child can be taught to conduct himself in a place of worship so as not to disturb the devotions of others, he should occasionally be permitted to attend with you; but this should always be granted as a favour, and spoken of as a gratification, till the child is old enough to understand that it is our duty to worship God in his own house on the Sabbath. While endeavouring to make the courts of the Lord a delight to your children, they must be made to feel that they stand on holy ground; that no lightness of look or frivolity of action is there to be allowed.

By the time a child can read, he will be easily interested in some of the devotional parts of the service, particularly in the singing, if you have accustomed him to sing at home. The reading of the holy Scriptures, too, will rivet his attention, and, by encouraging him to read the lessons on his return home, and by explaining them to him, you may make this part of public worship highly beneficial. The text which is made the subject of the sermon will also attract his notice, when he can find and read it in his Bible. He will by degrees listen to the prayers and the sermon, especially if you are in the habit of calling his attention to those parts which you think he can understand, and of talking to him about them afterwards.

Another means of inducing children to love the day and the house of the Lord is, to train them to love and respect the Ministers of his sanctuary. Parents are too often care

less and indifferent on this subject; and they speak of the conduct and abilities of their Pastor with as much freedom in the presence of their children as in their absence. If you speak only in his favour, and in a manner calculated to make your children love and reverence him, it is all well; but, alas! how different, how lamentably different, is the conduct even of some professedly religious parents! How freely will they criticise every word, and look, and action of the Minister of Christ, and hold up every little foible to ridicule or censure, in the presence of their children! And then they wonder that when they grow up they have so little love for religion, and so little respect for the Teachers of it! Ministers of the Gospel should be esteemed, not for themselves alone, but for "their work's sake," and your children should be accustomed to hear you speak of them with respect and affection. "Feed my lambs," was the last charge which the blessed Saviour gave to the repentant Peter; but how can Ministers feed the lambs of Christ's flock with either pleasure or profit, if you do not train your children to look upon them as their earthly shepherds?

You know that it is the respect and affection which your children feel towards you which cause them to pay so much attention to your counsel and reproofs: on this principle teach them to love and respect their spiritual guides, if you wish them to profit by their admonitions and remonstrances. -Mrs. Bakewell's Mother's Practical Guide.

REMARKABLE FACTS IN ENGLISH HISTORY.

ONE circumstance, of domestic interest in its origin, but of vast importance in its ultimate results, deserves to be recorded of this eventful period (1814). At Paris, during the stay of the allied Monarchs, there was Lord - who had filled, with acknowledged abilities, a high diplomatic situation at their head-quarters during the latter period of the war. His lady, of high rank, had joined him, to partake in the festivities of that brilliant period; and with her a young relative, equally distinguished by her beauty and talents, then appearing in all the freshness of opening youth. A frequent visiter at this period in Lord -'s family was a young officer, then an Aide-de-camp to the Grand Duke Constantine, a younger brother of an ancient and illustrious family in Germany, but who, like many other scions of nobility, had more blood in his veins than money in his pocket. The young Aide-decamp speedily was captivated with the Eng

lish lady; and when the Sovereigns were about to set out for England, whither Lord

was to accompany them, he bitterly lamented the scantiness of his finances, which prevented him following in the train of such attractions. Lord good-humouredly

told him he should always find a place at his table when he was not otherwise engaged, and that he would put him in the way of seeing all the world in the British metropolis, which he would probably never see to such advantage again. Such an offer, especially when seconded by such influences, proved irresistible, and the young German gladly followed them to London. He was there speedily introduced to, and, ere long, distinguished by, the Princess Charlotte, whose projected alliance with the Prince of Orange had recently before been broken off. Though the Princess remarked him, however, it was nothing more at that time than a passing regard; for her thoughts were then more seriously occupied by another. Having received, at the same time, what he deemed

some encouragement, the young soldier proposed to the Princess, and was refused; and subsequently went to Vienna during the sitting of Congress at that place, where his susceptible heart was speedily engrossed in another tender affair. Invincible obstacles, however, presented themselves to the realization of the Princess Charlotte's views, which had led to her first rejection of the gallant German: he received a friendly hint from London to make his attentions to the fair Austrian less remarkable. He returned to the English capital, again proposed to the English Princess, and was accepted. It was Prince Leopold, of Saxe-Coburg; and his subsequent destiny, and that of his family, exceeds all that romance has figured of the marvellous. He married the heiress of England. After her lamented end, he espoused a daughter of France. He was offered the throne of Greece; he accepted the crown of

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Belgium. In consequence of his elevation, one of his nephews has married the heiress of Portugal; another the Queen of England; and the accidental fancy of a young German officer for a beautiful English lady has, in its alternate results, given three kingdoms to his family, placed on one of his relatives the crown of the greatest empire that has existed in the world since the fall of Rome, and restored to England, in hazardous times, the inestimable blessing of a direct line of succession to the throne."*-Alison's History of Europe.

* It would be indelicate, during the life of some of the persons mentioned in the preceding curious narrative, to give their names to the public. Those acquainted with the elevated circles of English society at that period, will have no difficulty in filling them up; and the facts may be relied on, as the author had them from some of the parties immediately concerned.-Alison.

CONFLICT BETWEEN AN EAGLE

AND A BIRD-CATCHER.

ONE of the most striking spots on the coast of Clare is the cliffs of Moher, rising dark and frowning nine hundred and thirty feet above the ocean. In these the sea-eagle builds her nest. The cliffs are also frequented by sea-fowl, which are caught by the hardy peasantry in the usual way on bold shores,the fowlers suspended over the face of the rock, and carrying on their vocation in midair, when they reach a slender foot-hold in the vicinity of their prey. On these occasions they are sometimes attacked by the sea-eagles, and run fearful risks. The authoress of "Scenes on the Shores of the Atlantic," just published, has preserved the following story illustrative of this :

"The eagles are very ferocious and bold, and sometimes make desperate attacks upon the bird-catchers, flying at them as they descend the cliffs, with beak and claws, and directing their fury against the eyes of the intruders. To defend themselves against these formidable enemies, the men carry long knives; and a story is told of a desperate encounter that took place, some six or eight years ago, between a bird-catcher and one of these sea-eagles, which was wellnigh terminating fatally to the former.

"The man had been lowered from the top, and hung suspended from the overhanging precipice, when an eagle darted at him from out of a fissure in the rock, and commenced a furious attack. The bird-catcher drew his knife and defended himself; but his feathered

man.

assailant eluded for a long time every blow. At length, however, finding himself closely pressed, and maddened by repeated slight stabs of the knife, the enraged bird gathered up his powers for a last desperate dart at the The latter saw the impending danger; and, blind to everything but the necessity of a vigorous effort to parry the attack, raised his knife, and aimed a furious blow at the eagle. It took effect but too well: the stroke that freed the bird-catcher from his fierce antagonist, severed at the same moment almost in twain the rope to which he was attached, leaving the unfortunate man suspended by but a single thread or twist of the cable over the yawning abyss.

"In this dreadful extremity, there was nothing left him but to give the signal by which his companions overhead would understand that he wished to be drawn up. Most providentially, they perceived his awful predicament, and slowly, and with the utmost caution, commenced pulling in the rope. It was so slender, that there seemed scarcely a probability that the almost-severed thread could last until the wretched man reached the top; and with sickening suspense and dread, he felt the frail link that still bound him to life, and saved him from the horrible gulf below, stretch and crack beneath his weight. It required, too, the utmost skill and caution on the part of those overhead, to keep the fractured portion of the rope from chafing against the sharp knife-like edge of the projecting rocks: and between the agony of seeing the fragile thread gradually at

tenuate and become weaker and weaker from the continued pressure, and the necessity of drawing it very slowly, lest some unforeseen shock should cause it to snap suddenly, and hurl the victim into the abyss, the men on the cliff were in a state of scarcely less suspense than the object of their anxiety.

"At length the unfortunate bird-catcher neared the brow of the precipice: his companions redoubled their efforts, for the rope was every instant showing increased symptoms of giving way. It snapped just as he was within an inch of the top; but not before one of the men had seized a firm grasp of his clothes, by which he was enabled to drag him triumphantly over the brink. At the sight of their comrade in safety, the men, among whom a breathless silence had hitherto prevailed, raised a loud shout; but he heard it not. The awful situation in which he had been so long suspended was too much for the poor bird-catcher: he lay stretched on the grass, without sense or motion. For a long time, so profound was his insensibility, his companions thought he was dead: but he recovered at length, though he has never, it is said, completely gotten over the effects of that fearful hour."

FLOWERS ON THE ALPS.

THE flowers of the mountains, they must not be forgotten. It is worth a botanist's while to traverse all these high passes; nay, it is worth the while of a painter, or any one who delights to look upon graceful flowers, or lovely hues, to pay a visit to these little wild nymphs of Flora, at their homes in the mountains of St. Bernard. We are speaking, now, generally, of what may be seen throughout the whole of the route, from Montier, by the Little St. Bernard, to Aosta; and thence again to Martigny. There is no flower so small, so beautiful, so splendid in colour, but its equal may be met with in these sequestered places. The tenaciousness of flowers is not known; their hardihood is not sufficiently admired. Wherever there is a handful of earth, there also is a patch of wild flowers. If there be a crevice in the rock, sufficient to thrust in the edge of a knife, there will the winds carry a few grains of dust, and there straight upsprings a flower. In the lower parts of the Alps, they cover the earth with beauty. Thousands and tens of thousands, blue and yellow, and pink, and violet, and white, of every shade, and every form, are to be seen, vying with each other, and eclipsing everything besides. Midway they meet you again, sometimes fragrant, and always lovely ; and in the topmost places, where the larch, and the pine, and the rhododendron (the last living shrub) are no longer to be seen, where you are just about to tread upon the limit of perpetual snow, there still peep up and blos

som the" forget-me-not," the Alpine ranunculus, and the white and blue gentian, the last of which displays, even in this bleak air, a blue of such intense and splendid colour, as can scarcely be surpassed by the heavens themselves. It is impossible not to be affected at thus meeting with these unsheltered things, at the edge of eternal barrenness. They are the last gifts of beneficent, abundant nature. Thus far she has struggled and striven, vanquishing rocks and opposing elements, and sowing here a forest of larches, and there a wood of pines, a clump of rhododendrons, a patch of withered herbage, and, lastly, a bright blue flower. Like some mild conqueror, who carries gifts and civilization into a savage country, but is compelled to stop somewhere at last, she seems determined that her parting present shall also be the most beautiful. This is the limit of her sway. Here, where she has cast down these lovely landmarks, her empire ceases. Beyond rule the ice and the storm.-New Monthly Magazine.

HABITS OF THE FOX.

WHEN living in Ross-shire, I went one morning in July, before day-break, to endeavour to shoot a stag, which had been complained of very much by an adjoining farmer, as having done great damage to his crops. Just after it was daylight, I saw a large fox come very quietly along the edge of the plantation in which I was concealed; he looked with great care over the turf-wall into the field, and seemed to long very much to get hold of some hares that were feeding on it, but apparently knew that he had no chance of catching one by dint of running. After considering a short time, he seemed to have formed his plans; and having examined the different gaps in the wall by which the hares might be supposed to go in and out, he fixed upon the one that seemed the most frequented, and laid himself down close to it, in an attitude like a cat watching a mousehole. Cunning as he was, he was too intent on his own hunting to be aware that I was within twenty yards of him with a loaded rifle, and able to watch every movement he made. I was much amazed to see the fellow so completely outwitted, and kept my rifle ready to shoot him if he found me out and attempted to escape. In the mean time I watched all his plans. He first, with great silence and care, scraped a small hollow in the ground, throwing up the sand as a kind of screen between his hiding-place and the hares' track: every now and then, however, he stopped to listen, and sometimes to take a most cautious peep into the field; when he had done this, he laid himself down in a convenient posture for springing upon his

prey, and remained perfectly motionless, with the exception of an occasional reconnoitre of the feeding hares. When the sun began to rise, they came one by one from the field to the cover of the plantation. Three had already come in without passing by his ambush; one of them came within. twenty yards of him, but he made no movement beyond crouching still more flatly to the ground. Presently two came directly towards him. Though he did not venture to look up, I saw, by an involuntary motion of his ears, that those quick organs had already

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warned him of their approach. The two hares came through the gap together, and the fox springing with the quickness of lightning, caught one, and killed her immediately; he then lifted up his booty, and was carrying it off like a retriever, when my rifle-ball stopped his course by passing through his back-bone, and I went up and despatched him. seeing this, I never wondered again as to how a fox could make prey of animals much quicker than himself, and apparently quite as cunning.-Wild Sports and Natural History of the Highlands.

After

THE OLIVE-TREE.

TURNEFOOT mentions eighteen kinds of olives; but in the Scripture we only read of the cultivated and wild olive. The cultivated olive is of a moderate height, and thrives best in a sunny and warm soil. Its trunk is knotty; its bark is smooth, and of an ash-colour; its wood is solid, and yellowish; its leaves are oblong, and almost like those of the willow, of a dark green colour on the upper side, and a whitish below. In the month of June it puts forth white flowers, growing in bunches,

each of one piece, and widening towards the

top, and dividing into four parts. After this flower succeeds the fruit, which is oblong and plump: it is first green, then pale, and when quite ripe, becomes black. Within it is enclosed a hard stone, filled with oblong seeds. The wild olives are of a lesser kind. Canaan much abounded with olives. It seems almost every proprietor-Kings and subjects-had an olive-yard. The olivebranch was, from most ancient times, used as the symbol of reconciliation and peace.

LETTER FROM A QUAKERESS IN
AMERICA TO A WESLEYAN
IN ENGLAND.

Fort Lee, New-Jersey,
10th Month 27th, 1839.

THY very kind letter of July 18th, with the little trunk accompanying it, was safely received, my dear friend, and I cannot tell thee how greatly relieved I was when I found out what the latter contained; for the gentleman who carried it to the office left word that it contained jewels. Now as I had not worn a jewel for fourteen years, being fully persuaded at the time I first, as I humbly hope, was translated out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of God's dear Son, that I was divinely commanded to "put away my ornaments, that the Lord might know what to do with me;" I felt that I dared not accept of or wear jewellery of any kind, and I feared that the painful duty of returning to thee the memorials of thy kind regard would be forced upon me by the imperative duty of bearing my testimony against extravagance in dress. Indeed, my sister,

hadst thou and the few friends who united with thee in presenting me the salts and spoons known in what perfect simplicity my beloved husband and myself have felt it our duty to live, as professed followers of Him who had not where to lay his head on earth, I am sure you would have thought a much less costly present would have been far more appropriate. I must ever value them on account of the feeling which prompted their presentation as a free-will offering; and yet I cannot but feel that had they been less elegant I should have enjoyed placing them upon our table much more. Christianity is a system perfectly harmonious in all its parts; and the great and glorious Author of it, who said, "If any man will be my disciple, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me," set an example of perfect simplicity of living in all things, thus furnishing in his life a lucid commentary upon his commands. O when will Christians learn that this self-denial ought to be ex

hibited in dress, furniture, equipage, diet, and everything around them, so that upon all may be read the inscription of "Holiness to the Lord!"

The little time I can spare to write to thee may be far better employed than in awakening for me a tide of sympathy, dear sister, which can be so much better expended on the suffering and oppressed poor. The few little trials I was called to pass through, were but small dust of the balance, and real blessings in disguise. I have abundant cause to thank the Lord for all of them, and to be deeply humbled in view of the fact that I have improved so little by such an instructive course of discipline.

With regard to the Anti-Slavery cause in this country, a volume might be written, so important is its bearing upon every class of society, and so closely is the system of slavery connected with politics, manufactures, commerce, and religion here. I suppose that England can understand but little of the disadvantages we labour under in pleading the cause of the slave in the Free States, on account of the innumerable ties, commercial, political, religious, and social, which bind the north and south together.

We have lately been cheered by the deep sympathy manifested for the poor African captives who were brought into one of our ports a few weeks since, by a vessel of war, which captured the vessel on board of which they had been shipped as slaves from Havannah by some Spaniards, upon whom they had risen in rebellion; in which contest they succeeded in securing their liberty, but were so ignorant of navigation as to be incapable of steering for Africa, and were, consequently, captured by one of our vessels, brought into New-London, Connecticut, and imprisoned at Hartford, where they underwent one trial for murder and piracy: this not proving decisive, they were remanded to jail, and are to be tried again on the 22d of next month.

With feelings of esteem and best wishes, I remain thy friend, A. G. WELD.

MEMOIR OF MR. AND MRS.
GETHING,

OF BRERETON, IN THE COUNTY OF STAFFORD. THOMAS GETHING and his pious wife were natives of Broseley in Shropshire.

Thomas was a collier, but remarkable for strong sense, by which he was raised above the laborious part of his original employment, and became manager in several collieries. I became acquainted with this pious couple in the year 1813, when stationed in