ment to keep their foibles from being known, and of correcting their own conduct by experience and observation. The difficulty is that those who do not know their faults, have no means of perceiving the effects of their conduct upon others.

But note the bearing of that man who understands his own heart and has the judgment to lead him aright in the ways of life; who, quitting the strife of petty minds, and allowing his thoughts to soar aloft and dwell upon higher objects than the grovelling herd can grasp at, yields himself up to that easy and unrestrained action, which always carries with it the conviction of spotless purity. As the majestic and powerful eagle, fearlessly spreading his wings aloft in air at mid-day, can look upon the glorious sun through the most piercing ray without cowering, so the possessor of true dignity, stretching forth his bold arm in asserting his rights and privileges, can stand before the searching glance of each and all "the choice and master spirits of the age," without fear, and free from any aspersions which may be levelled at his motives.

THE HAPPY DEAD.

BLEST Spirit, where art thou this Sabbath eve?
Amid the fields of glory dost thou range?
Or, pausing, dost thou drink the crystal stream
That flows beneath the throne, and eat the fruit
Of life's immortal tree, and wear the palm
Of victory? This moment dost thou bow
Before the Lamb, and plunge into the beams
That from the uncreated sun break forth?
Dost thou look down on us who toil below,
And feel a sympathy at our distress?
Or dost thou hover, in the sable night,
Above our sleeping pillow, breathing peace,
And guarding, with celestial vigilance,
The beings that were dear to thee on earth?
Methinks I see thee move in all the grace,
And bloom, and beauty of that world of life.
I hear thee sing the song of the redeemed,
And from the heights of Paradise I see
Thee beckon us, with smiles of holy joy,
To hasten up the steeps and join thee there.
Then I recall the days, for ever gone,

When those same smiles were wont to gild our path,
When those same eyes that so regard us now,
Looked through the veil of flesh to catch our glance;
And when those hands, which now thou wav'st in light,
Grasped ours, and helped us to pursue our way.

I now bethink me of the bliss you gave-
The sorrows that you shared-the pains you soothed-
The hours that you beguiled-the lights you threw
Across the shadowy scene! And then the change!
O, here the heart recoils! Darkness and death
Close in upon us-yet we turn again

To where you dwell, and, with zeal renewed
By your example, conquest, and your crown,
Address us to our way. We ask the aid

Of Him whom you adore, and pledge ourselves
To tread, unfaltering, and untried, the length
Of the celestial road, and meet thee there.
And wilt thou hail us over Jordan's stream,
Or meet us in the wave, and guide our flight
Up to the presence of your heaven and ours?
O, sainted one! thy holy life-thy death

Shall draw our hearts from earth and all its charms!
Then still attract; but let those cords of love,
Which almost call our spirits from their clay,
Draw us more closely to each other still,
Till mingled into one, our kindred souls
Aspire, and soar, and lose themselves with thine
In the abyss of life, and heaven, and God!

THY MOTHER.

BY LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.

WHO, when thine infant life was young,
Delighted, o'er thy cradle hung?
With pity, sooth'd each childish moan,
And made thy little griefs her own?
Who sleepless watch'd in hours of pain,
Nor smiled 'till thou wert well again?
Who sorrow'd from thy side to part,
And bore thee absent, on her heart?
Thy Mother, boy! How can'st thou pay
Her tender care, by night and day?

Who join'd thy sports with cheerful air,
And joy'd to see thee strong and fair?
Who, with fond pride, to guest and friend,
Would still the darling child commend?
Whose tears in secret flowed like rain,
If sin or wo thy life did stain?
And who, with prayer's unceasing sigh,
Besought for thee a home on high?
Thy Mother, boy! How can'st thou pay
Her tireless love, by night and day?

Bear on thy brow the lofty smile
Of upright duty, free from guile;
With earnest diligence restrain
The word, the look, that gives her pain;
If weary toil her path invade,
Come, fond and fearless, to her aid,
Nerve thy young arm, her steps to guide,
If fades her cheek, be near her side,
And by a life of goodness pay
Her care and love, by night and day.

AN IDEA OF THE UNIVERSE.

BY THE REV. THOMAS DICK, D.D.

THE term universe signifies the whole system of created beings, whether material or immaterial, existing throughout the regions of boundless space.

We can obtain an approximate idea of the universe only by commencing a train of thought at those objects with which we are more immediately conversant, and ascending gradually to objects and scenes more distant and expansive. We are partly acquainted with the objects in the landscape around us, of which we form a part-the hills, the plains, the lofty mountains, the forests, the rivers, the lakes, and the portions of the ocean that lie immediately adjacent. But all that diversity of objects which we behold in the landscape with which we are connected, forms but a very small and inconsiderable speck compared with the whole of the mighty continents and islands, the vast ranges of lofty mountains, and the expansive lakes, seas and oceans, which constitute the surface of the terraqueous globe. It would be requisite taking the general average of a pretty extensive land scape-that more than nine hundred thousand landscapes of the extent we generally behold, should pass before our view, ere we could form an adequate conception of the bulk of the whole earth; and, I believe, very few persons are capable of forming, at one conception, a comprehensive idea of the superficial extent of the globe on which we tread, whose surface contains no less than one hundred and ninety-seven millions of square miles.

But, however great the earth may appear in the eyes of the frail beings that inhabit it, it appears only as an inconsiderable ball when compared with some of the planetary bodies belonging to our system. One of these bodies could contain within its dimensions nine hundred globes as large as the earth, another fourteen hundred and were five hundred globes as large as that on which we dwell, laid upon a vast plane, the outermost ring of the planet Saturn, which is six hundred and forty-three thousand miles in circumference, would enclose them all. Such are the vast dimensions of some of those revolving bodies which appear only like small lucid specks on the concave of our sky. This earth, however, and all the huge planets, satellites, and comets, comprised within the range of the solar system, bear a very small proportion to the bulk of that glorious luminary which enlightens our day. The sun is five hundred times larger than the whole, and would contain within its circumference, thirteen

hundred thousand globes as large as our world. To contemplate all the variety of scenery on the surface of this luminary would require more than fifty thousand years, although a landscape five thousand miles in extent, were to pass before our eyes every hour. Of a globe of such dimensions, the human mind, with all its efforts, and the most vigorous fancy, after its boldest excursions, can form no adequate conception. It forms a kind of universe in itself, and ten thousands of years would be requisite before human beings could thoroughly investigate and explore its vast dimensions, and its hidden wonders. It presents to our view a most glorious idea of the grandeur of the Deity, and the amazing energies of Almighty power. It affords a striking and august emblem of the great Creator "who dwells in light inaccessible and full of glory." In its lustre, in its magnitude, in its boundless influence, in its beneficent effects on distant surrounding worlds, it exhibits a more bright display of Divine perfection than any other single object we behold in our visible firmament.

The farther we proceed in our researches in the sidereal heavens, the scene of creating power and wisdom becomes more expansive and magnificent. At every step of our progress, the prospect enlarges far beyond what we had previously conceived; the multitude and variety of its objects are indefinitely increased; new suns and new firmaments open to view on every hand, overwhelming the mind with astonishment and wonder, at the immensity of creation, and leaving it no room to doubt that, after all its excursions, it has arrived only "at the frontiers of the great Jehovah's kingdom." Wherever we turn our eyes amidst those higher regions, infinity appears to stretch before us on either hand, in its awful and overwhelming dimensions; and countless assemblages of the most resplendent objects are everywhere found, diversifying the tracks of immensity. To investigate such objects in relation to their number, magnitude, motion, and the laws by which they are united and directed in their revolutions, completely baffles the mathematician's skill, and sets all his boasted powers of analysis at defiance, and demonstrates that we are still in the infancy of knowledge and of being. Here all finite measures fail us in attempting to scan such amazing objects, and to penetrate into such unfathomable recesses: length, breadth, height and depth, and time and space are lost. We are justly filled with admiration at the astonishing grandeur of the Milky Way, where suns and worlds are counted by millions. When exploring its dimensions and sounding its profundities, we seem to have got a view of a universe far more expansive than what we had previously conceived to be the extent of the whole creation. But what shall we say, if this vast

assemblage of starry systems be found to be no more than a single nebula, of which several thousands, perhaps even richer in stars, have already been discovered! and that it bears no more propor tion to the whole sidereal heavens, than a small dusky speck which our telescope enables us to descry! Yet such is the conclusion to which we are necessarily led, from the discoveries which have been lately made respecting the different orders of the nebula.

The nebulæ are faint cloudy spots which are seen in various parts of the heavens. Two or three of them are just perceptible to the naked eye; but the greater part can only be perceived by powerful jelescopes. The discoveries which have been recently made in relation to these objects, have opened to our view a scene of inexpressible magnitude and grandeur. Those of them which are nearest, and are termed clusters, convey the idea of a globular space full of stars. "It would be a vain task," says Sir J. Herschel," to attempt to count the stars in one of these clusters. They are not to be reckoned by hundreds; and on a rough calculation, grounded on the apparent intervals between them at the borders, and the angular diameter of the whole group, it would appear that many clusters of this description must contain at least ten or twenty thousand stars, compacted and wedged together in a round space whose area is not more than a tenth part of that covered by the moon." In lately taking a survey of some of the nearest of these clusters, I met with some beautiful telescopic fields of view. One of these is represented in the adjacent figure. The apparently small group to which these stars

belong, is in the constellation Cancer. It is just perceptible to the naked eye as an undefined, cloudy speck. The space in the heavens occupied by the stars in the figure, is not above the onefourth or one-fifth part of the space occupied by the moon. They were all contained within one field of view, along with many smaller stars which are not here represented. The larger stars, which were arranged into different kinds of triangles, appeared more brilliant than stars of the first magnitude do to the naked