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middle of it; for when a person is lower than the surface of the earth the lightning must strike it before it can reach him. In the fields, the best place is within a few yards of a tree, but not quite under it.

LAURA. Is that all, mamma?

MOTHER. I must not forget to tell you, that you should never, during a thunder-storm, have any thing made of metal on your person, or hold any knife, &c. in your hand. You should also avoid being near the bell-rope. Perhaps the expedient of the Emperor Augustus would amuse you : he always carried about with him, as a kind of talisman against lightning, a piece of the skin of a sea-calf, and at the least appearance of a tempest sheltered himself in the most retired and secret place.

LAURA. The Emperor Augustus ? was he so timid?

MOTHER. I think Augustus was naturally very timid. He had, however, some reason to fear lightning, for he had once a very narrow escape. In an expedition against the Cantabri, who inhabited that part of Spain now called Biscay, the lightning struck his litter, and killed a slave carrying a light before him. In gratitude for his preservation, he dedicated a temple to Jupiter, the thunderer. I remember a still more narrow escape of another crowned head : Amurath the fourth emperor of Turkey, while asleep one afternoon, had his clothes burnt by lightning, while he himself was not in the least injured.

LAURA. How very curious !

MOTHER. It is indeed ; lightning has been known to melt a sword without injuring the scabbard, and I have heard even to break the bones, without injuring the flesh.

LAURA. When you know and hear so much of its danger, do you think it wrong to be frightened ?

MOTHER. It would be very wrong to pass so sweeping a censure; I think in some cases fear of lightning is mere habit ; in others it is constitutional weakness. The only true basis of real courage is trust in the protection of the Almighty-in that God by whom we know all things are ordered for our good. But having seen pious and excellent persons suffer much from apprehension during a thunder storm, I am most anxious to habituate you, my dear Laura, to view with tranquillity these great convulsions of nature.

LAURA. But why are there storms at all, mamma? Mother. You may be sure that all things are ordered for the best by an all-ruling Providence; with all the uses of storms we are probably not acquainted, but I remember a passage in Archdeacon Paley, which may prove to you that they have their use. After naming the various causes which corrupt the air, as flame, respiration, animal putrefaction, &c. be speaks of the methods used to restore it : one of these is agitation. “The foulest air shaken in a bottle with water for a sufficient length of time, recovers a great degree of its purity. Here, then, allowing for the scale upon which nature works, we see the salutary effects of storms and tempests. The yesty waves which confound the heaven and sea are doing the very thing which is done in the bottle.” Nothing can be of greater importance to living creatures than the salubrity of their atmosphere. It ought to reconcile us therefore to those agitations of the elements, of which we sometimes deplore the consequences, to know that they tend powerfully to

restore to the air that purity which so many causes are constantly impairing. But we have talked long enough on this subject; bring me Thomson's Seasons from the library. I wish you to read the beautiful description of a thunder-storm in ‘Summer,' and, as it has ceased raining, we will then walk out.

M. A. S.

Oh, when we read in scripture of what Jesus did while he sojourned upon earth; when we follow him in all the steps of his most holy life; when we mark his perfect conformity to the law in all things; when we hear even his bitterest enemies acknowledging his spotless innocence; let us, in the exercise of faith, take and appropriate to ourselves all this rectitude, all this meritorious obedience : let us say,

This, this perfection is mine ; it is this alone in which God will accept me, and in which I desire to be accepted: I abandon and cast away all my own faulty and imperfect doings in the matter of justification, and I desire and pray to be found in CHRIST, whom I gratefully and gladly confess to glory in, as the Lord My righteousness.'-- Rev. C. Neat.

THE ASTRONOMER'S GARDEN.

-The lawn where many a cypress threw
Its length of shadow, whilst he watched the stars.

ROGERS.

The twilight dews, the summer's cooling showers,
Such, as from England's mild and changing sky,
Fall lightly on the flowers and daisied grass,
Calling up fragrance from the garden ground,
Had given a freshness to the air: no sound
Broke the deep stillness of the summer night,
Save the low rustling of the distant leaves,
And the faint tick of the sidereal clock,
Soft falling on the ear: the brilliant stars,
A glorious host, shone forth in tranquil light,
Fair, clear, yet few, obscured by passing clouds :
Yet still the glass points up towards the heavens ;
And other eyes beside the learned there
Keep eager watch, that they perchance may see
For once the mysteries of the heavens unveiled.
For once! oh, happy must they be, who midst
The secret things from common eyes concealed,
Behold the wisdom of their God! whose thoughts
Walk daily midst the wonders of the world.

Far in the heavens appeared two distant stars ; Faint was their light, and side by side they shone,

Or seemed to shine ; for in the azure blue,
Between them there, the telescope displayed
To wondering eyes a glorious crown of light,
Amidst whose lustre gleamed a thousand stars,
Radiant in loveliness.

That garden scene
May pass from memory, for the days of life
Are filled with keen regrets and anxious thoughts,
And busy duties, hourly thronging round:
But when the burden of life's heavy cares
Weighs down my heart, by many a grief opprest,
Then may I call to mind the lovely crown,
Which, still unseen, shines by those distant stars,
And think even thus, amidst the daily scenes,
The daily trials of our sorrowing years,
Some hidden purpose of thy pitying love,
Thy watchful care, my Saviour is displayed ;
Which, like the crown of stars, our mortal sight
Beholdeth not: until the eye hath learned
To look on all things through the glass of faith.

M. A. S. BARBER.

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