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The atmosphere serves as the abode of birds, and the medium of transmitting the light which cheers and illuminates. It acts as the great repository of clouds and rains, which perform so important a part in the economy of nature. Vapours ascend by means of heat, become condensed in the upper regions of the air, float about in the form of clouds, which refresh by their cooling shade, and descend upon the earth as fertilising showers. It is also the medium of sound, which enables us to correspond by spoken language, and delights us by the sweet cadence of music. The faculty of speech would be useless unless something were provided to cause and communicate sound. Man would be almost as unable to impart a knowledge of his wants and wishes as the dumb creation; we would not experience the overpowering influence, the thrilling interest, and inspired bursts of the accomplished orator; the divine melody of the groves, the living tones of the lyre, and the melting accents of the voice, but for the air, would never fall on the raptured ear. One of the most important purposes of the atmosphere is in supporting respiration and combustion. It is ascertained that animals and vegetables, when excluded from the air, soon decay and die; that it is the food which nourishes our fires and lamps, and enables them to impart heat and light. It is, moreover, remarkable that the oxygen of the atmosphere, which is consumed by the respiration of animals, is evolved during the day by vegetables; and that carbonic acid gas, which is rejected from the lungs of animals, and which, when breathed, proves destructive to them, is inhaled by vegetables, and rendered subservient to their growth. The nice equilibrium of the gases is preserved, and animals and vegetables are rendered dependent upon each other for that which constitutes in no inconsiderable degree the means of their support. The tenuous air, invisible to the eye, and imperceptible to the touch, of whose existence we require to be made aware by the researches of science, is no less requisite to our existence than the food which we eat. The atmosphere is composed almost wholly of oxygen and nitrogen, combined in the proportions adapted to our constitution, and to various processes in nature. There are, however, several other compounds of the same elements differing a little from atmospheric air in their proportions, and altogether different in their nature and effects. Nitrous oxide. when inhaled into the lungs, produces a state of intoxication, accompanied with extraordinary exhilaration of spirits and animal excitement. Laughing, leaping, and all the indications of unbounded joy are indulged in to an immoderate degree, under an insensibility to external objects and impressions. Nitric acid is another compound of the same bodies, and is well known, by the name of aquafortis, to be so corrosive in its nature, as to dissolve almost any of the metals. Nitric oxide, composed of equal quantities of oxygen and nitrogen, produces instant suffocation when taken into the lungs of animals. If the elements of that subtile fluid which we constantly breathe were to undergo the slightest permanent change in their proportions, our life might be converted into a state of visionary and fantastic emotions, or rendered miserable, and become instantly extinguished. The power, wisdom, and goodness of the Sovereign Ruler of the universe are no less strikingly displayed in the delicate adjustment of the inappreciable air than in the poising and regulating of yon ponderous orbs that circle through illimitable space.

JUMBIE.

JUMBIE! That word puzzles you, reader. You think it's Indian for a prairie-dog, or some other animal peculiar to those grassy wilds; or, if not, that it must be border-slang for a bivouac, or a break-down, or a feat, or adventure of some kind, that, happening only to the rovers of the prairie, requires some outre and new-fangled phrase to characterise it! But you grow impatient. I must elucidate a little; yet remember, if I reveal to you here the external characteristics of a jumbie, it is on the implied condition that you read fairly through the singular illustration of its spiritual mystery which suggested this sketch. Did you ever have

a doggrel couplet fasten so perversely upon your memory, that it kept gnawing there for days together? Did you ever have a Jim Crow bar of music rattling in your ear, like a pebble in a calabash? These are all veritable jumbies! But 'tis very arbitrary, say you, to fix such an outlandish epithet upon those well-known mental phenomena. Excuse me: the epithet, as you disdainfully call it, is a real word -a word some thousands of years old, probably. It expresses, too, a distinct idea; it has a definite meaning; and thus fulfilling a clear mission of thought, it is, to my mind, uncouth as it seems, far more respectable than your generalising phrase of mental phenomenon.' At all events, the manner in which I first became acquainted with the full dignity of the term can never be effaced from my memory.

Many years since, I found myself, one dismal autumn day, on the edge of one of the largest prairies of our northwest territory, debating with a fellow-traveller the expediency of attempting to cross it so late in the season. The objections were threefold. In the first place, the prairie had been lately burned, and it would be necessary to carry all our provender with us. In the next, the season was so late that there was danger of snow; and there being no islands of timber to shelter us, no means of guidance, save a compass, in case of a storm of any violence, we should almost inevitably lose our way, and starve or perish from exposure to the elements. The third objection was the condition of my own health. All these were eventually over-ruled, and we started on a clear November morning, with a negro servant as attendant; each of us mounted on one of the long-limbed horses of the country, with a sumpter-horse, in addition, for the baggage. An accident having lamed one of the horses soon after starting, we were obliged to halt, and thus missing the spring at which we had purposed bivouacking, we had to pass a cheerless night on the bleak prairie.

We were stirring betimes. Well, Frank,' said my companion to the negro, as he jerked him to his feet at daybreak, 'tis full as well that we didn't find that spring last night, for it will be just the place to breakfast at. Better not look for him, massa; dat spring jumbie-prairie jumbie—jumbie all around us.' My friend laughed, and I scarcely heard the remark in the hurried preparations for starting which followed. We rode on for hours, discovering not the slightest indication of the spring and thicket, but encountering, every few miles, one of the shallow rain-water pools which from time to time had broken the perfect monotony of our yesterday's travel-I should not say 'broken the monotony,' for they were so unmarked by any shape or expression, and were all so perfectly alike, that they seemed rather to impress one more strongly with the unvarying sameness of the scene. Near one of these limpid shallows, that, like all of them, seemed scarcely a hand's-breadth in depth, I suggested, as the sun was now several hours high, that we should halt for breakfast. Well, Frank,' said I to the negro, who ate a little apart from us, while we helped ourselves to the fare that was spread out upon a bison-skin, used by way of tableclothwell, Frank, don't you think this pool will answer as well as the spring would to wash your dishes in?' Pool jumbie-jis as spring jumbie-prairie all jumbie-nebber get away from him.' I was about to ask an explanation of the word- Pray you, pardon me,' cried my friend, laying his hand upon my arm; Frank, how do you make out the spring to be a jumbie?' Cause Frank tink-tink ob him all day long-tink ob him, nebber find him-but still can't help tink ob him. What dat but jumbie spirit trouble Frank so, massa?' But this puddle of water,' laughed my friend, 'you find plenty like it; how is that a jumbie too?' No find but one puddle from de fust. He be same old puddle. Come, come, again. Tire nigger wid looking at him, yet he can't help look for some difference, dro' he know always turn out de same. What dat but jumbie spirit?' And the prairie,' cried I, almost screaming with laughter at the grotesque whimsicality of the superstition, then perfectly new to me- the prairie, Frank, what do you make of that?' He be all jumbie-de biggest jumbie

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of de world always de same, and you nebber, nebber get same spot, fixed there beneath that glaring noonday sun, rid ob him.' Then the poor fellow actually burst into tears, as immoveably as the gnome upon a dial. I could not help and began to wring his hands most piteously. Oh, massa, expressing my surprise that Frank, who, with a benevomassa, what will become ob de massa and his poor Frank! lence common to the negro character, had shown much De little jumbie spirit always bad enough when he get concern for the horse when he was first hurt, should betray hold of folks; but here we be on de back ob great big no feeling at this painful abandonment of the poor animal. jumbie, who keeps sliding from under us all de while we Why Frank be sorry?' said he, in reply; when de jumtink ourselves moving, keeping us jes in de same, same bie-back slip at night, him as well as oder hoss all come spot, for ebber, for ebber. Oh, de poor nigger will nebber, back to de same place, 'cept lame hoss too be turned into nebber see the trees, nor de hills, nor de running water of jumbie-spirit, and den me see him ebery day, same, same the yarth; nebber see any ting but dis black jumbie- hoss, see him standing den jes as now, and alway see him back, nebber, nebber more.' I looked at the face of my de same hour.' We now rode forward rapidly; our horses' friend, and I confess there was a blankness of expression feet had become used to the soil, and notwithstanding the which struck me as arguing some emotion other than con- heat of the Indian summer' weather, had accomplished a cern and sympathy for the agitation of this poor ignorant | very long stage-a full day's journey, in fact, while the bondman. Could it be that some pagan foster-nurse, among sun was still several hours high. We ought-we surely those of the same complexion as Frank, had so imbued ought-to be near our destination. I confessed this to my him in childhood with the same superstitious feelings, that friend; and I am not ashamed to say, that as I did so, and they now were re-awakened unpleasantly by the earnest at the same time acknowledged that my prairie experience and most painful exhibition of fanciful suffering in the was utterly at fault in discovering any signs of thicket, other? Surely I myself could not be affected, save with grove, or timber-land in the distance, I began to share more mirth, by such absurd credulity. I declare I was not so or less the superstitious terrors which did unquestionably sure of this when several hours' subsequent travel brought blanch his cheek. The reader, wholly inexperienced, perus to a pool which so exactly resembled that seen in the haps, in life in the wilderness, smiles at the weakness. Yet morning, that I could not for the life of me help adding a the famous Colonel Crockett, as gallant a bushranger as whistle of wonderment to the woful chorus of ejaculations perished among the hardy Texans, who fought and fell at into which poor Frank broke at the sight of it. Every the Alamo, has left it upon record, that a man, when first landmark around us--if I may use that word, where land- lost in the forest, will almost persuade himself that the sun marks there were none-every feature of the landscape rises and sets in a different quarter of the heavens than is -if the phrase be admissible where the painter's art his wont; and on a prairie-when lost on a prairie-with were a nullity-all, all around us was one dull, dead, un- no one object to fix and determine the use of the external broken monotony-an interminable dark level-an eye-senses, the bewilderment of imagination is far more startwearying waste-marked only, but not relieved, by that ling-the vagaries of reason far more eccentric. The lost circular limpid shallow, reflecting an ashen sky; and sky, wanderer is left wholly to his imagination, and he can earth, and pool, all equally motionless, without the faintest reason only upon the possibilities it suggests. For three shadow or one variety of tint, save the leaden hues of the days I had gazed only upon limitless monotony; for three same sombre colour. We talked but little during that day. days I had heard no sound save those that came from our About sunset, a breeze, which crept over the waste in little little cavalcade yes! I forgot; on the first morning, and whirlwinds, enlivened us somewhat, but I cannot remember soon after we had got out of sight of the timber-land, a that one jest was successful enough to raise a smile from solitary raven rose screaming from the carcass of a roasted either of us. But, indeed, neither my friend nor myself wolf, who had probably perished while trying to escape the could restrain our risibles, had we cared to do so, at one re- prairie fire a month earlier. But this recollection only mark of Frank's, when we came to camp down for the night. served to remind me that, if we were again approaching The poor fellow had just lighted a spirit-lamp to make the forest, more of these birds ought to be visible, for the coffee for us, when a blast of wind, which suddenly swept carrion wolves and deer upon which they feed are most the prairie, extinguished the flame. 'What do you sit so often smothered by the smoke of a burning prairie, on the stupidly there for, Frank?--why don't you light another verge of the timber-swamps, to which they are flying for rematch? said his master. No use yet-no use jes now, fuge. This is an ugly business,' said my friend, after a few please, massa. Nigger wait till we hab done slipping.' moments' painful musing; can you see nothing-no one 'Slipping ?-why, what do you mean now, Frank?' sign in the air or on the earth-nothing to form a conjecMassa, what make dat great wind but de jumbie-back ture how we may be situated?' From the earth, most slipping from under us to put white folks and nigger jés assuredly nothing. You know as well as I do that there where we started in de mornin'?—what but dat make de are no running streams on these upland prairies to guide wind to blow lamp out?' The merriment called out by conjecture in any way; and as for the air, the sun, as you this whimsical idea of the sable physiologist was not a bad have seen, goes down very differently over a prairie to preparation for cheerful rest. But our anxiety took a new what he does elsewhere; but that Indian summer mist, turn in the morning, upon discovering that our horse-feed which is now gathering about him, makes it impossible to would not hold out more than another day. It is true that detect any of the peculiarities which mark his setting over we had not originally expected it to last longer. But, a broken country.' "What will become of us?-what shall though steadily following the guidance of the compass, and we do?-what can you think of?-what suggestion have therefore confident that our course must have laid truly, you? For me, my brain is dizzy with looking ceaselessly yet the simple fact of having, in our first day's travel, upon this changeless monotony, suggesting ever the one missed that spring-the one only landmark of our journey same idea of poor Frank's jumbie.' We had halted appa-annoyed us not a little, as the incident became coloured rently still in the centre of the boundless plain-looking by the scene and circumstances around us; viewed some forward, there was no vestige of our having accomplished times, perhaps, unconsciously to ourselves, through the anything. Still,' I thought, while there is nothing here to wild superstition of the negro. The day proved not only guide one, there is also nothing to mislead. If our course mild for the season, but even oppressively warm; and was laid properly in the first instance, we may still clear about noontide, the lame horse gave out completely. We the waste; if that course was laid wrongly, it is yet in the removed his load, took off the halter, and left the poor present extremity most wise to pursue it—we must go on brute to his fate upon that dreary heath, which the next -on-and our only hope is in the ability still to keep this year's summer would alone freshen with a blade of herbage. straightforward direction.' I explained this to my friend, He followed us for a while, and we hoped might be yet able much in the same language I have used here. He simply to keep us in view; but pain, or a feebleness of disposition, nodded significantly, and pressed forward in silence. The which from the first had marked his temper, made him stop whole proposition was so plain to him, that it needed no short at last. I turned once or twice in the saddle to look further demonstration. A drizzling rain, which soon after for him afterwards, but he always stood planted in the set in, did not prevent us from keeping the saddle, until

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the vapour became so thick, that we could not see twenty yards in advance; when, it being also now near night, we were compelled to encamp. Wet, weary, and dispirited, I can conceive few things more disheartening than our present plight. My friend, who was of a fine bold spirit, attempted to jest both about our present discomforts and the almost appalling prospects of the morrow. But the terror of poor Frank, who besought him not to speak with such levity of Massa Jumbie,' soon made him desist; a deep sigh that came from the breast of his master, as he turned away from his supper without touching it, betrayed to me the pardonable affectation of the gallant fellow. My poor friend, I believe, slept little that night, and his nerves must have been much shaken by watching, for him to exhibit the spectacle I witnessed in the morning. The sudden cries of Frank had made me start from my sleep; I looked up-my friend had raised himself on one hand, and with pallid features, and eyes almost starting from their sockets, was gazing before him. Oh, massa, massa-I told um so-here we be-here we be slipped back, slipped clean, clean back to jes where we started from-we and de hoss-yes, de lame hoss and all-and all got to do the same over again ebery day—ebery day.' I looked, and true enough, we were almost under the shadow of a tall wood, exactly like that we had left four mornings before. Nay, more-the lame horse stood there on its verge, as if he had slipped back as Frank had prophesied. The reader has, I know, already solved the mystery, and discovered that we had unconsciously gained the woodlands under cover of the mist of the preceding evening-that we had, in a word, attained the further bourne of the prairie, in the very hour we had nearly despaired of ever reaching it. It was not, however, till we had mounted, penetrated some hundred yards into the forest, and saw the smoke of a settler's cabin curling up among the trees, that poor bewildered Frank could be persuaded he was fairly off the jumbie-back.-The Gift for 1845.

MILK OF HUMAN NATURE.

The milk of human nature appears under as many different modifications in the dispositions of men, as the substance to which it is compared undergoes in the dairy. In some men of a perpetual and impregnable good humour, it has all the oiliness and consistency of butter; in those of a liberal and generous disposition, it has all the richness of cream; in men of a sickly habit of mind, it has all the mawkish insipidity of whey; and in a large portion of the community it possesses all the sourness of butter milk.Wolfe.

BATHING IN THE DEAD SEA.

About six in the morning I reached the shore, and, much against the advice of my excellent guide, I resolved on having a bath. I was desirous of ascertaining the truth of the assertion, that nothing sinks in the Dead Sea.' I swam a considerable distance from the shore, and about four yards from the beach I was beyond my depth; the water was the coldest I ever felt, and the taste of it most detestable: it was that of a solution of nitre, mixed with an infusion of quassia. Its buoyancy I found to be far greater than that of any sea I ever swam in, not excepting the Euxine, which is extremely salt. I could lie like a log of wood on the surface without stirring hand or foot as long as I chose; and with a good deal of exertion I could just dive sufficiently deep to cover all my body, but I was again thrown on the surface, in spite of my endeavours to descend lower. On coming out, the wounds in my feet pained me excessively, the poisonous quality of the waters irritated the abraded skin, and ultimately made an ulcer of every wound, which confined me fifteen days in Jerusalem, and became so troublesome in Alexandria, that my medical attendant was apprehensive of gangrene.-Madden's Travels.

CHARACTER OF THE GERMANS.

All over Germany the natives are fond of flowers. The nursery of Mr Booth, a Scotsman by extraction, is famous for every variety of rose, and for an endless variety of plants and trees, collected from the Norwegian, Siberian,

and other hyperborean regions. It is situated at the distance of three German leagues from Hamburg, in the direction of Altona, and occupies a surface of 150 English acres. It is delightful to see the steps to the thresholds of the meanest houses gay with flowering plants, the small adjacent strips of land blushing with peonies and roses, whilst the honeysuckles and eternal creepers festoon the windows of the lowliest dwellings. There is a cleanliness of mind indicated in a taste for these embellishments, that savours of the golden age of innocence, rather than of these vitiated times. Sobriety and peace may be said to dwell where Flora reigns. In fact, after the changes of war, the devastations of revolutions, and the corrupting examples of treachery and treason attendant on unsettled politics, there is perhaps no nation in the world more pure, more sincere, and more well-disposed than the Germans.-F. H. Standish.

ANIMALCULE IN FLINT.

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After their death, the accumulation of their shields, or hard outer coverings, mixed up with various earthy or flinty particles, produces layers of various earths and rocks. These become by time consolidated into clays, flints, and marbles, in which the shape of their shields and their characters are so clearly to be distinguished, that the very species can be determined. The hones on which razors, penknives, and other cutting instruments are sharpened, are made of a Turkish stone, which is a mass of the fossil covering of animalcules. Tripoli, or rottenstone, has long been well known in the arts, being used in the form of || powder for polishing stones and metals. It consists almost entirely of an aggregate of animalcules, in widely extended|| layers without any connecting medium. A cubic inch of this substance would contain on an average about fortyone thousand millions of these gaillonellæ, as they are termed, the shield of each one weighing about the one thousand one hundred and eighty-seventh millionth part of a grain. At every stroke that is made with this polishing powder, several millions, perhaps tens of millions, of perfect fossils are crushed to atoms!-The Animalcule.

INTEGRITY OF THE HEBREW TEXT.

The general integrity of the Hebrew text, and its freedom from any material corruption in the course of so many ages, is a wonderful fact, of which a combination of proofs from various quarters assures us. The deep veneration with which the Scriptures were viewed by all ranks of the nation of Israel; the peculiar constitution and observances appointed by their great legislator, and in all ages held sacred; the division of the people into separate tribes, under distinct rulers and heads; the priests and Levites settled in every quarter of the country; the various courts of justice, from the smallest to the greatest, appointed to try every offence, according to the divine law; tho various assemblies where the Scriptures were publicly read and expounded; the division of the kingdom into two rival nations; their various sects; their academies and schools from early ages; their dispersion into various quarters of the world; their synagogues in every country, where the Hebrew Scriptures were read and interpreted; the mutual jealousy of Jews and Christians; the various translations and commentaries of the Scriptures in various languages; and, finally, the immense number of manuscripts which are found among nations very distant, and among people of very different characters and opinions-these, with many internal evidences, combine to show, that the Scriptures of the Old Testament have been preserved with the greatest care from any material vitiation.-Dr M'Gill.

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No. 61.

EDINBURGH, SATURDAY, APRIL 25, 1846.

PEACE SOCIETIES.

CIVILISED nations are evidently for a season tired of war. The universality of the change is scarce less remarkable than its suddenness. Half a century ago the trumpet's martial peal resounded in all quarters of the globe. British citizens in those days, rejoicing in the name of volunteers, girded themselves for battle with an alacrity which evinced anything rather than a dislike to the terrific pastime. To talk of patriotism is all very well -of being compelled to don harness in self-defence of being summoned to the battle-field by the pleading cries of sisters, children, and wives. The truth is, we required very little prompting; the spirit of the age was decidedly warlike, and in the language of Mercutio, a la stoccatta, carried it away. How then has it come about, that within so short a period, a reaction so decidedly beneficial has taken place almost simultaneously in every quarter of the globe-that, in reference to this momentous subject, public feeling should have undergone a change at once so complete, desirable, and sudden? To say that it has been effected by the humanising influence of Christianity alone would be going too far. Christianity has done muchthe diffusion of information and the spread of knowledge more strictly secular in its nature may have done something-the experience of the national benefit consequent upon the commercial intercourse of countries at peace may have contributed its share-but the universality of the moral revolution must, we are afraid, be traced to a much more obvious, though far less gratifying cause than any other we could specify. The fact is, mankind in general have become tired of war, just for the same reason that we of these islands have got sick of poetry. Byron effected the latter change just as Napoleon accomplished the other. In both cases the thing was overdriven, and satiation has succeeded in begetting a temporary disgust. We will again, as in other years, request of poets the resumption of the pen-the harp shall again be taken down from the willows, and our bosoms shall yet acknowledge the subduing influence of song; and, left to themselves, men will again arouse to arms at the trumpet's call. Allow a few years to pass away, and, judging of the future by the past, a change will come over the spirit of the national dream; in the horoscope of Europe and the world the red orb of Mars will again resume its former ascendancy, and the clamour for war raised by a succeeding will probably be still more noisy than that which was set up by the generation which has just passed away.

This view of what we regard as the chief cause why men have so suddenly, from being lovers of war, become lovers of peace, is the safest we can hold. Allow the notion to pre

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vail that, from the spread of political, scientific, or moral knowledge alone, men have become so much wiser and more humane than their fathers-that they now detest war on its own account-and you do nothing to render the change permanent; but once adopt the belief that the leviathan is not dead, but only sleeping, and though our pride in human nature and reason is less flattered, our Christian philanthropy is more roused. Tired of war, men are now cultivating the sciences, studying politics, reading books and periodicals in which useful information and harmless amusement are delightfully combined. This, however, will not of itself prevent them eventually from relapsing anew into the military mania of other days; the old spirit will come back upon the world unless something much more effective is accomplished than that which the mere politician, philosopher, or sage, can at any time achieve. But it is obvious that the same cause which at present facilitates the spread of merely secular, facilitates also the diffusion of that more important learning by means of which, men, by becoming wise for eternity, become wise also for time. What then is the immediate duty of all who wish well to the best interests of the human race? Is it to waste time in merely guessing at the causes which have contributed to the change so often already specified? This would not be wise; it would be at least a very questionable expenditure of talent and of time. True philosophy teaches us, previous to an investigation of their origin, to take advantage of circumstances as they are. Now, one thing is certain, mankind have recently become fervent in their praise of peace; they are inclined to listen with attentive patience to any one who will take the trouble of discoursing to them on the subject; and the man who, possessing the ability, does not avail himself of the opportunity which this state of things affords to advance the interests of humanity by a judicious advocacy of the 'cause of peace,' proves himself, if a Christian at all, to be less wise in his generation than thousands whose pretensions are far less high. After these observations it is scarcely necessary to announce the decided pleasure with which we have recently witnessed the advantage which, in many parts of the world, genuine philanthropists and Christian patriots are taking of the improved tone of public sentiment and feeling in reference to the evils of war and the advantages of peace, to inculcate doctrines and deliver maxims calculated, if sincerely imbibed and followed up, to render permanent a change which, but for this, will assuredly prove equally fallacious and temporary.

Peace societies, our readers are aware, have been in existence for upwards of thirty years. They started into organised being, both in America and our own country (and what is very singular, almost simultaneously), a little

after the battle of Waterloo. They have since arisen in some quarters of the Continent. Without attracting much notice, the members of these institutions prosecuted their philanthropic purpose for years; and they now have their reward: a tide of public approbation favourable to the grand object they are striving to promote, is fast setting in. That our readers may form some conception of what we mean, we shall take the liberty of giving the substance of an address delivered by Mr W. Smeal (a member of the Society of Friends), at a public meeting of the Glasgow Anti-war Society, held in the City Hall there, on 17th February last. Peace societies were projected simultaneously, yet without concert, in the Old and the New World. To the United States of America is due the honour of the actual formation of the first society, and to the city of New York must be awarded the priority in this noble cause. A peace society was formed there in the year 1815, as also in Massachussetts and Ohio. The London Society for the Promotion of Permanent and Universal Peace, was formally established about midsummer 1816, exactly one year after the awful events at Waterloo. It had, however, been projected, and preliminary meetings had been held so early as 1814; but the continuance of the war, and the intoxication of national glory, appear to have impeded its public establishment. The meeting at which the formation of the London Society was resolved on, was held at the house of William Allen, the eminent philanthropist and philosopher, lately deceased, in Plough Court, in the city of London. It is not uninteresting to observe the names of the twelve men who were then first appointed as the committee of the infant society. The committee consisted of the venerable and venerated Thomas Clarkson, his brother John Clarkson, William Allen, William Crawford, Charles Stokes Dudley, Thomas Harper, minister, Robert Marsden, Joseph Tregellis Price, Evan Rees, John Scott, Frederick Smith, and Thomas Sturge. Since the formation of this society in the United Kingdom, numerous associations have been formed for the same object. The number of tracts and publications printed by the society to the present time, is about two millions; and these tracts have been circulated in various languages, and in all the quarters of the globe. But by far the most important labour of the society, was the summoning of a convention of its friends from various parts of the world, in London, in 1843. The object of this convention was to deliberate upon the best means of showing to the world the evils of war, and of promoting peace. The number of delegates appointed was 324, of whom 292 were from Great Britain and Ireland, 26 from the United States of America, and 6 from the Continent of Europe. The convention lasted three days, and was attended by about 150 of the delegates, besides a number of visiters, both ladies and gentlemen. The result of this convention has been to give an impetus to the cause greater than it ever before received. The friends of peace have been stimulated, and fresh energy is infused into their operations. The number of publications and periodicals has been extended; lectures have greatly increased; and new auxiliaries are constantly making their appearance.

While, however, much good may have resulted from the agency employed by such institutions to circulate tracts and periodicals favourable to their views, we cannot help thinking that one of the chief blessings society gains from them is the amount of influence exercised over the popular mind by the speeches delivered on occasion of their annual and other meetings. Tracts and magazines are all very well; we also decidedly approve of the advice given from so many quarters in reference to international addresses; but for producing a general sensation, there is nothing so effective as a good speech. Even the convention referred to, but for the eloquence of many of its public speakers, would have scarce achieved the triumphs it has subsequently gained. We anticipate similar results from the speeches recently delivered at the Glasgow meeting. These speeches are not mere declamatory harangues, holding up war to detestation by a mere exhibition of its horrors; nor do they advocate peace merely from the temporary blessing it is calculated to impart. Their ten

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dency is to exhibit how utterly at variance with the principles of the gospel of Christ are the exercise or cultivation of those feelings in which war originates. Now this is what all along we would be at. We may no doubt advance many reasons against war and in favour of peace; but why should believers in a revelation from God not just begin at the beginning? Why not speak out with fearlessness and fidelity? Why not say that men are by nature lovers of war-that though, from the influence of the same causes that render men for a time tired of anything, the civilised human family are at present disposed to vote war a nuisance, they, notwithstanding, when the mood comes round, will be as much inclined for it as ever? Why not confess that our outcry for peace originates in the same motive that gives existence to our outcry for prose? That both in reference to poetry and war we are in the transition state; that we have been regularly overdosed, and that as men will yet cry out for poets to sing for them, so will they, getting tired of the Luciuses, whose thoughts, they must confess, are turned to peace,' ruff in, when the hour comes round, the villanous Semproniuses, whose voices are still for war.' What use, therefore, in going round about the bush! on such an important question? If we are averse to war because we are better Christians than our forefathers, it is good; but if the feeling originate merely in being tired for a time of the game, it will not be lasting. Now, however, is the time for the Christian philanthropist to bestir himself. Christianity alone can render permanent a change which originated in a mere satiation of war as a trade. Let Christian ministers, therefore, bring the subject prominently before the minds of their hearers, giving distinct utterance to the truth, that, as the gospel of Christ recommends peace, so nothing but the same gospel can render peace permanent. A better moment than the present cannot be supposed for the inculcation of such doctrines, appalled and agonised as we have been by the recent sanguinary gazettes from the seat of war in India, and half dreading as we are a quarrel about the Oregon affair with our brethren in the west. Let therefore as many meetings as possible be got up for the purpose of bringing out the views of those who believe that mankind can only be kept from relapsing into their old martial propensities by the influence of genuine Christianity; for we cannot conceal a suspicion that too little stress has been laid upon this view of things. To judge from the language which many use, we might almost fancy that human nature is improving of itself that men are becoming peaceful, just through the diffusion of science and literature. Leviathan, alas, is not to be so easily tamed! They have read history to little purpose who are not aware that men naturally love to go to war; that they must have something to do-something to excite them; and that the mania of war will never yield to the mere influence of Peace Societies unless they recognise Christianity as the only system that can ultimately regene rate mankind. This, we are glad to discover, the members of peace institutions are almost universally doing; and this being the case, we must, in the use of our influence, bid them God-speed. What so desirable as peace-what so terrific as war! And yet, after all our experience of these, there is a principle in human nature which, unless checked by the gospel of peace, will again plunge us into all its horrors. There is, we again repeat, a danger that at present we mistake the mere lull of the storm for a permanent calm; that because men are clamorous for peace now they will be so always. Nothing can render us secure but the eradication of the principles in which war originates. This can be achieved by Christianity alone. Let it therefore be distinctly announced that such is the fact. Shilly-shallying, while it does good at no time, utterly ruinous here. While the enemy sleeps let us endeavour to eradicate the tares. Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, and goodwill to men!' formed the burden of angelic song on the night of the birth of the Prince of Peace. The principles he taught, when univer sally embraced, will banish war from the earth; but nothing else will. Science, philosophy, art, may be cultivated while men are under the influence of a temporary satia

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