hear my words. Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying, O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in my hand, O house of Israel," Jer. xviii. This beautiful passage was brought to the recollection of the writer, and forcibly illustrated by a most interesting visit to the china works of Sevre, situated a few miles from Paris. It was a fine sunny morning, the banks of the Seine, and the green park of St. Cloud, as the party passed them, afforded many a lovely picture, and reminded us, that although we had left the verdant landscapes of our own dear island far behind, nature's God was with us still. A short and pleasant ride brought us to Sevre. The works are much on the same principle as those of the English potteries, not large, but very complete. The work people, decently dressed, were quietly pursuing their different employments in well-ordered apartments. All were most willing to afford us what information they could. The forms they were "throwing" and moulding were most graceful and beautiful. Scarcely could we fancy that the rough clay, as we saw it fresh from the pit, in its unrefined state, was indeed the material of those snowy wreaths of buds, leaves, flowers, and fruit, which the "biscuit work" presented in such exquisite forms and unrivalled purity; or that the magnificent vases, cabinets, urns, and rich services, so elegant in shape, and brilliant in gilding and colours, were once shapeless clay in the hand of the potter. At Sevre are specimens of the pottery of other nations, from the clay pitcher of the half savage, ill shapen, hardened in the sun, or badly fired on his rude hearth stone, to the chaste models of Wedgewood, and the classical forms of Greece and Rome. The pliant clay, when placed on the wheel, yields to the slightest pressure of the potter's hand, rises or sinks, becomes a bowl or a jar, a vessel for humble or honourable service, according to the master's design. Now he forms and cautiously preserves it, and now rejects its imperfect shape, and dashes it to pieces again upon the wheel. Thus are the nations of the world, and the hearts of all men, in the hand of the Lord God. After being subjected to the action of the furnace, glazed, and again baked, the ware is then ornamented with paintings, landscapes, groups of flowers, or portraits; and in the more valuable articles these designs are executed with the highest finish and skill; but the colour, when first laid on these beautiful specimens of art, is generally of a very different hue to that which the finished piece presents. The artist's work seemed all confusion : he was apparently laying on red for purple, and brown for pink; but he well knew that the furnace would change these to their proper tints. How frequently do we, in our ignorance, charge God foolishly, and scan his work in vain! How many dark shades in our history have been finished in the furnace of affliction, and gilded our brightest blessings! How often we think God is swerving from his own promise and design, when, in reality, the best means are in operation to bring them to pass. We were greatly delighted with the whole process of this interesting manufacture. At last the doors were thrown open, and we were admitted to the show rooms. Here a vast variety of elegant pieces of porcelain, all completely and well finished, were to be seen in the perfection of their beauty. Here was the portrait of Louis xvI. and his queen; of Napoleon and Maria Antoinette, with Josephine, and various others, executed in the style of a first-rate miniature on ivory; copies and models from the great masters; vases and cabinets of large dimensions, in exquisite taste, and displaying the utmost ingenuity, fit ornaments for the palace of a king. And Do we covet to be vessels fitted for the Master's use, and to have our station at last in the kingdom above? Then let us now learn to be as clay in the hand of the potter, to yield our rebellious will to the operations of Divine grace. while the wheel of Providence, as it turns, calls for us to rise and prosper, or to sink low in the vale of humility; while mortifications and denials lead us to cry out, "All these things are against me;" let us recall our rash words, remembering, that the present is an unfinished state, a state of preparation. Let us look forward to the time when the furnace of affliction shall have done its work, and be no longer needful, but the finished piece be securely placed in the palace of the King of kings. PETRA. N. WE pause at Petra, the Edom of prophecy, and the metropolis of Idumea. Where is now the war horse of Idumea, | with a neck clothed with thunder ? Where are the chariots, and the horsemen? Where? An echo, reverberating from the mountains of Seir, repeats, "Where? where ?" "Edom is become a desolation,' and "a court for owls." Petra is the land of forgetfulness, and the "dukes of Edom are no more. The winding sheet of death covers the capital of Idumea; "emphatic silence," more touching than eloquence, reigns throughout this vast necropolis. Petra, the ancient capital of Idumea, hitherto wrapped up in the deep recesses of solitude, remained until lately unknown. Here was the cradle of commerce seventeen centuries ago; the emporium of Northern Arabia, and the entrepôt between Palestine, and Syria, and Egypt. It was the birthplace of Balaam, and renowned for oracles and auguries; in it, as a stronghold, were deposited the treasures of the sultans of Egypt; and the name of Petra seemed to have become all but extinct, with the declension of the Roman power in the East. Here is a town embosomed amid a fortress of mountains; utter desolation reigns over wonderful ruins, noble in decay, and sublime in their fall. Mount Hor, with Aaron's tomb, surmounts the city of desolations; the metropolis of moving sands, and a blighted desert. The entrance is from the east, through a deep gorge, or ravine, called El syk, and the river that supplied Edom flowed through this valley; the wall of rock is from four hundred to seven hundred feet high. The sides of this romantic chasm are clothed with tamarix, wild fig, oleander, and the caper plant, the latter hanging in luxuriant festoons from cracks and crevices; the solitude is only disturbed by the screaming of eagles, hawks, owls, and ravens, which congregate here in vast multitudes. The ruins burst on the eye of the astonished and bewildered traveller in all their awful magnificence; this amphitheatre of mountains is tinged with extraordinary hues, and is at once romantic and picturesque; sepulchres and tombs, sculptures, in all the majesty of art, decorate these "everlasting hills;" more than two hundred and fifty sepulchres are chiselled in the rock: and this is Edom, the metropolis of Idumea! The stupendous ruins, the magnificent tombs, the amphitheatre, the columns, and capitals, obelisks, friezes, all attest the magnificence which once reigned in this mountain metropolis-a city of desolation, which even the bittern scarce disturbs; "lines of confusion, and stones of emptiness." The territory of the descendants of Esau is swept as by "the besom of destruction," and remains a miracle of evidence as palpable as any monument in the history of time. Its eighteen cities are mouldered into dust, and the dwellers among the rocks, that "made their nests among the stars" are brought low. "Thy terribleness hath deceived thee." Laborde mentions that the view from one of the mountain peaks, which surmounts this city of tombs, disclosed 66 a vast frightful desert, a chaotic sea, the waves of which were petrified," before them stood mount Hor, crested by the prophet's tomb. The attention and contemplation seemed to be here divided between the survey of "nature, who invites attention to her matchless girdle of rocks, wondrous as well for their colours as their forms, and the men who feared not to intermingle the works of their genius with such splendid efforts of creative power." "I would," says Mr. Stephens, "that the sceptic could stand as I did among the ruins of this city among the rocks, and there open the sacred Book and read the words of the inspired penmen, written when this desolate place was one of the greatest cities in the world. I see the scoff arrested, the cheek pale, his lip quivering, and his heart quaking for fear, as the ruined city cries out to him, in a voice loud and powerful as that of one risen from the dead; though he would not believe Moses and the prophets, he believes the handwriting of God himself in the desolation and eternal ruin around him." "Wisdom hath departed from Teman, and understanding from the mount of Esau!" Who hath done these things? Even he "who cometh from Edom, -travelling in the greatness of his strength !" How terrible is the death of a city!-Murray. ILLUSTRATION OF SCRIPTURE. The ten Virgins. "The wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps," Matt. xxv. 4. Ir is worthy of remark, that the word rendered lamps, in this parable, does not mean what is thus conveyed to an ordinary English reader, whose mind is fixed on the instruments which give light in various circumstances; but that term properly signifies torches. If, however, on this declaration, a difficulty should arise as to the application of oil to such means of giving light, it may be removed by referring to a custom in India. When persons are about to travel by night, through unfrequented places, in that country, where it is very important to keep up a light, they do not trust themselves, as in a town or station, to a lantern; but a man is hired, who carries in his right hand a kind of torch, having a large head of tow, or some similar substance; and in his left a vessel, out of which he keeps occasionally pouring oil on the lighted tow. Thus a large flame is made, and one much stronger than that of the wick of a lamp. The blaze brightens the whole path, and is neither extinguished by the rain nor the wind. A remembrance of this fact will prevent the misconception sometimes arising, that oil should be taken in the lamp, which consequently leads to a AUGUST, 1840. mis-quotation of the passage: on the contrary, we are to imitate the wise, who "took oil in their vessels with their lamps." The foolish virgins were content with the supply which the torch first received; they thought only of a temporary effect; they made no provision for circumstances which might very naturally happen; whereas, their prudent companions exercised forethought, and took a reserve of oil to feed the flame of their torches when their former stock was exhausted. Great indeed is the difference between the mere professor and the actual possessor of religion: the one lives only for time, and the other chiefly for eternity; the one leaves all as he enters the grave, the other is provided for the dissolution of the body, and the conflagration of the universe. Here, then, is the wisdom of the saints! Its infinite importance should lead to prayer. "If any of you lack wisdom," says the apostle James, "let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not: and it shall be given him.' There are, however, petitions which will not avail, for it is added, "But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed. For, let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord." The prayer of faith alone is the acceptable and prevailing prayer. STAGE COACH DISAPPOINTMENTS. thought, the first chance. To my great Ir is truly interesting and consolatory disappointment, however, the coach to read the gracious assurances of our drew up to a gentleman's house at the blessed Lord, that the minutest concerns foot of the bridge, and took in two little of his people are not beneath his conde- girls, leaving no room for another inside scending notice and regard;, and we passenger. The coachman shook his have frequent opportunities, in ordinary head, and said he was very sorry; but life, of seeing them strikingly fulfilled he could not, any how, make room for and illustrated. "Are not two sparrows me: the young ladies were going all the sold for a farthing? and one of them way to London, and their places had shall not fall on the ground without your | been booked several days before. There Father. But the very hairs of your head was no remedy; I turned back with feelare all numbered. Fear ye not there-ings of bitter disappointment, thinking that fore, ye are of more value than many my parents would be uneasy at not seesparrows," Matt. x. 29-31. An inter- ing me as appointed; and that, perhaps, esting record might be formed from the even if I should get a place by the next experience of the people of God, in coach, there might be no one at the inn which the overruling hand, and gracious to meet me, or not without great inconcare of our heavenly Father have been venience; and that, at all events, I displayed in circumstances the most should lose the anticipated pleasure of seemingly inconsiderable and contingent. visiting Ashley Court. We have many such examples in Scripture: for instance, how much depended on the trivial circumstance of a king of Persia having a sleepless night, Esther vi. ; In one of my early visits to my uncle, I was to be sent home by coach. My father, in his letter, specified the particular vehicle by which he wished me to come, and appointed to meet me at the inn, and take me with him to the house of a friend, where he was going to fetch home my mother and little sister, who had been staying there a few days. I was delighted with the arrangement, as I had long been desirous of visiting that family, having heard much of their splendid collection of natural curiosities. Besides, I longed to see my mother and sister, after being several weeks separated from them. As it was a long stage, and my journey not much more than twenty miles of the way, a place could not be secured for me; but I was waiting on the bridge to obtain, as I My uncle observed my distress, and spoke to me of the duty of reconciling our minds to unavoidable circumstances, observing, that we ought to submit to things that cross our wishes, not merely because we cannot alter them, but from a firm conviction that all, even the most trivial, or the most untoward events, are wisely and kindly ordered for the best. I recollect his using this expression, "Our minutest concerns are arranged by Him who leaves nothing to the decision of chance, and ordains nothing but what is fully consistent with perfect wisdom and love.' I recollected his words with deep interest, when, on my arrival by the evening coach, my parents expressed peculiar gratitude for my preservation, and told me, that a melancholy accident had occurred in connexion with the coach by which I was to have come. The coach was going at full speed, when one of the doors flew open, and a little girl, who was leaning against it, fell out and was killed on the spot. It was one of the two whom I had seen taken up, and by whom I was prevented occupying a seat in the vehicle. We afterwards learned that the subject of this melancholy catastrophe, though one of the numerous branches of a gay and irreligious family, was herself a very amiable and hopeful child. She had been under the care of a pious relative, and was removed to be sent to a fashionable boarding school, her parents being apprehensive that, if suffered to remain with 'she would become too good." 66 I hope I was not altogether unmindful and of the distinguishing care of Providence | ing that the house was on fire. With which, by thwarting my desires, effect- great difficulty, he made his way to the ed my preservation; for had I been in bed where the two little ones lay, snatchthe coach, in all probability, I might ed up one in each arm, and brought have been the subject of the accident; them forth in safety. He then judiand who can tell but the purposes of Di- ciously directed and assisted in extinvine grace were answered towards the poor guishing the flames, which, although the little sufferer, in removing her from the children had been placed in circumscenes and dangers into which she would stances of imminent peril, had not exhave been plunged? I was spared to tended very far. The mischief had origienjoy, and I hope, improve the privilege nated in a candle being left and forgotten, of pious parental solicitude: she was a snuff from which had fallen on the toilet = taken from the hands of careless un- cover, and communicated to the curtains. godly parents, who knew not the value The parents were from home, and the of her immortal soul. servants engaged in a distant part of the It was not very long after the circum-house, where the cries of the children stance just related, that my father was could scarcely have reached them; preparing to go to London, on business but for the coincidence of circumstances, of considerable importance, when a friend (how trifling in themselves, but bearing from a distance unexpectedly called, and, marks of the overruling and directing his business also being important, de- finger of Providence,) by which the attained my father until the coach had tention of my father was, at that particular passed; or, at least, until it was too late moment, attracted to the house of our for him to go by it. As we sat at tea, neighbour, in all probability the children my father appeared gloomy and per- in a few minutes must have perished in plexed at the disarrangement of his plans. the flames. It was essential that he should be in London on the following morning: the mail would arrive in time for his business, but it was very uncertain whether there would be room for him. He was half inclined to take post horses, and start immediately. My mother endeavoured to divert his uneasiness, and encourage him with the hope of accomplishing his object in good time. "Who can tell," she added, "but it may be for some good end that you have been disappointed? Remember, last year, when Samuel came home from your brother's, how often have we been thankful that he could not come by the coach intended!" Scarcely had she uttered the words, when my father went to the window to ascertain the state of the weather. He seemed to see something that attracted his attention; but, without saying any thing, he went out of the house hastily. On his return, in about half an hour, he said, " Yes; there was a good end to be answered by my disappointment. I have been permitted the privilege of rescuing two children from destruction." My uncle lived to a good old age; but was for many years afflicted with almost entire loss of sight. His habitual cheerfulness, however, flowing as it did from the perennial spring of piety and benevolence, suffered no permanent abatement. His privation came upon him gradually. While the nature and extent of the affection were uncertain, he was scrupulously solicitous to avail himself of the best professional skill, and to use every proper means for the recovery of his sight; but when once it was ascertained that there was no hope of a cure, he was enabled submissively to acquiesce in the will of his heavenly Father, and to accommodate himself, without a murmur, to his loss. It was delightful to observe how many sources of enjoyment were opened to him, and how fully he realized the characteristic drawn in the lines of his benevolent countenance, of a happy old man. In consideration of his infirmity, my uncle was never long left alone. The several branches of the families making it a matter of friendly arrangement among themselves, that one or other should be the companion of his abode or his journeys. On one occasion, I had been with him on a visit to an old friend of his in -shire; we were afterThe coaches When my father went to the window, he had observed an extraordinary light in the house of our opposite neighbour. He hastened across, and found that three children had been put to bed in the room where he saw the light. He hastened up stairs, and met the eldest child scream-six miles distant from the residence of wards to proceed to about |