unkind? Has he equal pleasure in the enjoyment and the agony-the life and death of his creatures? What can nature reply? Without the Bible, nature is dumb. Is not the plain, simple, undoubted inference of unassisted reason, confined to the study of creation, that there are at least two designers, one good and one evil? And what is the next inevitable step? Throughout nature, life and enjoyment come first, then come pain and suffering, and the end is death. In other words, the designer of kindness accomplishes his benevolent plans for a little time, and in every instance is eventually defeated by the designer of unkindness. The universal conqueror must be pronounced supreme. And thus, the philosopher who confines his studies to fallen nature, if he will be but honest and impartial in the examination of his book, is driven by his own weapons to the acknowledgment of the sovereignty of evil. I am aware that our philosophers repudiate any such conclusion, and that they do so with all sincerity. But the reason is, that they have derived, without perceiving it, instruction from the Bible. Before they commence their observations on nature, they know the general conclusion with regard to the one great God which ought to be drawn: and this light of revelation insensibly guides them to a selection of favourable incidents rather than an impartial and adequate induction of real facts. The same reasoning would apply to the history of the world as a subject of study, the conclusion apparently to be drawn from the facts would not be the true one, because the book is blotted, and the vision of the reader is imperfect.

"That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey, There sprung a doubt of Providence's sway." It is in the Bible, and the Bible alone, that God is truly revealed, and the groanings of creation and the mystery of iniquity explained.—M'Neile.

DAGUERRE'S DISCOVERY.

Ir was manifest at once, says a correspondent, that M. Daguerre's method of producing pictures was altogether different from any thing I had seen or heard of in England: the pictures were as perfect as it is possible for pictures to be without colour, and although they did not possess this advantage, its absence was scarcely felt, as the truth,

distinctness, and fidelity of the minutest details were so exquisite, that colour could have added little to the charm felt in contemplating them; the best idea I can give of the effect produced is, by saying, that it is nearly the same as that of views taken by reflection in a black mirror. All the specimens I saw were on hard, plane, polished surfaces; none were on paper, and, in fact, the finest paper is incapable of receiving or conveying the delicate details, which (on examination by the microscope) the pictures are found to contain-the smallest crack, a withered leaf, or a little dust, which a telescope only will detect on a distant building, will be found in M. Daguerre's pictures, when sought for with the aid of a high magnifying power.

One set of specimens shown to us, consisted of three pictures of the same portion of the Boulevard, taken, one of them at early morning, one at mid-day, and one in the evening. I could not have anticipated so marked a difference in the tone and aspect of three representations of the same objects; yet, though they differed so much in aspect, that it required examination to be satisfied of the identity, the same examination soon impressed me with the truth of the pictures, although they differed from the conventional tones used by artists to represent the same effects. Another very interesting specimen was the view of a street taken during a heavy fall of rain; this was so accurately rendered, that the plate seemed wet: this effect, I think, arose from many portions of the objects which were wetted by the rain, being so situated in regard to the plan of the camera obscura in which the view was taken, that they gave total reflection of the light falling on them, and thus glistened while the rest of the picture was unusually obscure. No artist could have hit off this effect with sufficient exactness to tell in a picture.

There is one point in which these pictures have a striking dissemblance from nature, namely, the deserted appearance they give to the busiest thoroughfares; nothing which moves onwards leaves a sensible trace behind, and the stones of the causeway, or the "Seyssel" of the asphalte trottoirs, are nearly as distinct in the pictures, as if no one passed over them. If a body of military, so numerous, that their passage would

ating powers will be called forth, and they will presently spring up into light and life.

With what success the labours of Mr. Drew's mother were attended, was not immediately, nor for many years seen; but when her son attained to manhood, the fruits of her teaching became evident. How deep was the impression made on his mind at the tender age at which she became his tutor, careless and thoughtless as he seemed to be, will best appear in the intense feeling in which his recollections of her were always imbued.

"I well remember," he said but a few weeks before his decease, "in my early days, when my mother was alive, that she invariably took my brother and me by the hand, and led us to the house of prayer. Her kind advice and instruction were unremitting; and even when death had closed her eyes in darkness, the impression remained long upon my mind, and I sighed for a companion to accompany me thither. On one occasion, I well recollect, we were returning from the chapel at St. Austell, on a bright and beautiful starlight night, when my mother pointed out the stars as the work of an Almighty Parent, to whom we were indebted for every blessing. Struck with her representation, I felt a degree of gratitude and adoration which no language could express, and through nearly all the night enjoyed ineffable rapture.'

It was the will of a mysterious Providence, in 1774, to remove this affectionate parent, by consumption, from her sorrowing family. She was then, according to a memorandum of her husband, about forty-four years of age, and her son Samuel about nine. Though of a rude and reckless disposition, he was not without experiencing the utmost anguish at his mother's death. Even minute circumstances, relative to his bereavement, were deeply fixed in his memory; for he once said to a friend, "When we were following my mother to the grave, I well recollect a woman observing, as we passed, "Poor little things! they little know the loss they have sustained!" His sensations, on this event, seemed never to have been forgot

ten.

Several years after, he says in a letter to a literary gentleman, who had kindly interested himself in his welfare, and wished to know the history of his early life, “On visiting my mother's grave, with one of my children, I wrote the

following. The first couplet is supposed to be spoken by the child.

And seems to sigh with sorrow not his own? "Why looks my father on that lettered stone,*

That stone, my dear, conceals from human eyes The peaceful mansion where thy mother lies. Beneath this stone (my infant do not weep!) The shrivelled muscles of thy mother sleep. "And soon, my babe, the awful hour must be When thy sad soul will heave a sigh for me, And say, with grief, amidst thy sisters' cries, Beneath this stone our lifeless parent lies. Shouldst thou, my dear, survive thy father's doom,

And wander pensive near his silent tomb, Think thy survivors will perform for thee, What I do now, and thou wilt then for me.'"

had lived the life," would also "die That one who, like this pious female, the death of the righteous," every reader will naturally anticipate. Her trust in the atonement was firm; the evidence of her acceptance clear; her death triumphant. She departed this life in the full assurance of faith.-Life of Rev.

S. Drew.

SINGULAR CUSTOM.

IN all Turkish towns are found a vast number of skeletons of the domestic animals, affording ample opportunity for studying the anatomy of the camel, cow, the sun and wind complete, the bleachhorse, ass, and ox; the dogs begin, and ing of the skeleton. The head of the ox alone escapes this fate; in cultivated districts it is placed on a stick, or hung

on a tree as a scare-crow. This custom

prevails in Greece as well as here; the tain the horns, which are in this part of heads are always beautifully white, and rethe world exceedingly short and thick. The skull, with its horns, has thus-been constantly presented to the eye of the hence the introduction of precisely this Greek artist blanched white as marble, and figure in the friezes of their architecture; and perhaps the vine or clematis wreaththe frequent accompaniment of this ornaing about the horns may have suggested

ment.

It appears to me the more eviits being the skeleton of the head that dent that this is the real origin, from is depicted. Had the figure been in honour of, or connected with the worship of the Bull, why not have exhibited the living head which is rarely given ?Fellows.

ther's grave has no such ornament. I wrote these * "Stone" is a mere poetical figure. My molines from the impulses of my own feelings, and the dictates of nature, before I was acquainted with the rules of art, and the orderly method of composition.