appointment it became an assurance that there should be no more such an overflow of water as had deluged the earth, and destroyed its inhabitants. Mild arch of promise! on thy evening sky And think the storm shall not return again. On the good man's pale cheek, when he in peace Departing gently from a world of woes, Anticipates the realm where sorrows cease! Southey. ENGLISH MONASTIC ORDERS, THE system of monastic life appears to have commenced as early as the latter part of the second century, but not to have made much progress till Anthony, in the fourth century, by his example drew many thousand imitators into the deserts of the Thebais. The first monasteries in England seem to have been erected about the fifth century, and the first nunneries about two hundred years later. As the darkness of popery increased, these establishments became more numerous. Dunstan, in the tenth century, brought most of those which then existed to a nearer conformity with the benedictine rules, which were further enforced in 1075 by archbishop Lanfranc. We can here do little more than enumerate the names of different monastic orders, with the period of their introduction into England. The cluniacs were among the earliest, and were followed during the reign of Henry I. by the knights hospitallers, the augustine canons, the cistertians, the canons of the holy sepulchres, and the grandmotensians. In the reign of Stephen, the knights templars, the premonstratensians, and the gilbertines, were introduced. In that of Henry II., the carthusians. In that of Henry III. the riches, and consequently the power, of the ecclesiastics had so much increased, that it was found necessary to forbid the giving of lands to any religious house, by the statute of mortmain; to dispense with this a special license from the king, founded upon a previous legal inquiry, was needful. During this reign, the friars preachers, the friars minors, and eight other sorts of friars came into England. Soon afterwards the arts of the friars much diminished the popular reverence for the monks; and when the doctrines of Wickliff began to prevail in the reign of Richard II., the influence of the friars was also shaken, and as the light of Divine truth became diffused by the progress of the reformation, the unscriptural nature of these establishments, and their corruptions, attracted more notice. At length, a variety of causes combining together, were providentially directed to the overthrow of the dreadful system of error. This enumeration of different orders gcverned by different rules, is an instructive comment upon the boasted unity of the Romish church. These orders, for the most part, strongly opposed each other. THE PERPETUITY OF SOILS. DR. PLAYFAIR observes, "It is highly interesting to trace up the action of causes with which we are familiar, to the production of effects, which at first seem to require the introduction of unknown and extraordinary powers; and it is no less interesting to observe, how skilfuly nature has balanced the action of all the minute causes of waste, and rendered them conducive to the general good. Of this we have a most remarkable instance in the provision made for preserving the soil, or the coat of vegetable mould spread out over all the earth. This effect is visible to every one; the earth is removed not only in the form of sand and gravel, but its finer particles suspended in the waters, tinge the waters of some rivers continually, and those of all occasionally, that is, when they are flooded or swollen with rains. The quantity of earth thus carried down, varies according to circumstances; it has been computed in some instances, that the water of a river in a flood, contains earthy matter suspended in it, amounting to more than the two hundred and fiftieth part of its own bulk. The soil, therefore, is continually diminished, its parts being delivered from higher to lower levels, and finally delivered into the sea. But it is a fact that the soil remains the same in quantity, or nearly the same, and must have done so ever since the earth was the receptacle of animal or vegetable life. The soil, therefore, is augmented from other causes just as much upon an average as it is diminished by those now mentioned, and this augmentation evidently can proceed from nothing but a slow and constant disintegration of the rocks. In the permanence, therefore, of a coat of vegetable mould on the surface of the earth, we have demonstrative proof of the continual destruction of the rocks, and cannot but admire the skill with which the powers of the many chemical and mechanical agents employed in this complicated work are so adjusted as that the supply and the waste of the soil are exactly equal to one another." THE POOR MAN'S PRIVILEGE. several years among men in this world; for me he pledged himself to the justice of his Father, and suffered such unparalleled punishment as confounds reason and sur passes imagination; for me the Holy Spirit shook the heavens and the earth, and the sea and the dry land, Hag. ii. 6; and established a ministry, which he confirmed by healing the sick, by raising the dead, by casting out devils, and by subverting the whole order of nature. This man is permitted to aspire to the felicity of the immortal God, to the glory of the immortal God, to the throne of the immortal God. Arrived at the fatal hour, lying on his dying bed, reduced to the sight of useless friends, ineffectual remedies, unavailing tears, he may, though the grace of his ascended Redeemer, triumph over death, and defy his disturbing in the smallest degree the tranquil calm that his soul enjoys. LET us select, if it be possible, the most miserable man in the community; let us dissipate the darkness that covers him; let us raise him from that kind of grave in which his indigence and meanness conceal him. This man, unknown to the rest of mankind; this man, who seems hardly formed by the Creator into an intelligent existence; this man has, however, the greatest and most glorious privileges; this man, if reconciled to God by repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, may aspire to the most noble and sublime objects; he may elevate his soul to God in ardent prayer; and without the hazard of being taxed with vanity, he may assure himself that God, the great God, encircled in glory and surrounded with the praises of the blessed, will behold him, hear his prayer, and grant his request. This man may say to himself, The attention that the Lord of nature gives to the government of the universe, to the wants of mankind, to the innumerable company of angels, and to his own felicity, doth not prevent this adorable Being from attending to me; from occupying himself about my person, my children, my family, my house, my health, my substance, my salvation, my most minute concern-even a single hair of my head. This man is graciously entitled to the privilege of addressing God by names the most tender and mild; yea, if I may venture to speak so, by those most familiar names which equals give to each other; he may call him his God, his Master, his Father, his Friend. Believers have addressed God by each of these names; and God has not only permitted them to do so-he has even expressed his approbation of their taking these names in their mouths. This man has the privilege to commune with God at the Lord's table, and to live-if I may be allowed to speak so-to live with God as a man lives with his friend; this man may apply to himself whatever is most great, most comfortable, most ecstatic in the mysteries of redemption, and may say to himself, For me the Divine intelligence re-lowing fact was related to me a few weeks volved the plan of redemption; for me the Son of God was appointed, before the foundation of the world, to be a propitiatory sacrifice; for me in the fulness of time he took mortal flesh; for me he lived These are the incontestable privileges of the man who appears so contemptible. I ask-have the nobles of the earth any privileges more than these? Do the train of attendants that follow them, the horses that draw them, the grandees who surround them, the superb titles which command exterior homage, give them any real superiority over the man who enjoys those privileges which we have briefly enumerated? Ah! nothing proves the littleness of great men more than the impression which the exterior advantages that distinguish them from the rest of mankind make on their minds. Are you aware of what you are doing when you despise those whom Providence places for a few years in a station inferior to your own? You are despising and degrading yourselves, you are renouncing your real greatness; and by valuing yourselves for a kind of foreign glory, you discover a contempt for that which constitutes the real dignity of your nature. The glory of man does not consist in his being a master, or a rich man, a nobleman, or a king; it consists in his being a man-in his being formed in the image of his Creator→ and capable of all the elevation that we have been describing. Saurin. USEFULNESS OF MISSIONARY LABOURS. THE Rev. Dr. Philip says," The fol ago by the honourable Mr. Justice Burton, immediately after his return from his last circuit tour:-He stated to me that he had made three journeys over the colony a circuit judge; that during these as circuits, he had 900 cases before him, and that two only of the 900 cases were cases of Hottentots who belonged to missionary institutions, and that neither of these were aggravated cases. On a comparison of the population at the missionary stations with that of the rest of the colony, which was under the jurisdiction of the circuit court, the fact stated by the judge makes the proportion of crimes asone only to thirty-five." INSECTS, No. X. (Colours of Caterpillars.) a that a person may even have the leaf in his hand without discovering the caterpillar. As The last skin of some of the caterpillars of one genus, the tenthredo, is entirely dif ferent from all the preceding ones. people, when they advance in years, usu→ ally become more simple in their dress than when they were young, so these larvæ change an agreeably variegated skin for one of a uniform, and less brilliant colour. "The caterpillars," says Kirby, "of one of the most beautiful butterflies and moths that inhabit Britain contend with the perfect insect in loveliness; yet, in general, no judgment can be formed of the beauty of the future fly from the colour of the larva; and the young aurelian must not flatter himself always with the hope, because the caterpillar excites admiration by its colours and their arrangement, that the butterfly or moth it is to produce will do the same; nor ought he to despise and overlook a sombre or plain-coloured individual of the former, under the idea that it will produce one equally plain of the latter; for it often happens that the splendid caterpillar gives a plain butterfly or moth, and vice versa." Two instances may, however, be mentioned of conformity between the colours of the caterpillar and those of the future moth; the one is that of the common cur Transformations of the Puss Moth (Cerura Virula.) a, the egg; b, c, young larvæ; d, full-rant moth, the caterpillar of which is white, grown larva; e, the pupa; f, the moth. CATERPILLARS which live in darkness, in the earth, in wood, in fruits, &c., are, with few exceptions, of a uniform whitish colour; but such as are exposed to the light are usually adorned with a great variety of tints, sometimes the most vivid imaginable. That the white colour of the former is owing to the absence of light has been demonstrated; for some being forced to live under glasses exposed to the light, gradually became brown. Many are of one uniform colour, while others are arrayed in a variety of tints, distributed in various ways. Some are of the colour of the plant on which they feed, whence they are with difficulty discovered by their enemies. The caterpillar of a nocturnal moth is said to assume the colour of the lichena, on which it feeds, being grey when it feeds on a grey one, and yellow when it feeds on a yellow one. What a remarkable instance is this of providential care and protection! Another appears in the case of the caterpillar of the coronet moth, which feeds on the privet: it is so exactly of the colour of the underside of the leaf, to which it usually clings during the day, ornamented with several black spots varying in size. At the two extremities it is yellowish, with a longitudinal ray of the same colour on each side, the head and legs being black. These colours are all to be found in the fly, the ground of its rings being white, ornamented with many black spots of different sizes. The other is that of a green caterpillar which gives a green moth. "The very colours of caterpillars," says Isaac Walton, "are elegant and beautiful. I shall, for a taste of the rest, describe one of them; which I will, some time the next month, show you feeding on a willow tree; and you shall find him punctually to answer this very description: his lips and mouth somewhat yellow, his eyes black as jet, his forehead purple, his feet and hinder parts green, his tail two-forked and black; the whole body stained with a kind of red spots, which run along the neck and shoulder-blade, not unlike the form of St. Andrew's cross, or the letter X made thus crosswise, and a white line drawn down his back to his tail; all which add much beauty to his own body. And it is to mes observable, that at a fixed age this 1 caterpillar gives over to eat, and towards win- | lenly into the kitchen, where I heard him ter comes to be covered over with a strange say to Betty, the housemaid, “Papa tells shell or crust, called an aurelia; and so us we must not break our promises, but lives a kind of dead life, without eating, he does not mind breaking them himself: all the winter. And as others, of several he has never brought home my hummingkinds, turn to be several kinds of flies and top, though he promised it so faithfully." vermin the spring following, so this cater- I could have taken the young rebel and pillar then turns to be a painted butterfly." | shaken him, so angry did I feel at his thus proclaiming my error; but a few moments' reflection satisfied me that I, and not he, was to blame. Like the rest of the world, I had been impatient when I should have been patient: I could not bear to be told of my faults. WHO CAN BEAR TO BE TOLD OF HIS (Concluded from page 206.) IN one family I got into three scrapes before dinner, by an endeavour to rectify errors. In looking over an account-book belonging to my cousin, I showed him a mistake in a sum in long division, which put him sadly out of temper. My good aunt bridled and behaved coldly, becausé I discovered that she had given my tea-cup and saucer to a visitor instead of myself; and my worthy uncle was as cross as two sticks the whole day, because I had pointed out at the breakfast table that he had put his gaiters on the wrong foot. Neither my worthy uncle, my good aunt, nor my comical cousin, could bear to be told of a fault. I once borrowed, from a conscientious clergyman, the manuscript of a sermon which I had heard him deliver. It had struck me as a most impressive discourse, and the reading it over again only strengthened me in the opinion I entertained. On returning it, I drew his attention to a passage that he had quoted as a text of holy scripure, but which in reality was taken from the apocrapha, although it was very similar in expression to one in the inspired volume. The best of men have infirmities, and this conscientious minister of the gospel had his, for he was evidently mortified by the detection of his error. It was too late to offer any explanation or to soften the matter, for I read in his countenance very plainly, that any attempt to borrow another manuscript would be in vain. He was a good man, but he could not bear to be told of his faults. This very day I was put sadly out of temper myself, when I ought not to have been so. It happened that I had promised to bring home a humming-top for my youngest boy, but it rained when I passed near the shop, and it was troublesome to put down my umbrella; so I went on, and did not buy the humming-top. When I got home, the first cry was, "Have you brought me my humming-top?" and when I said "No," Harry walked rather sul Reader, may not you and I be both guilty in this respect? Perhaps we have faults, but we are unwilling to be reminded of them. Whence does this evil arise? Does not conscience reply, It is because we possess so little of that self-knowledge and humility, which are enjoined in the sacred scriptures? Surely he that convinces us of one fault is a better friend than he who flatters us for many excellences; "faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy, (or an unfaithful friend) are deceitful," Prov. xxvii. 6. Let us seek the humble disposition of the psalmist, who could sincerely say, "Let the righteous smite me: it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil which shall not break my head," Psalm cxli. 5. G. M. THE VANITY OF THE WORLD. HALES has pointed out a comment on the statement of Solomon as the result of all his researches after worldly happiness. It is in a sermon by Bishop Horne, who observes, that the world, under one form or another, has ever been the idol set up against God, by the adversary of mankind, and proceeds thus: "The world, with its fashions and its follies, its principles and its practices, has been proposed in form as the proper object of attention and devotion. A late celebrated nobleman has avowed as much with respect to himself, and by his writings said in effect to it, 'Save me, for thou art my god!' At the close of life, however, his god, he found, was about to forsake him, and therefore was forsaken by him. You shall hear some of his last sentiments and expressions applied to their proper use, that of furnishing an antidote (and they do furnish a very powerful one) to the noxious positions contained in his writings. They are well worthy strict attention." Bishop Horne then gives the following extract from a letter written by Lord Chesterfield: "I have run," says this man of the world, "the silly rounds of business and pleasure, and have done with them all. I have enjoyed all the pleasures of the world, and consequently know their futility, and do not regret their loss. I appraise them at their real value, which is in truth very low; whereas those that have not experienced, always overrate them. They only see their gay outside, and are dazzled with their glare. But I have been behind the scenes. I have seen all the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes, which exhibit and move the gaudy machines; and I have seen and smelt the tallow candles which illuminate the whole decoration, to the astonishment and admiration of an ignorant audience. When I reflect back upon what I have seen, what I have heard, and what I have done, I can hardly persuade myself that all that frivolous hurry and bustle and pleasure of the world had any reality; but I look upon all that has passed as one of those romantic dreams which opium commonly occasions; and I do by no means desire to repeat the nauseous dose, for the sake of the fugitive dream. Shall I tell you that I bear this melancholy situation with that meritorious constancy and resignation which most people boast of? No, for I really cannot help it. I bear it-because I must bear it, whether I will or no; I think of nothing but killing time, the best I can, now that he is become mine enemy. It is my resolution to sleep in the carriage during the remainder of the journey." Horne observes, "No man ever knew the world better, or enjoyed more of its favours, than this nobleman; yet in how poor, abject, and wretched a condition the world left him, and he left the world, at the time when he most wanted help and comfort! When these words have been duly considered, and the person by whom they were uttered, compare them with the words of one who took his leave of the world in a very different manner: "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand; I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me at that day; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing," 2 Tim. iv. 6-8. Say, shall your lot be with the christian or the man of the world; with the apostle, or with the libertine ?" Hales well observes upon the concluding sentence of the infidel's declaration, that such a character could have little disposition to sleep as he there states. TRUE BENEVOLENCE. DOES our benevolence make us self denying, that we may be liberal in relieving others? Does it make us persevere in doing good in spite of ingratitude, and only pity the ignorance, or prejudice, or malice, which misrepresents our conduct, or mis construes our motives? Does it make us forbear what we conceive may prove the occasion of harm to a fellow-creature, though the harm should not seem naturally, or even fairly, to flow from our conduct, but to be the result only of his own obstinacy or weakness? Are we slow to believe any thing to our neighbour's disadvantage? and, when we cannot but credit it, are we disposed rather to cover, and, as far as we justly can, to palliate, than to divulge or aggravate it? Suppose an opportunity to occur of performing a kindness to one, who, from pride or vanity, should be loath to receive, or to be known to receive, a favour from us; should we honestly endeavour, so far as we could with truth, to lessen in his own mind and in that of others the merit of our good offices, and by so doing dispose him to receive them with diminished reluctance and a less pain ful weight of obligation? This end, however, must be accomplished, if accomplished at all, not by speeches of affected disparagement, which we might easily foresee would produce the contrary effect, but by a simple and fair explanation of the circumstances which render the action in nowise inconvenient to ourselves, though highly beneficial to him. Can we, from motives of kindness, incur or risk the charge of being deficient in spirit, in penetration, or in foresight? Do we tell another of his faults, when the communication, though probably beneficial to him, cannot be made without embarrassment or pain to ourselves, and may probably lessen his regard for our person, or his opinion of our judgment? Can we stifle a repartee which would wound another, though the utterance of it would gratify our vanity, and the suppression of it may disparage our character for wit? If any one advance a mistaken proposition, in an instance wherein the error may be mischievous to him; can we, to the prejudice perhaps of our credit for discernment, forbear to contradict him in public, lest by piquing his pride we shall only harden him in his error? and can we reserve our counsel for some more favour |