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That earthquake shock!-all warn you hence! Away! lest the cursed witch your hearts should steal ! Most listened to the invitation of Pleasure, and thronged in at her gate. The warning of the watchman was little attended to, and followed by a few only.

There was a company whose conduct was not a little amazing. They lived not far from that passage between their own and the better land, which had been provided at so great a cost. So near were they to its neighbourhood that they could scarce choose, but look upon it as they passed to and fro; and frequently groups of them might be seen surveying it with curious eyes. Many of them were, in the estimation of their countrymen, shrewd men, and held in much repute for their sagacity. Yet the event showed that such estimation of them was ill-founded. Instead of securing an entrance for themselves, and urging others, over whom their influence extended, to do the like, their constant aim and endeavour were to prove that all was a delusion. Their time and efforts were expended in attempting to persuade themselves and others that it had no existence-that the Land of Glory was nothing but a fancy; and that for anything that appeared, or could be discovered, there was neither a God nor a devil, a heaven nor a hell;

that all distinctions between good and evil were merely arbitrary conventions, convenient enough for! keeping the ignorant in subjection, but to be disre-, garded by all sensible, enlightened people. Many of them died in this belief. Some of them, at the approach of death, discovered the weakness of their speculations, and departed under fearful remorse of conscience, and most dismal apprehensions as to what was to befall them, which they could only utter in dismal sighs and groans.

Others who lived in the same neighbourhood, and enjoyed the same opportunities, were as miserably employed, though somewhat in a different way. Many were to be seen standing all along the border of the deep impassable gulf, and though implored and entreated by most earnest solicitations to hasten to the right path, and trust themselves to none other, they gave no heed to such expostulations of their true well-wishers. They felled timber, and constructed boats and floats. Had they but opened their eyes they might have seen many such perishing every hour, and carrying down with them great multitudes. Many would even embark in floats of reeds and bulrushes with a light heart. Some would not put themselves to so much trouble, but plunge in recklessly, thinking by expert swimming to get across. The waters soon swallowed them up, and they perished for ever.

The minds of others were opened to the evils of their condition, so that they could no longer have any comfort in it, and also to the vanity of all the ordinary shifts adopted to pass that dark gulf. They hastened to secure a passage by the bridge already made mention of, and, by the help of God, passed on F. to glory.

SINNER, TURN!

[FROM a work just published, entitled "Conversion Practically Considered, in Twelve Addresses." By the Rev. William Reid. Edinburgh: W. Oliphant and Sons. It is an admirable book on the subject, and well fitted to be useful to every class of readers.]

Sinner, God is concerned about your conversion, and can you be indifferent? He knows the susceptibilities of that deathless spirit which you carry within you. He sees you lost to the true dignity of holiness, destined, and he would recover you to your appro- : and those distinguished privileges for which you were priate place in his moral kingdom. Yes, believe me, your best friend is God himself. Perhaps, in the course of events, disaster has come upon you, and you are able to trace, step beyond step, till you arrive at a point where the slightest indications of it were not discernible, and which had, nevertheless, a most direct bearing on the results which you deplore. Had one capable of tracing the tendencies of events, at such a time, indicated to you the consequences of the course on which you were about to enter, would you not have valued his counsel? Such a friend is God himself, and he now proffers you direction reHis eye specting your most momentous interests. compasses the entire course of your immortal exis tence; he sees where sin is taking you-he beholds the faculties which might minister to your perfect felicity for ever, about to become the instruments of unspeakable torture, and that a doom so dreadful

REPENTANCE OF A FEMALE PROFLIGATE.

may be averted he condescends even to swear: "As I live, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live. Turn ye, turn ye from your wicked ways; for why will ye die?" Once more, then, I set before you BLESSING and CURSING-LIFE and DEATH-the SERVICE OF GOD and the SERVICE OF THE DEVIL. Ponder the alternative. Remember that your decision is for eternity. May the Lord give you direction, and to his name be the glory!

WATCHING FOR USEFULNESS.

MEN of business are always looking out for favourable opportunities to advance their worldly interest. They do not wait till such are obtruded upon them, but they search for them. In this respect the children of the world are wiser than the children of light. The Church has little enterprise. The Christian community everywhere might be vastly more efficient if it were always upon the look-out for usefulness. Take the following simple but apt illustration:-A Christian minister announced a public discourse to the young on a given day. One of his auditors presently thought, I should like to bring some young person who does not attend upon any means of grace to hear that sermon. After a little consideration a certain individual was selected, who was known to be utterly irreligious, but of good moral character, sober, and industrious. The plan was formed for inviting his attention to the service. A suitable religious tract was presented to him, with a request that he would read it, which he very readily consented to do. Shortly after it was mentioned to him that on such a day a sermon was to be preached to the young, and he was invited to attend. But an objection to this was immediately raised. "I am a stranger to the place and the people, and most likely it will be so full that I shall not find a seat." The answer was: "But I have a seat there, and if you will engage to go, I will give up my seat to you." "Well," said the young man, 'upon that condition I will go." The time came, the applicant attended the young man to the seat, and then went to seek another, or to stand during the service, but with a heart lifted up in fervent desire for the divine blessing. The service was new and impressive to the mind of the young man. He heard what he had never heard before, but what commended itself to his understanding and his heart. He retired deeply affected, convinced of sin, and inquiring for a Saviour. Of course, the impression was observed by the watchful friend who had drawn him to the house of God. The first invitation was followed up; he became a regular attendant upon means of grace-the work was deepened in his heart, and in due course he made known his case to the pastor whose ministry had been blessed to his conversion. It was soon perceived that he possessed talents for usefulness, and they were, after due deliberation, called into exercise in Sabbath school engagements. For several years he continued to pursue his worldly calling, and to employ his Sabbaths in doing good to others. After a time thus spent, his attention was turned to the ministry, and upon careful examination, he was encouraged to quit his worldly engagements and devote

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himself to study. That individual is now, and has been for some years, usefully engaged in ministering to a village congregation in a dark and destitute part of England, where God is giving him both comfort and usefulness in a humble but happy sphere. The thought of doing good was crowned with success.

REPENTANCE OF A FEMALE PROFLIGATE. LATE at night in the summer of 1826, two females, companions in evil courses, were walking together, when one of them, all on a sudden, declared that she saw before her what she called a ghost, or a figure with the appearance of a skull, and a long white garment down to the knees. The effect of this imaginary appearance was such as to make her turn aside, and fall on the arm of her companion. After recovering herself from her first fright, she endeavoured to look in the same direction, but declared she still saw the figure. Upon this her friend conveyed her to her home as speedily as she could, and hastily left her. There she seated herself in a chair, with her eyes fixed, as if looking at something, and with great earnestness exclaimed repeatedly, "What did I see? What did I see ?" but told no one.

The mother of this unhappy young woman, who had encouraged her in her evil ways, and, at this time, lodged several of similar character in her house, hearing that her daughter had come home ill, arose from her bed, and endeavoured to comfort her, but with little success, for she knew not the alarming cause of her illness, nor the mighty power that had smitten her. The night was passed in tolerable quietness, but without rest, and in the morning when the young woman arose and came down stairs, she placed herself in the same chair, with her eyes intently fixed, as on the preceding night, and, with the same tones of terror, repeated This was all that the words, "What did I see?" could be got from her. She now became so much worse, both in body and mind, that she requested to be laid on the bed. After some time being repeatedly pressed by her mother to describe what it was she had seen, she described the figure of the ghost that had met her, and held out its arms as if to embrace her, and from which she shrunk away terrified. She now said there was something within that told her that this was the very man who had seduced her and lived with her till his death. The consciousness of the sinful life she had led filled her imagination with indescribable terrors. The prevailing impression upon her mind was, that the sins she had committed were unpardonable, and that she was inevitably doomed now to a state of eternal perdition. No human cause appeared in this sudden change. It might be all in her imagination, but there had been no conversation or other external cause in the first instance to produce it. It was as sudden as a flash of lightning. This state of mind, however, soon brought a fever, which continued to increase for several days, and which was at times attended by slight delirium, though generally she retained the full use of her senses. During the progress of her illness, a poor neighbour, who knew both her character and present

condition, requested a pious and excellent matronly lady, who was much occupied in visiting the sick poor, to call at the house and request to see the young woman. After some hesitation, the lady agreed to go, provided she was accompanied by the poor woman. They accordingly gained access, but found the young woman in a state of the greatest agitation and distress of mind. Her sins were bound upon her as a heavy burden, which she could neither bear nor shake off. Hitherto she had lived without the fear of God, but now his terrors as a sin-avenging God had taken hold upon her. The attempt was made to direct her to the Saviour of sinners; but her extreme ignorance of the way of salvation for some time impeded the effort. Nor was this all; the wretched mother of this unhappy sufferer continually thwarted the instruction of the visitor by persuading the child to think that she had never done anything sinful, and that there was no real cause for her fears —thus endeavouring to blind the eyes of her daughter to the sins in which her still more guilty mother had encouraged her. Under these circumstances, the visitor, after repeated attempts to impart Gospel light, and point her to the Saviour, found it necessary to reprove the mother, whose conscience was so hard, and to threaten to call no more upon the daughter, unless she desisted from instilling such false and dangerous hopes into her mind. This was, in some good degree, successful; for the young woman had by this time become so interested in the instructions of the visitor, and so grateful for her kind attentions, that the mother perceived it was desirable for her child's peace still to allow the lady to visit her. The mind of the young woman, now left to the influence of saving truth, became gradually enlightened and softened by penitence and prayer, till at length she clearly apprehended the Saviour's ability and willingness to save even to the very uttermost. Her cries for pardon and salvation were indeed earnest and persevering. Night and day did she deplore her sinful life, and seek forgiveness through the precious blood of Christ. Occasionally her fears prevailed, and she was hard to be persuaded that Jesus Christ was willing to pardon one so vile.

with details and descriptions of a particular mode of life, which, to be intelligible to him, must necessarily embody images shrouded from his present inferior state of existence, and which therefore-so various are the tastes and habits of men-must comprise much which all minds could not regard with equal satisfaction. We cannot, therefore, view without pain and regret the particular descriptions of the|| life to come which Pollok and other poets have attempted to graft upon the Christian system. However beautiful, however well-intentioned, however attractive to large numbers, such descriptions may be, they are surely dangerous. They are of the earth, earthy; and they inflict an injury upon the mind, by limiting the conceptions which the Scrip- 1 ture itself has left free and unencumbered. Look at the openness, the breadth, the universal adaptation of this most grand and cheering declaration: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man to conceive, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." -1 Cor. ii. 9.

The psychological fitness of this encouraging statement must be obvious to every reflecting mind. It is evident that the felicities, and indeed the very existence-which may be of itself felicity-of a different state of being, cannot with any accuracy be defined by analogies or images drawn from another and inferior condition of existence. As well-indeed, far better-might we attempt to make the condition of the eagle intelligible by images drawn entirely from the experience of the snail. All things belonging to that other condition are entirely beyond our experience, except in so far as it is a condition of the affec-[ tions towards God and his saints. Thus it is that, in all attempts to describe the happiness of heaven by circumstances, we find little more than a statement, which amounts to this-whatever any individual, or nation, or set of men, suppose to be the greatest felicities of this life, they conceive will become the ordinary and continuing state of another life. But as individuals and nations vary in their notions of what is happiest for them, the pictures of heaven are correspondingly various and incongruous. Many a studious man would be disposed to make it consist, despite the absurdity, in the continued enjoyment of his books-with the power of reading the books and manuscripts of all languages without difficulty: but being too discreet to indulge this notion, he is content to believe that he will then acquire, by the easy process of intuition, all that he can desire to know, and more than even books can in this world teach. But men generally draw such pictures of heaven as may be acceptable to the mass of those whom these IDEAS OF THE WORLD TO COME. descriptions are intended to influence; and all such BY JOHN KITTO, D.D. descriptions represent a state, or a place, which must THERE is no one, under any system of religion, who necessarily be distasteful to many. There can be has a fixed belief in the reality of a life beyond the nothing satisfactory but in such a statement as this, grave, but must sometimes have his mind occupied that the happiness of heaven is something more gloupon the possible circumstances of a condition in rious than eye hath seen, or ear heard in this world— which an eternity must be spent. In such contem-something more happy than has ever yet entered the plations the Christian has an inestimable advantage, which he may number among the evidences for the divine origin of his creed. He is not embarrassed

At length she sunk under the agitations of her mind and sufferings of her body. After a night of much agony, she awoke from a short sleep, and said she felt happy because the Lord had invited her to come to him; and then committing her spirit into his hand, she breathed her last. Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?

heart of man to conceive.

Contrast the feeling this creates with the dislike with which all positive descriptions of heaven are

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is of gold." On another occasion he speaks of a
river in Paradise-"Its waters whiter than milk,
and sweeter than honey, and in it are birds whose
necks are like the necks of camels." On which
Omer (afterwards Khalif) asked, "Verily, are those
birds fat and plump?" and was merrily answered,
"The eaters of those birds are plumper and fatter
than they." Another time a Bedouin, or, more
properly, an Aarabi, came to the Prophet, with the
characteristic inquiry: "O messenger of God! I am
fond of horses; are there any in Paradise?" An-
swer: "If you are taken into Paradise, you will be
given a ruby horse, with two wings; and you will
mount him, and he will carry you wherever you
wish." Another asked if there were any camels?
and received the more sensible answer: "If God
takes you into Paradise, there will be everything for
you which your senses can desire, and which can de-
light your eye" . . . "He is the least in eminence of
the people of Paradise who has eighty thousand ser-
vants, and seventy-two women, and has a tent pitched
for him of pearls, rubies, and emeralds—the extent
of which is like the distance between Jabiyah (in'
Syria) and Sanna (in Yemen"). Again: "Verily,
there are in Paradise black-eyed damsels, who raise
their voices, whose like was never heard, and say,¦
'We live everlastingly; we never perish or die; and
we are ever at ease, and never see trouble or labour;
and we are pleased with our husbands, and never
dissatisfied; joy be to him that is for us, and we for
him!"" The first disciples of the Arabian teacher
seem to have been remarkably curious in the matter
of Paradise-although, perhaps, not more so than
any people would have been who supposed a source
of authentic information respecting the hidden world
open to them. We will give but one more, which
extracted a fine answer from Mohammed.
people of Paradise sleep?" Answer: "Sleep is
death's brother, and the people of Paradise do not
die."

regarded. The ancient Northmen were content to | ron"""There is no tree in Paradise but its trunk look forward to the time when they should drink their mead out of the skulls of their enemies in the halls of Valhulla. The Oriental pictures of heaven are less stern. Ask the Budhist, "What are the blessings and the happiness in the heavens?" and his best answer is: "It is not possible to relate particularly the nature of the happiness of heaven in a summary way, but I will mention it so briefly as the wise may comprehend, namely, everything that is in colour grateful to the eye, or in music melodious to the ear-a smell grateful to the nose, a taste delicate to the palate, a conscience wholesome to the body, a proposal pleasant to the heart, are spontaneously brought about according to the wishes formed. Another enjoyment of the divine felicities, is by indulging the pleasure of feasting the eye on the charms of the goddesses, dancing in the beautiful and divine palaces, which are constantly illuminated by the rays of every kind of invaluable diamonds."* In the "Wisheat-al-Musalich" there is a chapter (xiii) collecting the terms in which various persons had heard Mohammed describe Paradise and its people. It is singular that a chapter full of puerile and indecent notions begins with a declaration by Abukurairah that he heard "the Prophet" say: "God said, I have prepared for my good servants what no eye hath seen, or ear heard, nor hath it entered the heart of any one;" which, being evidently taken from St Pauls declaration, evinces that Mohammed was well acquainted with the New Testament. A few sentences from this chapter will exhibit the character of the intimations which this person has thought proper to supply. "Verily there is a tent for a Mussulman in Paradise, of one pearl, its interior empty, its breadth sixty cos, and in every corner of it will be his wives; and they will not see one another. . . . . . And there are two paradises with silver vessels, and every other thing of silver; and there are two paradises, with everything of gold in them; and there is no veil between men and their Cherisher, except the mantle of his glory and greatness." How badly does this grand image consort with the low ideas suggested by what precedes and by what follows, which is this: "Verily there is a huzum in Paradise; and then the north wind blows, scattering musk, and a variety of per-man well known and highly esteemed in this country, fumes upon their faces and clothes; and they are more beautiful than before. Then they return to their wives, more handsome and beautiful than before; and their wives say, 'We swear by God, you are become much handsomer since leaving us;' and they say, 'You are more beautiful than you were." This is better: "A crier will proclaim to the people of Paradise, saying, ‘For you is everlasting health-you shall never be sick; for you is everlasting life-you will never die; for you is perpetual youth-you will never grow old; and for you is ease and comfort, and never labour and trouble."" This is worse: "I asked his majesty (Mohammed), 'What is Paradise made of?" He said, 'Of gold and silver bricks; and its mortar is pure musk, of a sharp smell; and its gravel pearls and rubies; and its earth saff• Sacred and Historical Books of Ceylon, iii., 73.

LETTERS FROM ITALY.

"Do the

[WE have been favoured with the perusal of an interesting series of letters from Rome, by a gentle

and who resided part of two winters in that city. They contain many things which we doubt not will be new to our readers, and may assist in showing them the true character of the Popish system, as founded on the grossest superstition, and characterized by all the marks of Antichrist. The first department of the letters gives an account of various of the ceremonies, many of them gorgeous and imposing, which take place on particular occasions. Of these we mean, from time to time, to avail ourselves. The first regards the ceremonies performed on occasion of the death of a Pope:-]

Pope Leo XII. died on the morning of Tuesday, February 10, 1829; and notice was soon given by the tolling of the bells of every church in Rome. As the Pope died in the Vatican, the splendid ceremony of transporting his body thither could not take place;

but when a Pope dies in the Quirinal or any other palace, his body is carried by torch-light in great state, on an open bier, to the Vatican. It is understood that while the Pope's body remains in his private apartments, a servant enters the room at the usual hour, and asks what his Holiness chooses to have for dinner, and one of the attendants gravely replies: "His Holiness does not dine to-day, because he is dead."* On Friday 13, the body was brought down to St Peter's from the Sistine Chapel, on a bier accompanied by the cardinals, an immense number of other ecclesiastics and attendants, and all the magistrates of Rome, and deposited in the Chapel of the Holy Sacrament, dressed in a handsome pontifical robe, and so placed that the feet projected through the iron railing which encloses the chapel. A space immediately in front of the body was kept clear by the Swiss guards, and those who desired were allowed to enter at one end of this space, kiss the Pope's slippers, and pass out by the other end. The ceremony was well arranged, and went on without confusion. I entered and stood some time near the body, which was in a most unpleasant state, notwithstanding the profuse application of perfumes. The face was much discoloured, its features nearly gone, and it appeared to be covered by a fine transparent membrane to keep it together.

The crowd around seemed anxious to show their respect to the dead body, and pressed forward as rapidly as possible to kiss the slippers. All ranks, from the highest to the lowest, seemed actuated by the same feelings; and before I left the church, many thousands had gone through the ceremony, which continued during the next day. Meanwhile, workmen were employed in preparing a niche for the reception of the Pope's body, in the wall on the north side of the church, above a small door leading to the robing-room of the singers. The body of the Pope last deceased is always thus deposited, until either a proper mausoleum is prepared for him, or his successor dies; in the latter case, his body is taken out and delivered to the Canons of St Peter's, who give a formal obligation to produce it at any time on demand. A strong tackle and pulleys were erected over the niche, in order to raise the coffin to its place. A requiem was also sung for the repose of the Pope's soul, in the Chapel of the Choir. The music was very solemn, and beautifully executed.

On Sabbath evening the Pope's body was deposited in the niche. I was not present, but the ceremony is described at length in the "Funzioni in Morte dei Sommi Pontefici," pp. 19, 20. Whence it appears that the body is placed in a coffin of cedar wood enclosed in one of lead, and outside of all is another wooden coffin.§ Thus provided, the Pope was deposited in his temporary resting-place, the broken plaster of the wall was soon repaired, and the spot marked by the simple inscription, "DEPOSITUM LEO XII." The funeral service for the Pope continues nine days, commencing on the day after the body is laid out in state in the Chapel of the Sacrament. Each morning the cardinals, assisted by the Papal Chapel, perform a solemn mass of requiem. This takes place on the first six days in the Chapel of the Choir, and on the

Funzioni per la Morte, &c., p. 8.

See Funzioni. pp. 20, 21.

It is the belief of the lower classes in Rome, that when the body of the former Pope is taken out of the niche, it is put into a carriage, and driven round the city, before being consigned to its place of repose, and that a salute is fired from the guns of St Angelo, as the body passes the fortress. The guns certainly were discharged that evening, but I can. not positively vouch for the cause.

Three velvet purses are placed beside the body in the innermost coffin, containing gold, silver, and copper coinsbearing on one side the impress of the Pope's countenance, and on the other, the most celebrated events of his reign.

last three at the foot of the catafalco, which has by this time been erected in the middle of the centre nave of the church. This is a sort of temporary monument, and varies in form and size according to the taste of the architect, and the sum of money allowed to be expended upon its erection.

That in honour of Leo XII. was in the form of an Egyptian pyramid, standing on a lofty base, and slightly truncated the whole erection being about one hundred feet high, and having a candelabrum of the same height at each corner. On these candelabra an immense quantity of wax lights were placed, consuming, it is said, one thousand pound weight each day. Had this been exhibited at night instead of noon, the effect would have been striking; as it was, it looked poor, as artificial lights must always do when contrasted with the clear light of day. The catafalco was adorned by various water-colour drawings, in imitation of bassi relievi, representing the Pope's bust, and the principal actions of his reign, long inscriptions in his praise, in not very classical Latin, and also emblematical statues, which I found were composed of hay covered over with stucco-perhaps the only materials which could be brought into use in so short a period.

After the mass of requiem is finished, the five absolutions prescribed by the ceremonial* are pronounced. This service is repeated on the two following days; and on the ninth day, a prelate appointed for the purpose pronounces a funeral oration on the deceased Pontiff. This concludes the services connected with the dead body. After which, the attention of all Rome is naturally drawn to the proceedings connected with the election of a suc

cessor.

YOUNG MEN! TAKE WARNING.

I AM better than many around me, says the heart of the young man.

Alas! if you were not, you would be poorly off. You have had greater advantages, greater mercies, greater protection than others, and you ought to be better than many others. The question is not whether this be so-no man is so far gone in sin that he does not feel this to be true; but are you so, living that you are to become a credit to your friends, a blessing to yourself, and an eternal recipient of God's mercy and goodness? If not, do not tell us about your being better than others.

But, says the heart, there are so many differences among Christians, so many imperfections, that I had rather abide as I am.

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And are there not differences among sinners too?} Do they agree about politics, or men, or measures, of finances, food or clothing? Yet they all agree that government is necessary, and that certain measures and laws are necessary-that money, and food, and clothing are necessary. And so do Christians agree that the highest end of man is the service of Godthat sin is his abomination, and that holiness is essential to eternal life. If you are perishing in the cold waters, and just about to sink, will you quarrel because of the dozen boats which put off to save you no two are shaped precisely alike, or are painted with every shade of colour alike? Of what consequence are these trifles to the drowning man?

But, say you, after all, there are so many hypocrites in the Church of God, that I do not like them. * See Funzioni, p. 21.

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