brown, rufous, and yellowish, in dots, dashes, and zigzag bars, the latter being conspicuous on the under parts and tail. Length almost ten inches. There is an American species very closely resembling it, though, in some particulars, different as to its plumage and habits. "There is no bird," says White, "whose manners I have studied more than that of the caprimulgus, as it is a wonderful and curious creature. I have always found that, though sometimes it may chatter as it flies, as I know it does, yet in general it utters its Here it is not the udder of the goat, but that of the cow that it is supposed to drain (a practice attributed also to the hedgehog), and not this only; for, as White says ("Selborne") the country people have a notion that the fern-owl, or churn-owl, or eve-jar, is very injurious to weaning calves, by inflicting, as it strikes at them, a fatal distemper. Thus does this harmless, ill-fated bird fall under a double imputation, which it by no means deserves; in Italy, of sucking the teats of goats, whence it is called ca. primulgus; and with us, of communicating a deadly disorder to cattle. The disease is in reality occa-jarring note on a bough. I have many a half-hour sioned by the ravages, beneath the skin, of the maggots of a species of fly (oestrus); and, if the fern-owl was ever seen making a sweep near the suffering calves, that is, as it would appear, striking at them, it was in order to snap at some insect, from the torments of which the calf would be gladly freed*. Mr. Waterton also observes, with respect to this striking at the cattle, as the sapient rustics call it, that it is, in fact, the leap which the bird makes at the nocturnal flies which are tormenting the herd, and that, with more good sense than their masters possess, the cattle are aware of, and grateful for, the service which the bird thus renders to them. The night-jar preys upon moths, chafers, and other large insects, and may be often seen about sunset, darting in chase of its food, displaying almost unequalled rapidity of flight, and the most rapid and surprising evolutions; yet it flits along noiseless as a shadow. It is not often that it utters its churring sound in the air; but, usually, when perched, a bare branch, high palings, or the ridge of any building being chosen as a resting-place. The male sometimes utters a small squeak four or five times, when playfully chasing his mate through the boughs of trees. (The Fern Owl.) The fern-owl is a bird of passage, arriving in England in May, and departing in September. It is spread over all the southern and middle districts of Europe, and passes the winter in Africa. Woods, skirting heaths or common lands, plantations of oak, or rows of sycamores near farm-houses, are the favourite spots which it haunts. It builds no definite nest, but lays its eggs on the ground among fern or heath, or under the protection of shrubs: they are two in number, marbled with white, yellowish brown, and grey. The plumage of this bird is beautifully diversified with a rich and intricate commingling of grey, black, See Knight's "Animated Nature." watched it as it sat, with its under mandible quivering, and particularly this summer. It perches usually on a bare twig, with its head lower than its tail. This bird is most punctual in beginning its song exactly at the close of day; so exactly, that I have known it strike up, more than once or twice, just at the report of the Portsmouth evening gun, which we can hear when the weather is still. It appears to me past all doubt that its notes are formed by organic impulse, by the powers of the parts of its windpipe, formed for sound, just as cats purr. You will credit me, I hope, when I assure you that, as my neighbours were assembled in a hermitage, by the side of a steep hill, where we drink tea, one of the churn-owls came and settled on the cross of that little straw edifice, and began to chatter, and continued his notes for many minutes. We were all struck with wonder to find that the organs of this little animal, when put in motion, gave a sensible vibration to the whole building. This bird also sometimes makes a loud squeak, repeated four or five times." In another letter, written also from his pleasant Selborne, he says: "On the 12th of July I had a fair opportunity of contemplating the motions of the fern-owl, as it was playing round a large oak that swarmed with fern-chafers. The powers of its wing were wonderful, exceeding, if possible, the various evolutions and quick turns of the swallow genus. But the circumstance that pleased me most was that I saw it distinctly, more than once, put out its short leg while on the wing, and, by a bend of the head, deliver something into its mouth. If it takes any part of its prey with foot, as I have now the greatest reason to suppose it does these chafers, I no longer wonder at the use of its middle toe, which is curiously furnished with serrated_claws." "Much has been said and written respecting the pectinated claw on the middle toe of the fern-owl; but its use has not yet been explicitly determined. White supposed it to serve in the capture of its prey; but that the bird should strike at its prey with its little feet and short legs is out of the question. When observed by White to bring its foot to its beak during flight, might it not have been clearing its bill and vibrisse of the hard wing-cases and limbs of the beetles it had captured? In which case the worthy historian of Selborne would indeed have seen what he relates, incorrect as we deem his inference. It is remarkable, however, that other birds, of very different habits, as the heron, &c., have the claws similarly pectinated: may not this modification be connected with their mode of perching on the bare branches or trees? These are queries yet to be decided: certainly the serrations, whether in the fern-owl of the heron, have nothing to do with the seizure or re tention of prey; in fact, the comb-like teeth are directed obliquely forwards, not backwards as they ought to be, if intended as retainers of struggling or slippery captives" (Knight's " Animated Nature"). The following very pleasing passage is from "The Minstrelsy of the Woods*:" "To those who, dwelling in the neighbourhood of Selborne, have been reared in childhood in enthusiastic admiration for that picturesque village, and an almost affectionate interest for every thing con nected with the memory of the naturalist, the sight and sound of this bird will ever recall Selborne to their recollection with vivid feelings of delight. Were we to meet with it at the farthest ends of the earth, we should in a moment be transported to Selborne, and live over again some of the sunniest days of our lives, wl:en, in the society of those dearest to us, we made our summer pilgrimages to the village, and paid our devoirs at the shrine of the amiable and unaspiring naturalist, pausing at every spot which more especially recalled him to our remembrance. His name, as a naturalist, has gone abroad to the world, and gathered fame he never sought. Perhaps, could he have foreseen the future, this fame would have been less grateful to his gentle and benevolent spirit than the knowledge that he would leave a memorial in the hearts of his neighbours which should descend through successive generations, and the children's children of those whom he knew should look on their excursions to the scene of his scientific labours as bright eras in their days of enjoyment. That the man who wins golden opinions abroad is without honour in his own country, is too often true; but we know of at least one happy exception to the rule in White, the naturalist of Selborne: "He sought, with unambitious aim, Lone nature's secret steps to trace, SIMPLE, UNDOUBTING PAITH : A Sermon, him, when he speaks to us of heavenly things. He healed the body, that we might the better comprehend and rely upon the grace by which he heals the soul. He manifested his power over matter, in order that his people might know and confide in his power over their hearts, and the world of spiritual beings. Hence it is that all his intercourse with his disciples is so full of instruction to us, and that all their fears, doubts, difficulties, temptations, dangers, and deliverances, are calculated to edify the church of Christ to the end of time. un Thus it is with the case before us. The disciples in a storm expect nothing less than the immediate destruction of their vessel and themselves. Jesus is asleep, and appears to be either ignorant of their danger or mindful of their fears. For themselves they fear, although Christ is in the vessel; and yet, in the midst of their unbelieving alarms, they go to him, and awake him, saying, "Lord, save us: we perish." Is not this, Christian brethren, a faithful picture of what we now see around us? Is it not-a point in which we are far more nearly concerned-a faithful picture of what we so often experience to be the actual movements of our own souls, wavering between doubt and faith, repose and anxiety, and often partaking of both feelings nearly at the same time? Yet this is not a state of mind in which a Christian ought to remain satisfied, even in this life; but he should be searching after that joy and peace in believing, which is, doubtless, the blessed portion of those to whom their God has given the spirit, not of bondage and fear, but of adoption, of love, and of liberty. I would purpose, then, to examine with you the different states of mind in which men are found in respect of God's salvation, that we may, under the teaching of his good Spirit, be the better able to trace the steps BY THE VENERABLE WALTER A. SHIRLEY, M.A., by which his chosen people enter into the Archdeacon of Derby, and Vicar of Shirley, Derbyshire. MATT. viii. 25-27. "His disciples came to him, and awoke him, saying, Lord, save us: we perish. And he saith unto Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? and there was a great calm. But the men marvelled, saying, What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?" OUR blessed Lord has told us of earthly things, in order that we might the better understand him, and the more readily believe "The Minstrelsy of the Woods; or, Sketches and Songs connected with the Natural History of some of the most interesting British and Foreign Birds;" by the author of "The Wild Garland." We have permission to give the name, Miss Sarah Waring, of Alton, Hants.-ED. most holy place, and enjoy communion with their God. I. In the first place, we have too often the pain of witnessing, even among those on whom Christ's blessed sign has been imhis pasture, even among those professing and pressed, marking them out as the sheep of calling themselves Christians, we are too often compelled to witness an awful degree of ignorance of those things which belong to their peace, and of indifference to the whole subject of religion. Nor is this the case only with those who are ignorant in respect of this World's knowledge; for we see, alas! in all classes of life, masses of people who are earnestly pursuing their pleasure or their profit, but whose habits of life, and the tone of their conversation, constrain us to fear that God is not in all their thoughts. Some there are who are working all uncleanness with greediness, and set every religious consideration at defiance. Such persons act as some maniac might have done, who, had he been with the disciples in that storm, would have revelled in the tempest, and exulted in the boisterous frenzy with which the waves lifted up their heads on high. With such persons passion is their element, self-will is their idol, and to it they sacrifice their all for time and for eternity. There are others equally indifferent, because equally ignorant, of the danger by which they are surrounded; but theirs is a passive indifference-it is the ignorance of stupor, and insensibility. They follow the multitude to do evil they bury their Lord's talent in the earth; for they do not comprehend its value, and are not careful to inform themselves to what profitable uses it may be applied. These are quiet people, whose boast it is that they do nobody any harm-easy, self-indulgent, perhaps amiable and decent, but still of this world, unprofitable servants, and therefore doomed, unless they repent, to be "cast into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." We should also bear in mind, that even if our habits be not of a directly worldly character, in the common acceptation of the term; if we are not, for instance, living mainly for the pleasures or for the riches of this present world, yet, if we live selfish lives (as mere students, cultivators of elegant literature, though it be of the highest subjects), and are not bringing our time, and influence, and attainments to bear upon the men among whom our lot is cast, and employing them for the extension of our Redeemer's kingdom, we are living in a state of sin; inasmuch as we are pleasing ourselves, instead of seeking to please God. These remarks are specially applicable to such a crisis in the history both of the world and of the church as that on which we have fallen, when there is so much to be done and endured for the sake of Christ-a wide door and effectual opened, and many adversaries. Assuredly they are no calm waters by which our country is surrounded; and woe be unto us if we look idly on, wrapped up in the sense of our personal security from immediate danger. II. When, however, men have been aroused from this state of ignorant indifference, producing either heedless dissipation, or passive and self-indulgent repose, the next state of mind in which they are found is one of serious thought, indeed, but full of anxiety, and drawing near to despair. Such was the state of the disciples in the case before us, with regard to their bodily safety. Such was the state of those who, on the day of Pentecost, heard Peter's explanation of the gift of tongues, and, being pricked in their hearts, cried out, "Men and brethren, what must we do?" Such was the state of the Philippian gaoler when he drew his sword, about to kill himself, and then cried, trembling, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" When such a state of mind is caused merely by outward circumstances of affliction or disease, as is not unfrequently the case, we shall usually see that the terror which is excited is very much in proportion to the indifference which existed before. There is in these cases conviction of guilt, without the conversion of the heart to God: there is the fear of punishment, without the hatred of sin: there is alarm, without love. Such are the characteristic marks of every human form of religion. When men discover their danger, but not their refuge, when they think of themselves, and their want of power, and the frail bark in which they sail, and the power of God's wrath, every thought of the future fills them with dismay. Hence the religion of the world, as it is a religion of fear, so is it one of sadness, tinged with the deepest melancholy, "written within and without with lamentation and mourning and woe." I need only remind you that the religious poetry of paganism, in all ages, and in all countries, takes, for the most part, a sad and gloomy view of man's life; and hence it is that, in every corrupt form of Christianity, the most earnest-minded are the most miserable. They are the victims of superstition, because they fear every exercise of spiritual power; and, inasmuch as they go about to establish their own righte ousness, they are never at rest; for they never can be quite sure that they have done enough to turn away God's anger, or to entitle them to his grace. Nor are the alarms and anxieties incident to this state of mind limited to the present life; for they reach beyond the grave, and are the real source of every form of purgatorial punishment which man has fondly imagined. It is not a little instructive to observe, that a purgatory of one kind or another has always found a place in every creed of man's invention. The religious systems of the heathen had, as is well known, their place for corrective suffering. The Greek and Latin churches of the present day have the same doctrine with slight variations. The Socinian universalist, admitting Such is the third state of mind into which man is brought by the teaching of God's Spirit, when he knows his danger and his weakness, but is enabled to think of both without despair, or even fear, because he believes in the presence and power of Christ, and places entire reliance on the salvation, free, complete, and final, which he has purchased by his precious blood-shedding. with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (Rom. v. 1, 2). Such is the inspired teaching of the apostle; and our church in like manner teaches, in her eleventh article, "that we are justified by faith only is a most wholesome doctrine, and very full of comfort." the idea of future punishment, but rejecting | with horror the dogma that the future punishment of which the bible speaks is eternal, does, in fact, believe in a purgatory, though he is, perhaps, little aware that this is the real nature of his views. Hence we shall always observe that men can never go far in doctrinal error without touching upon the confines of a purgatory. We shall soon detect this tendency in a sentimental inclination" Being justified by faith, we have peace towards prayers for the dead, in a sympathy for the condition of those departed, who, though redeemed from guilt and final punishment, may not, it is imagined, be yet quite delivered from the garment spotted by the flesh, nor perfectly clothed in that raiment, pure and white, in which alone man can appear in the awful presence of a holy God. What this condition is may not be very distinctly comprehended, and there may, perhaps, be only a vague and imperfect conception of the efficacy of our prayers under such circumstances; but there is something so tender and touching in the idea of sympathizing with departed friends, and being still of some benefit to them, and they perhaps to us, that minds of a certain temperament readily seize upon it, especially when its deformities are obscured and its attractions illustrated by the charms of poetry, the decorations of art, and the illusions of the imagination. These opinions are, however, most untrue, most unscriptural, and most injurious. Wherever they are found, they are the certain test of the existence of error; and every approximation to them is the evidence of a corresponding departure from the truth. But truth, and not fancy, God's written word, not man's inventions, should be the end and aim of all our religious inquiries. When we see that such have been man's speculations, we may well say, that "he has not by searching found out God, he has not found out the Almighty to perfection." III. But, while all human systems produce in the mind of an alarmed sinner nothing but fear, and therefore alienation, the gospel of Christ, the record which God hath given of his Son, while it reveals to man his guilt, and places in the strongest point of view the exceeding sinfulness of sin and its dreadful consequences, does, at the same time, point out a way of escape, and lets in hope and peace and joy upon the troubled mind." When the disciples, in their fear and doubting faith, had awoke their Lord, and had witnessed his power to still the fury of the storm, the peace which took possession of their hearts was a faithful reflection of the calm which had been spread over the surrounding waters. Faith goes to Christ for aid, and applies his aid when it has been obtained. Faith receives the assurance that Christ has purchased righteousness for as many as are found in him; and "faith is the only hand by which the penitent sinner can put on Christ's righteousness for his justification; as that righteousness is the only garment by which our iniquities can be covered" (Hooker). Hence it is that joy and peace are in scripture so constantly connected with believing. Every view of justification which is associated with a dependence, direct or indirect, on human performances, must fail to give repose to the mind, because there will ever be an anxious calculation of how much must be done, and how much may safely be omitted, to insure final admission to glory. When, however, the Christian is enabled to lean wholly on Christ for salvation, he may depart in peace, assured that there is laid up for him, though most unworthy, a crown of glory that fadeth not away. But this assured hope does not produce inactivity. When our blessed Lord had reproved the unbelief of his disciples, and manifested his power to them, they did not, therefore, relinquish all care of the vessel, though they were delivered from all fear; but, doubtless, worked her with the more diligence, because they were persuaded that their labour would not be in vain. Even so with regard to the salvation of our souls. Unbelief is, as we have seen, the source of weakness, because it produces despair; while faith gives power, because it inspires confidence to him who leans upon the "everlasting arm" of his God. We have all experienced how feeble and wavering are our exertions, when their success is improbable or even uncertain; but, when we know that we are engaged in what must succeed, we strain every nerve, and go for ward with energy and determination. Thus it is in our daily spiritual conflict: he who prays to be kept that day without sin, and trusts in him who is able to keep him from falling (though in himself he be a bruised reed), can alone meet his ghostly enemy with Christian courage, or resist him with spiritual power. Hence we see, that the meekest and most humble Christian is, in effect, the most secure, and, in the end, the most triumphant. "Even the youths faint and are weary, and the young men utterly fall" (those who depend upon themselves are overcome); "but they that wait upon the Lord renew their strength; they mount up with wings as eagles; they run, and are not weary; they walk, and do not faint" (Isai. xl. 30, 1). When, however, we speak of the power of faith, it is important to observe that faith has no intrinsic power, or merit in itself. It is only the instrument by which we lay hold of and take to ourselves a power and a merit which are not ours. We are not saved because we believe; but we are saved through believing." By grace are ye saved" (says the apostle), "through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast." It may appear strange, at first sight, that the bible should contain so many, and such very strong statements on the absolute inefficacy of any thing in man as the procuring cause of his salvation-which is as much out of man's reach, as it was beyond the power of the disciples to still the storm-were it not that man is thus taught to "go to the strong for strength," to distrust himself, in order that he may more entirely rely on Christ for salvation, and be upheld by him. It is important, also, to observe that the end of all God's teaching, and of our inquiries, is to learn how we may be saved. Salvation is the end proposed: the question is about the means by which salvation is to be attained. But salvation means deliverance from sin; therefore, the question really is, how we may be made holy; and the bible tells us, that it is only by faith in the dying love, and rising power of Christ, that we can be reconciled unto God, received into his family, and enabled "to have victory, and to triumph over the world, the flesh, and the devil." When, therefore, we talk of salvation by faith, we do not mean that we are to be admitted into heaven in consequence of our belief in certain speculative opinions; but that we become holy, and are won over to love God, and to live to him, through the influence of our belief in what he has done for us through Christ Jesus. Thus are we made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light; a state of heart and mind in which, seeing our God and Saviour as he is, we shall be changed into the same image from glory to glory. They, who are influenced by the discoveries which faith makes of the love of God in Christ to their souls, are constrained to love God, and, loving him, to obey him; and then the Spirit of Christ, working in them, " mortifies the works of the flesh and their earthly members, and so draws up their minds to high and heavenly things" (Article 17). And the Spirit, which thus acts upon them, forming within them a new man, and new character, "witnesseth to their spirits that they are the children of God." They then carry on the argument, and conclude that, "if they are children, then are they heirs-heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ," who is the Heir of all things, the "head over all things, to his church." Thus all things are theirs; for "they are Christ's, and Christ is God's." Then is there a great calm in that redeemed sinner's heart whose faith has at length laid hold of that of which baptism is the outward sign and pledge; namely, his adoption into God's family. Surely we may understand how such persons may think of themselves as very guilty, and yet completely pardoned; as very weak, and yet secure for ever. God grant that each one of us may be brought into this happy state of mind; for, if Christ came to give his people the blessing of peace, and we know nothing of that joy and peace in believing of which we read so much in the bible, we have great reason to suspect that there is something unsound or defective in our religious views. We should never rest satisfied with any religious opinions which are not calculated to give peace to our souls; nor should we be contented with any spiritual attainment in which we do not, in fact, enjoy peace with God. IV. This leads me, however, to notice, in conclusion, the state of mind into which the disciples were brought by their merciful and miraculous deliverance. "The men marvelled, saying, What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?" They were astonished by the display of his power: they were touched by the manifestation of his love, and awed by the proof of his divinity. Even so, when we have been saved by faith, have passed from death unto life, when old things have passed away, and all have become new, we shall regard him, by whom such a blessed change has been effected, with feelings of gratitude and love, of confidence and obedience; we shall wonder at the spiritual power by which |