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creatures are, nevertheless, useful; that they are unpleasant to look upon is nothing in the argument. Like the toad and some other animals, they are a species of scavengers, carrying off and putting out of sight what is unseemly and might become putrid. "A most laborious task" (we quote from the "Library of Entertaining Knowledge”) “is performed by an insect by no means uncommon in Britain, the burying-beetle, (necrophorus vespillo,) which may be easily recognised by its longish body, of a black colour, with two broad and irregular indented bands of yellowish brown. A foreign naturalist, M. Gleditsch, gives a very interesting account of its industry. He had often remarked that dead moles, when laid upon the ground, especially if upon loose earth, were almost sure to disappear in the course of two or three days, often of twelve hours. To ascertain the cause, he placed a mole upon one of the beds in his garden. It had vanished by the third morning; and, on digging where it had been laid, he found it buried to the depth of three inches, and under it four beetles, which seemed to have been the agents in this singular inhumation. Not perceiving anything particular in the mole, he buried it again; and on examining it at the end of six days, he found it swarming with maggots, apparently the issue of the beetles, which M. Gleditsch now naturally concluded had buried the carcase for the food of their future

young. To determine these points more clearly, he put four of these insects into a glass vessel, half-filled with earth, and properly secured, and, upon the surface of the earth, two frogs. In less than twelve hours one of the frogs was interred by two of the beetles the other two ran about the whole day, as if busied in measuring the dimensions of the remaining corpse, which on the third day was also found buried. He then introduced a dead linnet. A pair of the beetles were soon engaged upon the bird. They began their operations by pushing out the earth from under the body, so as to form a kind of cavity for its reception; and it was curious to see the efforts which the beetles made, by dragging at the feathers of the bird from below, to pull it into its grave. The male, having driven the female away, continued the work alone for five hours. He lifted up the bird, changed its place, turned it and arranged it in the grave, and from time to time came out of the hole, mounted upon it, and trod it under-foot, and then retired below, and pulled it down. At length, apparently wearied with his uninterrupted labour, it came forth, and leaned its head upon the earth beside the bird without the smallest motion, as if to rest itself, for a full hour, when it again crept under the earth. The next day, in the morning, the bird was an inch and a half under-ground, and the trench remained open the whole day, the corpse seeming as if laid

out upon a bier, surrounded with a rampart of mould. In the evening it had sunk half an inch lower, and in another day the work was completed, and the bird covered. M. Gleditsch continued to add other small dead animals, which were all sooner or later buried; and the result of his experiment was, that in fifty days four beetles had interred, in the very small space of earth allotted to them, twelve carcases, namely, four frogs, three small birds, two fishes, one mole, and two grasshoppers, besides the entrails of a fish, and two morsels of the lungs of an ox. In another experiment, a single beetle buried a mole forty times its own bulk and weight in two days."-Chambers's Journal.

THE DOG AND THE SHILLING.

THE following anecdote of a dog, is one of the most curious we have seen of its kind. -A gentleman of Suffolk, being on an excursion with his friend, and having a Newfoundland dog of the party, he soon became the subject of conversation; when the master, after a warm eulogium upon his perfections, assured his companion that he would, upon receiving the order, return and fetch any article he should leave behind, from any distance. To confirm this assertion, a marked shilling was put under a large square stone, by the side of the road, being first shown to the dog. The gentlemen then rode for three miles, when the dog received his signal from the master to return for the shilling he had seen put under the stone. The dog turned back, the gentlemen rode on, and reached home; but, to their surprise and disappointment, the hitherto faithful messenger did not return during the day. It afterwards appeared that he had gone to the place where the shilling was deposited, but the stone being too large for his strength to remove, he had staid howling at the place, till two horsemen, riding by, and attracted by his seeming distress, stopped to look at him, when one of them alighting, removed the stone, and seeing the shilling, put it into his pocket, not at the time conceiving it to be the object of the dog's search. The dog followed their horses for twenty miles, remained undisturbed in the room where they supped, followed the chambermaid into the bed-chamber, and secreted himself under one of the beds. The possessor of the shilling hung his trousers upon a nail by the bedside; but when the travellers were both asleep, the dog took them in his mouth, and, leaping out of the window, which was left open on account of the sultry heat, reached the house of his master at four o'clock in the morning, with the prize he had made free with; in the pocket of which was found a watch and money, that were returned on being advertised, when the whole mystery was mutually unravelled, to the admiration of all the parties.

THE CORNISH PRAYER-MEETING.

"What were it now to toss upon the waves,

The maddening waves, and know no succour near;
The howling of the storm alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves:
To gaze upon the horrors of the night,
And only see the billows' gleaming light!"

REVIVALS of religion have been of frequent occurrence in Cornwall, since the establishment of Methodism in that distant part of the country, by the venerable Wesley. Among the vast number of conversions which have taken place during the last half-century, how many instances might be selected, as illustrative of the mighty power of the Gospel, in arresting the sinner in his guilty and downward career! How many examples might be recorded, as exhibiting the efficacy of divine grace, in softening the hardest heart, and in pouring into the darkest and most benighted mind the light of heavenly truth! The following affecting case, which occurred many years since, will be read with interest. Some of the incidents were communicated to me by a friend, who was acquainted with the parties; and other particulars, embodied in the narrative, I gathered from various persons, during my residence in the county. Charles

and his wife Sarah, immediately after their marriage, retired to a decent cottage, situated in a straggling village near the sea-side, on the northern coast of Cornwall. Though brought up in a country so highly favoured by Divine Providence for Christian ordinances, and where the Gospel of Christ had made such rapid progress, they were utter strangers to true religion. Neither of them had ever attended a place of worship, nor had they ever bowed the knee at the altar of devotion. It is no wonder that they were ignorant of the rudiments of Christianity; for God was not in all their thoughts. It had been currently reported that Charles, in his youthful days, had been an intrepid smuggler, and that, by his illicit traffic in disposing of contraband goods, he had amassed a considerable amount of money. Sarah, previous to her marriage, had been in the service of a gentleman who was of deistical principles, which may partially account for her present unacquaintance with spiritual things. Thus, "having no hope, and without God in the world," this wretched couple continued for years to walk in the "ways of their heart, and in the light of their eyes," regardless of a future judgment.

Their cottage, which was situated on an elevated part of the village, commanded a magnificent view of the Atlantic, whose angry billows, in stormy weather, dashed furiously against the towering cliffs, and through the caverns of the rugged rocks, with a deafening sound. When the sea

was smooth, and the weather propitious, Charles, accompanied by his wife, would often take an aquatic excursion in his little boat. This practice, for the purpose of amusement, was more frequently adopted on the holy Sabbath.

In the autumn of 18-, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, when the sky was clear, and the bosom of the great deep unusually tranquil, he entered his little skiff, with buoyant spirits, and singing a profane ditty. The loveliness of the day, the beauty of the scenery along the coast, and the smoothness of the surface of the waters, induced him to row to a greater distance than he had previously intended. When several miles from

shore, the wind suddenly changed, the clouds began to gather, and some large drops of rain speedily descended, terminating at length in a violent shower. Presently, a vivid flash of lightning illuminated the gloomy atmosphere, almost blinding the eyes of the reckless Sabbath-breakers. This was instantly followed by a most terrific peal of thunder, which, for several seconds, appeared to stun their ears, and then died away in murmuring echoes among the distant rocks. The sea also began to swell, and a white foam crested the rising billows. "O, Charles!" shrieked Sarah, whose countenance was pale with fright, "what will become of us ?"

Keep your seat in the boat," replied her husband, "and I will take you safe to land." And as the waves continued, with increasing violence, to agitate the frail boat, she experienced all the horrors which the prospect of speedily perishing in the waters could inspire. A feeling of deep contrition, to which she had hitherto been a stranger, extorted from her stricken soul an earnest cry for mercy. Casting a despairing look on her husband, who was toiling at the oars, she wildly exclaimed, "It is impossible to reach land,-we shall surely perish,-and O, Charles! what will become of our wretched souls?"

"Hush! foolish woman!" was the only reply: "trust to my skill. I have encountered rougher seas than this."

Fortunately, the wind was favourable, and the tide flowing; so that after hard toiling, and long buffeting of the waves, they at length came safe to shore.

On passing through the village, with their garments thoroughly drenched with rain and the spray of the sea, they observed many of their neighbours flocking to the Methodist chapel. This sight, which had never before produced in her mind a desire to accompany them to the sanctuary, now created in the bosom of Sarah a feeling of self-condemnation; and she secretly resolved, if spared to see the next Sabbath, to attend, for the

first time in her life, a place of worship. The Holy Spirit continued to strive with her, deepening her convictions, during the week; and on the following Sunday she was seated in the house of God, listening with marked attention to the truths of the Gospel. Under the sermon, which was plain and evangelical, she wept much. At the close of the service, (as a great revival had already taken place in the village,) a prayer-meeting was announced to be held on the following evening, and to be succeeded by similar services during the week.

On her return home from the sanctuary, she found her husband in a morose temper; and he began, in the most indecent language, to stigmatize the Methodists as vagabonds, and their Ministers as the agents of the Prince of Darkness.

On the following evening, in opposition to the remonstrances of her husband, she attended the prayer-meeting. On witnessing her distress, the sympathies of the whole congregation were simultaneously awakened. Many prayed with her; but, apparently, in vain. It seemed as if the heavens were as brass to the petitions offered up. Her heart was broken under a consciousness of guilt; but she despaired of being healed. Her soul was overwhelmed with sorrow; but she refused to be comforted. In a state of the greatest mental disquietude, she returned to her comfortless habitation.

"And have you again dared to go to that synagogue of Satan?" was the language of her husband, as she entered the cottage. Then, raising his voice to the highest pitch, while his countenance assumed a most diabolical expression, betraying the malignant passions of his mind, he declared, with oaths and imprecations, that if ever she again ventured within the walls of that hated conventicle, he would hasten to the chapel, and drag her out by force in the presence of the saintly hypocrites! Undaunted by his threats, and preferring the salvation of her soul to her personal safety, she signified her intention to go on the following evening; declaring, with tears in her eyes, that live she could not in her present state. She accordingly went; and, immediately on entering the chapel, fell on her knees, and, with hands lifted towards

heaven, and eyes streaming with tears of genuine contrition, supplicated for pardon and reconciliation with God. Nor did she wrestle long without receiving the blessing. The eye of her faith was raised to Calvary. A sense of her utter helplessness strengthened her desires to cast herself at the foot of the cross; and, while pleading the merits of a bleeding Saviour, her soul was lightened of its load. Pardon was sealed upon her heart, and she was filled with peace and joy in believing. The beautiful doxology was immediately sung by the rejoicing assembly, and the glory of the Highest seemed to fill the place.

It was at this particular juncture that the husband of Sarah entered the chapel; rage depicted on his features, and fury burning in his soul. With rapid strides, he walked up the aisle, in search of his wife. The singing continued. The happy countenances around him arrested his attention; the heavenly smile which beamed upon the face of his wife at once disarmed his persecuting spirit; and the beautiful singing, which had never before regaled his ear, tended to soften his rebellious heart. The power of God seemed to arrest him; and, looking round, in dumb amazement, he sunk powerless to the ground, and was soon changed, from a bold persecutor, to a humble, self-condemned penitent. Feeling himself on the brink of destruction, without a beam of hope to illuminate the midnight darkness of his soul, his cries for mercy became loud and continued. For the space of two hours, he endured the agony of a troubled spirit. The prayers of the congregation were offered on his behalf; and when he at length rose from his knees, he was a "new creature."

But who can describe the sensations which pervaded the bosom of the delighted wife, when she beheld her husband, whose vengeance she had been apprehending, now rejoicing in the liberty of the sons of God? In the presence of the congregation, they cordially embraced each other. The scene was peculiarly affecting. Every heart was melted. The voice of prayer and of praise again resounded through the village sanctuary; and, shortly afterwards, the meeting was closed.

J. T. BARR.

MEMOIR OF MARTHA WARLEY. IT is delightful to have to record from time to time instances of the blessed results of Sabbath-school teaching. They have been of late too much undervalued. Certainly, the Sunday-school is not a seminary for secular learning; and, viewed in this light,

Sunday-school education is very imperfect. This is readily acknowledged. But it is an imperfection that was from the beginning intended to exist. By obtaining the ability to read, the attainment of all sorts of learning became possible to the scholar, if he had favourable opportunities, and diligently

availed himself of their existence. But the design of the Sunday-school is to impart religious and moral knowledge, and to place the scholars under religious and moral training. And in this respect, Sundayschool education is not so imperfect as many have represented it. It has not made the children learned scholars; though many have become so who, had they never been at a Sabbath-school, would have been ignorant all their days; but it has exerted a religious and moral influence of the very greatest value, both to the individuals and to society. It has kept back from crime. It has made good servants, good workmen, good members of civil, ay, and of religious, society. And in many an instance it has been the means of preparing youth for an early removal from the world, brightening the otherwise gloomy chamber of mortality, imparting patience in suffering, joy in sorrow, and a hope which rises above the shadows of the valley of death into the brightness and serenity of the borders of heaven. Sabbathschool Teachers, be humble, diligent, and faithful; and be encouraged too. God condescends to do a great work by your instrumentality. The following short narrativea brief tale, but a true one-will illustrate this.

Martha Warley was from her childhood a scholar in the Wesleyan Sabbath-school at Barrowford, in the Colne Circuit. Her diligence and proficiency were very pleasing to her Teachers. At an early period her mind was evidently under the influence of the impressions of divine truth and grace, and at one time she met in class. Unhappily she yielded to an unwatchful and trifling disposition; but her Teachers would not give her up. They affectionately admonished her, and continued to advise her for her good; and though they saw not for a time all the fruit they desired, they were thankful that she was to a great extent preserved from worldly evils, and that she retained her respect for religion, her love for its public services, and her attachment to the school. As she grew up, she first lost her mother, and, after a few years, her father also was removed. These bereavements, in connexion with the persevering efforts of her school-friends to secure her full restoration, at length awakened her earlier feelings: she acknowledged that she

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had been a backslider in heart, and not only sought re-admission to the society she had left, but prayed most earnestly that God would heal her backslidings, and restore to her the joy of His salvation. Her penitence was deep; but God heard her cry, and put into her mouth the new song of praise and glory to God. Thenceforward with seriousness and diligence she laboured to fulfil her course. It proved to be but a short one. About Christmas-time, 1845, an ignorant and thoughtless person came behind her as she was walking out, and, not being observed, suddenly alarmed her by shouting loudly in her ear. Her nervous system received a shock from this seemingly trivial circumstance from which she never recovered. She frequently suffered much from violent palpitation of the heart, and subsequently from enlargement and general disease there. the kind benevolence of several friends, she had the advantage of the best medical advice, and at one period hopes were entertained that her health would be restored. But these hopes were soon dissipated by symptoms of consumption, and she felt that the time of her departure was drawing nigh. He who had afflicted her, and was bringing her to the house appointed for all living, was very gracious to her in her sickness. As the outward man decayed, the inner man was renewed day by day. Her mind was stayed on God, and preserved in patience and quietness. She arranged her little affairs a short time before she died. She had collected a few small books, (seventeen,) which she wished to be distributed among the scholars as rewards. She also requested that when her funeral expenses had been paid, any little sum that might remain should be given to the funds of the school. She then calmly waited for the coming of the messenger to call her from suffering to eternal rest. Her peace was undisturbed; and though she was too weak for the more powerful feelings of triumphant joy, her hope was clear and lively, her trust in Christ firm and abiding. In this blessed frame she died, July 27th, 1846, in the twenty-sixth year of her age. Two pounds ten shillings were received by the school Treasurers, according to the directions which she had previously given. P. PRESCOTT.

THE CROSS IN CHEAPSIDE IN 1638.

VERY different is the Cheapside of the present day, with its full stream of passengers passing and repassing, from the Cheapside of two hundred and fifty, and even two hundred, years ago. Old Stowe, (he wrote

towards the close of the sixteenth century,) whose quaint and graphic style, combined with his truthful accuracy of description, gives such a romantic interest to his "Survey" of the "London" in which he was born, where he resided, died, and was buried,

and which he described from his own personal observation, has not left us unacquainted with this central portion of the great thoroughfare which, on the north of the river constituting the metropolis of England the port of the world, traverses the city from its eastern to its western extremity. Its chief ornament at present is Bow Church, the Church of St. Mary-le-Bow, or, with its Latin title, St. Mary de Arcubus. Anciently the court of appeal, called the Court of Arches, belonging to the Archbishop of Canterbury, was held in this church, from which, also, it took its name. Here, also, are the Bishops consecrated whom the several cathedral Chapters, by the permission, and at the direction, of the Sovereign, have elected. Bow bell is well known as constituting by its sound the area within which all who are born are entitled to the elegant appellation of "Cockneys." In 1469 the Common Council ordained that Bow bell should be rung nightly at nine o'clock. This should seem to have been the signal for leaving off work, or for supper, or for retiring to rest; for something, at all events, in which the "London 'prentices" took a great interest; for, at one time, the bell being rung usually somewhat late, a rhyme against the clerk was fixed on the churchdoor :

"Clarke of the Bow bell, with the yellow lockes,

For thy late ringing thy head shall have knocks." The clerk, wishful to avert the ire of his opponents, whose character he well knew, replied in the same way,

"Children of Cheape, hold you all still;

For you shall have the Bow bell rung at your will."

In the olden time, against the northern side of this church, stood a shed, darkening the windows, and projecting into the street, of which, in its whole length, it afforded a good view. This was erected by order of Edward the Third, that he and his Queen and courtiers might behold the "divers joustings that were made in this street." One of these began the 21st of September, 1331, and continued three days. "The stone pavement being covered with sand, that the horses might not slide when they strongly set their feet to the ground, the King held a tournament with the nobility, valiant men of the realm, and other some strange Knights." On certain nights in the year, the "great watches" of the city used to assemble here, making, for those days, a considerable show, with their lanterns and torches. A very different spectacle, by the way, from our modern policemen, in their sober attire, and with their business-look, marching in military order by daylight or by (the sometimes, in London fogs, clearer) gaslight to their respective posts. "In the year 1510, on St. John's even, at night, King Henry VIII. came to this place in the livery of a yeoman of the guard, with an halberd on his shoulder, and there beholding the watch, departed privily when the watch was done, and was not known to any but to whom it pleased him; but on St. Peter's night next following, he and the Queen came royally riding to the said place, and there with their nobles beheld the watch of the city, and returned in the morning."

At the west end of Poultry, (a little to the eastward of Bow Church,) Stowe says, "beginneth the large street of West Cheaping, a