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be estimated. There is a decision, a purity, a fearlessness of statement, an elevation of thought and principle, a severity of sarcasm, and an abhorrence of vice, associated with them, which will never be much enjoyed by the mere worldling, the infidel, the scoffer, or the intemperate; but, when a man is devoted to God, is raised beyond the world, is rendered sensible of the ineffable value of Christianity, and is antici. pating the bliss of immortality, then, the writings of Cowper will be attentively read, frequently referred to, very highly estimated, and will furnish a source of the purest and sublimest enjoyment,

"Mid all the dark and howling storms of life." T. W.

London, Jan. 2, 1832.

REFLECTIONS IN A CHURCHYARD.

"I love the ivy-mantled tower,

Rocked by the storms of thousand years; The grave, whose melancholy flower, Was nourished by affection's tears."

Cunningham.

How just and admirable the following A VILLAGE churchyard! What solemn representation—

"Pity Religion has so seldom found

A skilful guide into poetic ground;

The flowers would spring, where'er she deign'd

to stay,

And every muse attend her in her way!"

Speaking of triflers, he says,

"The foam upon the waters not so light."

associations do these words convey! The loveliness of silence, the consecration of thought. There is the venerable tower mantled with ivy, raising its hoary head "amidst the grove of green;" the majestic elm, twining its boughs above, in rude architecture; the yew and cypress, folding

How finely is the lover of scandal de- their mournful drapery over the marble pictured!

"Laughs at the reputations she has torn, And holds them dangling, at arm's-length, in

scorn.

There is much truth in this line

"No soil like poverty for growth divine." Nothing can be more beautiful than the subjoined couplet

"A Christian's wit is inoffensive light,

A beam that aids, but never grieves the sight." The following lines are exquisite— "Muscle and nerve miraculously spun." "The unwearied spring of an elastic foot." "The crescent moon, the diadem of night." "Stars countless, each in his appointed place, Fast anchor'd in the deep abyss of space.' "Pant for the refuge of some rural shade." "Pleasure,

That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist." "His conscience, like a glassy lake before,

Lash'd into foaming waves, begins to roar." "The judgment, drunk, and bribed to lose its way, Winks hard, and talks of darkness at noon-day.'

Thus we might proceed to multiply examples, but the work of specification would

be endless.

Cowper is too well known to require any thing of this kind, and we are happy to find that his poems are increasing in popularity among general readers; and, the more highly genuine religion is valued, the more appropriately will the writings of Cowper

tablet. How hallowed a spot for meditation! The world, how secluded!

I have seen the setting sun dart its rays through the quivering foliage, the sky beautifully melting its varied tinges, as it spread from east to west, and my spirit has wished to burst from its clay, and "drink deep" of the loveliness with which it was surrounded. The twilight shade has come like a mist upon the scene, and I have thought of the darkness of death, and of the eternal morn, when the trump of the archangel shall echo above these silent walls.

My imagination has presented to me the prisoned mortal bursting from his tomb, and gazing on the splendour unveiled to his sight. Then what holy joy has illumined his countenance, when he sees "face to face" Him who was indeed his Saviour and his Friend, but is now his Judge. He knows that he stands not at the dreadful bar with the suspense of one who never desired the "full assurance of faith." He pleads no merits of his own; the garment of righteousness with which he is clothed is not his own; but he pleads the merits of Him who redeemed his soul from de* In the original, "a martyr's" tears.

struction; he is clothed in the righteousness of Him in whom was found no spot or blemish.

And, then, how shuddering has been the contemplation of the fate of many who surround these walls. They have been raised from the grave, only that they might receive eternal condemnation. How has the eye been confounded with the majesty of that heaven which it has scorned! How have the once blaspheming lips quivered with terror and anguish; and the re-animated clay has veiled itself in its shroud, desiring again to seek refuge in the grave, and claim non-existence.

There have been those, too, who, while it was still day, neglected to make their "calling and election sure," but committed the importance of salvation to the procrastinated hour that never arrived. Then, when time has ceased to exist, too late they have understood its value.

These have often been my reveries, on a spot which hallows the precepts of religion. It is true, that they were but the conceptions of an imagination that dwelt on futurity; yet, the time is fast approaching when this awful scene will be realized, when we shall stand, not as spectators, but as beings interested in the decision of our Judge. "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

I have seen the silver beams of the moon streaming through the stained windows, gilding the carved desk and the altar, and throwing the distant objects into an indistinct gloom; and I have thought of the old monastic times, when, at these hours, from the silent choir came the unearthly voices of beings dedicated to God, the soft response terminating in a rich chord and dying away, then the bursting of the anthem in full chorus; till the mind has been led from the assemblies of earth to those of heaven.

I have heard the deep tones of the clockbell murmur from the tower, and it has seemed a voice from another world. Never did time mark its flight more solemnly; never did it so much impress my mind with a sense of its fast approaching dissolution. I have also sometimes been a witness of nature, when she is most lovely and interesting-in her sorrow. I have seen the silent figure pause through its walks, till it has reached a fresh-made mound. The still blowing flower has been placed as a tribute of affection to one who is now unconscious of filial love. There has been such communion with beings now no more, such recollections of scenes and parting words, that the tear has stolen down the

thoughtful cheek; devotional feelings have relumed the eye, and the child of sorrow has rejoiced that there is one who sympathizes in all her grief, and by those tears drawn her from the world which has pierced and wounded her soul.

But on a Sabbath, when the cool breeze sweeps through the waving shrubs, and He, to whom this hallowed fane is dedicated, is more peculiarly present, then, more especially, have I loved to linger there. The cheerful face, the calm expression of sorrow when the mind is resigned to grief, and the thoughtful step, as it slowly paced its way to the house of God, have made me exclaim, "How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts," and my mind has been led to some conception of the joy of David, when he saw the various tribes proceeding to the temple to appear before God.

There are many reflections that must be common to us all. When we have meditated on all these things, and dwelt on the remembrance of those who have departed to another world, of those whom we once have loved, yet are now sleeping beneath, "in the hope of a glorious resurrection," we have felt that we all are mortal. As the flower of the field, is the life of man, and death will soon claim its victim. Beneath this turf shall we, too, be laid, and, with those around, shall we one day be summoned from the grave, to wait the unalterable decision of Him who shall hereafter sit on the "great white throne," judging the twelve tribes, and from whose face the earth and the heavens shall flee away. J. A. B.

Beaconsfield.

CREATION-NO. II. (Second Series.)

IN a preceding number of the Imperial Magazine, p. 21, &c., we dwelt upon the inspired narrative of creation, relative to the formation of oceans and dry land, or earth, and so much of the conformation of this sphere as is relevant to its drainage, from the waters contained therein, and those at large upon its surface. Having arrived at this important point, we consider ourselves to be on terra firma. At large, upon our own sphere, we can now walk up and down therein, and examine the question, at leisure, which is asked by thousands, "Upon what do the soles of our feet rest?" But, in order to find an answer to this universal question, it will not suffice us to ascend the highest mountain, even to its utmost peak, to descend

into the deepest mine, to explore the wildest caverns, or, amidst chasms, ravines, and valleys, to view impending precipices and stupendous rocks; we must penetrate these masses, disintegrate their parts, and, contemplating these, arrive, where it is possible, at a knowledge of their component substances, in order to form a sound judgment of the whole. If we omit this, we dwell only upon the surface of things, amuse ourselves for the moment, fold our arms, and rest in ignorance.

From numerous experiments, the decision is, that the created atoms are of a variety of forms, densities, and sizes. Globular, cubic, angular, irregular, and regular figures, of every grade, exist in these atoms, and in specific gravity differences in the extreme; while some have greater, and others lesser, geniality with light, or the substance of heat. In compounds, therefore, of such heterogeneous materials, substances of every conceivable variety exist; and our wonder is excited at every step, until, from sheer repletion, we cease to wonder at any thing we behold.

Like the scales upon a fish, or the leaves which form the head of an artichoke, the crust of the earth is built in regular series of strata; for the most part, these strata are inclined in planes, whose elevated ends, or escarpments, rise into the atmosphere, and whose lower parts descend deep into the earth. Each stratum is incumbent upon another stratum, like courses of masonry in a building, and the overlaying of each becomes bond to the whole. These strata embrace in their various substances great varieties of matter. Argillaceous clay, for instance, more or less indurated, according to the depth at which it is found, rests upon beds of alumine shale, containing nodules of iron-stone, these upon a stratum of freestone, this upon iron-mine, stone bind, and seams of coal; and beneath these, similar strata alternate, until we arrive at coal again; and so on, in progression, ad infinitum. For, although we can scramble up to the summits of these escarpments, we have never once been able to sink a mine, completely through the strata, into the nucleus or central substance of this sphere. In other situations, we behold granite rocks rise, from unmeasurable depths, probably from the earth's centre, high into the atmosphere; forming mounthe grandest scale; while strata of various structure, in succession, lean thereto around, and bear thereon, like rafters, as if to support, and be supported, by this atlas of the sphere.

tains upon

Lime, combined with carbon, in crystal

line rocks, bearing the name of marble, &c. is frequently incumbent upon granite; and, in general, the marble and granite are only divided by strata of gneiss and micaceous schistus. In many instances, these granite rocks graduate into each other, and form varieties of the same species, rather than distinct strata.

Granite is composed of grains, (hence its name,) or small crystals of felspar, quartz, mica, and hornblende, crystallized into solid masses, which are piled upon each other, like the ashler of huge castles. Gneiss and micaceous schistus are formed of similar materials, but the proportions of each to each vary in these strata, and, in many instances, even in different parts of the same rock. Pure white marble is composed of the oxide of calcium and carbon, in crystals.

Above the granite rocks lie, in general, strata which contain fissures, or veins of metallic ores; hence they bear the name of metalliferous strata. The lowest of these is called argillaceous schistus. These rocks are composed of laminar crystals, into which they are divided, forming the blue or grey slates, called clay slate; and these constitute those elegant coverings which adorn, while they secure from rains, the mansions of man. Talc, magnesia, argil, and silica, in various proportions, enter into the composition of these rocks, and cause variations in their texture innumerable. Hence the changes are incessantly rung, in all the luxuriant playfulness of creation, from strata to strata, and even in the same rock, into varieties endless.

Next, in succession, we arrive at those immense strata denominated the sand-rocks. These rocks, for the most part, are composed of small crystals; and, the ease with which they are detached from each other, and thus resolved into sand, gives the title of sand-rocks to the whole strata. Argil and silica predominate throughout; and, according to the prevalence of each of these substances in any particular portion of these rocks, is the character of that portion determined. The grau-wacke of the German school, which is the psammite of the French, have their place in the region of these rocks; and, altogether, they compose some of the most imposing ranges of strata known in the earth's crust, extending, of immense depth and mountainous height, over whole districts. Fraught with metallic veins, they are rich in ores of value to mankind.

With these schistus strata, mountain limestone frequently alternates; and it often is found resting upon them. Like them,

it is metalliferous, being stored with ores and minerals of value, together with marble and spar in abundance. The immense caverns amidst these strata, fraught with crystalline stalactites, stalagmites, and crystals, transparent, glittering from their roofs and sides, like the starry heavens, amaze the beholder, and lead him up, from this subterranean splendour, to the astral regions, and thence to the God of all these -He who created all things. It is at this point of the stratification of our sphere, that we arrive at the plenum of carbonforty per cent of the substance of all these rocks, is that subtile gas, carbon; and this gas has been rendered the bond of union to the whole.

Calcareous amygdalite, under the name of toad-stone, being streaked with colours like the back of a toad, occurs frequently and abundantly amidst metalliferous limestone; and therewith calcareous spar, intermixed and in chasms, in pure crystals, or carbonate of lime-but the amygdalite itself, although calcareous, contains a much less quantity of calcium and carbon than even limestone.

Incumbent on, or leaning against, the mountain limestone, we now arrive at shale, a laminar set of strata, the plates of which are minute, and yield to the atmosphere. With these, strata of stone alternate, laminar also, and almost equally friable with the shale; so much so, that the whole escarpment of these is called the shivering strata, from its incessantly mouldering into small fragments, which roll down its declivities, and are strewed over the vales below. Argillaceous, siliceous, and calcareous, by turns, these strata, called limestone shale, partake of the substances prevalent in all the adjoining strata, and yet resemble none of them; for the want of tenacity in these strata, forms a perfect contrast with the limestone on the one hand, and, the millstone grit on the other.

Siliceous, micaceous, and argillaceous sand-stone, alternating with carbonaceous and argillaceous shale, or allumine, succeed the limestone shale in several districts. The first of these is called millstone grit, because huge millstones are formed thereof, whole and entire. The second is laminar, yielding strong slates for roofing, and paving-stones for the foot-paths in our courts and streets, as well as floors for the basement stories of our houses; and the third introduces us to the coal strata, enumerated in the beginning of this article. The nature of each of these strata is above denoted by its name.

A coal-field is a most, if not the most, interesting object in the crust of this sphere. Here we behold a huge bason, in form like a tea-saucer, to the form of which all the adjoining strata yield, and into which currents of water are introduced, through fissures in the stone strata from above, so as to completely cover the coal; while dams of argillaceous clay prevent this water from completely running off. These clays, while they hold up the water, interpose themselves, as well as the water, between the coal and the atmospheric air, as well as the sun's rays, and thus prevent the bitumen, and other inflammable substances of the coal, from being evaporated. By these means, the coal is preserved, during the ages of time, entire for the use of every generation of mankind, in the providence of Him who formed the whole.

To the coal strata generally succeeds an immense stratum of magnesian limestone; so named, because, in addition to lime and carbon, it contains magnesia. Thus, coal to smelt, iron ore for smelting, and lime to flux the ore while being smelted, are at hand; and that useful metal, iron, is thus produced in rich abundance, with the least possible expense of labour.

Calcareous sandstone, called freestone, of a beautiful white colour, succeeds the magnesian limestone; and seams thereof often alternate with the limestone itself.

Siliceous sandstone, in massive rocks of great elevation and wide extent, frequently succeed these calcareous strata. These rocks are friable; and the sand accumu. lated by the action of the atmosphere upon their surfaces covers the districts in which they prevail. To these rocks succeed strata less imposing than those over which we have wandered, consisting of argillaceous clays, with nodules and rocks of gypsum, limestone, and sandstone. Finally, we arrive at the level strata, which consists of argillaceous shale, stratum super-stratum, the planes of which are parallel with the horizon. It is upon the loamy surface of these level strata, that we perceive the excellency of that general system of inclined planes, which elsewhere pervades the crust of this sphere, and effectually drains the surface for the surface water here lodges in every cavity, overflows again and again, drowning vegetation and animation: and it is only by deep and expensive drains, kept open with incessant labour, that the land is reclaimed.

Salt, in rocks regularly stratified, is found amidst coal-fields, and also adjoining the sand-rocks. Clay, sulphate of lime, or gypsuni, marl, &c. accompany rock-salt, in ge

neral, and, interposing between it and the atmosphere, preserve it from dissolution.

Chalk, in the south-eastern parts of England, succeeds the level strata, or the sand-rocks; and from its great extent on the eastern coast of England, and the opposite shores of France, Germany, Denmark, and Sweden, deserves our attention : the nodules of flint which pervade the chalk strata are also interesting. Lime and carbon are the bases of chalk, and silica is the base of flint.

Upon the chalk, we find a clay stratum of considerable thickness and great extent; and because this stratum appears beneath that city, and rises to the surface to the north thereof, it is denominated the London clay.

The crown of this sphere is basalt. This rock is composed of minute crystals, which frequently crystallize into regular columns, prisms, lamina, tables, globes, and also into amorphous masses: many of which are of great volume. Upon the heads of the utmost hills, towering over all, these rocks are frequently found, in huge masses throughout vast extents; and where they are regularly stratified, as, for instance, in the island of Staffa, or the Giants' Causeway, in Ireland, &c. the stupendous facades of erect columns which they present to the astonished beholder, convince him that, "the cloud-capped towers, and the gorgeous palaces" of man, are pigmies compared with these sublime works of the great Architect of the universe.

Allied to basalt, in vicinity as well as nature and form, is green-stone, porphyry, and sienite. Silica, alumina, oxide of iron, lime, and magnesia, the most abundant substances of this globe, are the bases of these rocks. These five substances, in fact, in the proportion of ninety per cent, prevail throughout the sphere. How astonishing, that from so small a number of ingredients, such rich varieties should arise around us but these arise from variations in the quantity of each ingredient, rather than from the number of ingredients employed. We behold here anew the economy of the Great Creator, as well as His wisdom and power and while we behold we ought to praise Him.

The metals, namely, gold, silver, copper, tin, lead, iron, &c. &c. seldom occur in a pure state in the veins of metalliferous strata: oxygen, sulphur, &c. combined with the metals, form them into ores, in which state they are generally found; although native gold, silver, &c. are sometimes discovered devoid of foreign mixture, and yet more seldom, the other metals.

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The whole tribe of gases, being fine fluids, are so susceptible of change, that we seldom come in contact with them in an individual state of purity; not even in the atmosphere. Mingled with each other, or combined with other substances, we must abstract them from their associations on all occasions: for without this, we cannot obtain them pure.

We have now passed over the principal compound substances which enter into the structure of this sphere, as well as those which remain simple. Supposing, for the moment, that pure gold, pure silver, and the other metals, when pure, are simple substances, then we behold the firm and tenacious manner in which an aggregate of similar atoms forms a solid substance. If the gases, when pure, are simple substances, then we perceive how an aggregate of similar atoms forms a fluid. And if we treat a pure metal with caloric in action, we behold how an aggregate of similar atoms, from being a solid, melt or rebecome fluid; and while we treated upon compound substances, we encountered, at all points, fluids as well as solids. Matter is, therefore, itself, whether simple or compound, fluid or solid; and the form in which the Great Creator called it into existence, namely, in atoms, we perceive, equally adapted it to all the purposes of fluids, solids, simples, or compounds.

We discover, on compounding and decomposing various compounds in this sphere, that the affinity of diverse substances, each for each, is greater than the affinity of other substances; and that, while some attract, others repel each other. These facts prove a dissimilarity in the created atoms; and also that some are genial and others ungenial to each other. Whether these properties are inherent in the atoms themselves, or consequent upon the action of those subtile, created agents by which the Great Creator governs the universe; who can inform us? All the agents of the Infinite are invisible to us, and matter, in its individual state, is invisible also; it is only in the aggregate that it becomes visible to us. Are we not, therefore, as ignorant of the essence of matter, as we are of the essence of Him who created matter, and of it formed the universe?

To ascribe the several strata, and the various formations observable in the earth's crust, to the play of affinities, to fortuitous or adventitious subsidations, to natural crystallizations, or mere progressions of time, during any or all its ages, is to ascribe to chance what, in reality, is the

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