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had been showing an officer all over my house. About ten minutes after he had left me, I had occasion to pass through a small green door, which led into a back bedroom and bath: just across the whole extent of the threshold was stretched a large snake. I was within a step of treading on it; for the room was dark, and my sight is of the shortest. I could not have missed touching it had I advanced. It was fast asleep and gorged: another cobra di capello.-Campbell's Rough Recollections.

THE CHINCHILLA.

"THE chinchilla," says Molina, in his Essay on the Natural History of Chili, "is another species of field-rat, in great estimation for the extreme fineness of its wool, or fur; which is of an ash grey, and sufficiently long for spinning. The little animal that produces it, is six inches long from the nose to the root of the tail, with small pointed ears, a short muzzle, teeth like the house-rat, and a tail of moderate length, clothed with a delicate fur. It lives in burrows under ground, in the open country of Chili, and is very fond of being in company with others of its species. It feeds upon the roots of various bulbous plants, which grow abundantly in those parts; and produces twice a year five or six young ones. It is so docile and mild in temper, that if taken into the hands, it neither bites nor tries to escape, but seems to take a pleasure in being caressed. If placed in the bosom, it remains there as still and quiet as if it were in its own nest." Such is the history of this interesting animal, until the arrival of a living specimen, which was brought to England by the late expedition to the north-west coast of America, under the command of Captain Beechey, and by him presented to the Zoological Society. The length of the body in our specimen is about nine inches, and that of the tail nearly five. To the account of its habits, given by Molina, we can only add, that it usually sits upon its haunches, and is able to raise itself up, and stand upon its hinder feet. It feeds in a sitting posture, grasping its food, and. conveying it to its mouth by means of its fore-paws. In its temper it is generally mild and tractable; but it will not suffer itself to be handled without resistance, and sometimes bites the hand which attempts to fondle it, when it is not in a humour to be played with. It was thought necessary to keep it during the winter in a moderately warm room; and a piece of flannel was even introduced into its sleeping apartment, for its greater comfort. But this indulgence was most pertinaciously rejected; and as often as the flannel was replaced, so often was it dragged by the little animal into the outer compartment of its cage, where it amused itself with pulling it about, rolling it up, and shaking it with its

feet and teeth. In other respects it exhibits but little playfulness, and gives few signs of activity; seldom usual disturbing its quietude by any sudden or extraordinary gambols, but occasionally displaying strong symptoms of alarm when startled by any unusual occurrence. It is in fact a remarkably tranquil and peaceful animal, unless when its timidity gets the better of its gentleness. A second individual of this interesting species has lately been added to the collection, by the whose kindness of Lady Knighton, in possession it had remained for twelve months previously to her presenting it to the Society. It is equally good-tempered and mild in its disposition; and probably, in consequence of having been domiciliated in a private house, instead of having been exhibited in a public collection, is much more tame and playful. In its late abode it was frequently suffered to run about the room, when it would show off its agility by leaping to the height of the table. Its food consisted principally of dry herbage: that of the Society's original specimen has hitherto been fed with grain of various kinds, and succulent roots. When the new-comer was first introduced into Brutonstreet, it was placed in the same cage with the other specimen; but the latter appeared by no means disposed to submit to the presence of the intruder. A ferocious kind of scuffling fight immediately ensued between them, and the latter would have fallen a victim, had it not been rescued from its impending fate. Since that time they have inhabited separate cages, placed side by side; and although the open wires would admit of some little familiarity taking place between them, no advances were made on either side. -Copied from the Imperial Magazine, for the year 1831.

THE HEN.

A FRIEND, residing in the next village to this, communicates to me the following circumstance, in proof of the courage and ferocity of the common hen under the attacks of an enemy, whilst engaged in incubation :A fowl, which had commenced sitting in the hen-house upon thirteen eggs, was observed each successive morning to have lost one or more of them during the night, till the number was reduced to nine. At length one morning a rat was found lying dead on the ground near the nest, with its skull fractured, while the hen bore marks of having sustained a severe conflict: her breast was torn and bloody, and her feathers much ruffled. The rat was a very large one, and there could be no doubt of its having been killed by the hen, on renewing its attempts to get at more of the eggs.-Jenyn's Observations in Natural History.

THE EYES OF INSECTS. How wonderfully constructed is this beautiful organ of insect vision! How admirably adapted to the necessities of insects! The gaudy dragon-fly, presenting, as he does, such a conspicuous tempting show of colours to the active swallow, eludes the feathered enemy by superior agility of flight. Mere agility, however, would avail nothing without the aid of powerful eyes. Accordingly, nature has given him somewhat more than

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twelve thousand eyes, bright and piercing, some looking upwards, some downwards, some backwards, and some on either side. In the ants, there are fifty of these faces or eyes; in the horse-fly, four thousand; in butterflies, upwards of seventeen thousand three hundred and fifty-five have been counted; nay, in some colcopterous or scaly-winged insects, there have been numbered no less than twenty-eight thousand and eighty-eight —Polytechnic Review,

I HAVE seen your letter to Mr. Sparks. The love of Christ constrains me to wish you joy. Of what? of being made partaker of the grace and cross of Christ. You will find, by happy experience, that both are inseparably connected. God be praised that you have an inclination to invite others to pariake of your joy in the Lord. Thus your brother Matthew, the publican, did. He made a feast; Jesus, that friend of publicans and sinners, was there: with such he is now; with such, to all eternity; and with such will he be surrounded in the kingdom of glory. There you and I must strive who will shout loudest, "Grace! Grace!" And why should not this contest, this heaven, begin on earth? It will, it must, if the kingdom of God be within us. Your letter bespeaks it set up in your soul. May the seed sown grow up unto a great tree. Look continually unto Jesus. It is he that hath said, "I will water it every moment." He is the Alpha and Omega. That he may be the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end of all your thoughts, words, and actions, is the earnest prayer of, dear Sir,

Your brother sinner,

G. WHITEFIELD.

DEAR SIR,

London, Dec. 15th, 1766.

NOT want of love, but leisure, hath prevented my answering your last. I have been itinerating in Bristol, Bath, Gloucestershire, and Oxford; and humbly hope my feeble labours were not altogether in vain in the Lord. Pray, how goes on your society? I hope you continue in your first love, and are daily provoking all you meet with to love and good works. "To him that hath shall be given; but from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he seemeth to have." Be zealous, therefore, for your God; and then, though you should, through mistake and over-hastiness, now and then cut an ear off, yet the all-powerful, all-compassionate Jesus, will heal it again. May this find you sitting humbly at his feet, hearing his word, and waiting to know his will! Your last to Mr. Sparks seemed a little too towering; but Jesus knows how to pull us down: his loving correction will make us truly great. That you may, in his strength, go on from conquering to conquering, is the hearty prayer of, dear Sir, Yours, &c., &c., in our common Lord,

G. WHITEFIELD.

P.S. Mr. Sparks and his wife are just returned from Devonshire, where they have been bearing, I hope, a successful testimony for Jesus. May he keep us faithful unto the death.

MEMOIR OF REBEKAH GRAHAM. DIED, March 6th, 1844, at Rawden, in the Yeadon Circuit, Rebekah Graham. She was born at Leeds, March 9th, 1767. Her mother was truly pious, and brought her up in the

"nurture and admonition of the Lord." She was early taught to read and revere the holy Scriptures. The maternal instructions and example she received had a beneficial influence upon her in after-life,

At the age of fourteen years, Rebekah was deeply convinced of sin, under the ministry of the Rev. Joseph Benson. That eminent Minister of Jesus Christ was greatly owned of God in Leeds and its vicinity. In the year 1781 he delivered a course of sermons on the "eternal torments of hell," and under one of these discourses, Rebekah was led to see her danger, and she earnestly sought, and happily obtained, " redemption through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of sins." About this time she left home, and was providentially placed in a pious family at Yeadon, where she remained eleven years, faithfully performing her domestic duties, and enjoying much of the comforts of the Holy Ghost. She felt her need of entire sanctification, and hearing that important doctrine clearly preached, and its enjoyment urged as the privilege of every true believer, she was led earnestly to press after its attainment, and was soon enabled to testify that "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin;" a blessing which she was enabled to hold fast to the end of her life. She delighted to tell what great things the Lord had done for her; and her conduct harmonized with her profession.

When she was about thirty-five years of age she was united in marriage to him who still survives; and she was indeed a "help meet for her husband," doing him good, and not evil, all the days of their union. In taking this important step, she sought, by earnest prayer, divine direction; nor did she ever doubt the divine approval. She often addressed herself to her young friends in reference to this matter, urging them to acknowledge God in an affair involving so much of happiness or misery; and constantly enforced the apostolic injunction, to "marry only in the Lord."

Amidst the cares and trials through which she passed, she was enabled to hold on her way; and thus she became "stronger and stronger." She exercised steadfast trust in the atonement of Christ, and in his ability to save unto the uttermost. Her reliance upon God's promises was very strong, and thus she was enabled to glorify God. She had an ardent zeal for the salvation of sinners. Her hatred to the sin, and love to the sinner, were manifested by the manner in which she reproved or exhorted; and by her fervent prayers for their salvation. Sometimes her fidelity exposed her to the scoffs of the ungodly; but she was often encouraged by visible tokens of good. She rejoiced to see her children, and several of her children's children, converted to God, and joined to his church.

Her diligent attendance upon the means of

grace formed a striking feature in her character. She did not forsake the assembling of herself with the people of God. She could say, "Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth." No dark night, or trifling worldly engagement, or slight affliction, kept her away when there was a possibility of being there. She attended the early prayer-meeting, on the Sabbath morning, until within a few weeks of her death. To her class-meeting she was devotedly attached, and for the space of sixty-three years she was seldom absent from this means of grace.

taste.

She esteemed the Ministers of the Gospel very highly in love for their work's sake." They received a cordial welcome under her roof, and she entertained them with Christian hospitality for many years. The doctrines they preached were exactly suited to her She especially delighted when distinct prominence was given to the great subjects of justification by faith in the blood of Christ, the witness of the Holy Spirit to a believer's adoption, and the present privilege of believers enjoying entire sanctification. She was not a croaker or complainer: she was eminently a happy, thankful Christian. She was equally attached to the discipline, as to the doctrines, of the church with which she was united; and had no sympathy with those who are "given to change."

The constitution of Rebekah Graham was strong, and her health almost uninterruptedly good, until about two years before her death: from that time she sunk rapidly under the infirmities of age; but it was delightful to observe that though the "outward man" was perishing, "the inward man was renewed day by day.' If she conversed on temporal matters, it was evident that her memory was very defective; but when spiritual subjects were introduced, she spoke with the greatest clearness, freedom, and delight. Her last affliction was painful and severe; but not a murmur escaped her lips. When her medical attendant informed her that she might die any moment, she said, "Praise the Lord, I am fully ready: for me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Her gratitude to God for all her mercies was remarkably manifested. To her family and friends she gave the fullest assurance of her meetness for glory. She was assailed by powerful temptation a short time before her departure; but she cried unto God, and he heard and delivered her; and after this she possessed unshaken confidence in God, and rejoiced in hope of his glory, until her redeemed spirit left its clay tabernacle behind, at the advanced age of seventy-seven years.

WILLIAM O. BOOTH.

THE MUSTARD-TREE.

SEE Matthew xiii. 31, xvii. 20; Mark iv. 31; Luke xiii. 19, xvii. 6.

ALL three of the Evangelists above quoted relate the parable which I will repeat in the words of St. Luke: "Unto what is the kingdom of God like? It is like a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and cast into his garden; and it grew and waxed a great tree, and the fowls of the air lodged in the branches of it."

This passage has been a stumbling-block to commentators, who, in their criticisms, seem to have forgotten two things: first, the very low plants and shrubs upon which birds often roost, and even build; and, second, how much larger many of our common herbs become in a warm climate.

Some

Jewish writers mention mustard-trees of enormous size, especially one under which tents might be spread; but these are probably fables, unless the writers refer to a very different species of mustard. Cap

* Sir Thomas Brown, with his usual good sense, says of this passage of the Gospel: "The expression,

tains Mangles and Irby, in their Travels, after speaking of the common mustard, which reached to their horses' bridles, mention a tree whose leaves and fruit have the taste of mustard, and produce the same effect on the eyes and nose: they give neither native nor European name to the tree, but remark that the birds did actually lodge in it.

Their description, as far as it goes, agrees with that of the salvadora Persica; whose seeds are very minute, with the strong pungent taste of cress, and which has been suggested as the probable mustard-tree of the Jews, and therefore that of the parable. Linnæus calls it rivina paniculata; and Forskal, cissus arborea. It is described as

that it might grow into such dimensions that birds might lodge in the branches thereof, may be literally conceived, if we allow the luxuriancy of plants in Judea above our northern regions; if we accept of but half the story taken notice of by Tremellius, from the Jerusalem Talmud, of a mustard-tree that was to be climbed like a fig-tree, and another under whose shade a potter daily wrought."Observations upon several Plants mentioned in Scripture,

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON
AFTER WATERLOO.

I HAVE already said that it was late, long past midnight, when the Duke lay down. He had not found time so much as to wash his face or his hands; but, overcome with fatigue, threw himself, after finishing his despatches, on his bed. He had seen Dr. Hume, and desired him to come punctually at seven in the morning with his report; and the latter, who took no rest, but spent the night beside the wounded, came at the hour appointed. He knocked at the Duke's door, but received no answer. He lifted the latch and looked in; and seeing the Field-Marshal in a sound sleep, could not find in his heart to awake him. By and by, however, reflecting on the importance of time to a man in the Duke's high situation, and being well aware that it formed no article in his Grace's code to prefer personal indulgence to any sort of public duty, he proceeded to the bedside and roused the sleeper. The Duke sat up in his bed; his face unshaven, and covered with the dust and smoke of yesterday's battle, presented rather a strange appearance; yet his senses were collected, and in a moment he desired Hume to make his statement. The latter produced his list, and began to read. But when, as he proceeded, name after name came out, this as of one dead, the other as of one dying,-his voice failed him; and looking up, he saw that the Duke was in an agony of grief. The tears chased one another from his Grace's eyes, making deep visible furrows in the soldier's blackened cheeks; and at last he threw himself back upon his pillow, and groaned aloud. "It has been my good fortune never to lose a battle; yet all this glory can by no means compensate for so great a loss of friends," he cried: "what

ory is not too dearly purchased at such a

cost?" Hume closed up his paper, unable to reply; and quitting the apartment, left the Duke to make his toilet. This was done in a frame of mind which none, except the individual, and not even he, could undertake to describe; yet the storm passed off, and when he appeared that day in public, the leader of the allied armies was as self-possessed as he had ever been. The truth is, that they who speak of the Duke of Wellington as gifted with iron nerves, and a heart which is not easily moved, know not what they say. The difference between him and other men is the same which in all ages has distinguished the hero from one of the crowd. With ordinary men, feeling, as often as it is appealed to, controls reason for a while, and it is with difficulty subdued. With great men, and surely the Duke is of the greatest, reason exerts itself in the first instance to control feeling, and keep it in its proper place. But feeling is not therefore extinct in them, as was shown in the personal bearing of the Duke on the morning of the 19th of June, and is still apparent in the tone of the letters from which extracts have elsewhere been given. His whole moral being was shaken and torn by the intensity of his grief for the loss and sufferings of his friends; yet he never for a moment permitted feeling to cast a shadow over judgment, or ceased to be, to the minutest particular, master of himself. He issued all his orders with the same calmness and deliberation which characterized his proceedings at other times. The routes which the columns were to follow, the discipline which was to be observed upon the march, the necessary means of preserving this discipline, and the purposes which it was designed to serve, were all explained and set forth in the memoranda which he drew up cre quitting his