base of alum, forms a very considerable part of the earth's crust. Its specific gravity is 2 degrees. Alumina might be properly termed a pure clay; it is, however, very rarely found in a state of purity. This earth is distinguished by its softness, its almost destitution of taste or smell when dry; and a peculiar odour, called an earthy smell, when moistened with water. It forms fuller's earth when mixed with fine silica. Alumina is subject to contraction when heated, and by this means acquires an extreme degree of hardness, a property which renders it an extensively useful substance, for various purposes. Bricks, earthenware, and crucibles for chemical purposes, are manufactured chiefly from clay; when heated alone, it is greatly liable to cracking, while silica is of a very brittle nature when employed under the same circumstances; but when these two substances are combined together, they burn well, and form articles of the most durable quality. The precious stone called sapphire is almost entirely composed of this earth, and it is also found in the beryl, emerald, and topaz.

The next earth that comes under our notice, is found in a mineral called zircon, and in the hyacinth, a precious stone from the island of Ceylon. When zirconia is separated from its combinations with other substances in these minerals, and presented in a pure state, it is a fine powder of a white colour, destitute of both taste and smell. But as it can only be obtained in small quantities, there is no possibility of its being rendered useful in the arts. The specific gravity of this earth is somewhat more than 4 degrees.

OLD HUMPHREY ON ALMANACKS.

"TIME and tide," it is said, stay for no man ;" and one might suppose that the rapid progress of time much occupied men's minds at the present period, for never was there such an attempt made as there is now to divide time, and set its months, weeks, and days continually before us.

This is the age of almanacks: go where I will, if a stationer's shop is to be seen, the window is crowded with almanacks. You may buy one to put in your book-case, another to lie on your study table, a third to pin against the wall, and a fourth to paste in your hat-crown; so that whether at home or abroad, you never need be without an almanack.

As I pass through the world, I cannot but notice what is going on in it; and when

inclined for reflection, a little thing is enough to furnish me with a subject. A molehill will do just as well as a mountain, and an almanack is as suitable as the library in the British Museum

After standing, a short time, at a stationer's window the other day, sometimes gazing on the different publications that were there, and sometimes peeping between them at other things, I walked away musing on the subject of almanacks. "Well," thought I, “no doubt almanacks are good things, when put to a good use; but if otherwise, they leave us worse than they find us, because every one who does not grow better as he grows wiser, is a spendthrift of that time which is more precious than a king's ransom.

There are usually in almanacks so many chronological, astronomical, and meteorological observations, that with the little knowledge Old Humphrey possesses, he can hardly make top or tail of one half of them. Then there is that comet of Halley; when I think of it, it so puzzles my poor brains that it seems to take me with it into the wide region of space, whirling me millions of miles in so short a space of time, that I am quite giddy, and glad enough to get back to something more simple, and better suited to my plain understanding. Keep to common words, such as sun, moon, and stars, and I can get on pretty well; but talk to me about "the horizontal parallax," "the place of perihelion on the orbit," "the mean terrestrial radiation," and I am as much lost as if wandering without a guide in the Black Forest of Germany. Often do I think to myself, What an unspeakable mercy it is, that the ever-blessed book of truth, the Word of God, is written in such plain language: "When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou visitest him?"

It is very well to be told of the festivals, both fixed and moveable, but there is hardly one in ten of us that think any thing about them, except it be Christmas-day, Good-friday, Shrove-tuesday, Easter and Whitmondays, and Gunpowder-plot; and the words and deeds that are said and done on these days are too often of a kind not to be commended. Then there is Hilary Term, and Easter Term, and Trinity Term, and Michaelmas Term; but if one has neither a law-suit on hand, nor a son at one of the universities, these terms pass by "as the idle wind, that we regard not.' As to the eclipses of the

An almanack often contains much information about the tides, very necessary to be known by many people, though not very important to Old Humphrey. He has but little occasion to inquire about the tides of the Thames, but much to consider about "the swellings of Jordan."

There is generally, too, a table of the kings and queens of England: I look over the names of them sometimes, and think to myself, If these are now wearing heavenly crowns, all is well; and if not, their earthly crowns were of little value. In the list of lord mayor and aldermen, I see nothing but the names of strangers to me; and I have so little money in the bank of England, that the account of bank directors is seldom looked at. There is a heavenly treasury in which I would willingly lay up a store of riches that fade not away, but every year I have reason to mourn for being so sad a spendthrift of my mercies.

A correct list of charitable institutions, in an almanack, is a new feature, and one that pleases me much. It is a kind of set-off against the selfish, griping, grinding, hardhearted uncharitableness of a money-getting, ungodly world! It is a page on which I gaze with pleasure; not an institution escapes me, but, like a bee banqueting on a bed of flowers, I rove from one charity to another, with admiration and love of the benevolent hearts and hands thus banded together for the benefit of mankind.

with an account of the weather. The unblushing effrontery of predictions is now "shorn of its strength," and we begin to think it possible that an almanack may be written by a mere man; a weak, erring, wayward, sinful man, of like passions and infirmities with ourselves. These things are advantages; but an almanack seems to be an endless subject, though it principally contains the records of time. Old Humphrey must, therefore, pursue it no further.

When earthly memorials shall cease, and when the sun and moon shall be blotted from the skies, may we, through Divine mercy, be found among those who "shall shine as the brightness of the firmament," and " as the stars for ever and ever."

WHAT IS DEATH?

Is it the extinction of animal life? Is it the annihilation of human existence? Is it a transition from one state of being into another? That it is not annihilation, but simply a transition of state, there is abundant evidence to prove. In the world around us, in physical creation, and in the operations of nature, there is no such thing as annihilation. There may be a variety and a vicissitude in the forms which nature may assume, but its destructibleness none can establish. It may undergo the process of decomposition; it may be embodied in new forms and modes of existence, but its annihilation no one can prove. If matter, then, cannot be destroyed, is it likely that the soul will perish? If the human body, in the article of death, simply undergoes decomposition into its original elements, is it likely that the immaterial and intelligent part of man will cease for ever to exist?

That death is not annihilation, but a transition of state, may be inferred from analogy. Plants of various kinds, and animals of different genera, are known to exist in various and successive forms. That oak, which is now, by the beauty of its foliage and the stateliness of growth, the prince of the forest, was once an acorn. That eagle, which soars aloft in all the ma

We no longer stare and gape at the hieroglyphic picture in an almanack, as on a faithful exhibition of the wondrous events of the year before us. This is a folly that we now seem ashamed of; neither do we run to the almanack to deceive ourselves

was once shut up within a contracted shell. That butterfly, which flutters in the breezes of a summer's day, has passed through many transformations, ere its present beauty and existence were possessed. If changes like these take place in the animal kingdom, and in the vegetable world, why not in man? If animals and plants exist in different modes, may not the change

which he must undergo in death be nothing more than an alteration in the form of his existence ?

on

The doctrine of our immortality, which

indirect arguments we have endeavoured to prove, is clearly revealed in sacred writ. Irrespective of direct assertions to establish the fact, other kinds of testimony are not wanting. In corroboration of our remark, we may refer to the representations which scripture gives of death. It is compared to a departure, it is likened to sleep. Believers are said to depart, not to expire; to sleep, not to die. "Them, also, which sleep in Jesus," says the apostle," will God bring with him;" and when the transfiguration took place on mount Tabor, and Moses and Elias conversed with the Messiah, they spake of "the decease," namely, the departure, the going out, "which he was to accomplish in Jerusalem." Again, in Hebrews, "By faith Jacob, when he was a-dying, (departing,) blessed both the sons of Joseph;" and Peter says, "Moreover I will endeavour that ye may be able, after my decease, (the word means 'departure,') tc have these things always in remembrance."* Who can read these and similar representations of death, contained in the sacred volume, and not perceive that they imply an existence beyond the present? The great change, so common to all, and so fearful in its consequences, is the going out of time into eternity, a departure from a temporary dwelling to an eternal mansion. It is the portal through which we must pass, either to the raptures of heaven, or agonies of hell. Reader, can you for one moment think of death as an annihilation? Are you warranted to conclude that, because the animal functions cease to act, the soul is dead? Such is not the conclusion which reason, analogy, and scripture warrant. You are immortal; are you alive to a preparation for an unending state of existence? Your soul can never die, have you made any effort to secure its eternal bliss? "Fear Him," says Christ, "who has power to cast both soul and body into hell."

THE LIGHT-HOUSE.

E. G.

but improvements were soon made, and more elegant structures adorned the shore or the rock.

The "Pharos" of Alexandria, at the mouth of the Nile, was a splendid edifice, and its brilliant light was said to have been seen at the distance of one hundred miles. The colossal statue of Rhodes was considered one of the seven wonders of the world. Beneath the legs of this statue, which strode across the harbour, ships of the largest size could sail; and in one of its hands a light was placed to direct the mariner in his course.

Its

One of the most remarkable light-houses in England, is the Eddystone, erected on a solitary rock opposite the coast of Plymouth. The present building was projected and completed by Smeaton in 1759, all the houses previously erected having been destroyed by fire or by storms. form was suggested to the architect by the trunk of an oak tree; broad at the base, circular, and gradually narrowing towards the centre, and then widening towards the top. It has withstood many a terrific tempest; and appears likely to stand firm amid the elemental wars for years to come. Its brilliant and far-seen light is the means of saving hundreds of lives from a watery grave.

1. Christians are to mankind, afloat on the tempestuous sea of life, what lighthouses are to those "who go down to the sea in ships," and who transact business on the mighty deep. They are the "lights of the world," and by their sentiments, their instructions, their prayers, their conversations, and their lives, they "hold forth," like the colossal statue of Rhodes, or the Eddystone light-house, "the word of life," both as a beacon against danger, and as a guide to "the desired haven.'

2. These radiant illuminators of our coasts must be elevated. The houses are of different heights, according to the nature of the shore, and the design to be answered. Whether of the loftiest or the lowest height, they fulfil the purposes for which they were erected. The disciples of Jesus are of various ranks, ages, stations, and degrees of talents, but they all enlighten the world. There is no room for boasting. "Unto every one is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ;" hence the light reflected will be in proportion to the light imparted, and to the position which he who is " the Light of the world" designs them to occupy.

Not unfrequently at the mouth of harbours, as at Harwich, two light-houses are