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Evangelical Miscellany.



IMAMBARA AND GATE OF CONSTANTINOPLE. THE most striking buildings in Luck-now, are, the tombs of the late Nawab Saadut Ali, and of the mother of the present king, the Gate of Constantinople, ("Roumi Durwazi,") and the "Imambara" or cathedral. The Imambara consists of two courts, rising with a steep ascent one above the other. It contains, besides a splendid mosque, a college for instruction in Mussulman law, apartments for the religious establishment maintained here, and a noble gallery, in the midst of which, under a brilliant tabernacle of silver, cut glass, and precious stones, lie buried the remains of its founder, Asuphud Dowlah. The whole is in a very noble style of Eastern gothic, and when taken in conjunction with the Roumi Durwazu which adjoins it, (of which I add a sketch from memory,) I have never seen an architec tural view which pleased me more from its richness and variety, as well as the proportions and general good taste of its principal features. The details a good deal resemble those of Eaton, but the extent is much greater, and the parts larger. On the whole it is, perhaps, most like Kremlin, but both in splendonr and taste my old favourite falls very short of it. HEBER.


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FALLING in with the aquatic habits of our friends, though by no means agreeable to me, in the wide Frith of Clyde, however pleasant on the beautiful and placid waters of the Gairloch, we embarked one day last week in a gentleman's cutter, for the purpose of making what is here called a cruise of pleasure, in our way back to G-. We first sailed to Rothsay in the Island of Bute, where is the seat of the noble family of Bute, one of whom is celebrated, as giving name to an administration in the earlier part of the reign of the late king; and interesting as they stand connected with one of the first of the female literati of her day, the favorite friend, and afterwards the hated enemy, of the bitterest little satirist that ever dipt his pen in gall, or abused a contemporary wit. While we were embarking in the Flower of Dumblame, the Steamers, or, as royal fancy is said to have denominated them, the smokers, from G—. were taking in their freight of living men and women, and the whole village with all its summer denizens, seemed to have turned out upon the beach, to witness the embarkation of "father, son, and brother." L-. which is certainly the cleanest and prettiest village which we have seen in Scotland, looked sweet in the light of the morning sun, which was reflected from the white walls of its cottages, baths, and villas, while the rising hills behind it, though they gave but a limited horizon to the scene, looked vernal and refreshing from the sea.

We had a dead calm greatest part of the day, but as we drew near to Rothsay, a light breeze sprung up, which carried us into the harbour. We went on shore and visited the ruins of the castle, once a royal residence, and the place which gave the title of duke to the hereditary prince of Scotland, in times long gone past. This spot is interesting, also, from being the favorite residence of Robert III, the first monarch of the always unfortunate house of Stuart, who died here of a broken heart, after hearing of the captivity of his son James the 1st, who was for seventeen years afterwards a prisoner in England. On our re-embarkation we had what the sailors called a pretty

fresh breeze, which I did not like at all; and while it continued, the female party on deck began to relate all the accidents they could remember, of boats upset in squalls of wind, of shipwrecks and disasters at sea, which made some of us feel exceedingly uncomfortable. The breeze, however, lasted only a short time, carrying us as far as the light-house of Towart, after which we were again becalmed, and did not reach the place of our destination till long past sunset and moonset. The evening star, "if haply it belong not to the morn," lighted us to the village inn, which we preferred to sleeping on board, and the music of the oars as we went on shore was our only, and most sweet serenade.

But do not think, dear Harriet, that I intend to make you circumnavigate all the isles of this beautiful Polynesia, or mean to make you pronounce unpronouncable gaelic names, or tire you with endless description. Though your fine picturesque eye would have been delighted occasionally to have seen the opening of a loch, the site of a pharos with its revolving light, the rising of the crescent moon above those magnificent mountain tops, those mountains which reminded us of the cynic's phrase,—"Elemental masses undisturbed since they were thrown together at the creation of the world," sometimes covered with shadows as with a veil, again bright with the most glowing light. Sometimes we sailed so near the land as to hear the bleating of the sheep, and the voices of the children upon the shore, to see the herds of cattle lying on the sand; patches of vegetation, so green and so small, that a field of barley looked not much larger than your handkerchief, the whole contents of which, if threshed out, might easily have been poured into the veil of the Moabitish gleaner. But oh, there was much that was beautiful to behold; the sky, the clouds, the water, the different hours of the day, the varying atmosphere, the birds that occasionally crossed our pathless way, the sea-gull as he rose on his wing of snow from the bosom of the deep, the eagle as he soared aloft from his nest in the rock, far up into the blue sky," the deep unfathomable blue"-above all the sun-rise in that world of waters, how beautiful! I thought of Margarita's words in the Martyr of Antioch, and said,

"Thou mightiest work of Him

That launched thee forth, a golden-crowned bridegroom
To hang thy everlasting nuptial lamp

In the exulting heavens. In thee the light,
Creation's eldest born, was tabernacled.

Enduring splendour,

Giant refreshed! that ever more renew'st

Thy flaming strength; nor ever shalt thou cease,
With time coeval, even till time itself
Hath perished in eternity! "

Often while it was sunshine with us, we saw the summer storm toiling behind, masses of thunder-clouds rolling away upon the tops of the hills, or pouring out their torrents on the waves, while with us the sky was calm, and bright, and fair as heaven. The vessels at a distance, or the boats of the fishermen, were seen struggling in the breeze, or coming up after us with a wet sail, or embayed among rocks and shallows, while we were safe on the bosom of the "fathomless profound." "Does not this scene," said mamma to a dear christian friend, who stood near her on deck, "resemble the world beneath, as viewed by the eye of the glorified saint from the heights of heaven? All there is still, peaceful, serene; they are safe in the desired haven! Their's is perpetual sunshine, a cloudless sky that knows no storm, while the world below is like a man in a feeble bark in the open sea, without chart or compass, the sport of raging waves, and roaring winds." "Yes," replied her friend, "and those vessels drifting in shore among the rocks, remind me of a beautiful passage in an old divine, where he speaks of the different experience of God's people in his day, equally applicable in our own. It is the wreck of the comfort of christians in our day,' says he that they continue poring upon their graces, frames, &c., without going forth to the fulness of a Redeemer for relief; and while we do so, we are just like mariners at sea: while they sail among shallow waters near the shore, they are always afraid of striking upon rocks, or running upon sands, because they want deepness of water; but when they launch forth into the main ocean, they are delivered from these fears, being carried far above rocks and sands. So while the believer continues among the shallow waters of his graces, duties, experiences,

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