by hopes that were, indeed, then realized. He groaned-he wept-he prayed. For some weeks he applied diligently to the study of Scripture, and is now adorning domestic life, and honouring a Christian profession by devotedness to his Maker. THE SINNER OF FOURSCORE. I WAS about to take my leave for a season of a friend and benefactor, who was nearly fourscore years of age. The conversation, as we drew near the place where I was to take the steamboat, took a religious turn, though I did not succeed in rendering it as personable as was desirable. The boat was in sight as we reached the wharf: "I hope,” said I, "that I shall see you in the spring." "No; I do not know as I have." "Can you expect to gain eternal life and glory with less earnestness of effort than it cost you to gain your farm?" He shook his head. The boat was at the wharf. I bade him farewell, and was borne away. I watched him standing on the wharf, and my heart ached for the aged sinner, so near to death's door, and yet not willing to seek with the earnestness which is necessary in order to find. SCRIPTURE ILLUSTRATIONS: "They are wet with the showers of the mountains, and embrace the rock for want of a shelter," JOB Xxiv. 8. THIS scarcely exhibits the force of the original, which appears rather to refer "It is not likely," said he, "that I to torrents from the mountains, such shall be living in the spring." "Have you no hope that you are a Christian ?" said I, perhaps too abruptly, but not without emotion. The tears rolled down his cheeks; and, with some hesitation, he said, "No, I don't know that I have any." For a moment I was too much affected by this painful confession to be able to speak. "Don't you think," said he, wiping the tears from his cheek with the back of his toil-hardened hand, "that there are some who seek religion all their days, and never find it ?" I knew that he referred to himself. During his whole life he had been thoughtful, and more or less interested on the subject of religion. I suspected that he thought it was not altogether owing to himself that he was not a Christian. "Have you ever sought for religion as earnestly as you have sought for property?" as are mentioned in chapter vi., than to showers of the mountains. We would understand the whole verse to signify that they were overtaken and drenched by the mountain torrent, and, to save themselves, were obliged to cling to the naked rocks. This is easily explained. As these streams owe their origin and increase to the rains or the melted snows of distant mountains, the change from a dry bed, or a low and sluggish driblet, to a deep, broad, and rapid stream, is often amazingly sudden; and the volume of water, as it sweeps down and fills the channel, carries before it, like a whirlwind, whatever happens to be exposed to its fury. This is by no means a rare circumstance, though some torrents are more noted for their rapid changes than others. We recollect, in one instance, to have crossed, in Koordistan, a deep and rapid stream, forded, on horseback, with far more danger and the rank or wealth of its inmate, but from the appearance of the gate. Aware of this, and aware also that to excite the cupidity of the ruling powers by any indication of wealth, is to seek destruction, the wealthiest per difficulty than any other full torrent we ever passed. This was about the time of the autumnal rains; and were informed, that the channel of this very stream had been the preceding day almost a dry bed, and that the torrent had descended so suddenly as to pre-sons are careful, among other precauclude the escape of three persons who tions, that their gate shall not betray were crossing at the time, and were them, by being less low or mean than swept away by the current. Two of the gates of their neighbours. In going them were saved, indeed, by clinging to through a street, the doors are almost the exposed roots of the bushes that invariably of the most beggarly degrew on the banks, when they hap- scription, very low, and, although pened to be driven near them, but the strong, formed of rough unpainted third was drowned. This torrent is wood; and on visiting persons whom noted for sudden changes, and scarcely a he may know to be wealthy, the trayear occurs in which several deaths do veller is surprised to be conducted to not happen. As pathways sometimes a gate which, in his own country, he lie along the dry beds of these streams, would consider unworthy of a stable or the danger is greater than merely cross- an outhouse, and which but ill-preing their breadth would involve. We pares him for the splendour and luxury have, in order to avoid a longer route, which he may probably find when he spent half a day in riding along the reaches the interior. Yet the Orientals channel of a nearly exhausted torrent, are vain of appearances; and it does confined on either hand by tall cliffs, sometimes happen that a wealthy man so that if the stream had descended, so far forgets himself, or thinks he has there could have been no escape unless such ground for confidence, as to exalt the rock could have been embraced for his gate; but rarely has he long to shelter. wait, before he finds cause to learn that by this act he sought his own de "He that exalteth his gate seeketh de struction. In the city of Bagdad, the struction," PROV. xvii. 19. This is literally true at the present day in the East; but whether this literal interpretation be that which the sacred writer had in view it may be difficult to determine. It will be remembered that the Oriental houses do not front the street, but that the entrance from thence leads to a court in which, or in another beyond it, the front of the main building appears. Hence little indication can be gathered in the street concerning the probable character of the interior building, or only exalted gate to a private resi "And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord shall hiss for the fly that is in the uttermost part of the rivers of Egypt: and they shall come, and shall rest all of them in the desolate valleys," ISA. vii. 18, 19. The periodical rains which take place in Africa, and constitute one of the marvels of nature, produce another which is almost equally extraordinary. As soon as the rich earth of the mountains of Abyssinia becomes saturated with water, immense swarms of flies burst into existence, and assist to drive almost every living thing before them. This insect, though scarcely larger than a common bee, becomes formidable from its immense numbers; and its buzzing sound is no sooner heard, than the cattle forsake their food, and run wildly about the plain, till they actually die from fear, pain, and fatigue. The camel, whose patience under every other affliction is proverbial, gets ungovernable from the violent punctures of these flies. His body is covered with putrid lumps, and the creature, termed by the Arabs "the ship of the desert," founders, and dies. Even the rhinoceros and the elephant, whose hides are almost impenetrable to a musket-ball, are severely persecuted by these clouds of insects. All the inhabitants of the south coast of the Red Sea, to the mountains of Abyssinia, are obliged annually to seek refuge, with their cattle, in the cheerless sands of the desert; and so many human beings and huge animals thus flying before an army of flies, certainly forms a very remarkable and wonderful feature in the great picture of nature, besides being a highly interesting confirmation of Sacred Writ. Biography. JOHN BUNYAN. BY MACAULAY. In his second volume of the History of England, Macaulay gives sketches of the eminent Dissenters of the reign of James II. The celebrated John Bunyan is thus described: "To the names of Baxter and Howe must be added the name of a man far below them in station and in acquired knowledge, but in virtue their equal, and in genius their superior, John Bunyan. Bunyan had been bred a tinker, and had served as a private soldier in the Parliamentary army. Early in his life he had been fearfully tortured by remorse for his youthful sins, the worst of which seem, however, to have been such as the world thinks venial. His keen sensibility and his powerful imagination made his internál conflicts singularly terrible. He fancied that he was under sentence of reprobation; that he had committed blasphemy against the Holy Ghost; that he had sold Christ; that he was actually possessed by a demon. Sometimes loud voices from heaven cried out to warn him. Sometimes fiends whispered impious suggestions in his ear. He saw visions of distant mountain tops, on which the sun shone brightly, but from which he was separated by a waste of snow. He felt the devil behind him pulling his clothes. He thought that the brand of Cain had been set upon him. He feared that he was about to burst asunder like Judas. His mental agony disordered his health. One day he shook like a man in the palsy; on another day he felt a fire within his breast. It is difficult to understand how he survived sufferings so intense and so long-continued. At length the clouds broke. From the depths of despair, the penitent passed to a state of serene felicity. An irresistible impulse now urged him to impart to others the blessings of which he was himself possessed. He joined the Baptists, and became a preacher and a writer. His education had been that of a mechanic. He knew no language but the English, as it was spoken by the common people. He had studied no great model of composition, with the exception, an important exception undoubtedly, of our noble translation of the Bible. His spelling was bad. He frequently transgressed the rules of grammar. Yet the native force of his genius, and his experimental knowledge of all the religious passions, from despair to ecstasy, amply supplied in him the want of learning. His rude oratory roused and melted hearers who listened without interest to the laboured discourses of great logicians and Hebraists. His works were widely circulated among the humbler classes. One of them, the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' was in his own life-time translated into several foreign languages. It was, however, scarcely known to the learned and polite; and had been, during near a century, the delight of pious cottagers and artisans before it was publicly commended by any man of high literary eminence. At length critics condescended to inquire where the secret of so wide and so durable a popularity lay. They were compelled to own that the ignorant multitude had judged more correctly than the learned, and that the despised little book was really a master-piece. Bunyan is, indeed, as decidedly the first of allegorists as Demosthenes is the first of orators, or Shakspeare the first of dramatists. Other allegorists have shown equal ingenuity, but no other allegorist has ever been able to touch the heart, and to make abstractions objects of terror, of pity, and of love. "It may be doubted whether any English Dissenter had suffered more severely under the penal laws than John Bunyan. Of the twenty-seven years which had elapsed since the Restoration, he had passed twelve in confinement. He still persisted in preaching; but, that he might preach, he was under the necessity of disguising himself like a carter. He was often introduced into meetings through backdoors, with a smock frock on his back, and a whip in his hand. If he had thought only of his own ease and safety, he would have hailed the Indulgence with delight. He was now, at length, free to pray and exhort in open day. His congregation rapidly increased; thousands hung upon his words; and at Bedford, where he originally resided, money was plentifully contributed to build a meeting-house for him. His influence among the common people was such, that the government would willingly have bestowed on him some municipal office; but his vigorous understanding and his stout English heart were proof against all delusion and all temptation. He felt assured, that the proffered toleration was merely a bait intended to lure the Puritan party to destruction; nor would he, by accepting a place for which he was not legally qualified, recognise the validity of the dispensing power. One of the last acts of his virtuous life was to decline an interview to which he was invited by an agent of the government." MEMOIR OF MRS. CANNAM. THE subject of this brief memoir was born of pious and respectable parents. Her father is deacon of the Independent church at, in Buckinghamshire. Her mother, some years ago, died happily in the Lord. Her residence, since her marriage, had been at St. Ive's, in Huntingdonshire, where her bereaved husband and four motherless children still live. Her death, which took place a few months ago, is felt and regretted by many friends and others. From a child she loved the service and worship of God. As she grew up, all loved her, and spoke well of her. She was ever fond of good books-had her set times of private devotionmaintained a lovely deportment-was very cautious in conversation-never spoke ill of any-always disliked to hear others do so-was very averse to anything feigned in religion-said little or nothing of herself-loved the image of Christ, wherever it was seen-was clothed with humility-lived in peace with all, and delighted to show kindness to every one. Till the twentyfifth year of her age she looked the very picture of good health. Clothed in the bloom of youth, she shone in the beauty and freshness of the rose. But soon it appeared that the worm of a rapid consumption was busy in her, at its silent though sure work of death. Her end hastened apace. She saw it approaching; and she met it with the calmness of one who feels that his feet rest on "the Rock of ages," whilst, in the strength of the Almighty Saviour, he rears his sinking head through the ruins of the fall, and from amid the ravages of death, into the light, the bliss, and the glory of eternal day. Though naturally reserved, and exceedingly so in reference to her own religious experience, yet, as her short earthly pilgrimage drew to a close, she could speak of little else but of the richness of Divine love, as she experi enced it in her own soul. It seemed as if her heart had been gradually filling from infancy "with all the fulness of God," and now the well of living water within, overflowing the soul fast ripening for a better world, diffused itself in life-giving streams on those around. Many, on visiting this dying saint, felt the sacred power of religion, drawing their spirits from a world of vanities to one of substantial joys and of fadeless glories. And those relatives of the departed happy one, who surrounded the dying bed of their beloved friend, will, it is to be hoped, never forget the impressive scene, and the evidence they had of the power of vital religion to support, to cheer, to animate the deathless spirit of man, when heart and flesh fail him, in the rending of the soul from the body. Having commended her children, one by one, her husband, and all her friends, to the God of all comfort and consolation, Mrs. Cannam, after some time of great suffering, triumphantly exchanged |