six inches in depth. Over this is placed a small square chimney of poplar wood, open of course above. Some lighted charcoal is put into the hole, and over it is sprinkled a small handful of bruised sulphur. Around the chimney, and about two feet distance from it, is placed a horse or frame work, about five feet six inches in height, upon which four shawls are suspended, and the external air is further excluded by another drawn over the top. When the sulphur is consumed, the shawls are withdrawn, and others are subjected to the fumes of fresh sulphur. They are keptuntil the next day, then washed again in water, dried and pressed, several together, between two boards.

The mokym, or broker, who transacts business between the shawl manufacturer and the merchant, is a person of great importance in the city, and the manner in which their transactions are carried on is rather singular. They have correspond ents in most of the larger cities of Hindustan, whose business it is to collect and forward every species of information connected with their trade. By their means, they seldom fail to hear of any saudagur, or merchant, who is about to start for Kashmir, even from such a distance as Calcutta; and if he be a rich man, the mokym will send as far as Delhi to meet him, and invite him to become his guest during his sojourn in the valley. Perhaps, again, when the merchant, half dead with fatigue and cold, stands at length on the snowy summit of the Pir Panjal, or either of the other mountain passes, he is suddenly amazed by finding there a servant of the broker, who has kindled a fire ready for his reception, hands him a hot cup of tea, and a kabab, a delicious kaliaun, and a note containing a fresh and still more pressing invitation from his master. Such well-timed civility is irresistible; his heart and his boots thaw together, and he at once accepts the hospitality of the mokym, who, it may be, is awaiting the traveller with a friendly hug at the bottom of the pass, two or three days' journey from the city, to which he obsequiously conducts him. He finds himself at home at the house of his new friend, and himself and servants studiously provided with all he can require. His host, of course, takes care to repay himself in the end. He has an understanding with the shawl manufacturers who frequent his house, so that the guest is at the mercy of both parties: and should he quarrel with the broker,

and hope to make a purchase without his intervention, he would find it impossible. No shawl vender can, by any possibility, be induced to display his stores until the approach of evening, being well aware of the superior brilliancy imparted to their tints by the slanting rays of the setting sun; and when the young saudagur has purchased initiation by experience, he will observe that the shawl is never exhibited by one person only; that the broker perhaps, apparently inattentive, is usually sitting by, and that, under pretence of bringing the different beauties of the shawl under his more especial notice, a constant and free masonic fire of squeezes and pinches, having reference to the price to be asked, and graduated from one hundred to a five rupee power, is secretly kept up between the vendors, by means of their hands extended under the shawl. When the merchant has completed his purchases, the mokym, who was before so eager to obtain him as a guest, pays him the compliment of seeing him safe to the outside of the city, where he takes leave of him at Chaturbul, the very last place within it; from which custom the brokers have obtained the cant name of "Dost-i-Chaturbul friends." The fool's cap, or cypress-shaped ornament, so commonly worked on the shawls, is a representation of the jigeh, or kashkeh, or aigrette of jewels, which is worn on the forehead in the East. Every great man now wears one; but when the Patans were in the zenith of their power, under Timour Shah, it was the privilege of royalty only.-Vigne.

A DREAM.

I HAVE had a dream, an arresting one, and though experience tells me that, even when related with earnestness, few things are listened to with less interest than dreams, yet will I venture on my relation. When the mother of a young family indulges in the heart-engrossing subject of her children, every trifling circumstance connected with them is dwelt upon with minuteness: the qualities of the little ones are depicted, and their sayings and doings have an importance in the mind of the relator, which is rarely participated to any great extent by the hearer. As it is with the fond mother in such so is it usually with the relator of a dream; the interest and the pleasure he feels are but little shared, so that, in fact, his

case,

undertaking is almost a one-sided affair; yet still, as I said before, I will venture on my relation, because I trust it will be useful. We may get good from a vision of the night, as well as from the observations and the reflections of the day. Hardly could I add to the impressiveness of my dream, if I were disposed so to do, for it was of the most exciting kind, and filled me with high-wrought energy. Alas! what a dream is human life, for the children of men are vanity! "They are as a sleep in the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening, it is cut down, and withereth," Psa. xc. 5, 6.

:

I dreamed that I stood on an elevated bridge in a romantic country. The scene was wondrously fair; mountain and crag, river, lake, and fall, with trees of luxuriant foliage mingled their several attractions. It was as though the Snowdons, the Ben Lomonds, the Mont Blancs, and the Alps, with all the Wyes, the Clydes, the Rhines, the Windermeres, and the Niagaras of the world, were concentrated to give vastness, height, depth, beauty, grandeur, terror, and sublimity to the scene. The sun gilded the earth and the heavens, and the azure vault above was decorated with gold and silver-edged clouds.

As I looked around from the commanding elevation on which I stood, an ungovernable delight possessed me; I felt a spirit of irrepressible thankfulness that I was permitted to gaze on so glorious a spectacle. All at once a new power was imparted to me, that of skimming or sailing through the air, so that I vaulted from the bridge with the lightness and buoyancy of a bird, descending to the brink of a crystal lake, that gave back in reflection the sunny clouds above.

I

The bridge towering on high, was now crowded with innumerable spectators, and every eye was fixed on me, while I lightly vaulted from rock to rock, visiting at will the pointed crag, the glittering waterfall, the crystal lake, and the rolling river. was standing on the flowery edge of a fathomless lake, holding by the pendant branch of a goodly oak, when, suddenly, one part of the sky became obscure, and a sense of approaching danger spread among the throng on the bridge. On came the gathering clouds with increasing gloom, and blotted out the light of the sun in one part of the sky, and kept increasing till a clap of thunder, that seemed to rend the concave on high, and

the earth beneath, broke forth from above; while a flash, that for a moment inflamed the whole heavens, shot across the gloom. I heard a loud cry, "The end of the world is approaching," and the awe-struck multitude lifted up their hands in surprise and terror.

I stood as one entranced with wonder, admiration, and delight, for though crash after crash, and flash after flash, convinced me that creation was about to crumble into ruins, and the heavens to "shrink as a shrivelled scroll,' yet the beauty, the grandeur, and the sublimity of the scene, entranced me with delight and thankfulness. I felt that I was in His hands who was urging on the thunder, and flinging from his heavenly throne the winged lightnings that glittered around me in this paroxysm of pleasure I awoke.

I have rejoiced in a tempest in the woods, when the giant oak, battling with the storm, has been torn by the forked lightning; and I have felt a strange joy on the billowy deep, when, vexed by the howling winds, the waves of ocean have risen in their ungovernable wrath; but never in my waking hours have I been carried away by such an intensity of interest, delight, and thankfulness, as I felt in the high-wrought crisis of my arresting dream. I could not help addressing this question to my own heart, Will it be thus with me when I witness the solemn reality? Oh, may I ever keep in view the admonition of the apostle Peter, "The end of all things is at hand: be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer," 1 Pet. iv. 7.

A GOOD DESIRE.

DR. Johnson, bidding farewell to Mr. Windham, thus addressed him: "May you and I find some humble place in the better world, where we may be admitted as penitent sinners. Farewell; God bless you, for Christ's sake, my dear Windham."

OBJECTS OF SENSE AND OF FAITH.

THE objects of sense, the more familiar they are made, the less awful or delightthe more they are conversed with, the ful they become; but the objects of faith, more do they manifest of their greatness and goodness.-Henry.

PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY.

IN prosperity, who will not profess to love a man? In adversity, how few will show that they do indeed!-Feltham.

and surprise a toad in his solitary cell; not willingly would I hurt-I was going to say, a hair of his head; but no matter! After crawling a few paces, speckleback squats himself down in the first hollow he meets. There he sits, accommodating himself, like a philosopher, to what he cannot avoid, meekly eyeing one with the bright jewels in his head, as much as to say, "Was it neighbourly of you, Mr. Humphrey, to unroof me so unceremoniously?" And then, with some compunction, I replace the stone as tenderly as if my own foot was beneath it.

I lift up the leaves of the dock and the coltsfoot, and while admiring the exquisite veining of their under sides, marvel less at the unnumbered charms the Creator of all things can exhibit in creation, than at the prodigality of beauty he can afford to conceal. Not half, no not a thousandth part of the flowers that beautify creation, are ever gazed on by mortal eyes; and even of these, the most apparent parts are not always the most beautiful.

I bend over the clear, dark, deep waters of the solitary moat or pond, where prosper the bulrush and the water lily, and watch there the varied insects that dive beneath, or swim upon the surface. Strange sights are seen among them. A shoal of smaller fish sport in the shallow waters, while now and then a pike darts after his prey, from the deep hole beneath the aged oak.

I look into the capacious hollow of a full-blown tulip: what a splendid apartment to dwell in, if it were large enough! and am spell-bound by the bold and beautiful pencilling of a heavenly hand. What glowing hues! How clear the yellow, how deep the red, and how intense the purple!

I climb the bank of the new-pleached hedge, and peep into the nest of the hedge sparrow. There lie the clear, blue eggs, or the young birds stretching out their naked necks from their pinfeathered bodies. The Father of mercies, who suffereth not, without his permission, one of these unfledged, defenceless creatures to fall to the ground, speaks thus, by his holy word, to the lowliest of his disciples, "The very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows," Matt. x. 30, 31.

How often have I gazed on the glowworm, when the moon has been high in

the heavens, and the edges of the clouds have been so bright, that it was clear that God had silvered them with his own fingers. Never did miser hang over his gold with more greedy joy than that I have felt in such seasons. Silence has reigned around me; and, for the time, the glow-worm has been my own glow-worm, his midnight lantern has seemed lighted only for my pleasure, and I have yearned to do my little fellow-creature a deed of kindness, but knew not how.

There is to me a world of quiet enjoyment in thus following out my peculiarities in seasons of leisure, and the luxury is such a recreation, that I return to my daily, social duties, refreshed by the solitary pleasures I have enjoyed. Some men love a commotion; they would live in a tornado, and breathe freely in a whirlwind; and, in years gone by, the energy of action has been anything but disagreeable to me. Now, however, it suits me better to sit in the shady nook, in peace and quietude, musing peacefully on the past, speculating hopefully on the future, calling to mind my manifold mercies, and encouraging kindly thoughts and friendly feelings towards all mankind.

THE YOKE OF CHRIST IS EASY.

THE Saviour himself has said, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God," John iii. 3. In addition to every former description of the method by which we become partakers of the grace of Christ, this seems, at first sight, calculated to terrify and to discourage us in our early inquiries after the way to heaven. Will no other, no inferior alteration suffice; but must we be literally changed? Must the whole bent of our purpose, the whole order of our feelings, motives, dispositions, be entirely renewed, or we be excluded for ever from all hopes of happiness? How is this reconciled with the easy terms on which we are sometimes assured of obtaining reconciliation with our Maker, and of making our escape from the wrath to come? How, if this be true, can faith, or penitence, or love, or divine knowledge be accounted adequate to the securing of our welfare? How can these be said to constitute the method of attaining to the hope set before us in the gospel, when we are required to become new creatures in Christ Jesus, to put off the old man, and to put on the new, to