l a: v. 'him. first road— \ ~ 2 0’! "'1‘ 3. Y. 1.1an UPON A SEA-GULL. Fl on, fly on, thou noble bird, hat band could aim thy life, IVhen you so proudly brave the storm, And gather pleasuresfiin the strife. Fl on, fly on, and boiildless roam . far, far o’er thine own lake and s it, Since their high waies thou mak’st thy homo, Since their fierce storms are bliss to thee. But stop, oh stop! I pray thee tell, (Ifauglit ofgood be in thy tale,) . What impulse makes thee kiss the swell, ‘ " And whv you won the rising gale—'V For oh 1 I feel, when fate doth bring Itslstorms upon life’s troubling sea, ’Two d be g-glorious, happy thing, > Mic but brave those storms like thee: Then prylthee tell, when storms o’ercast, Whe‘igoorts and hands heginJo fail, When es that first but blew a bls‘st, Have risen fast to blow a gale— Oh tell' us how, with hearts as light ‘ ' As seems thv wing, thy will, thy form, How we may live in such a night, How we may brave out such a storm. , When slander’s tongue its arts employ, To blight a virtuous honest name, When envy’s hand would smite the boy Who seeks to gain a living fatne— ‘ 0h tell them how such storms to brave, For much they need thy magic tale— Alréady are they on the wave, Already yield they to the gale. And when some poor and honest man Is struggling manful ’gaiusi his fate, Or when some youth has formed a plan (And hard's his task I) to rise, be great: Or when some tender heart's exposed To vile teinptation’s gilded form, Oh teach them how such gale’s opposed, And how to live out such a storm! Or should some noble, free-born hand For say or hope that free they’ll be‘,‘ Or should some despot’s iron hand E'er ’tempt to grasp or bind the free— Oh'pry’thee tell them then thy tale, How wide vou roam, how far you range, How on oppose the fiercest gale, “at you never, never change. A some to me that thould be sweet, \Vhen malice swells its hideous form, When all the perils deign to meet, Or envious critics raise a storm—- That 'twould be sweet to learn from thee, How unconcerned we then might sail, Or how to ride this troubled sea, And laugh at all the furious gale. ~ Moarcrn. Head ofLake Ontario, June, 1842. if ‘— LITERATURE. THE CHEMIST’S FIRST MURDER. ‘ (From Colbum's New Monthly.) BY LAMAN BLANCHARD, ESQ. s. picious by half: Begin, in plain, honest English, ‘ When I wasn chemist.’ ” “ It means the same thing,” he answered. “The people in Albania, you know, always commence their stories with ‘ When I was a thief.’ ” “So might some of us iii England, who belong to what Sydney Smith c‘alls ths~un- detected classes of society; but you never heard a lawver, when settled in his easy-chair, opening nnarrative of'the past With, ‘ When I used to ruin halftlie parish,’ nor do re- tired “members of parliament, referring to past periods of "lfigislation, preface their anecdotes ofpntriotism with, ‘ When Ipractised bribery through thick and thin?” “You speak,” re- turned thatchemist, sadly, “ ofpeoplc wiser than I am ; people who can very well bear their own rcproaches, so long as they can contrive to escape the world’s. But enough oftbis. When I was a pois—Well, then, when l was a chemist—” “That’s it—now go on.” . . . . “ At. that time London bad the Byron fever. But London contains many Londons, and they all had it with greater or less virulence. Thinking and thoughtless London—those who read much, and those who never read anything—the large-souled, the little-souled, and the no-souled—every one took the infection. It became quite the fashion, all ofa sudden, to feel. Iron nerves re- laxed, hearts of stone broke to pieces inwardly. There might be some who did not know what to think—yet these could, of course, talk; and there might be a few who, from long- ostoblished habits, fbund it quite impossible to get fast hold of s. feeling—still they could shed tears. Society became a sponge, soaking ‘up those briiiy showers of the muse, which be big rain came Young men wept until their shirt- iless and siturated; young ladies, only_descended faster and faster, “ and t ‘Bencing to the earth.” collars fell dowu‘stnrcl sitting on sofas, were floated out of the drawing-room win- dow into the centre of Grosveuot‘ square; and I verilv be- but. they were not yet in existence) . _ difliciilty in making their way into families, could have got into n needle‘s eye, they would have _ . For the ladies, however, ldo not answer positively—l can only vouch for the condition of my You might, have seen them with the lit, mind—not borrowed; with ; not an American broudsheet that had pi- py ofthe first edi— lieve that ifthosc cuntos‘( which found some little extracted a tear from it. youthful brethren. new voluine—bought—boug the volume itself ‘ rpted its precious contents; with a wet co ting; note smuggled, sneaking, cheating, French version With this volume of world-enc grasped, you might have seen them street, stopping every now and then, an as to peep at the mighty line within— jusg‘npd, until they. were breathless—then, curiosity for the passmnntc revelation, they W0l little further into the sea ofthou every dip. The sensation with Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child? constituted an epoch in their lives. It did in mine. third canto was my first rock a-head. bottle from another afterwards. All dr merged into a drug. physio, but 1 worshipp not aspire to write ver thusiastic, exalted, and intense ; it, to recite it silently, accom and mortar, was sufficient cos the pestle and moi-tar accom shop.” I regarded with a scorn that border of their bodies—l longed to read them a‘ favourite or two, prescrip. otk'r’nental medicine. Willi ' fly bark I'll swiftly go, startled tle in applicant for an ounce of the strengthening . and an involuntary application 0 the ever-recurrin , Is thy face like thy mother’s, my fair child? would elicit from the simple girl who came for hartsborn the explanation, swelled.” matter of course, total inattention to “business.” this fact, that I was possessc of one of those things calle cious genius—and it will “I know not how to begin the story,” said the chemist, sighing heavily, while a slight spasm passed over his sorrowful fiice; “ but when I used to poison people—” “I can’t accept that for a beginning,” said I, interrupting “Your conscience is over-nice, too sensitive and sus- hanting wonders tenderly hurrying along the (}l Just opening it so . I . tien hastcnin1r on a little Way, repeating the half-dozen “words that hfeathe” burning with ild glide down a gateway, or shelter themselves at a shop-door, to dive a ght, bringing up a pearl at which these young people That I nebver know one ugs ecame alike-— I hated Apollo in his connection with ad but) in his poetical divinity. I did se—my appreciation of it Was too en- —to read it, to understand panymg myself on the pestle tacy. By degrees, rather rapid, , . panimen‘t was omitted. I ah- Jured all practical superintendence of the affairs of “the passa e A sudden bui'stg_ _ that in general it was, “only mother’s is Disgust naturally came in time, and with it, as a Add to d, in the person ofan apprentice, d “ treasures”—in short d'preco- ' . _ ‘ readily be understood that a few mistakes in the mixmg of medicines would occur every '1 ' . now and then. “ Physicians’ prescriptions carefully prepar' ed,” inscribed in gold letters uppi-i purple glass, neatly framed, figured in the window; gird no doubt care was taken to prepare as many as might be presented; but the lad had Unhappily an experimental turn, and he was always for throwing perfumes upon Dr. Somehody’s violets. When he had no particular ground for guessmg how an improve— inent might be effected, he would hazard an alteration for the sake of change,just to keep his hand in; and the bottle to the extreme right, or the draWer to the extreme left, or the jar next to him, had an equal chance _in these cases of being resorted to. The effect 'as sometimes to heighten, to an alarming degree, some peculiar influence delicately iu- fuscd by the learned prescriber, and sometimes to neutrallse altogether the essential principle of the prescription. “Men have died from time to time,” says the poet, “and worms have eaten them-but not for love.” Can this be said of physio? At that time, however, I heard of no disaster. Men died doubtless, and worms (lined. This was perfectly natural. At the worst, if any mysterious cause obtruded it: self, and the death'ofa patient followed immediately upon his taking a new lease oflife from the verdict of a physician, there was always the convenient broken heart to fiill back tipon. Broken hearts were then as plenty as blackberrigs. “ And some,” says Manfred, pleasantly euiunerating the vari— ous disagreeables whereof people perisli— And some of withered or ofbrokcn hearts, For this last is a malady that slays More than are numbered in the lists of fate. We always used to set down any little inadverteuce to the inevitable malady, the broken heart. A wrong medicine, perhaps, produced a very embarrassing and equivocal turn in the disease,—which came after a little while to look like a totallydiflcrent complaint—and having an and appearance with it, it was clearly a case ofa broken heart. (The clie- mist groaned heavily, and appeared to labour under an at- tack ofconsciencc.) It Was all very well While the mischiefs that arose,citlier from my own deliberate neglect, or the ap-' prentice’s speculative genius, were uncertain and obscure-— so long as the body ofthe victim was not laid right against the shop-door. But alas! a case occurred one afternoon—- (The Speaker stopped at the very threshold ofhis confession, but after swallowing a glass of water, his faiutness vanished.) I was in the little apology for a parlour behind, reading the fourth Canto, when the treasure of an apprentice, quitting his place at the counter, came to consult me upon something ’ doubtful, either of quality or ingredient, in a prescription, just: presented for preparation. 1 was in the heart ofan enchanting, a soul-enchanting stanza. 1 had got to the lines: Though I be ashes, a far hour shall wreak The deep prophetic fulncss ofthis verse— when in he broke with an impertinent, an intolerable in- quiry. I answered in the flush of my excitement, any thing ——I named an ingredient or two for the compound offhand, and bid him vanisb—-resuming the passage, and completing the stanza—- ' And pile on human heads the mountain of my'curse. .; All medicines, however mixed, seemed weak to that idea. Prussic acid could not, so it appeared to me, have kept pads with such poetry. Its effect upon my mind as] iead was, to make the most dangerous and deadly poisons appear con- teinptible, and not worth the care and trouble of'weigliing them out in mere half ounces! But suddenly, after a little time, an idea stole darkly across my mind, of drugs com- pounded, and pills delivered : of an intrusion on the part of the young genius of the shop, an order given by myselfin articulate and peremptory words, and medicines consequent- ly mixed up! But what'a medicine was amongst them— aud what a quantity! Oh, no ; the thought was a frightful one to be sure; but it was only momentary! A horrible suspicion, an agonizing fear, an appalling flash—but it was too acute, too withering to last, and it was over. I sought again the fascinating spell of the pocm—“ And 1 have loved thee, ocean l”—-"0li! Rome, my country l” “There Was a sound ofi'evelry by night.” How! the spell failingL sage after passage, that had never failed me before l.’ it was in vain to attempt to read—in vain to affect tb stracted, meditative mood. The dark, strong, subtle that would thrust itselfiuto my brain, and hold down every idea that struggled to asoend to that “more removed ground.” A sudden dash into the opposite extreme is sometimes ef- fective in these cases; so I got up, walked about, and \vhis- tled considerably out of tune. But a horrid idea took a tighter and more burning bold, and seemed to twist itself round my brain like a redhot wire, as ifit would never loosen again on the cool side of madness! I ceased Whistling and. walking about, flung myself into a chair, seized the magic volume, and opened it at the irresistible page— “ ls thy face like tliy mother’s ? Mine, as I glanced at the little glass opposite, was like a maniac’s. The likeness ofthe dreadful thought was there —the form ofthe scowling and distorted suspicion was over it—tind it seemed to have remoulded all my features, and my very eyes could not recognise their own reflection in the mirror. ldashed down the book—that broken Wand ofthe enchanter—and rushed forward to learn the worst ;—which was precisely whatldid learn! (Here the chemist swal- lowed another glass of water, and applied his handkerchief to his-forehead.) The customer was gone ; so was the pre- scription; so were the pills. I elicited from my treasure of a lad a verbatim report ofthe instructions 1 had given, the medicine Iliad named, the quantity ordered; and I stood with the feeling ofone impaled,just for a minute longer, to learn distinctly from his lips the deplorable but indubitable fact, that he had scrupulously and religiously observed my dia- bolical instructions. It was enough. By the force of mv sensations, which I had hitherto struggled to suppress, ll seemed to be literally shot out ofthe shop; and in thirty seconds was a considerable distance from the house, flying up the crowded thoroughfare insensible of impediments, and yet finding leisure to scrutinise every passenger’s face, . utterly unconscious that I had never beheld the features of - the_luckless being whom I sought. Then back again Idart- ed in the opposite direction, seeking the unknown, as ifit were my own soul that had slipped from me, and inwardly offering as lWent worlds per minute for the lost man. All this time I was equally unmindful ofthe circumstance that he had been gonei an hour east west nortli,'or south—I knew not—any more than llshould han known his visage had 1 beheld it before me. Frantic still, but breatllless'nlld exhausted, l returned. The tale was re- peated word for Word—various bottles, their labels and con— tents, were anxiously inspected again and again; as though stranger had most certainly gone away, bearing with him a box of pills, whereof, by a most pitiless direction inscribed upon the .lid, he was to take two daily. “Heaven!” 1 ex- claimed, “be merciful to the doomed one—he has but eight and forty hours to live! Four of those pills would carry destruction, certain as a gun—shot, to the heart of an empe- ror,‘ or the pulses ofu serfi beretic could escape.” “That’s as sure as death,” remarked my young treasure. And as I turned to look upon the speak- er, I thought I saw in his eyes the gloomy light of the. con- demned cell, and his voice had a harsh and grating sodnd, . , _ , . ed on d' a like the o ' t tl -’ c ' . the people who waited it, With prescriptions testifyilffgusti; peumg 0 le debml s dam at the Old Bailey. their miserable and infinitely vulgar concern for the welfare That night I wandered about the park shunning everybody yet peering as far as-my fears allowed me into every face, expecting to see “ poison” written there. What happinessi past expressmn to have encountered the strnn tier—now now before bedtime! What an unspeakable relief to conscience, t to be able to trace him out, to warn him ofbis peril, and ,. avert his else ineVitable fate! But this was hopeless! My thoughts raiigedpver all the consequences—the speedy death —the searching inquiry—the prompt detection. 1 well knew to be sure, all the time, that the world is amazingly indul: , gent and charitable on all these occasions—1 was aware that the pubhc verdict universally agreed to in these cases Ol mistake, is, that nobody on earth is to blame and that the indiyidual Whose inadvertence prevedfatal is’a person Well known and greatly esteemed for his peculiiir carefulness. l weesconscwus that the chemist, so tin- from being deemed culpable, Would most likely obtain, through the medium ol the shocking occurrence, a. character for caution that he Pct. " siveiiess—“You prepared the discovery of there were some remote possibility of a latent chance of mistake. There could be uone-—-there was none. The. Neither Turk, Jew, infidel nor - cla- never possessed before._ But this to me afl'ordfeldenmfi,::ensand tion no hope of a reSpite' from the pangs 0 pl”) ’ ~- ' fliorses and them 1 8 the sentence ofthe law. The Ildnlp'O r a of fetters. of wheels iii the distance, sounded like the ratt in: d ' ' - - - f the moon looke no [he night giew dark, the rays 0 rd “en th as a brighter than the grating ofa .dungeon; an a . gel; ap- snhle cloud hung over the white yapour round it, . ’ u )on peared to my affi-ighted eyes the iinagc of a black gigging to the wig ofiustice. Next day, Igatnercd courage t afasuch take an eminent physicmn’s opinion .as to the e co S V t ' a medicine—two pills at a time until, the box was eiiiaply); Hisjudgment was clear and final. The patient can _ bed live to take a tithe of them. 1 went to another (llStll‘tgillSd' authority with my suppositious caSe—he was equalyd tinct and undoubting. Four pfthem would have cairic d. Methuselah in the prime of life! Ireturned home—to in- ner. Dinner !—‘—Thc cloth resembled a large weeklyanfiifilse- paper, with wood engravmgs, faithfully l'epiesefz‘ntini,” At culprit as he appeared at the bar on the day or don- uight I slept, indeed; but apii'y oftwelye well- e on b _ ers were sitting on my stomach, determined not to retireh 8‘ cause they were agreed upon their verdict. Lvery_ (In?! after the second day, I expected to hear of the IIIFV’IIZ? e calamitv. l pictured the sufferer dying—l pictuied in) dead. ‘Theii Irecalled him to life, by that stomach—pump process by which the imagination in. its extremity worksi and felt that he might possibly surVive through the tlipr‘ day. But at length lknewhe must be dead——and now at the revelation. ‘Vas he a. son—a father? His relations would never permit him to perish so, Without an inquiry. \Vas he l’l'lill‘l‘led—W’Ollld his wife be taken up on suspicion of having,r poisoned him? Was he a reSIdent any wnere 13 the neighbourhood—and should. I myself be summohe upon the inquest? Every question had its separate sting. Often thousand daily speculations, each inflicted its ex— cruciating torture. But days rolled on—-sum‘ise, noon, sun- set, night—all regularly came round-gud brought no dis- covcrv. Not a “shocking occurrence, not a “ horrgble event,” was to be found in thejournnls, morning or evening. It amicared,just at that time, as though the wheels of the World were rolling round without; running over any body. In the vast crowd of society, not a toe was trodden on. hi- ther the reporters were dead, or “fatal accidents” had gone quite out of Fashion. It is true, that no stranger, duringr a Whole fortnight, set his foot within the shop Without throw- ing me into an argue-fit. It is true that, throughout the same period, my eye never fell upon man or Woman clad in mourn- ing, without turning to a ball offire in my head, with the consciousness that it beheld one of the bereaved arid injured relatives ofmy innocent victim. Still no sign of detection came; and although my bitter self-reproaclies continued, my horror of the latter began considerably to abate, _ When [Here the chemist once more paused, and-raising, not a glass, but a tankard oficed water to his lips, his disturbed countenance totally disappeared for a few minutes] One afte‘i'uoon as l was standing in a more tranquil mood at the farther end ofthe shop, gazing at the chimneys of the opposite house, and inwardly murmuring, "' ls thy face like .3" I proceeded no further with the apostrophe, for at that in- stant my treasure of an apprentice flew to my Side, crushed one ofmy toes under his thick shoe, and compressed his whole volume of voice into a soul-awakening whisper, as be said, “This is him!” Him! I immediately looked at the object so ungrammatically indicated. There stood before me a tall, gaunt, sallow-visaged man of forty-five. His eyes were dull, and his jaws Were thin. He looked like one who' had suffered, whether abroad or at home, much sickness— bad exposed an iron frame to severe trials in strong and searching remedies—had borne their effect' well, and lived on in hope ofa cure. There he stood—who was be? The treasure, in whose eye there was a ray of satisfaction, darted a significant glance at me, which seemed again to say, “This is him,” as he bent forward a little, overrthe counter, to as- certain the customer’s wishes. “ Young man,” said the strangerv-his lips were quite dry. and his voice very hollow ‘fYottng man, observe me l” Here he looked intently in- to the treasure’s'fzic'e, and continued with peculiar impres— ine some pills lately—l see you have not forgotten—some pills, I say—look, here is the pre- scription! Ah, you recognise it. Yes, it was you indeed who served me. Pray. mind then what I say. Let me have another box ofthose pills; exactly, mind, exactly, like the last; for never did I procure pills any where that did me half so much good l” “Your story is interesting,” said I, encmiragingly. “1 am nopulge of that,” returned the chemist with a sigh ; “ but it is true.” THE MILLIONAIRE AND HIS DAUGHTER. (From the London Monthly Magazine.) ’ The daughter ofthe millionaire has been well educated in every sense ofthe word, but not over-accomplished, so as to destroy the natural feiiiiuiueness ofhercharacter. She is graceful and lovely. Display has not been the object ofher tuition, and she has all the simplicity of the humblest born, with the grace and delicacy of the highest. She loves her father as she does the air she breathes, or her own life: and his equable and well poised nature has not once ruffled the current ofthis natural course of her affections. Her mother, nony born, and a lady in her own right, fell a victim to the disease ofthe delicate, consumption; but left no appearance of it in her lovely daughter, beyond a tendency to too keen a sensibility. The. millionaire loves her deeply, strongly, and with that close, silent constancy, that, “like the Propontic and the Hellespont, knows no retiring ebb, but keeps due on.” All the energies of his cold and calculating disposition are warmed by this affection into a strong feeling, greater than perhaps he himself imagines. He admires her elegance, is proud.of her quiet, unpretendiug talents, and relaxes his cautious heart to her genial filial affection. He has ambi- tious hopes for her, but great consideration for her happiness. He attempts not to coutroul, scarcely to guide her; in this, asm all other important matters, he is naturally too clever a man to endeavour to mould all events as he desires, but leaves Circumstances to develop themselves, and then be shapes them. Yet the wisest are misled, and the keenest sometimes slumber. Wrapped his whole lifetime in exag- gerated notions ofthe power and influence of wealth; im- pressed Witb an exorbitant idea ofits importance; he thinks it a natural and inevitable principle, and one that every rea- sonable being must acknowledge, that the gulf between the wealthy and the poor is impassable. He has divided human nature Spud certainly nothing can differ more)simply into those w 0 have wealth and those who have not. This ap— pears a clear, tangible, indisputable distinction, that common sense must acknowledge. This is no fanciful division ofthe metaphyswian or the herald. This is no subtlety ofthe po- litician, or quibble of the lawyer; but a plain visible matter of fact, and, like the daylight. can only be denied by the in- saneu Enwrapped in this belief; he admits a third cousin, a penmless collegian, who writes Tennysonian poetry, and meditates a new edition of Plato, into his house, until he can Pi‘oVide for him in a business or profession. The young Blatomst is very delicate and high-minded, but very sensi- tive and impassioned. He is, of course, profoundly and ir- revocably in love with his fair cousin on the second day ; has numerous struggles and contentions, which he might conquer, but his simple lady cousin busies herselfto reliéve his apparent uneasiness; talks with him, rides with him, and at last studies Plato with him. They are soon wiled into the eddying circles ofthe enchanting science of the unition ofkindred souls, which must, when both are under tweutv lead irrevocably to the utiition of kindred lips. Not that this, consummation, so devoutly to be avmded, takes place hastily or coarsely with a Tenuysonian versifier or a millionaire’s daughter. \Vhen it does occur, the film drops from their mental eyes, and they see a gulph before them, which re- quires a rash leap or a quick retreat. They are detected on the brink, and the millionaire finds that he, too, has been slumbei-ing. A distantappointmentiu the sultry east, or the more noxious West, is proposed. He reveals not to his daughter or poor cousm by the slightest word or deed his knowledge of the facts. He knows he is safe from disus- trous consequences in the purity and delicacy of both their 'filling sweetly, but gravely, the dune minds, and he, therefore, pursueghfi the course of circumsta'ness. ‘, Hg: exertion in one 2.,who has to , counsels promptitude and. I portunities; but all, in n diam - g nothing grossly. Has no vehemenu» lving with indestructible conth ,, , de power to prevent a coming "I, action of existence. 'Alld he white. nysonian, delicate by iiaturc,,wnon‘ght after “thoughts beyond the reaches a by the intensity ofbis new passion, . principle and feelings, smks under 3,, all night with the Window openucm and seeking to interpret their vastaodt symbol of the uiidehuable and .w “ .,. own mysterious beino‘. The young _ borne to the ,dark portal which leads immensity that was the ever-com“, but phosphoric speculations. The at“ hysterics; has no Violence or vehemei. a time most terribly statue-like—pale _, Deep and anxious are the watchingso at last is restless; he who never yet » emotion, except that be once was ob to fish twice, when some one he was i” reported that a Spanish patriot had 7 the council-board. He now is heard pa and his tone is almost quei‘iilous Wham daughter has passed the night. But a mighty, and she revives only-to love, he; ever. She never knows passton more, ,,-. lionaire desires. She will wed in accor . A coronetted curricle is now seen fr and a slight, thin young mam-with on effective figure, profl'ers, and IS accepted; sou ofa marquis; has no talents, no pa and. consequently, little ambition or . human butterfly, and lives in‘ the sunsfi harmed and unharmiugly. Hasaswee nature. His vanity is pleased at elite" and a fine woman, and a little dash and, is the result. He is very proud of his. limit to the inuendos of his extraord' ’ played in a parental capacity. Life g. slowly, quietly, and she knows no varia she had once been stunned, and that itl dizziness of soul ; this settles into hu‘ millionaire now thinks all is as be it . son-in-law succeeds to the Earldom, hibits great political talents, and be yet. . him chancellor of the exchequer;rbu ' plaisatit—lie always comes when his tirulai‘ly desirable—and, in this inst: . vent this the fondest, and, as he said 1 millionaire, who is conveyed to his f only honours that his wealth can now, daughter—his gentle, silent daughterw She died for love of'that father who h k of her existence at tnonotonous succe strange as it may seem, and romanti was the case. She had never been acc her father’s conduct, and, therefore, , faultless. She had loved, intensely, abet channel of her sympathies dried up, she love of her father. Her husband she» hath: duty, as it was called, had induced her: The children, even, that had sprung from never caused in her that intense affecti mutual passion in the parents. They had rated from her, and she had been regar no energy; nor, in truth, had she any, f been struck when her cousin was separate father had absorbed all her young 'afl'ectioi severed every tie on earth. The millioL followed her father to the vault, a v' ‘ " " u offwealth, and the ignora t, constitute fimfii”coiiiniaiid bu ‘ PULPIT ADDRESSES.-—B€f0|‘e l and that with all the solemuity tb nitiou of mine, against rendering to be pointed and levelled at part w gi‘egation. This species ofuddress ty for whom it is intended, confusntt, but not with their proper fr its of - Instead ofwhich, these sensations wt, _ bitter resentment against the preacher“ nate and determined opposition to h “are pute your officiousness to pe'rsonalenmt y to the pleasure of triumphing over an ad terruptiou or reply, to insult assumi to any motive rather than a console amendment and salvation of your flock. himself seldom profits by adiiiouitions - , so are they equally useless, or perhapBJW. ofthe assembly; for the moment th ‘ to whom the chastisement is (lit: . 1 they cease to apply any part ofit. to the, not edified, they are not affected; onthfi diverted by descriptions of which they 33 by iuvectives of which they think thach : Some who would feel strongly the impm“ evident personalities, may yet hope to h_ 'covert and oblique allusions. Now, oft when conducted with the greatest skill, II, that the allusions must either be percciv be not perceived, they tiiil of the offs-c, , iftliey be,they are open to the objections conscious, in the compositiourofour disc, . particular characters in our congi‘eggtloli“ ought to take for granted that Oltl'VleVY' , Those applications, therefore, which, ll t, i would produce more bad einoiious than ter to diseard entirely from our sermonsii .» better to lay aside the design altogethpfi tun" disguise it by a management which is $6 and which il'not seen through, defeats “5 Pl!" scurity. The crimes, then, ofirtdividualall’i opportunities ofprivote and seasonable ex., _ ‘ is the clergyman who has the faculty 0100 vice and remonstrance with persuasiol’I virtue to seize and improve every proper o it; but in the pulpit, let private charactet‘S . adverted to, than as they fall in with the 69 ,. v and duties which our discourses must 319.09 and which, whilst they avoid personalities: “- close or circumstantial. For the same 1‘ , personal allusions reprehensible, I sbofllfil even the remotest, reference to party 0|' Poll ‘ and disputes. These are at all times unl‘lifll of discussion in the pulpit, but ofhints on Christian preacher has no other province",t . gion and morality. He is seldom led 091 nourable motives, and, 1 think, never Width —Paley’s Works, 1). 842. .. NATURE.—“ All nature,” says Sghlegeh' , de Vie, “is to human eyes a pyramid covered phics, of which few are intelligible to It! wanting, and because we ask Nature f0? l. ing to God that he would unfold‘to us them ofhis works.” A, HiN'r.—A young lady once told a g , silver thimble was nearly worn out,_w , reward she ought to receive for her industry‘- man, in answer, sent her a new thiinble the, ing, accompanied by these lines :— , “I send a thimble, for fingers nimblerh' \Vhich I hope will fit when YD“ "yr ’Twill last very long, if but lialfas; As the hint you gave me to buy (JuaniIo'rTETdWiv :‘ published by C at their Oflice. East corner of Pownal and ' 15s. per «imam, payable half yearly in 41”" more explicit and uudisscmbledattacks.~ '. ., “l N i this oflgis or w: {y pub Island: , said 78‘ for We zaine ing the Acres l . chips 3 i gach t1 ; ‘eLoli 0‘ ; ~aoynli metich at .,,,.d W giglil-P var Lot ' Prince “ch til "10:: g L cry-l 50 , ei Linld i the sol Lands ypayubl my lltll first ol ' ary Lands charge ,_,_. V BE ‘ 31“ _ consist Bonne lin Dn Satin, :Olnllr Drills, ' Hose; ALSl ' .co, Ha " Whole - terms, No. :T‘l . ll'urra N. 1 “ring .iidvun Mn INt’lu occlip. feel as recciv : 95 ' Side-l ' Cant» T‘ l lll’lvln, ‘ fi'l'llll) cluirgr him ii. which Establ Che \