are frequently thrown up, to an immense height, torrents of fire and smoke, rivers of melted metals, clouds of ashes and cinders, and sometimes red-hot stones and enormous rocks, to the distance of several miles, accompained with thunders, lightnings, darkness, and horrid subterraneous sounds-producing the most terrible devastations through all the surrounding districts. The most noted mountains of this kind in Europe, are mount Hecla, in Iceland; Etna, in Sicily; and Vesuvious, near the city of Naples, in Italy. Numbers of volcanoes are also to be found in South America, in Africa, in the islands of the Indian ocean, and in the empire of Japan.

Those who live where the highest mountain is little more than three quarters of a mile in perpendicular elevation, can form no adequate idea of the magnificence and awful sublimity of the mountain scenery in some of the countries now mentioned; especially when the volcano is belching forth its flames with a raging noise, and spreading terror and desolation around its base. From the tops of the lofty ridges of the Andes, the most grand and novel scenes sometimes burst upon the eye of the astonished traveller. He beholds the upper surface of the clouds far below him, covering the subjacent plain, and surrounding, like a vast sea, the foot of the mountain; while the place on which he stands appears like an island in the midst of the ocean. He sees the lightnings issuing from the clouds, and hears the noise of the tempest, and the thunders rolling far beneath his feet, while all is serene around him, and the blue vault of heaven appears without a cloud. At other times, he contemplates the most sublime and extensive prospects-mountains ranged around him, covered with eternal snows, and surrounding, like a vast amphitheatre, the plains belowrivers winding from their sources towards the oceancataracts dashing headlong over tremendous cliffsenormous rocks detached from their bases, and rolling down the declivity of the mountains with a noise louder than thunder-frightful precipices impending over his

head-unfathomable caverns yawning from below— and the distant volcano sending forth its bellowings, with its top enveloped in fire and smoke. Those who have studied nature on a grand scale, have always been struck with admiration and astonishment, at the sublime and awful exibition of wonders which mountainous regions exhibit; and perhaps, there is no terrestrial scene which presents, at one view, so many objects of overpowering magnitude and grandeur, and which inspires the mind with so impressive an idea of the power of that Almighty Being, who "weigheth the mountains in scales, and taketh up the isles as a very little thing."

POPULAR AND INSTRUCTIVE TALES.

THE LILY OF THE MOUNTAIN.

A SUPERFICIAL observer of the inequalities of life might suppose that there is a greater variety of human happiness than corresponds with facts. The parade of power, the pride of birth, and the magnificence of wealth, seem to indicate an enjoyment far greater than can subsist with the plain attire, the frugal repast, and the humble seclusion of the cottage. This would be a correct inference if the mind could be rendered happy by the parade of external circumstances. But a contented mind is the only source of happiness, and consequently, if " one flutters in brocade," and moves amid the refinements of society, and another is clad in homely attire and occupies the sequestered valley, or the recesses of the forest, it is not certain that this variety of external circumstances furnishes an equal variety of happiness. If God has given to one the luxuries and the honors of life, he has given to another the ornaments of a meek and quiet spirit. Hath not God chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath prepared for them that love him? And is not that peace which flows from a little to the heavenly inheritance superior to all the pa

geantry of an ungodly world? So I thought when, in the bosom of one of those western wilds with which our infant country yet abounds, I was prompted by humanity as well as by duty to visit the lonely dwelling of a poor, afflicted widow. The path that leads to this cottage is over a mountain and through a forest which has never echoed to the axe of the husbandman. As I climbed the toilsome solitary way, I asked myself, what unhappy beings, rent from the bosom of society, have chosen to bury their sorrows in this noiseless retreat. I had not imagined that I should find so lovely a being as I have named the Lily of the Mountain. As I advanced, a little opening presented the cottage sending up its solitary wreaths of smoke. There is a charm when one first emerges from the bosom of the wilderness, and catches the smoke of a dwelling, and hears the barking of the jealous watch dog, which cannot be described, and which can be realized only by experience.

I had now reached the cottage, and stooped to gain admission through the humble door. The building consisted of a pile of logs unceremoniously rolled together in the form of a dwelling, and supporting with more than the strength of Gothic architecture the half thatched roof. There was no chimney, and the smoke was permitted to struggle through the large aperture or to yield to the repulse of an adverse wind and circulate about the interior till it could escape through the interstices of the mansion. The fire necessary to expel the cold from this comfortless habitation, had turned to the semblance of ebony, and to the reality of charcoal, the adjacent logs, which were made to do the half office of a chimney; and the floor was of native earth, except some pieces of refuse boards, and some flat stones which served chiefly for a hearth.

There were no apartments in the dwelling, but a blanket venerable from age was suspended, as it seemed, for the purpose of half concealing the necessary domestic business from the couch of sickness and languishing. Some pieces of broken shingles fixed in the opening of the logs served for a shelf, and here were deVOL. I.-7.:

posited some dusty tracts and an ancient family Bible. On a mat near the fire lay a son, the support of declining age, with a foot half amputated by an unfortunate blow from the axe. The wound had been dressed by an empyric of the neighbouring settlement; and the patient, left to the care of his widowed mother, was perusing a much worn tract. Near by, upon the only couch, lay the interesting form which constitutes the subject of my narrative. The victim of consumption, she resembled indeed the beautiful, but fading lily. Confined from the sun and air, her complexion had assumed a delicate whiteness, and the slow wasting fever had tinged her cheeks with a most beautiful color. Her disease had reached that stage in its progress, which gives a transparency to the skin, and throws around the female form the loveliness of an angel, awaking those mingled emotions which I shall not attempt to describe, and which excite the earnest prayer that death, having rendered his victim so pensively beautiful, may relinquish his purpose. With indescribable feelings I drew near the couch of this interesting sufferer. Her expressive eye spoke of happier days, and the raven tresses that lay dishevelled on her pillow, seemed to whisper that had this flower, thus

-born to blush unseen,

And waste its sweetness on the desert air. been transplanted to the parterre, it might have surpassed in beauty and fragrance its sister flowers. But I was anxious to learn the approaching destiny of the spirit that animated this form of loveliness. (To be continued.)

EXAMPLES FROM HISTORY.

ON ENVY.-SENTIMENTS.

"He who filches from me my good name, enriches not himself, but makes me poor indeed."

ENVY is almost the only vice which is practicable at all times, and in every place; the only passion which can

never lie quiet for want of irritation: its effects are therefore every way discoverable, and its attempts always to be dreaded.

It is impossible to mention a name which any advantageous distinction has made eminent but some latent animosity will burst out. The wealthy trader will want those who hint with Shylock, that ships are but boards, and that no man can properly be termed rich whose fortune is at the mercy of the winds. The beauty provokes, whenever she appears, a thousand murmurs of detraction and whispers of suspicion. The genius suffers persecution from innumerable critics, whose acrimony is excited merely by the pain of seeing others pleased, of hearing applauses which another enjoys.

The frequency of envy makes it so familiar, that it escapes our notice; nor do we often reflect upon its turpitude or malignity, until we happen to feel its influence. When he that has given no provocation to malice, but by attempting to excel in some useful art, finds himself pursued by multitudes whom he never saw, with implacability of personal resentment; when he perceives clamour and malice let loose upon him as a public enemy, and incited by every stratagem of defamation; when he hears the misfortunes of his family, or the follies of his youth, exposed to the world; and every failure of conduct, or defect of nature, aggravated and ridiculed; he then learns to abhor those artifices at which he only laughed before; and discovers how much the happiness of life would be advanced by the eradication of envy from the human heart.

It is, above all other vices, inconsistent with the character of a social being, because it sacrifices truth and kindness to very weak temptations. He that plunders a wealthy neighbour, gains as much as he takes away, and improves his own condition in the same pro❤ portion as he impairs another's; but he that blasts a flourishing reputation, must be content with a small dividend of additional fame; so small as can afford very little consolation to balance the guilt by which it is obtained,