march of mind hath been to them the march to the grave; a lingering remnant is all that is now left to sigh over the ruins of their empire. How must the poor child of the forest weep with the grief of years in his soul? And how must his heart throb with anguish when he muses on the ruins of his race, and the melancholy destiny of his children? For, after all their toil and industry-with every claim of esteem and friendship-with all the sacredness of treaty-the children of nature to be driven from a home they have made a garden, to satisfy an unjust and unprincipled usurpation.

And can we be astonished if the indignant son of the forest should assert his right to the possession of his native soil-the wild given him by the Great Spirit -and his determination to defend it to the last? Theirs is not the spirit that would tamely brook the insults, or bow in meek submission to the oppressors of their nation. Their gigantic souls will never yield till their last foothold shall slide from beneath their feet, and the last lightning of their power sunk harmless on their enemies, and the thunders of their vengeance failed. And could we be astonished at the result, all precedent cries out in the negative. The Genius of Empire, as she lives couched and groaning beneath the magnificent ruins of old Rome, cries out, No! and echo proclaims it again from the towers of Troy-from the Acropolis of Athens, and from the walls of Carthage.

NOTICES OF RECENT PUBLICATIONS.

REVIEW.

First Series: Memory's Tribute, or, Things profitable for reflection. The Baptism. By the author of the M'Ellen Family. 1830. 18mo. pp. 36.

(Concluded from page 58.)

We left the clergyman and Mr. Heyden in an interesting scene. The blue vault above was brilliant with innumerable worlds of glory; and the watery expanse of the Ontario, reflecting from its surface the mild radiance of the silver moon, shone like the crystal Mrv stream that is among the symbols of the heavenly Jerusalem. Heyden, pointing to the heavens, said, 'Henry Northend has gone to

The

yonder bright world, and will shine like one of those stars in the kingdom of his master for ever and ever.'" As they continue on their way, under the influence of this thought, a neighbouring graveyard attracts the notice of the Clergyman and Mr. H. They read there an epitaph. It points out the spot where rest the ashes of the Rev. M. P. His history, Mr. H. says, will interpret the full meaning of Mr. Northend's words, when he so particularly dwelt upon the baptism. This naturally awakens a deep interest in his companion; and repairing to a rude seat between two elms, Mr. H. begins his narrative, of which the following is a brief outline. The Rev. Mr. P. visited this region twenty years before. subject of religion and its ordinances was the general theme of conversation. Several families expressed a wish to have their children then baptized. Among the rest were Mr. Northend's family. The Missionary introduced by Mr. Heyden, entered Mr, Northend's humble dwelling, and proposed the subject. "Mrs. Northend regretted that she had not had some previous notice, so that she might have prepared better clothes for the children." The Missionary remarks, “that this, he hoped, would not prevent her embracing the present opportunity of having her offspring grafted into the body of Christ's Church; and he trusted it would hereafter be her constant aim and unceasing effort, to see that her children were clothed in the garments of righteousness. Go,' said her husband, and get the children together, we must not miss this opportunity of having them christened.' Mrs. N. retired to collect the group. Mr. P. asked Mr. Northend if he had a Prayer Book. He answered, 'He believed that his father used to have one." " After much search, an old English Prayer Book was found. The Missionary then "took occasion to speak upon the important and exalted privilege of Christian baptism. 'Yes,' said Mr. Northend, not understanding the spiritual sense in which Mr. P. spoke, any more than the woman of Samaria understood the meaning of the Saviour, when he discoursed about the living water,' at Jacob's well; Yes, I have always thought I would have my children christened. I have known persons to lose a fortune on account of their not having been christened, or their not having had their names properly registered at the time.'"

The children were all assembled, except “the oldest son, a boy about twelve, who was nowhere to be found." The service was commenced; and as the Missionary proceeded, its solemnity took more and more effect. Both the parents were impressed. And after an appropriate concluding prayer, the Missionary spoke to them, on the importance of family religion. The exhortation is here extracted, and commended to the serious perusal of all fathers and mothers.

"You have been making very solemn promises for your children. Let me tell you, that you cannot keep those promises, unless you have an altar to the Lord in your dwelling; unless you gather these children together morning and night, and pray with them. For them you have promised to renounce the devil, to exercise Christian faith, and to lead a godly life. You cannot do this for them, unless you are in earnest to do it for yourselves. You can never do this, either for them or yourselves, unless you look up continually to God in prayer. See what a group of young immortals are com

mitted to your trust! These children, in all probability, will be happy or miserable in eternity, according to the course you pursue with them. They have this day been admitted into the congregation of Christ's flock; they have been invested with great and glorious privileges: but whether those privileges will ever be of any service to them, depends, in a very considerable degree, upon you. I do entreat you, therefore, for your children's sake, and for your own sakes, seek with all diligence and earnestness the kingdom of GoD and his righteousness.'"'

This was the baptism. And it awakened in the mind of Mr. N. a lively interest in the word of GOD, and the salvation of his soul. His whole heart was gradually changed. He became a new man; and the affections of his soul, his mental powers, all his temporal affairs, all his domestic duties, felt the change. His children soon became partakers of his heavenly blessing. He diligently and prayerfully trained them for the skies. And though in one short year he was called upon to part with three out of their number, he bowed in meek submission to the supreme will of the LORD.

But he was visited of God, by a severer trial of his faith. His eldest son, who was not present at the baptism, and who declared that he would not submit to it except by force, matured his feelings of depravity with vile associates. He forsook his father's house, and he despised his father's tears and prayers. His mother on her death-bed, knew no pang but one. It was the thought of her James, her prodigal. He came to her apartment, and she appealed to him in the most touching language, but in vain. He soon returned to his associates and to his sins. And on the waters of the lake, without regard to the statutes and ordinance of the Almighty, whose wonders were around him, he lived without God and without hope. But in a storm, which spread its awful terrors over his frail bark, he at last experienced the serity of judgment. He was in sight of shore, and near his father's house. But on a wreck, he was at the mercy of the furious gale. Upon the beach his friends assembled. And there too was his distracted father. Without thinking of himself so much as to protect his head from the chill blast, the venerable man had risen from his seat, and hastened to the agonizing spectacle. And as his long white locks were flowing in the wind, that was about to sweep his "James" into destruction, he implored, "O save my child, I will give all that I possess if any one will make the effort." But all attempts would have been vain. A gloomy night soon mingled its thick darkness with the frowning storm. The weeping father now reluctantly withdraws, yet earnestly ejaculates, "O GOD, help me to bow in humble submission to this dispensation, and say thy will be done."

From that time, he became entirely absorbed in heavenly things. He lived and died a Christian. "Peace," said Mr. Heyden, as he concluded the narrative, "Peace be to his memory.'

The sacrament of baptism, blessed to the spiritual good of Mr. Northend and all his family, except the one profligate companion of the ungodly, is an interesting and instructive theme, profitable for reflection. The incidents are well disclosed; and the narrative is such, as to awaken a concern on this important subject.

POETRY.

(COMMUNICATED.)

HOME OF THE CHRISTIAN,

BY REV. JOSEPH RUSLING.

On the high clifts of Jordan with pleasure I stand,
And view in bright prospect the fair promised land;
The land where "the ransomed with singing shall come,"
To dwell in the kingdom prepared as their Home.

There, rivers most graceful eternally glide,
And groves, rich with verdure, grow up by their side;
There, hosts of bright spirits angelic become,
In that heavenly kingdom of Glory, their Home.

'Tis there, all the nations redeemed by the Lamb,
In circles most lovely his praises proclaim;
Thro' scenes of affliction those worthies have come,
To rest in the kingdom of Glory, their Home.
All over those peaceful, delectable plains
The Lord our Redeemer triumphantly reigns;
His sceptre of empire with grandeur resumes,
And kindly he welcomes his followers Home,
How happy those beautiful realms of repose,
Whence splendid and pure immortality arose ;
The regions ambrosial in infinite bloom,
"The kingdom of heaven," the christian's Home.
The pleasures of Glory O! when shall I share,
And crowns of celestial felicity wear;
Those landscapes to range undisturbed with a sigh,
The Home of my Father's, God's Palace on high.

HOME.

Seest thou my home? 'Tis where yon woods are waving
In their dark richness to the sunny air;

Where yon blue stream a thousand flower-banks laving,
Leads down the hill a vein of light-'tis there.

'Midst these green haunts how many a spring lies gleaming.
Fringed with the violet, coloured with the skies-
My boyhood's haunts, through days of summers dreaming,
Under young leaves that shook with melodies!

My home-the spirit of its love is breathing
In every wind that plays across my track;
From its white walls the very tendrils wreathing,
Seem with soft links to draw the wanderer back,

There am I loved! There prayed for! There my mother
Sits by the hearth, with meekly thoughtful eye!
There my young sisters watch to greet their brother-
Soon their glad footsteps down the lane would fly!

There, in sweet strains of kindred music blending,
All the home voices meet at day's decline;
One are those tones, as from one heart ascending-
There lies my home-and, stranger where is thine!
Ask where the earth's departed have their dwelling,
Ask of the clouds, the stars, the trackless air?
I know it not, yet trust the whisper telling

My lonely heart, that love unchang'd is there.

And what is home? and where, but with the living?
Happy thou art that so canst gaze on thine!
My spirit feels, but in its weary roving,

That with the dead, where'er they be-is mine.

Go to thy home, rejoicing son and brother!
Bear in fresh gladness to the household scene!
For me, too, watch the sister and the mother,
I will believe-but dark seas roll between.

J. HOLFAST.

TO THE IVY.

Lone tenant of the wasted spot,

Where softened Desolation smiles,
And weeds are spread o'er graves forgot,
And Ruin sighs from grass grown aisles;
Still present round each withered trunk,
Like youth which cheers the path of age;
Or where the river wall has sunk

Beneath Destruction's leaguering rage.

Child of decay! No blushing flower,

Or cup of treasured sweets, is thine.
To breathe in Beauty's fragrant bower,
Or charm where statelier rivals shine.
The column of the desert place,

The Warrior's cross, the nameless stone,
Receive thy clasping boughs' embrace,
And show thy clustering wreaths alone.

Yet, type of Truth when Fortune wanes;
And Grief, that haunts the mouldering tomb;
And Love, that "strong as death" sustains

The whirlwind's shock and tempest's gloom: