world, and his august train of apostles and evangelists, of confessors and martyrs; who, in the records of history, in narratives, in elementary treatises, dares to infuse a moral poison, destructive of the happiness and very existence of society, should have pointed against him the shock of critical vengeance, and the reviewer should blast, with intolerable infamy, the atrocious productions of his pen. Those authors who would pour the ordure of their libidinous imaginations upon the mind; who celebrate in poetry and in prose the demon of lewdness, as if it were the angel of love; who insult decency, and commit treason against virtue, should be denounced to mankind, and driven from the tribunals of literature as detestable offenders.

Other writers there are, whose productions contain the subtlety of the serpent, as well as his poison, and who steal upon the unsuspecting, wearing the garb of philosophy, and sometimes the imposing vesture of religion; but whose aim is to perplex, to confound, and to destroy all moral distinctions, to break down the ancient boundaries of virtue, to go beyond the ultimatum in metaphysics and moral science, which, from the limited nature of the human mind, and the disadvantages under which it must labour in the present state, no daring adventurer can pass, without plunging into boundless scepticism. Works of this description, as they are most specious, so they are peculiarly dangerous; and

the youthful inquirer should be warned against approaching the enchanted circle of their influence. It is the province of the Reviewer to detect the errors of such performances, to refute their sophistry, and to expose their tendency. Reviews would soon work a most salutary change in the moral character of our literature, if they were ably and powerfully conducted to that end. Men of genius would thus be compelled to feel that no works could pass without the stamp of infamy, but those which advocate the enduring interests of mankind. This would be restriction enough; for the very constitution of human nature, the unalterable laws of the mind of man, against which all rebellion is fruitless, render it impossible that we should be indifferent to applause or condemnation. We never can be wholly independent of the praise and blame of our fellow-men.

Besides the influence which reviews would thus acquire over the various writers in the different branches of science and literature, they might frequently give a prominence to religion and morals by defending truth; not merely by condemning the erroneous and dangerous tenets which came before them, but by entering into the argument, and boldly avowing and maintaining their own sentiments, exhibiting the fallacy and weakness of their opponents' reasoning, and showing that piety and virtue can be as ably supported as they have been ingeniously attacked. The public will listen to their reasons, when it will not always so readily bow to their decisions. Thus they not only repel an adversary, but gain a conquest-they vanquish an enemy, and take the spoil.

To accomplish this object we shall devote our pages, as journalists as well as critics, furnishing our quota with those few periodicals which are really intended to advance the cause of general knowledge, in strict alliance with the diffusion of religious principle. We do not despair of having able and efficient coadjutors. The period is arrived when something ought to be attempted. Why should the walks of literature be occupied chiefly by our enemies? Why should the dangerous association be formed in the public mind between irreligion and talents, weakness and piety? Alas, we have slept too long! Let men of talents and erudition take their several departments, and employ their pens under the solemn conviction that they are the apostles of knowledge, of religion, and of virtue, and let the patrons of our literature, that is, the great mass of the educated public, withhold their support from all works of a suspicious or openly injurious character, while they effectually promote the circulation of those which bear the impress of wisdom and truth.