rable; their digestion will be destroyed, and the whole system so deranged, that nothing will be able to restore it afterwards to health. They will suffer grievously when they become old, for the wicked imprudence of their earlier years; and it is even more likely that they will never reach an advanced period of life than that they will, after persisting in the practice alluded to. Add to this, that the longer laudanum is employed, the more it will become necessary; larger and larger doses will be constantly required to give the same amount of pleasurable feeling; and the greater the evil becomes, the more enslaved will be the wretched being herself under the chains she has cast about her. A more miserable object can scarcely be imagined than one who has accustomed herself to the use of these poisons (for they may well be called so after these considerations), when she is laid upon her last sick bed. If her eyes are opened to the consequences of dying in the state of stupidity she brings upon herself, she will feel quite unable to continue the practice, and yet she will feel so wretched in the want of it, that she will hardly be able to receive any consolation or advice on the subject of religion. The great chance is that, unable to support it, she will return to the use of the stimulant, and in the state of forgetfulness which it produces, will enter the presence of her God! I write these things with particular reference to the female sex, only for the reason that I have myself seen them most addicted to it. No doubt it has its attractions also for men, and they may not confine themselves altogether to the intoxication of strong drinks. If so, these few remarks may be applicable to them likewise; and it will be well, both for the reader and the writer, if they shall find favour in his eyes.

E.

The strongest opium in the world is said to come from Patna on the river Ganges, where, at least, the greatest traffic of it is made, and from whence it is exported all over India; but in some parts, especially on the Malay coasts, it is prohibited under pain of death, on account of the madness, and murders consequent upon that madness, which are occasioned by it.-Encyclopedia Britannica.

USEFULNESS OF THE ROOK.

THE Scottish farmers (says the naturalist Waterton) have lately found out that the rooks, so much prized by their ancestors, are a set of pilfering and plundering thieves, and that they ought to be treated in no other light than that of rogues and vagabonds; wherefore they have now solemnly denounced their former black friends, and they have advised the country gentlemen, as they value their crops, to show no mercy to the rooks, but to kill them whenever an opportunity shall offer. One of these gentlemen, who entertains a very good opinion of the rooks, wrote to ask my opinion of their merits and demerits, and I returned the following answer to his letter:-" We have considerable quantities of these birds in this part of Yorkshire, and we consider them our friends. They appear in thousands upon our grass lands, and destroy myriads of insects. After they have done their work in these enclosures, you may pick up baskets full of grass plants all injured at the root by the gnawing insect. We prize the birds much for this, and we pronounce them most useful guardians of our meadows and our pastures. Whenever we see the rooks in our turnip fields, we know then, to our sorrow, what is going on there; we are aware that grubs are destroying the turnips, and we hail with pleasure the arrival of the rooks, which alone can arrest their dreaded progress. I have never seen the least particle of turnip, or of turnip top, in the craws of the rooks, either young or old. If these birds feed on Swedish turnips in Scotland, they abstain from such food here, so far as I can learn by inquiry: perhaps they may be taking insects at the time that they are seen pecking holes in the turnip. No farmer in our neighbourhood ever complains that his Swedish turnips are injured by the rook.

"The services of the rook to our oak trees are positively beyond estimation. I do believe, if it were not for this bird, all the young leaves in our oaks would be consumed by the cockchafers. The faults of the rook, in our imperfect eyes, are as follows: It pulls up the young blade of corn on its first appearance, in order to get at

the seed grain still at the root of it. The petty pilfering lasts about three weeks, and during this period we hire a boy at threepence a day, or sometimes sixpence, to scare the birds away. Some years we have no boy at all. Either way the crops are apparently the same in quantity every year. In winter the rook will attack the corn stacks which have lost part of their thatch by a gale of wind: he is a slovenly farmer, who does not repair the damaged roof immediately. The rook certainly is too fond of our walnuts, and it requires to be sharply looked after when the fruit is ripe.

"It ought to be generally known that, in former times, the North American colonists having banished the grakles (their rooks), the insects ate up the whole of their grass; and the people were obliged to get their stock of hay from Pennsylvania and from England: and in the island of Bourbon the poor Eastern rooks disappeared under a similar persecution. The islanders suffered in their turn; for clouds of grasshoppers consumed every green blade, and the colonists were compelled to apply to Government for a fresh breed of rooks, and for a law to protect them. I defend my sable friends, the rooks, here in England, on account of their services to the land. Should the adverse party effect their destruction in Scotland, and then suffer by the ravages of the grub, I will at any time be happy to send you a fresh supply of these useful and interesting birds.”

Sir Astley Cooper's Chilblain Liniment.—One ounce of camphorated spirit of wine, half an ounce of liquid subacetate of lead: mix, and apply in the usual way three or four times a day.

The best plan will be not to trust to your remembering the hard names of these ingredients, when you go to get them at the chemist's, but take this book with you, and show it to the chemist himself.

EXTRACTS From diffeRENT AUTHORS.

WHAT can be the reason that some men still persist in rejecting the light of the Gospel? They will tell us, perhaps, that it is because the Gospel is full of mysteries; but our Saviour tells us, and He tells us more truly, that it is "because their deeds are evil." The mysteries and difficulties of the Gospel can be no real objection to any man that considers what mysteries occur, and what objections may be started, in almost every branch of human knowledge. If we can admit no religion that is not free from mysteries, we must be content without any religion at all. Even the religion of nature itself is full of mystery. It is not, then, because the Gospel has too little light for these men that they reject it, but because it has too much. "For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, lest his deeds should be reproved." For sinners, the light of the Gospel is much too prying and inquisitive. It reveals certain things which they would wish to conceal from all the world, and, if possible, from themselves. Nay, what is more, it not only reveals, but it reproves them. It strikes them with an evidence they cannot bear; an evidence not only of its own truth, but of their unworthy conduct. The Gospel does indeed offend them; but it is not their understanding, it is their conscience, that is shocked: they could easily credit what it requires them to believe, but they cannot, or rather they will not, practise what it commands them to do.-Bishop Porteus.

For whom did Christ die? If ye ask for whom Christ died, I answer, for all that hear, be they who they may; a cord is cast into a hollow pit to draw you up, and many more. If ye dispute, saying, Is the cord cast down for me? I will tell you how you may answer that doubt: catch hold fast by it for your life, and beyond all question then, the cord was cast down for you.-Ralph Erskine.

The debt of sin.-Suppose one man owes another a thousand pounds, but he is unable to pay the debt, and denies that he owes it. His creditor, being a very compassionate man, says to him, "I do not wish for your

money, and as soon as you will own the debt to be a just one, I will release you from your obligation; but I cannot do it before, for that would be, in fact, acknowledging that I am in the wrong." The poor man refuses to confess that he owes the money, and is in consequence sent to prison. After remaining there for a time, he sends his creditor word that he will allow he owes him a hundred pounds. But that will not do. After another interval, he says he will allow that he owes two hundred pounds; and thus he keeps gradually giving up a little more, until he gets to nine hundred; there he stops a long while. At length, finding there is no other way of escape, he acknowledges the whole debt, and is released. Still it would be free, unmerited kindness in the creditor, and the poor man would have no right to say, "I partly deserved it, because I owned the debt," for he ought to have done that, whether he was liberated or not. Just in this manner we have treated God. When He comes and charges us with having broken His law, we deny it; we will allow, perhaps, that we deserve a slight punishment, but not all which God has threatened. But, if we are ever to be saved, God comes, and, as it were, shuts us up in prison; that is, He awakens our consciences, and sends His Spirit to convince us of sin. Thus we, every day, see more of the desperate wickedness of our hearts, until we are ready to allow that we have deserved eternal condemnation. As soon as we acknowledge this, God is ready to pardon us; but it is evident that we do not deserve pardon, that He is not under the least obligation to bestow it, and that all who are saved, are saved through free, unmerited grace.-Payson.

The soul of man God's forsaken temple.-That God hath withdrawn Himself, and left this His temple desolate, we have many sad and plain proofs before us. The stately ruins are visible to every eye, that bear in their front, yet extant, this doleful inscription, Here God once dwelt. Enough appears of the admirable frame and structure of the soul of man to show that the Divine presence did some time reside in it; more than enough of vicious deformity to proclaim He is now retired and gone; the lamps are extinct; the altar overturned; the