I paid a visit to the city of Colosse-if that, indeed, may be called a visit, which left us in some degree of uncertainty whether we had actually discovered its remains. Colosse has become doubly desolate: its very ruins are scarcely visible. Many a harvest has been reaped, where Epaphras and Archippus laboured. The vine has long produced its fruits, where the ancient Christians of Colosse lived and died; and the leaves of the forests have for ages been strewn upon their graves. The Turks, and even the Greeks who reap the harvest, and who prune the vine where Colosse once stood, have scarcely an idea that a Christian church ever existed there, or that so large a population is there reposing in death.

How total is the work of demolition and depopulation in those regions, is evident from the fact, that the site of many ancient cities is still unknown. It was owing to the exertions of the Rev. F. Arundell, my fellow-traveller in Asia, that the remains of Apamea and Sagalassus were brought to light and there are still cities mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, which have eluded research. Where is Antioch of Pisidia? Where are Lystra and Derbe, cities of Lycaonia? Where is Perga of Pamphylia? We sought for Antioch, on our journey through Pisidia; but its place, as yet, has not been found.

I have myself observed the exactitude with which the denunciations of Divine anger against the three churches of Ephesus, Sardis, and Loadicea have been fulfilled. Whilst the other four churches of Asia, which are in part commended and in part more mildly menaced, are still populous cities, and contain communities of nominal Christians; of each of those it may now be said, that "it is empty, and void, and waste." And though "the Arabian may pitch his tent" at Laodicea, and "the shepherds," as at Ephesus, "make their fold there," still have they scarcely "been inhabited or dwelt in from generation to generation." Wild "beasts of the desert lie there"-hyænas, wolves, and foxes."Their houses are full of doleful creatures :" scorpions, enormous centipedes, lizards and other noxious reptiles, crawl about amidst the scattered ruins; and serpents hiss and dart along through the rank grass which grows among them.-" And owls dwell there." When I was standing beneath the three stupendous columns of the Temple of Cybele, which are still remaining at Sardis, I looked upward, and saw the species of owl which the Greeks call "Cuckuvaia," perched on the summit of one of

them. Its name is derived from its note; and as it flits around the desolate ruins emitting this doleful sound, it might almost seem to have been appointed to chant from age to age the dirge of these forsaken

cities.

After so many remarks on the desolation of ancient cities, it would be culpable in a Christian to proceed with his task, without adverting to the very solemn lessons which these scenes are calculated to teach. When I stood amidst these ancient ruins, every pedestal, stone, and fragment appeared to have a voice. A most impressive eloquence addressed me from mouldering columns, falling temples, ruined theatres, decayed arches, broken cisterns, and from aqueducts, baths, and sarcophagi, and other nameless masses of ruin. The very silence of the spot had language. The wind, as it sighed through the forsaken habitations, seemed to carry with it the voice of twenty or thirty centuries. I know not if I ever spent a more solemn or more edifying day, than that which was passed amongst the ruins of Ephesus.-Heartley's Researches, &c. &c.

AN INFIDEL'S TESTIMONY TO THE TRUTH OF PROPHECY.

His

THE character of Volney's writings is too well known to require many words on our part. He devoted his talents to the cause of irreligion, and endeavoured to discredit revelation in every possible way. Travels in Egypt and Syria, and Ruins of Empires, are the two works on which his reputation as a man of research and genius chiefly rests. But the most complete refutation of his objections, is to be found in his own pages, from which the Religious Tract Society of Paris has selected a series of irresistible testimonies to the divine truth of Scripture, in which the language of prophecy is compared with Volney's own words; and thus he is made an unwilling witness to the cause he sought to destroy. The accuracy of his descriptions is acknowledged by all; so that, even as a commentary on the prophecies, we are glad to transfer these passages to our Magazine. Nor can we invite our reader's attention to this subject, without observing, that infidelity may in this instance be compared to the poet's eagle, who was pierced with an arrow feathered from his own wing.

"The kingdom shall cease from Damascus, and the remnant of Syria." Isa. xvii. 3. "They shall call the nobles (of Edom) to the kingdom, but none shall be there,

and all her princes shall be nothing,” Isa.

xxxiv. 12.

"I will cause to cease the kingdom of the house of Israel," Hos. i. 4.

I surveyed the kingdom of Damascus and Edom, of Jerusalem and Samaria, and the warlike states of the Philistines, and the commercial republics of Phoenicia. This Syria, I said to myself, now almost depopulated, counted formerly a hundred powerful cities. Her plains were covered with villages, towns, and hamlets. Every where one beheld cultivated fields, frequented roads, and thickly-studded houses. Oh! what has become of those ages of plenty and animation? To what are so many brilliant creatures of the land of man come?-Ruins of Empires, c. 2.

"Thy riches, (Tyre,) and thy fairs, thy merchandise, thy mariners, and thy pilots, thy calkers, and the occupiers of thy merchandise, and all thy men of war, that are in thee, and in all thy company, which is in the midst of thee, shall fall into the midst of the seas in the day of thy ruin," Ezekiel xxvii. 27.

Where are those fleets of Tyre, those docks of Arad, those arsenals of Sidon, and that multitude of sailors, of pilots, of dealers, and of soldiers? and those labour ers, those houses, and those flocks, and all that creation of moving beings, of which the face of the earth was proud?-Ruins, c. 2.

"I will make her like the top of a rock. It shall be a place for the spreading of nets in the midst of the sea," Ezek. xxvi. 4, 5.

The whole population of the village consists of fifty or sixty families, who live obscurely by cultivating grains, and by fishing.-Travels, c. 21.

"I will sell the land (of Egypt) into the hand of the wicked: and I will make the land waste, and all that is therein, by the hand of strangers: I the Lord have spoken it," Ezek. xxx. 12.

Such is the case of Egypt: torn for threeand-twenty centuries from its natural proprietors, she has seen established succes. sively within her, the Persians, the Macedonians, the Romans, the Greeks, the Arabs, the Georgians, and lastly, that race of Tartars, known by the name of Ottoman Turks.-Travels, c. 6.

"Nineveh is empty, and void, and waste. Their place is not known where they are," Nahum ii. 10; iii. 17.

Where are those battlements of Nineveh ?-Nineveh, whose name scarcely remains!-Ruins, c. 2 & 4.

"Thus saith the Lord of hosts, The broad walls of Babylon shall be utterly broken," Jer. li. 58.

2D. SERIES, NO. 23.-VOL. II.

ADMONITORY PRECEPTS.

ADMONITION is the most precious of all kindnesses; and therefore they to whom we owe this, should be looked upon as our chief and greatest benefactors. It was the practice of Vespasian, the Roman emperor, to call himself to an account every night for the actions of the day; and as often as he had let slip one day without doing some good, he entered in his diary this memorial-"I have lost a day."

Socrates was remarkable for patience under calumny, and when one of his friends admitted his indifference respecting slander, he replied, "They do not hurt me, because they do not hit me." At another time he said, "We should not be too much moved with reproaches for if they are true, we should amend by them; and if they are false, they are of no consequence.

A heathen philosopher once asked a Christian, "Where is God?" the Christian answered, let me first ask you, "Where he is not?"

Plato said, "Passionate persons are like men who stand on their heads, they see all things the wrong way."

Much pride, or little sense, is indicated, when we are out of temper at a reasonable remonstrance, or a kind reproof.

William the Conqueror, knowing his own deficiencies in learning, used to say, that, “An ignorant prince is a crowned ass;" which assertion made so strong an impression on his son, afterwards Henry I. that he obtained, from his success in learning, the surname of Beauclerc, that is, the fine scholar.

Some are so foolish as to interrupt, or anticipate, those who speak, instead of hearing them out, and thinking before they

Whatever be the motive of insult, it is always best to overlook it; for folly scarcely can deserve resentment, and malice is punished by neglect. A good temper is one of the principal ingredients of happiness.

The story of Melancthon affords a striking lecture on the value of time—which was, that whenever he made an appointment, he expected not only the hour, but the minute, to be fixed, that the day might not run out in the idleness of suspense. Spirit is now become a very fashionable word; to act with spirit, to speak with spirit, means only, to act rashly, and to talk indiscreetly. An able man shows spirit by gentle words and resolute actions; he is neither hot nor timid.

Preston Brook, Sept. 1832. S. S.

WHAT WOULD BE THE RESULT OF UNIVERSAL ABSTINENCE FROM INTOXICATING LIQUORS?

1. Not an individual would hereafter be come a drunkard.

2. Many who are now drunkards would reform, and would be saved from the drunkard's grave.

3. As soon as those who would not reform should be dead, which would be but a short time, not a drunkard would be found, and the whole land would be free.

4. More than three-fourths of the pauperism of the country might be prevented, and also more than three-fourths of the crimes.

5. One of the grand causes of error in principle, and immorality in practice, and of all dissipation, vice, and wretchedness, would be removed.

6. The number, frequency, and severity of diseases would be greatly lessened; and the number and hopelessness of maniacs in our land be exceedingly diminished.

7. One of the greatest dangers of our children and youth, and of the principal causes of bodily, mental, and moral deterioration, would be removed.

8. Loss of property, in one generation, to an amount greater than the present value of all the houses and lands in the country might be prevented.

9. One of the greatest dangers to our free institutions, to the perpetuity of our government, and to all the blessings of civil and religious liberty, would be removed.

10. The efficacy of the Gospel, and all the means which God has appointed for the spiritual and eternal good of men, would be exceedingly augmented; and the same amount of moral and religious effort might

be expected to produce more than double its present effects.

11. Multitudes of every generation, through all future ages, might be prevented from sinking into an untimely grave, and into endless torment: they might be transformed into the Divine image, and prepared, through grace, for the endless joys of heaven.

12. God would be honoured, voluntarily and actively, by much greater numbers; and with greater clearness, and to a greater extent, would, through their instrumentality, manifest his glory.

13. Nor is the interest of females in this sub. ject so unimportant as many suppose. More than fifty thousand of the daughters of the last generation were doomed to the tremendous curse of having drunken husbands; and of being obliged to train up their children under the blasting influence of drunken fathers. But let the means be furnished to extend the principle of abstinence from the use of intoxicating liquors throughout our country, and the daughters of the next generation from this tremendous curse may be free. Their children, and children's children, to all future ages, will rise up, and call their deliverers blessed.-Rev. J Edwards.New York Christian Advocate.

ON EXTERNALS.

"We slight the precious kernel of the stone, And toil to polish its rough coat alone."

The Progress of Error.

SIR ANDREW laid down the paper. "And so," said Lady Wilmot, "the reform bill has passed." "Yes; it is now become law, and I hope we shall hear no more about it, for I'm quite sick of the word." "Then we've nothing more to do with reform." "Do!" cried Sir Andrew, "they've done nothing; it has all been talk as yet. It remains to be put in force." "Oh! how delightful. Surely you mean to reform, Sir Andrew." "I! what have I to do with it; I'm no national character." "But if charity begins at home,' surely reform ought.' ""Then you mean to begin with me," said Sir Andrew, puzzled in conjecturing his sister's meaning." "Why, yes; do you know, brother, that you are very old-fashioned." "Well!" "That you live in an old-fashioned house." "Well!" "and if it isn't pulled down, it will soon tumble about your ears." Sir Andrew stared with astonishment. "What's the meaning of all this! Lady Wilmot, are you mad-turned radical quite ?" "Per

haps I'd better say no more; you don't like to hear disagreeable truths." "Disagreeable; on my conscience, to tell me I'm an old-fashioned fellow! It signifies nothing; it is what all my ancestors were before me. Yet, if I must be reformed for the sake of antiquity, it is but an empty reason for an unnecessary act." "Ay; you never will be convinced. Here is the very house we live in, so old and so gloomy, it quite gives me the horrors to look at it." "For that reason I venerate and esteem it." "And there is the dark closet where the rusty armour hangs, into which not a soul dares enter, because it has been haunted for the last two centuries. Altogether it is a most dull, and frightful place to live, or rather to die in."

"Then pray what would be your wish respecting it?" "I would pull it down, and build an elegant mansion after the modern style. Your two old peacock trees, that give the gardener so much trouble to trim, should be cut down, and a beautiful shrubbery should be laid out instead of those finical fountains and flowers." "And pray what would be your next step of reform ?" "I would send away your heavy lumbering old coach, and substitute an elegant chariot in its stead. I would give up to the plough your steady, surefooted, thick-legged horses, and procure steeds rather more spirited." "To break my neck, I suppose. Well! and what next?" "I would then proceed to my worthy brother, Sir Andrew." "You want to give me a new face, hey?" "Why, no, I'll not quarrel with family looks; but your -your manners, Sir Andrew." "Manners! I understand you. But an old-fashioned fellow must have old-fashioned-manners." "Why must he? What a pity it is that a sensible man should offend by rude and disagreeable behaviour." "If people will be offended with truth and sound sense, it's a great pity; I shall care but little to palliate them. And now, my dear sister, allow me to take up the subject, for it is a very important one." "You look serious, Sir Andrew, are you going to read me a sermon?" "Why, no, I'll speak it extempore, and I'll take my text from Mackenzie's 'Man of the World." "

"Politeness taught as an art is ridiculous as the expression of liberal sentiment and courteous manners, it is truly valuable. There is a politeness of the heart, which is confined to no rank, and dependent upon no education; the desire of obliging, which a man possessed of this quality will universally show, seldom fails of pleasing, though his style may differ from that of modern

refinement." Now, you see in what true politeness and good manners consist; they have their source in real benevolence." "What a novel idea!" "Rather oldfashioned, as it happens. I would wish you to observe the tinsel and artificial ornaments of modern life, and tell me if you think they too spring from benevolence." "I should hope that they do." "I fear not. Regard the conduct of the age, and see how differently it speaks and acts. A superficial politeness covers selfishness with its film, and may perhaps deceive the inexperienced and unwary, but true nobleness of feeling must turn aside from it in disgust."

66

Now, what would Lord Chesterfield say to that?" "I care not: his letters have contributed their share to the manners of the times, but whether their influence has been beneficial or not, I have always doubted. His lordship has made the principle of his politeness to be, not genuine benevolence, but selfishness masked with hypocritical kindness." "How satirical you are, Sir Andrew!" "Now, indeed, language is perverted and refined, in order that the same ideas, conveyed under a different form, may not shock." "To be sure. What! would you have no mercy on our feelings on the refinement of sensibility?" "True sensibility is a lovely trait in human nature, but it is rarely to be met with. Its counterfeit, which is so current, is too disgusting to receive mercy. The world exerts itself to appear amiable under whatever appearance it can assume : even almsgiving, and the bestowment of money on religious or benevolent purposes, is too generally given only in ostentation."

"Oh! Sir Andrew, how uncharitable you are!" "And so I ever would be to vice, let it assume as specious a disguise as it may. Besides this hypocritical ostentation, there is a constant endeavour, in some classes of society, to appear more wealthy and more respectable than they really are; and to this bauble they sacrifice their comfort and happiness." "But is it not lawful to endeavour to rise in the world?" "It is not their endeavour to rise, that I would censure; but their constant efforts to appear what they are not, to patch up their pride

by the bye, you recollect Mr. Hogg!" "Oh! yes; I shall never forget the brazier's son." ""

"The father, a respectable man in the city, by dint of economy and industry, acquired a tolerable fortune; but, with an error too common among tradesmen, determined to bring up his son to a gentleman's expectations, so that the young man by nature and education despised the

source of his father's gains." "What a pity! Isn't that he, who altered his name, to make it more genteel?" "Oh! yes; a constant practice with monosyllabics now-a-days-doubled the final consonant, and added e." "But it made him less swinish, you know. Whenever I saw him, I used to think his origin doubtful; but his impudence carried him through every thing." "Yet not entirely, for who could see that forwardness, and aping after gentility, without thinking of brass, without talking of brass."

"For shame, Sir Andrew! You are indeed too satirical. But I must say he was a prodigious favourite with most of the young ladies of the village; so very attentive, that I could sometimes feel inclined to forgive his aping after gentility. Why, to be sure, it was pardonable, if it wasn't very wise; there's nothing like being a gentle man-so the world thinks." "But it didn't last long, for he soon left us. Do you know what has become of him?" "He was gazetted as a bankrupt last week." "Bankrupt !" ejaculated Lady Wilmot, dropping her work, "Did he still carry on business?" "Yes, indeed; he pretended to do so, under the old-fashioned name of Hogge. Yet, as he paid but little attention to it himself, it never thrived after his father's death. Mr. Hogge became a gentleman because of his money, and a bankrupt because he was a gentleman." "But why should he become bankrupt for being a gentleman. "No necessity for it at all; but so he did. He wished to be thought genteel, and played off the gentleman when he had only a tradesman's pocket. His father's earnings were soon spent in gew-gaws, hunting, gambling, racing, &c. Moreover, he wanted to be thought rich, when he knew he had no more brass to turn into gold." "Poor fellow !" 66 Though he may have some claim upon our pity, he has more upon our censure. When a man, to keep up the appearance of a gentleman, robs the honest but more humble tradesman, he is guilty of the most fraudulent robbery." "Mr. Hogge danced very prettily though. I've often thought it a great pity he was a brazier." "Well for my part, I rather pitied him because he was not. If he had trodden in the steps of his father, he might still have remained a respectable member of society. But now that the source of his gains has failed, he is despised by his father's friends for his ridiculous pride, and his fashionable associates care no longer to dissemble their contempt." "Yes, as you say, it was very wrong. Then I suppose he must now go

to trade, and spoil his white hands; I always thought they looked genteel. And his manners too will all be lost behind a counter." "Good manners can be lost no where. But, if by the assistance of his friends, he resumes his father's business, it is to be hoped that he will endeavour to lay aside the gentleman's notions, and take up the tradesman's." "Such a nice head of hair too, and he sings so prettily!" "Well, he may brush his brass with his hair; and as for singing, it will make his business more cheerful."

"You're very unfeeling, Sir Andrew, you have no pity for the poor young man. It must be a very dull change for him; he must not expect any more pleasure as long as he lives." "But it will be well for him, if he profits by the lesson misfortune has taught him. If he can now discard the empty notions of gentility for the sober application of a tradesman, and aim at being respectable rather than to be thought genteel, he may still live comfortably." "I declare you seem to be quite an enemy to any thing genteel; but I can assure you that gentility makes a man a great deal more amiable than learning." " 66 Humph!" said Sir Andrew, and resumed his perusal of the paper. "It is as I said; you don't like disagreeable truths," rejoined Lady Wilmot. "Then the point still remains to be argued, whether we are not surfeited with polite hypocrisy, and external gentility." "Oh no; that is not my meaning. Let us have politeness without hypocrisy, and genuine worth without deception." "The first words of reason," said Sir Andrew, "that I've heard from you this morning." "Then I hope they will not be thrown away, since they have been so scarce." "I hope not, for it is obvious to any person of reflection, that politeness is a graceful polish to conversation and manners, and gives them at least the appearance of being amiable." "And gentility appears to be the modernizing of respectability, and embellishing it with the variegated ornaments of taste."

"Well, Sir Andrew, what objection can you have to these?" "None at all. My objection lies to the assumption of them, to hollow politeness where benevolence has left nothing but her garb, to that constant aping after gentility, to the reigning desire of being thought wiser and more amiable, richer and more respectable, than we really are. And this, it must be confessed, is a leading foible of the age, that nothing can affect but ridicule, and that nought can conquer but painful experience." Beaconsfield.

J. A. B.