is a dereliction from duty, which must be followed by most fatal and distressing con

sequences.

"In no relation does woman exercise so deep an influence, both immediately and prospectively, as in that of the infant mind. Upon her devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline which is to form, of a being perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless ruler of animated creation, and the devout adorer of its great Creator. Her smiles call into exercise the first affections that spring up in our heart. She cherishes and expands the earliest germs of our intellects. She breathes over us her deepest devotions. She lifts our little hands, and teaches our little tongues to lisp in prayer. She watches over

us, like a guardian angel, and protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares and her anxieties on our account. She follows us into the world of men, and lives in us; and blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon the earth. What constitutes the centre of every home, whither our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts sink with disappointment? And if there be a tribunal, where the sins and follies of a froward child may hope for pardon and forgiveness this side heaven, that tribunal is the heart of a fond and devoted mother."

The education of a child commences the moment it can discern the difference between a smile and a frown. It is then a matter of the utmost consequence that nothing should be presented to its notice which can have the remotest tendency to vitiate its taste, or to engender habits which may require much pains and labour in after-years to eradicate. The great effort should be, to inspire the young with a sense of love and admiration for all that is good, grand, and beautiful. We have an innate sense of religion, coupled with a feeling consciousness of dependence; and this, if rightly directed, will become productive of the happiest results. God should always be presented to the minds of children as a Being of love; and they should be ever

taught to consider his power as exerted for their benefit. And even when he is spoken of as displeased with the sins of his creatures, care should be taken to represent him as a grieved Father, and never as a vindictive Judge. Every blessing should be shown to come from his bounty, everything lovely and beautiful as the work of his hands, and all his acts of judgment as only the result of a fatherly exertion to bring back his wandering children to the ways of truth, justice, and virtue, as the only sources of true and permanent enjoyment. It is astonishing how soon these impressions can be made upon the infant heart. And this is the mother's especial province. One thing which should be carefully attended to is the absence of everything calculated to excite the passion of fear. Tales of apparitions, haunted chambers, and such like things, are often resorted to, to induce children to do that to which they manifest an aversion. This is so manifestly wrong, that it should never be permitted. But, on the other hand, we would by no means have all ideas of supernatural agency excluded from the minds of children: this would be an error equally fatal with the other. We are told by the Apostle, that Christians" are come to an innumerable company of angels, and to the spirits of just men made perfect ;" and he further informs us, that the ancient worthies are a cloud of witnesses," and that the angels of God are "all ministering spirits." Let, then, the pious mother fail not to teach her child that he is a being surrounded not only by the children of dust; but that he is encircled by, and is the associate of, happy spirits, who have run the race of virtue and of holiness, and who are assiduously employed in watching over him, though unseen, and in elevating his mind to purer thoughts, and earnest desires to become good and virtuous, and thus fitted to become, like them,

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CHAPTERS FOR THE YOUNG.
BY THE REV. J. T. BARR.
THE WIDOW AND HER SON.
CHAPTER II.

"FROM his parch'd tongue no sainted murmurs fell,

No bright hopes kindled at his faint farewell;
As the last throes of death convulsed his cheek,
He gnash'd, and scowl'd, and raised a hideous
shriek."
MONTGOMERY.

It is now time to return to Samuel. The sun was just sinking behind the western hills, when the coach on which he had been travelling, arrived in the city. On alighting, he paused for a moment, but in silent wonder, gazing alternately on the lofty buildings which his eye encountered, and on the dense masses of people who were moving in all directions; when the two young men who had accompanied him to the metropolis urged him to proceed. After passing

through a number of crowded streets, they entered a low tavern, in one of the narrow lanes in the vicinity of the Strand. Here, seated in a back-parlour, they indulged themselves till a late hour in excessive drinking, and in talking over their anticipated enjoyments in this great city. Having paid the landlord the amount of his bill for their evening's carousal, they all retired to

rest.

As the inn afforded but one spare apartment, in which were two beds, it was agreed that Samuel should sleep alone, and his two companions occupy the other bed.

It was late on the following morning when Samuel awoke. He found that his companions had already risen. Supposing they had gone to order breakfast, he hastily adjusted his clothes, and descended to the parlour of the inn; but he saw nothing of them. He inquired of the landlord whether he had seen them.

"Yes," said he: " than two hours since."

they left together more

"Did they say when they should return ?" "No: they went out without uttering a word."

A painful suspicion was now awakened in the mind of Samuel. Involuntarily putting his hands into his pockets, he found that his money was gone. Yes; his ill-gotten treasure had vanished.

"O!" he cried, "I am robbed. These two villains have made me pennyless."

"I must confess," coolly remarked the landlord, “that I did not like their appearance. There was too much whispering between them last night, while you were settling your account with me."

Their nefarious object was now apparent. They had prompted him to defraud his master, that they might themselves become possessed of the stolen property.

"O landlord, I am ruined! I am ruined!" "You should keep out of such company, young man," the landlord laconically replied.

Without regarding the latter observation, he rushed out of the house, not knowing where to go; and wandering through the streets of London for several hours, in the most dreadful state of excitement, till the cravings of hunger roused him to more sober reflection. Observing a pawnbroker's shop in Blackfriar's-road, he determined at once to obtain a few shillings by pledging his great coat. Twelve shillings was the amount allowed; on receiving which he hurried to an eating-house on the opposite side of the way. There he partook of a hearty meal; and sat for some time ruminating on his helpless condition.

As the evening began to approach, he resolved to retrace his steps to the little inn where he had slept on the preceding night. This, with much difficulty, he found.

311

"Well, young man," said the landlord, on seeing him enter, "have you met with your comrades?"

"No."

"And my conviction is you never will. Such sharpers seldom show their faces where they are likely to be detected."

"Can I sleep here to-night? I have obtained a little money by parting with an article of dress which I did not want."

"O yes; as many nights as you please, provided you pay for it. But have you no employment? What do you intend doing?"

"At present I have no employment. I came to London in quest of a situation." "What is your business?"

"I am a bookbinder."

"It is not unlikely that you may obtain a situation, by applying to Mr. whose

shop is round the corner. Several of his men come here every day to dine; and a few days since, I gathered from their conversation that they were unusually busy." I will call to

"Thank you, landlord. morrow morning."

He did so; and obtained employment. Happy had it been for Samuel if the recent discovery of the treachery of his quondam friends had produced a reformation in his future conduct. But in his new situation he found his fellow-workmen to be wild and dissipated. Having, therefore, no one of a serious character, whose example might prove a check to his irregular practices, he thoughtlessly participated in the follies and levities of his new associates. Occasionally, indeed, the thoughts of his widowed mother, and of her pious counsel which he had despised, would flash across his mind, even in the chambers of intemperance, and embitter the cup in which he endeavoured to drown the remembrance of the past.

Thus week after week, and month after month, passed away without the occurrence of any extraordinary incident, till he had spent about six months in London. During that period he had not once written to his mother; for he was fearful that the knowledge of his residence might reach the ear of his late injured master.

One Sunday evening, when the weather was unusually cold, and the dense fogs rendered the air damp and oppressive, as he was returning to his lodgings in the neighbourhood of Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, he saw a number of persons flocking into the beautiful chapel in Great Queen-street. For some moments he stood at the door, hesitating whether to enter. The recollection of former years, when he habitually attended the house of God in company with his parents, induced him now to mingle with the congregation. The sermon that evening was preached on that important passage of Scripture, Be sure your sin will find you out: "the bare repetition of which smote heavily upon the heart of Samuel; and his countenance im

66

mediately changed. Towards the conclusion of his discourse, the Minister observed, " But I have told you this before. The same truths, the same warnings, the same threatenings, to which I am now calling your attention, have often sounded in your ears. Alas! they have never reached your hearts. And will you still refuse the word of exhortation? still obstinately turn a deaf ear to the invitations of the Gospel? Will you still reject the offers of salvation? Then listen to that awful threatening of Scripture, 'He that being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.'"

Samuel could hear no more. It brought to his recollection the conversation which passed on the last night that he saw his aged mother; and when he so impiously stopped her, while repeating the same

passage.

He hastily left the chapel, and hurried to his lodgings, where he tried in vain to bury his thoughts in the oblivion of sleep. The horrors of a guilty conscience, and the dreadful apprehension of final retribution, banished slumber from his eyes, and caused him inwardly to groan.

The next morning he endeavoured to conceal from his companions the disturbed state of his mind, by entering, with unusual levity, into their impious conversation; and when the dinner-hour arrived, went with them to the public-house. Having dined, cards were called for. Samuel joined in playing

for a time; but, in spite of all his efforts, he could not shake off the depression of his spirits. Seeing a newspaper on the table, he took it up, and in a desultory manner, glanced over a few paragraphs. At length, his eye rested upon a part of the paper which contained a list of Coroner's inquests. Amongst them he found the name of his mother. The particulars of her being found in the snow were stated, and also that her death had been accelerated by exposure and want! He eagerly looked for the date of her death. She had been dead more than a week. He could read no more. The paper dropped from his hands; and uttering a loud groan, he fell swooning on the floor.

The greatest consternation now prevailed in the room, and every countenance was pale with fright. The landlord, who had been startled by the sudden noise, now came into the parlour. "He is dying," they all ex claimed "send for a surgeon." A medical person was immediately sent for, and the dying man conveyed to the same bed on which he slept when he first came to London. In a few minutes he awoke to a state of consciousness; and looking round the room with a ghastly stare, he exclaimed, "He told me my sin would find me out. And my poor mother! ah, she perished in the snow! Did she not tell me, 'He that being often reproved hardeneth his "" Death broke

off the remainder of the sentence; and when the surgeon arrived he was a corpse.

MIGRATION OF HERRINGS.` THE great rendezvous of the herring is within the Arctic circle, and there they spend many months of the year. In the spring this mighty army begins to put itself in motion. We distinguish the united shoals by that name, because the word herring comes from the German heer, "an army," and expresses their number. They begin to appear off the Shetland Isles in April and May. These are only the forerunners of the great shoal which comes in June; and their appearance is marked by the number of birds, gannet and other sea-fowl, which come to prey upon them. When the main body appears, its breadth and depth are such as to alter the appearance of the ocean. It is divided into distinct columns of five or six miles in length, and three or four in breadth; and they drive the water before them with a kind of rippling. Sometimes they sink for the space of ten or fifteen minutes, and then rise to the surface, and in fine weather reflect a variety of splendid colours, like a field of the most

precious gems; in which light this gift of Providence ought to be viewed. The first check that this great army meets with in its journey south is from the Shetland Isles, which divide it into two parts. One of the wings takes to the eastern shores of Great Britain, filling every bay and creek with their numbers: some pass on towards Yarmouth, the great and ancient mart of herrings; then pass through the British Channel, and after that disappear. The other wing, which takes a westerly direction, after presenting themselves at the Hebrides, where the great stationary fishery is, proceed to the north of Ireland, where they meet with a second interruption, and are obliged to divide again. One party takes the west of Ireland, and is soon imperceptible in the immensity of the Atlantic; but the shoal passing into the Irish Sea feeds the inhabitants of its coast. These last are often capricious in their motions, and do not, like the grand body, show an invariable attachment to their old haunts. The object which in

THE species of swallow common in Syria and Palestine, so far as they are known, appear all to be the same as those of Europe. They are, 1. Hirundo rustica, or domestica, the chimney-swallow, with a forked tail, marked with a row of white spots, whereof hirundo Syriaca, if at all different, is most likely only a variety. 2. Hirundo urbica, the martin or common window-swallow. These two are most likely the species comprehended under the name of Sis. 3. Hirundo riparia, sandmartin or shore-bird, not uncommon in northern Egypt, near the mouths of the Delta; and in southern Palestine, about Gaza, where it nestles in holes, even on the sea-shore. 4. Hirundo assus, the swift, or black martin, distinguished by its larger size, short legs, very long wings, forked tail, and by all the toes of the feet turning forward: these, armed with small, crooked, and very sharp claws, enable the bird to hang against the sides of walls; but it cannot rise

VOL. II.

Y

from the ground on account of the length of

its wings. The last two, but more particularly this species, we take to be the Deror,

on

account of the name Dururi; which was most probably applied to it because the swift martin prefers towers, minarets, and ruins to build in, and is, besides, a bird to which the epithet of "free" is particularly applicable. On the European coast of the Mediterranean it bears the name of barbota; and in several parts of France, including Paris, is known by the vulgar name of "le Juif," the Jew; and, finally, being the largest and most conspicuous bird of the species in Palestine, it is the type of the heraldic "martlet," originally applied in the science of blazon as the especial distinction of Crusader pilgrims, being borrowed from Oriental nations, where the bird is likewise honoured with the term hadgi, or "pilgrim," to designate its migratory habits. The derer being mentioned as building on the altar, seems to imply a greater generalization of

the name than we have given it; for habits of nesting in immediate contact with man belong only to the house and window swallows but, in the present instance, the expression is not meant to convey a literal sense, but must be taken as referring to the whole structure of the temple; and in this view, the swift bears that character more completely than the other. It is not necessary to dilate further on the history of a genus of birds so universally known.

CONFLICT WITH A PANTHER. A CORRESPONDENT at the Lake of TwoMountains has transmitted to us an account of a conflict between an Indian and an American panther which took place near the black-lead mines on the York branch of the Madawaska river. The Indian was returning from the inspection of a number of beaver-traps, on the morning of the 20th of January, without any weapon but his tomahawk and hunting-knife; and while passing along, he heard a crackling among the boughs above his head. On looking up he perceived the animal just in the act of springing from a large hemlock directly at him. He started backwards a couple of steps, and drew his axe. The panther, foiled in her spring, bounded swiftly at her foe, who struck her a severe blow in the shoulder, which, however, did not prevent her seizing him by the left knee with her teeth, while with her claws she lacerated horribly her victim's thigh and leg. The Indian repeated the blows, with effect, on different parts of the beast's body, until she relinquished her hold of his knee and seized him by the left shoulder, when the tomahawk became useless, and both rolled on the ground together. The Indian now began to get weak from the great loss of blood; and although the severe wounds he had inflicted with his tomahawk on his foe, tended, in a great degree, to relax the ferocity of her attack, yet she was fast overcoming him, and he saw no prospect but death before him. In the struggle his hand came in contact with the handle of the knife, which he instinctively drew forth, and struck at random against the panther. After the second stroke he felt the claws of the savage beast relaxing, when he sunk into a state of insensibility, from which he soon recovered, the cold and snow having stanched

the flow of blood from the wounds he had received in the conflict. He found the panther lying dead beside him, with her head nearly severed from the body; the last plunge of the knife having completely cut through both jugular veins. The Indian with great difficulty reached his wigwam; when his companions, directed by him, went to the scene of blood, and found the animal to be one of the largest kind, and of a species very rare in this part of the world.-Ottawa Advocate.

THE MARINE AND THE DOG.

A MARINE, who had just joined the ship, and who was unacquainted with the excellent qualities of the dog, endeavoured, while bathing, to entice him from his station into the water. The noble animal paid no attention to his invitation. One of the crew told the marine that if he swam out of the sail, and would call as if in distress, and suit the action to the word, Mr. Boatswain would certainly obey his summons. The marine

took the hint, got out of the sail, and began to enact the part of a drowning man to perfection. The dog instantly sprung into the water, with ears erect, his eyes flashing fire from intense anxiety. Away he swam for the soldier, who, on the approach of his canine friend, began to have some misgivings as to the wisdom of his proceedings. He now became alarmed lest the dog should seize him, which manœuvre Boatswain appeared resolved to execute. His fears increased with the dog's endeavours to effect his purpose; and, finally, he roared out most lustily for help from his shipmates. The louder the poor fellow sung out, the more determined was the sagacious brute to seize him; and he very soon accomplished his purpose: grasping him firmly by the hair at the back of the neck, and twisting his face towards the heavens, he brought him alongside, amidst the convulsive roars of laughter of the whole ship's company, and the piteous cries of the jolly marine. Boatswain would not resign his hold till the frightened man was assisted up the side. The bight of a rope being then placed overboard for his conductor, he placed his forelegs in it, up to his shoulders, and, holding himself stifly out, was hauled up, and calmly resumed his watch as if nothing had happened.-Scott's Recollections of Naval Life.

LETTER FROM THE REV. VINCENT PERRONET, VICAR OF SHOREHAM, KENT, TO A RELATIVE.

Shoreham, Kent, March 1st, 1779. MY VERY DEAR CHERRY,

WE heartily rejoice for the late divine favour bestowed on you from above!

How amazing was that love of God, who sent the Son of his love to die for us! How amazing that love of Christ, who freely offered himself to die, that we might live for ever! But some may ask, Could not God pardon sinners without so costly a sacrifice? I answer, No; that is, not consistently with the