one prays. When the most holy Virgin approaches unto God to supplicate for us, she commands the angels and saints to accompany her; and together with her they supplicate the Most High for us. Whilst it is said of the other saints, that they are with God; the portion of Mary is greater, for she is not only subject to the will of God, but the Lord himself is also subject to her will. All power is given to thee in heaven and in earth, and nothing can be impossible to thee, to whom it is possible even to elevate those who are past hope to an hope of salvation. Thou, O mother of God, art chosen from eternity, that those whom the justice of the son cannot save, may be saved through thy piety. O most blessed Virgin, as it is impossible that those who turn away from thee, or from whom thou turnest away, can be saved, so it is impossible that he should perish who turns to thee, and whom thou regardest. Saint Anthony is introduced as uttering the same sentiments. (Anselm.) Saint Albertus Magnus says, "The nation which will not serve thee (the Virgin,) shall perish;' and Saint Bonaventura, 'He that makes light of her shall die in his sins. And in another place, he that does not call on thee in this life, shall not attain to the kingdom of God.' Saint Ignatius says, It is impossible that any sinner should be saved, unless through thy assistance and favour, O Virgin; because those whom the justice of God does not save, infinite mercy does through the intercession oof Mary. Bernardo da Siena carries her influence into purgatory. The blessed Virgin has rule in the kingdom of purgatory, (Sermon de nom. Mar.) See how profitable it is to worship the Virgin, when she is not forgetful of her worshippers even in the flames of purgatory. And although she affords assistance and refreshment to all, yet she bestows most of these on her own. revelation made by this holy mother to Saint Bridget, says, 'I am the mother of all those who are in purgatory, because all the pains due to thein on account of their sins, are much mitigated in the instant in which I pray for them. Some suppose this to be in consequence of her intercession with her Son; but others speak as if it were by her own power.' Novaraino says, 'I believe that in respect of those who are purified in the flames, their pains, through the merits of Mary, are not only rendered lighter, but shorter; so that the time of torment is contracted by the assistance of the Virgin. Accordingly, Dionysius, the Carthusian, says, 'Every year, on the feast of Christ's nativity, the Virgin descends to the

The

regions of purgatory, and delivers thence many souls. On the night, also, of our Lord's resurrection, she uses to go down to purgatory for the delivery of souls. It s perhaps, on this ground that Cardinal Ugon observes, "There are many saints in heaven by her intercession, who without her would never have been there.' In Divoto Blosio's estimation, she supersedes Peter in some cases, 'To thee, O heavenly Queen, the keys and treasures are committed;' and Ambrogio prays, 'O Virgin, open heaven to us, for thou holdest the keys.' Pietro Damiano calls her, 'The heavenly laddar, because through her God descends to earth, that through her men may merit to ascend to heaven.' In this spirit Bernard calls her, the most excellent chariot to carry us to heaven.' Bonaventura says, 'To know and acknowledge thee, O Virgin, mother of God, is the way of immortality, and to rehearse thy virtues is the way of salvation. In fact, says Rupert, speaking of Paradise, she, by right, possesses the whole kingdom of her son.' David asks of God, 'O Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle,' Psa. xiv. to which Saint Bonaventura replies, 'Let us embrace the footsteps of Mary, sinners as we are, and let us studiously consider her blessed feet. Let us hold her stedfastly fast, and not let her go until we have prevailed to obtain her blessing.' It is no wonder that Saint Ildefonso says, 'Thou art the beginning, middle, and end of our rejoicing.' safety is often more speedily obtained by calling on the name of Mary, than in calling on the name of Jesus. She is ever going about, seeking whom she may save.'

• Our

To the question, why does God now spare the world, when formerly he so severely punished so much smaller sins than are now committed? the answer is, All is through the merits of the blessed Virgin. Hence says Saint Fulgenzio, Heaven and earth would long since have fallen, if Mary had not sustained them by her prayers."

Let us come boldly,' says the apostle, 'to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need;' on which Saint Antonio has a note: To the throne of grace; namely, to Mary. When these things are remembered, and more that is omitted, well may Riccardo di Saint Lorenzo say, 'the name of Mary is a treasure of Divinity.'

Thomas á Kempis says, Wicked spirits tremble and fly from the Queen of heaven, as from fire; and even at the hearing of her name.' The revelation given by the Virgin to Saint Bridget goes on: 'There is no one alive, however cold in his love to

This epitaph, as the last historian of Devonshire observes, is not all true; for it says, that the earl's not having the queen for a wife, was the cause of his travelling, and consequently of his death: whereas all our records state that he never desired to marry queen Mary, but the princess Elizabeth. He was born to be a prisoner; for from twelve years of age to almost thirty, at which he died, he enjoyed scarce two years of liberty, and obtained that quiet at his death which in his life-time he never could have.

tinuance, while the 'south-westerly have been much longer. The last Brumal season was remarkable for the long southwesterly periods noticed therein, which, as stated previously, were accompanied with severe gales. After the season had closed, the gales were less frequent, and the alternations of period, connected with the lowe temperature, distinctly marked the change of season. The first period noticed in the present season, was north-easterly, it occurred on the 27th of January; the wind was easterly, and it was a circuit round the compass similar to those previously observed: during this circuit, the weather was very rainy. A short south-westerly period of four days then took place; it included the day on which so decided a change in the weather was noticed, that we regarded it as the commencement of the season. This was followed by another short northeasterly period, being a second circuit round the compass; it was fine, with a little rain at the close. A longer south-westerly period was then observed, during which two gales of wind were noticed on the 5th and 12th of February, they were accompanied with rain; this period extended from the 3d of February to the 15th, its prevailing wind was west. On the 16th the wind was again easterly, and another circuit was observed, making the third since the commencement of the season: it was particularly fine, but a little rain was noticed on the previous day. A southwesterly period of eleven days then fol. lowed, which was also distinguished by two gales of wind on the 19th and 27th, which were accompanied with rain; the prevail. ing wind of the period was south-west, and a short north-easterly period afterwards occurred, it was observed on the 28th and on the 1st of March. This was followed by the south-westerly period, in which was noticed the heavy gale of the 4th, 5th, and 6th of March, which was also accompanied with rain. It may be remarked, that the gales noticed during this season were distant from each other by regular intervals of about seven days each.

He was the twelfth and last earl of Devonshire, of that noble lineage: the second marquis of Exeter, and the fifteenth baron of Okehampton; which title the family had possessed from its coming into England, to that time. The large estate appertaining to the barony of Okehampton, on the death of this Edward Courtenay without issue, came to the heirs of four sisters, aunts to the last earl of Devonshire. One of these four parts was subdivided into two; upon which Carew, in his Survey of Cornwall, has this remarkable account,— "I have seen at Hall, a seat of sir Reginald Mohun, a faggot, whose age and painting do prove the tradition to be true, namely, that it was preserved by the earls of Devonshire, whose seat it was; but whether from any foresight of what did happen afterwards, I cannot tell this faggot being all one piece of wood, was, as it grew, wrapped about the middle part with a band, and parted at the end into four sticks, one of which was again subdivided into two; and so, as was said, this estate was divided between the heirs of the four daughters, and one part of them again subdivided into two and thus, as the titles of this noble family were given to others, so this ancient and great estate, (part of which did belong to the barons of Okehampton from the time of the Conquest, and part to the earls of Devonshire from a little time after, and were both united in the family of Courtenay, and continued in that family for many generations,) was, upon the death of this earl, all torn to pieces, and parcelled out to strangers."

March 8, 1834.

W.

POETRY.

METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS.

THE early part of the Primaveral season, in addition to its diminished temperature, has been distinguished by the alternations of the anemonal periods: we have noticed eight distinct periods from the 27th of January to the 10th of March; the northeasterly have been of one or two days con

THE SNOW-STORM.

THICK clouds ascending slowly climbed the sky,
The red round sun had set, a storm was nigh;
The village children's evening task was done,
And all were happy in their homes, but one.
She saw the clouds uniting far and near,
While deepening darkness filled her heart with fear,

With lips apart, in breathless haste she ran, To reach her home ere yet the storm began. Eut, see! the winds arise, the tempest breaks, "ast whirls the snow in broad contiguous flakes 'er hedge and tree, and field and road, 'tis spread, ale, cold, and noiseless, like the silent dead. The lonely church presents a solemn sight,

The porch, the roof, the graves, are clothed in white; But yet more sad than all the gloom around, and all the crowd of graves, is yonder mound.

Jeside the path her feet so often trod

Vith him whose heart her words had won to God; By yonder stone, poor child! thy mother lies,

or feels the storm that round thee falls and flies. Oh! haste thee, maid, and, lest thy footstep stray, Avoid the heath, pursue the safer way; And tread with caution where the single beam Extends, a dangerous bridge, across the stream; Forget the miles between thy home and thee, est terror rob thee of the power to flee;

n such a night the stoutest hearts might fail,
When horror, cold, and dull fatigue, assail.
Before the fire, with warm expanded hands,
Expecting thee, thy sister smiling stands,
While, as the restless flames arise and fall,
The child's huge shadow dances on the wall.
Thy grandame longs in vain to aid thee, child!
30 weak with age is she, the night so wild,
Nor has she near one sympathizing friend
To guide and guard thee to thy journey's end.
Toward the old clock her anxious gaze is cast,
That shews the hour of thy return is past;
And as the gusts against the lattice beat,
She thinks each sudden sound the sound of feet.

That night the shepherd strove to cross the plain,
And save his distant flock, but strove in vain :
Deep lay the drift, the snow flew fiercely still,
And sheep by twenties perished on the hill.
Full half his flock his fear accounted lost,
His fingers slowly told the likely cost;
The dog's caress his angry hand forbad,
His head was busy, and his heart was sad.
Where lay the drift in heaps against the bank,
The groaning wain above the axle sank;
The mails were stopped, or wandered off the road,
The plunging horses failed to move the load;
And where the wind blew freely o'er the moor,
Broad wreaths of snow had block'd the widow's door.

Nor can a helpless child, when tempests rave,
And strew beneath his feet the traveller's grave,
Endure what manhood well might fear to brave.
And if a wanderer fall, the ruthless skies
Will wind the sheet of death before he dies;
The brain will swim, and fatal torpor creep
O'er all the limbs, and seal the eyes in sleep.
Thus, when the storm had ceased, and morn arose,
And light revealed the dazzling waste of snows,
Deep, deep beneath their surface smooth and fair,
They hid the gentle maid they might not spare.

That night her father, on the southern seas
Was sailing homeward swift before the breeze,
With helm in hand he stood, and musing smiled,
He thought to meet, but came to mourn his child.

J. O.

THE WISHING-GATE.

'Tis dreamy midnight's solemn hour,
The busy city sleeps,

And the palid moonbeam's silver sheen
Its nightly vigil keeps.

The Pole-star twinkles in the blue,
The hour is waxing late,

Then haste thee, maiden, and away,
And seek the Wishing-gate!
And if thy heart be free from guile,
Thy wishes pure and holy,
Go, breathe thy prayer, go, wish thy wish,
And banish melancholy!

The maiden leaves her busy wheel,

And dons her hose and shoon, And hastens to that ancient gate,

While shines the quiet moon! "There is a bark upon the wave,

A bark I fain would see,

And one who treads her gallant deck
Who vowed to cherish me!

Who vowed, in spite of fortune's frown,
His love should never vary,
Would he were here in safety now,

Conversing with his Mary!"

Pale clouds obscured the watchful moon, The hour was waxing late,

The maiden, pensive and alone,

Leant on the Wishing-gate.
And bending low her anxious head
In gentle reverie,

Her wishes were for him she loved,
Her thoughts were on the sea.
Was it a robber in the dark

That stole along so wary?
"Tis he! 'tis he-my Henry dear,
Restored to love-and Mary!"

SONNET.

C. M.

BLEST is the shepherd on yon turf reclined,
Who on the beauteous coloured sky above,
Lies idly gazing; while his happy mind
Is soothed by some sweet tale of rural love :
He does not feel the bitter pangs that move
The haughty spirit,-when with selfish pride,
False friends, on whom the trusting heart relied,
Unkindly shun th' imploring eye of wo;
The ills they ought to sooth, with taunts deride,
And laugh at tears themselves have caused to flow:
Nor his rude bosom fancied woes distress,
Of sentiment or false refinement born,
Simplicity to him is happiness,

Calm as the tranquil eve-fresh as the fragrant morn.
G. T.

REVIEW. Remains of James S. Carmichael, late Teacher in Circus Place School, Edinburgh. With a Memoir of his Life. By the Rev. David King, Minister of the United Associate Congregation, Greyfriars, Glasgow. Edinburgh, Oliphant & Son. 1834.

WE have observed, with much pain, the publication recently of many remains and

memoirs of young and pious victims to pulmonary consumption. We can participate in that tender sentiment which may induce the friend, the brother, and the parent to shew to the world the brightness of the object of which they have been bereaved, but we cannot but think that the less impassioned suggestions of good sense, and religious resignation, would, in most cases, have forbidden the display. There is a sameness in all these productions. They are all gentle, amiable, and feeble. The brightness that is upon them is not that of the morning or the evening sun, nor is it the calm, steady softness of moonlight: it is that of the funeral taper, which just serves to make the solemn gloom visible around it!' The piety also, that pervades these compositions, lovely, clear, and constant as it is, attracts our commiseration rather than our sympathy: it comes with a sense of the condition of the sufferer along with it; we can weep with it-we can pray with it; but it is the piety of the dying, and, when we would take it with us, and cherish it among the living, we seem, to ourselves, to violate its sanctity,-the sanctity of the chamber of death.

Let it not for a moment be imagined that we object to the publication of remains and memoirs, in which early genius, or circumstances of a peculiarly striking character, are impressed by extraordinary devotion. We have to lament, among the youthful dead in our own circle of acquaintance, more than one, to whom disease itself imparted a holy sensation of eternal life, and whom the approach of death inspired with the strains of eternal harmony; but those strains are ever short and interrupted, and the pourings forth of such a spirit are not intended for the active and heedless world. Let the affection of friend. ship, or of family connexions, gather toge. ther those lays and meditations; let them record them, and preserve them as the best mortal relics of those who, as they dropped into the grave, left them as signs that they were quitting earth for heaven;' but let them not, substituting a vain pride for sorrow, or an empty estimation for endeared recollection, scatter such precious leaves in the public paths of the living.

The subject of this memoir, Mr. James Carmichael, was born in April, 1809. His father had been minister of the General Associate Congregation of Borrowstowness, but, in consequence of severe and protracted illness, he had relinquished that profession, and supported himself and family by pub. lic and private teaching, in Edinburgh; and, before his death, in 1818, he embraced the

views of the Baptists. James, the elder f three orphans, was taken under the cart the Rev. George Cowie, the minister of the Congregational Church of Montrose, a offered to bring him up as his own st However, at the age of thirteen be Montrose, and returned to reside with s relatives, and to prosecute his studies in Edinburgh. In the university of that s according to the testimonies of the pro sors, he was a successful student. He tained prizes for superior attainments in te classics, in logic, moral philosophy, mathematics, and Mr. Pillans, who fills the chair of humanity, mentions, that during a attendance of three sessions, Mr. Cam chael 'distinguished himself highly by uncommon steadiness, zeal, and success is his studies; nor was he less remarkable fr the exemplary and undeviating propriety his conduct.'

By the numerous papers which this per severing and highly talented student has it behind him, we have proofs that his mad

was

not contented with collecting and hoarding the stores of knowledge. He used his acquisitions as the materials of thought, and laboured to render his mind productive. Theology, according to one of his earliest unfinished papers, he considered as 'the most interesting as well as the most important study which it can fall to the lat of man to investigate.' Nevertheless, choosing between the avocations of teacher and pastor, he fixed upon the former, and a fragment among his manuscripts contain some of the points which determined t decision, well worth the notice of ou readers:

"The three great departments of a preacher duty are, to instruct, to impress, and to watch eve the development of character. Let us compare the influence of a teacher with that of a preacher, in any one of these departments, and we will see where the superiority lies.

"The preacher teaches religion—so does the schoolmaster. The preacher teaches nothing else the teacher many other useful things. Th preacher teaches only seldom, the teacher every day, thus not only communicating more knowledge. but fixing it more deeply in the memory. T preacher merely presents knowledge which may be received or not-the teacher enforces attention and trains the mind. The preacher assails minds which have either grown up in prejudice, or, if their ideas are enlightened, have obtained that light from the schoolmaster-the latter receives minds destitute of ideas, and prevents the formation of prejudices So much for instruction.

"With regard to impression, there can be doubt that the mind is most impressible in earl years, and that the impressions then received after outlive the superior knowledge of advanced i The schoolmaster, therefore, from the early age of