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MYSTERIOUS ANTICIPATION.

There is in the history of the following lines, a mournful and mysterious interest. It is said that the writer (the wife of a Presbyterian minister) has given, in this sketch, an exact description of her own death-scene as it afterward occurred. The circumstances, of time and place, scenery and language, are all given-as if she had been permitted to contemplate her last end in the light of prophetic vision. But, allowing for differences of time, is it not in reality a privilege of all saints, thus to realize a prospective victory over death? And is not this the reason that, like the fair authoress, they are able to adopt the following triumphant motto? E. M'CLURE.

"O, DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?"

BY MRS. CAROLINE LANE.

Then go, weep o'er a world In sin, and tell of Jesus' name-weep not For me, for I am happy, and I soon Shall be at rest."

Then from her withered hand
She drew her ring, and as she gave it, gleamed
A smile upon her cold and pallid cheek,
Like evening's beauteous twilight on the west.
Gently she closed her fading eyes, as if

A peaceful dream came o'er her; and while all
Were waiting for a last, a long farewell,
The Sabbath dawned-her spirit was in heaven.

WE MAY NOT GO BACK.

THE sacred dawn of holy time was near:
Softly and sweetly fell the summer dew
From evening's silver wings, that hovered o'er
This smiling earth. Star after star looked down
So bright, they seemed to speak the joy of heav'n
When angels bear a ransomed spirit home.

Hush'd was the murmuring breeze, and e'en the sound

Of waterfalls, like music soft, was borne

Along the shady vale.

Slow from a cot,

O'erarched by bending elms, ascended up
Full many a curling wreath of smoke, that waved
A silence as it roll'd along; for there

The dying lay. Unlike the dreariness
Of night-unlike the darkness of the tomb,
Was this sad scene; for with the mournful tear
Of death, the tear of joy was mingled too.
Lovely, though cold and pale, and silent long
She lay, while bending o'er her pillow, stood
The young and beautiful, who early hoped
Life's thorny road to walk with her. At length,
Increasing sighs her peaceful slumbers broke,
One hand she placed in his, and heavenward raised
Her eyes, as if her soul was anchored there;
While nature's tie bound down her spirit meek
To earth.

"O, must we, must we part so soon?
Yes, I must leave you for a little while
To linger here, lonely and sad, while oft
Upon my moldering turf the cherished tear
Will fall. Ah, no! see you that beaming light?
You will not be alone. He on whose breast
My dying head reclines, will never leave
You friendless, while on him you cast your care.
Peaceful will glide your days: no sultry sun
Will smite your cheek, nor wintry moonbeams chill
Your ardent heart. Or, should some clouds around
You gather, like the morning mist, his smile
Will soon the gloom dispel. And when you cross
The dark, dark valley where I go, O then
Jesus will be your guide, and we shall meet
To part no more.

BY A. HILL.

WE may not go back-how reluctant soever
We journey along in our pathway of pain:
Time's current sets onward, and never, O never
Can mortals return to their starting again.

We may not go back: the career of our folly
Will cease when life ceases, if never before;
The good and the brave ones-the sad and the grave

ones,

Are all passing on, to return here no more.

We may not go back, though infirmities press us,

And deep carking care like a serpent may gnaw— Though kindred may weep, and our loved ones ca

ress us,

And all the soft links of affection may draw.

We may not go back, though the bones of our kindred

Are bleaching all white on the warm desert sands; For the caravan moves, and will not be hindered, Nor stop by the way in these desolate khans. We may not go back, though dark guilt is upon us, And blood stains our hands with its criminal dyeThough the hardened may jeer, and the virtuous shun us,

And kinsfolk and friends from our presence may fly.

We may not go back, though reluctant we linger,
And pine for the days of our years to return;
For wherever we look, Time's significant finger
Points steadily on to the traveler's bourne.
We may not go back, but move onward for ever:
The ocean we sail has nor bottom nor shore:
When once we have lanched our frail barks, we may

never

Return to the scenes of the past any more.

We may not go back; for the Power that impels us, Is the same that moves onward the world in its track;

And the whispering voice of our destiny tells usNo mortal, once started, can ever go back.

16 influence of this mighty agent. And what do we conceive, at this period of our history, would have been the moral and intellectual condition of our race, had the healing, inspiring, and soothing influences of the Spirit of God been withheld from the minds of men? We would have resembled the earth in its unfinished state, before the eternal Spirit { brooded upon it and marshaled it into order, or breathed into it and filled its ocean depths and airy heights with life and loveliness; ay, we would have been in a forlorn and hopeless state, with intellectual powers enervated and spiritual powers besotted— wickedness and darkness would have universally Our world would have been prevailed among men. a Pandemonium. I compassionate that man who would free himself, or deny to the needy human intellect the softening and inspiring influences of the Spirit.

It can

It is apparent from the preceding citations, that man received from the Almighty his first lesson in naval architecture; and that subsequently he inspired him with genius or wisdom for the execution of delicate and noble mechanical structures. not have passed the notice of the diligent student of the Bible, that it contains frequent allusions to principles in astronomy, physiology, chemistry, and other sciences; and these, too, at a period as to preclude a doubt of their having been revealed before the genius of man discovered them. The fact of a connection with the arts and sciences, on the part of the Creator, being established, we may proceed to trace the reasons of our great Parent's thus connecting himself with the genius of man.

It was a remark of Coleridge, that the arts and muses both spring forth in the youth of nations, like Minerva from the front of Jupiter, all armed. However, it is not precisely thus in the history of the arts and sciences. Most of them have commenced in the very dawn of the nations, but frequently have remained in an immature state, or progressed slowly until the nations have arrived at their zenith, and commenced their decay, when they have exhibited their greatest perfection, and appear as if they would act the savior, and rescue a people from ruin. This will enable us to conclude that the wisdom and beneficence of God imparted the first lessons, or raised up and imparted genius to the fathers or progenitors of the arts and sciences in the beginning of the nation's history, and as they have advanced toward maturity, continued to impart to chosen men genius, that they might keep pace with the nation's progress. Thus we may suppose that Jubal received wisdom to play upon the harp and organ, and Tubal-cain as an artificer in brass and iron. It is not presumed that much proficiency would be made at this early period in these arts, unless divine assistance were rendered, or they brought their knowledge from Paradise; yet we find that Jubal was a father in musical sounds and numbers, and that Tubal-cain was

the instructor of every artificer in brass and iron. The arts having this early and advantageous commencement, we may suppose, as the progenitors of the race spread abroad upon the face of the earth, to found empires, build cities, and establish commerce, they progressed toward perfection and exercised a civilizing influence upon mankind. The nodding column of the desert cities, and the exhumed remains brought forth by the antiquary, is evidence of this, and but confirms the sad account of the historian, of the departed glory of the nations. The Hebrews and Greeks, at an early period in their history, had their celebrated poets, musicians, painters, and sculptors; and as they filled their destiny and passed away, their places were supplied by others not less distinguished. This has been the history of most of the civilized and enlightened nations of ancient and modern times. What does this declare to us? evidently, that God in his wisdom, for the good of the great mass, for their enlightenment and civilization, has, in every period or age, raised up men to whom he has imparted, in large measure, the genius of poetry, philosophy, sculpture, painting, music, mechanics, and architecture. This opinion is strengthened in view of the fact, that every nation and age are led and instructed by a few master minds. A Galileo, Newton, M. Angelo, Arkwright, Fulton, Morse, will strike out in a path of newly discovered science and art, and carry a nation, or even the civilized world in their train. One or two geniuses in the republic of letters will give character to the literature of a nation. So in the arts. Is there no providence of God in this? It is a feature of our religious feeling, to recognize a divine agency with the discoveries and improvements which, in successive ages, appear among men. We look at this agency as entering every branch of art and department of science that have a humanizing and ennobling influence. We ask, then, whence did David, the Hebrew minstrel, and Mozart, the German, acquire those wonderful powers in the science of harmony, as to enable them, in their youth, to soothe the angry spirit of the monarch of Israel, and astonish the kings and queens and nobles of Europe? Did they inherit from their progenitors the powers of the fabled lyre of Orpheus, which moved the surrounding rocks, and enchanted the listening trees with its minstrelsy, or obtain power from on high? From whence did Apelles, M. Angelo, and Raphael obtain the peculiar genius to direct their pencils, and bring forth those imperishable specimens of art, and Phidias the skill to direct the chisel so exquisitely as to make the cold marble resemble the most delicate and manly of the animated human form? or Newton the genius to discover and trace the laws of a universe, and Fulton his ideas of that power to propel those huge vessels through the waters as "a thing of life," and Morse his thoughts of sending on the lightning's wings? Count us not

news

heretical when we say, from the Spirit of Godfrom that sublime Agent which breathes life, and beauty, and glory upon every form of animated existence-which breathed upon the Greeks, and inspired their artists with genius to produce those noble specimens of painting, statuary, and architecture-models for all ages, and the admiration and wonder of the world. The agency of the Spirit, as it has been exercised and developed in the providential government of Jehovah, is wonderful. We gaze upon it with astonishment. God chose the Jews to be the depository of a code of laws and system of ceremonial and spiritual worship, through which he intended to bless the race. And for this purpose he raised up, at different periods, men whose eyes he unsealed, and whose minds he filled with visions and prophecies with regard to the coming history of man, and a morality as pure as a jet of life from the throne. Daniel, under this agency, is enabled to walk amidst the empires of the world, as they rise and fall, and mark the phases of their grandeur and degradation. Isaiah and Ezekiel have visions of the drapery of the Eternal, which is presented to their astonished optics; and their minds are carried forward to a period in the history of the Church and of the world when the glory of the Lord shall cover them as the waters cover the sea. And all the prophets of the nation, from Moses, who instituted the old, to John, who was wrapt up in the last visions of the new sanctuary, hymned the advent and triumph of the Messiah, and taught mankind the purest system of worship and practical morality. Thus we see that God intended the Jews to be the teachers of mankind in religion and morality; and for this purpose he inspired chosen men. trace, also, a wise design in his raising up the Greeks and other nations of antiquity, with whom he appears to have deposited the genius of song, of poetry, of eloquence, and the arts, notwithstanding we acknowledge that the wisdom which guided their master painters, and sculptors, and architects was different and inferior to that inspiration imparted to the Jewish prophets. One was religious, the other artistical. One line of chosen men he called, and inspired with wisdom, to beautify the souls of men, and fill the world with pure spiritual worship-the other to beautify their habitations, and adorn the world with the noblest and most elegant specimens of art and taste. It is, therefore, the fault of man, and not of the agencies, that the world is not filled with worship and adorned with beauty and glory.

We

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Spirit. Our admiration of the virtues and mental endowments of the benefactors of our race is increased; and we feel an additional interest in seeking an acquaintance with the progenitors of the sciences and arts.

"Then studious let me sit,
And hold high converse with the mighty dead;
Sages of ancient times, as gods rever'd,
As gods beneficent, who blest mankind
With arts, .. and humanized a world."

SCIENTIFIC SCRAPS.

BY AN OLD CONTRIBUtor.

READER, let us discourse of science a little. I will not give you my name now, but wait to see whether you will be pleased to accompany me in a scientific excursion. If you be pleased with this excursion, we will take another. But if you find this uninteresting, I will trouble you no more with this class of subjects.

VOLCANOES.

What are usually called volcanoes, are openings made in the earth's crust by internal fires. Through these openings there are thrown out, either constantly or at intervals, smoke, vapor, flame, and melted rock, called lava. Sometimes there are thrown out torrents of mud and boiling water.

Volcanoes are most frequent in the neighborhood of the sea, or of large lakes. Sometimes they break out from unfathomable depths beneath the surface of the ocean, and form new islands. When a volcano is about to break out in a new place, the surface of the ground becomes heated, swells, and bursts. Through the opening thus made are thrown up masses of rock and lava, which choke up a part of the opening, which is frequently enormously large at first, and confines the eruption to one aperture, around which conical hills or mountains are formed. The concave space in the centre, through which the eruptions continue, is called the crater. The eruptions are attended usually by explosions resembling the firing of cannon. Some travelers compare these explosions to deep muttering thunder; but so far as I can learn, by personal inquiry of those who have visited Etna and Vesuvius, they are more short and violent than thunder usually is. These explosions are succeeded by red colored flames, showers of stones, and lastly melted rock or lava, pouring out at the top, or over the mountain side. Frequently all the neighboring country is overwhelmed with the shower of stones and ashes, or the melted lava. The fires of volcanoes do not bear much analogy to the process of combustion so fa

coal, or any other combustible material with which we are generally acquainted. There is nothing of what we usually call fuel in the volcano. The fire

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is produced by a chemical action between substances existing beneath the surface of the earth. A few illustrations will be sufficient to show you what we mean by chemical action. If you pour a drop of nitric acid, usually called aquafortis, on a piece of iron, chemical action ensues-the iron grows hot, and the acid eats a hole in it. If you mix together sulphuric acid and water, so intense a heat will be raised that you cannot hold in your hand the dish in which the materials are mixed. If you pour water on burned lime, chemical action ensues, and so great a heat is raised as to set on fire wood, or any other combustible that happens to be present. Should water have access to potassium, a substance which, united with oxygen, forms potash, of which soap is made, a most brilliant fire is immediately kindled up. Electrical operations, you know, produce great heat. The galvanic battery will produce a heat far greater than that of boiling water. Now all these substances, which, thus united with water, enter into such powerful chemical action, and produce such high degrees of heat, exist constantly beneath the surface of the earth. When not exposed to the influence of the air or of water, they may continue in a quiescent state. But let, by any means, the waters of the ocean get access to any of these substances, and a powerful heat, which nothing can resist, is at once produced. The heat becomes so great as to melt the rocks, which no artificial fire can do. At the same time the water, which caused the fire, is itself converted into steam. The expansive power of steam throws up from the crater the lava. This process is continued so long as the water can find fresh materials to operate on. When it ceases from any cause, it may again recommence action, as soon as the obstructing cause is removed.

The seat of the volcano is not in the mountain, but deep in the interior of the earth. The mountain itself is usually formed gradually by the matter poured from the crater. The crater of the volcano is nothing but the chimney, through which the fire, smoke, vapor, and lava, find their way to the atmosphere. This is proved from the enormous mass of matter, which a volcano in a series of years may pour out. It was estimated in 1669, that if the matter which Etna had thrown out, could be all collected, it would form a mass twenty times as large as the mountain itself. Yet nine years afterward the same mountain covered with a fresh current of lava eighty-four square miles; and again, six years after that, the same volcano poured out another stream of lava twelve miles in length, a mile and a half in breadth, and two hundred feet high. If, therefore, the seat of the volcano had been Ætna itself, the mountain would have long since exhausted itself, and its broken fragment would have tumbled into the abyss. It is evident, therefore, that the seat of the fire is not in the mountain, but deep in the

earth. The volcano is not the furnace, but only the chimney.

Of the remarkable eruptions of volcanoes recorded in history, we can only select a few. I hardly need mention a fact so well known to you as the memorable eruption of Vesuvius in the year 79, by which Pompeii and Herculaneum, cities at its base, were overwhelmed. Pompeii, a city whose walls were three miles in circumference, was, with its streets, and houses, and temples, and no one knows how many of its inhabitants, buried so deep beneath a mass of ashes and lava, that for seventeen centuries its place was unknown.

One of the most extraordinary volcanic eruptions recorded in history occurred in 1815, in the island of Sumbawa, in the Indian Ocean. At Java, though three hundred miles distant, the sky was overcast at noonday with clouds of ashes-the sun was enveloped in an atmosphere which his rays could not penetrate. Showers of ashes covered the houses, the streets, and the fields to the depth of several inches. Explosions were heard, like the noise of artillery. So nearly did the explosions resemble the report of cannon, that some British officers, thinking there must be a naval engagement somewhere on the coast, got their ship under sail to afford relief to their comrades, as they supposed, fighting the pirates. They found themselves contending with a volcano; rather a harder customer than Don Quixotte's windmills. The sounds produced by this eruption were distinctly heard at Sumatra, nine hundred and seventy miles distant.

Islands are frequently elevated from the depth of the ocean by volcanoes. In 1831 a volcanic island arose in the Mediterranean, and excited much curiosity. The French and the English began to quarrel about the right to it. Both claimed to have made the first discovery of it. While they, however, were quarreling about the ownership, Neptune stepped in and claimed it as his, and took it down with him beneath the waves. Many hundred fathoms of water now cover it.

Numerous volcanoes exist in various parts of the globe. In the Azores there are about forty. Nearly all the islands of the Pacific and the West Indies are volcanic. In Java there are thirty-eight. They are numerous in Greenland, Iceland, and Kamschatka. The Rocky Mountains of North America, the Andes of the south, and the Cordilleras of Mexico, are all more or less volcanic. But however numerous and powerful modern volcanoes may appear, they were evidently more numerous, and more powerful in some former period of the world's history than they are now. In the neighborhood of Naples, in a space twenty miles long and ten broad, there are sixty craters of extinct volcanoes, some of them larger than Vesuvius. In Sicily, though Etna is the only one now active, yet there are the craters of many more. Extinct volcanic mountains cover several