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Thyatira, because by their unholy conduct they gave no proof of the possession of that grace which leads all who are really the subjects of it, to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously, and godly.

THE OUTER WORLD. Slave Trade.—A new treaty for the suppression of the Slave Trade has been entered into between the English and French governments, the principal condition of which is, that each nation shall equip and send out twenty-six cruisers, consisting of steam and sailing vessels, to the coast of Africa. As soon as the French squadron is ready, a notification of the fact is to be made to the Queen of England ; and a public declaration issued – that the convention is on the point of being put into execution. The treaty is to continue in force ten years, commencing three months after this notice.

The number of slave vessels arrived in the Trans-Atlantic States since 1814, appears by a late parliamentary return, to be 2313; the number of African slaves, 657,187.

The number of slave vessels captured frorn 1829 to 1843, was 407. The greater part of them had no slaves actually on board at the time of seizure, although no fewer than 57,639 were set at liberty by the mixed Commission Courts at Sierra Leone.

Cheap Postage.—The average number of letters passing through the General Post Office previous to the reduction, was 1,622,147 in four weeks. For the same period during the present year, the number is 6,808,337, or more than four times as many.

Pistol Law. Another of those cold-blooded "affairs of folly” usually called “duels” has been lately perpetrated in the neighbourhood of Portsmouth, by which an individual has been untimely hurried into the presence of his Maker. The murderer and his abettors, like true men of honor, have run away; their courage in the field having yielded to their fears of a court of justice.

What must be the moral standing of society when a man is branded as a coward, because he dares to make the Bible his standard of conduct in preference to the puerile, capricious whim of a circle calling themselves men of honor ?

Will it be believed, a century hence, that any men of our own times could be such simpletons as to consider it an act of bravery to pull a trigger, and run away from its probable consequences? Why, the child of five years old, who, trembling from head to foot, with outstretched arm and averted eyes, fires a penny cannon at a dutch doll, is not so

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pitiful a coward as your mis-named men of honor. He does brave the result, and risk the penalties of a commission of enquiry from mamma; whilst the duellist, having discharged the fatal bullet, becomes a vagabond for life, rather than place himself in the hands of that fairest of all human tribunals - a British jury.

Will it be believed, on such a retrospect, that England in the nineteenth century had any amongst its wealthier and more fashionable classes, who practically advocated wager of battle, and ordeal by bullet-who thought that a question of right could be decided by a random shot; or that an outraged spirit could receive "satisfaction either from the thought of having murdered a fellow-creature; or the endurance, in itself, of all the agonies of a lingering and painful death ?

Although, in denouncing this atrocious practice, we should prefer to stand upon the high ground of God's declared will, and brand it as a flagrant and impious violation of his law; let us for the present content ourselves by looking at the utter absurdity of the case.

The Honorable Augustus Wysaker, a little man of four feet nine, and almost as spare as a skeleton, speaks an unguarded word with reference to his bosom friend and relative, Sir Algernon Walker, Bart., a very Daniel Lambert in bulk. Offence is taken, and a hostile message is the consequence. Our pigmy actor, the real aggressor, is a shot,” whilst Sir Algernon has never handled a pistol in his life. The parties meet: shots are exchanged, and the baronet is left dead upon the field, the victim of what? Of a hasty, or unkind, or intemperate expression ? Certainly not; for he was the injured party. Of the unerring verdict of an appeal to pistol law? No; he is murdered because he had been insulted: he has fallen, because he was uninitiated in a practice more honored in the breach than the observance; because he was of too portly and commanding a build to be missed by his little slanderer, whose only school had been a shooting gallery.

Common sense sums up the question to be tried, and puts it before the jury in these terms:-“Which man has wronged his fellow-creature?" And what, think you, is the verdict? “He who has been wronged himself!"

But, says the Court, “Your verdict is unintelligible: give me, at least, some reason for it!”

0! says Etiquette, the foreman, in mincing phrase : "Because he is unfortunately the worst shot, and the best mark!

Maynooth.The Earl of Winchilsea stated at a public meeting in London, held on the 4th June, that nearly 10,000 petitions, signed by about 1,208,201 persons, had been presented to Parliament against the endowment of this College.



In the calm evening of a sultry day,

A toil-worn missionary, deep in thought,
With patient step pursued his onward way,

To the dear home his heart so fondly sought.
On the soft balmy air there rose no sound,
And yet he paused - for on the dewy ground

A travel-worn and feeble native lay,
Whose haggard frame, and quickly-heaving breath,
Foretold too truly the approach of death.
The gentle minister with looks of love

Bent in much kindness o'er the dying man,
And strove to lead his wandering thoughts above

Ere death for ever closed life's little span.
“What is thy hope,” he asked, in mildest tone,
“When thou shalt enter on a world unknown?

Oh! will it faithful in the trial prove?”
A bright glearn lighted up that half-closed eye,
And murmuring accents gave this sweet reply:
“The blood of Jesus Christ, God's only Son,

Cleanses from every sin !”—The life-blood rushed
From the warm beating heart—the faltering tongue

In death's long silence was that moment hushed.
The missionary paused in solemn awe,
And as he gazed, a folded paper saw,

Which in that hand-so lifeless now!—was crushed,
And found a single tattered leaf which bore
The precious verse, those lips could breathe no more.
Ah! that had led the weary soul to Him

Who is the trembling sinner's perfect rest,
And when all earthly hopes were faint and dim,

Had filled with rich abiding peace, his breast.
The missionary his lone path pursued
With feelings of adoring gratitude,

And oft in notes of praise his joy exprest-
That one pure ray of truth in mercy given,

Had guided that poor wanderer safe to heaven.

H. M. W.

" ARISE, DEPART, FOR THIS IS NOT YOUR REST.” Wher softly smiles the enchantress world, in borrowed radiance

bright; And rising hope the future bathes in foods of golden light; Then, like a knell of death and gloom, strikes on the youthful

breast, The warning sad," Arise, depart, for this is not your rest!” When the stern hand of sacred truth hath torn the dazzling veil ; And, her bright spell dissolved, she stands revealed in sadness

pale; When with delusive gleam no more, earth's joys and hopes are

drest; Then softer fall the words, “ Depart, for this is not your rest!" But when in deepest woe you stand by some dear dying bed, And mark the sigh wherein our all of earthly bliss hath fled ; . Oh! then, we hail as softest balm to our torn, bleeding breast, That balsam sweet, “ Arise, depart, for this is not your rest!" And when on faith's keen eye are poured in brightness from the

sky, Visions of pure celestial love--of joys that cannot die ; Then, then with ecstacy we hear from mansions of the blest, Soft sounds of hope and peace,“ Depart, for this is not your rest!"

S. E. P.

Reflect! my soul, upon that wondrous time,

When heaven disclos'd the soul-absorbing plan
That Christ should suffer though he knew no crime

To save poor ruined, self-polluted man.
Behold him, in the garden, watch and pray!

T'was there his death-like agony began,
T'was there he prov'd that he was clad in clay ;

Pause then in wonder, and “Behold the man!”
Betray'd and mocked, deserted and alone ;

(For those he loved, forsook their Lord and ran.)
He bears his agonies without a groan

To save poor sinners-yes ; “ Behold the man!"

Behold him stand, before the Roman chief,

Bearing the world's rebuke, the sinner's ban ;
His visage marr'd by marks of recent grief;

Smitten for us, and scourged! “Behold the man!”
Upon the curséd cross behold him die !

To consummate the scheme His love began ;
Ah! hear his last, his loud expiring cry!

weep and worship, and “ Behold the man."
Retrace thy steps, go mark his silent tomb,

His form so beauteous once, now pale and wan;
And then reflect amidst the awful gloom,

himself for me :” “Behold the man !”
But see! what sudden wonders meet our sight !

The LORD OF GLORY spurns the mortal clod;
He bursts the shades of darkness and of night,

With rev’rence worship, and confess THE GOD!

R. W. F.

How beauteous on the spreading sea,

Does that approaching sail appear !
It brings the word of life to me,

It brings the men my heart holds dear :
It brings the heralds of the Lord,
To speak his gracious, saving word.
Rejoice, ye wanderers ! tune the lay ;

That Sun which gives to Britain light,
From Britain darts a heavenly ray,

To cheer these regions wrapt in night.
O, see that sail approach our land,
And shout it welcome to your strand.
Majestic from the swelling wave,

She rears her towering top-mast high;
Godlike she comes, to seek and save

These realms, that lost in ruin lie.
The Lord environs them about;
Among them is a kingly shout.

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