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but what are the poverty-stricken signifi- | broad-shouldered man, whose bones were cations of the letter O, even when inflated into a word, when compared to those of I by itself I?

When it is considered how universally mankind allow this letter to take the lead of all others, both in writing and speaking, one almost wonders why it was not made a little bigger than the rest. It is unquestionably the proudest letter of the alphabet, and no marvel that it should be so, while we all treat the coxcomb with such deference and respect.

When an author takes up his pen, his dear darling, I by itself I, is directly introduced to the reader. "I have long thought such a work wanted:" "I felt determined to supply the deficiency: "I trust that I have done my part in introducing this volume to the public. And when a speaker rises to address an assembly, it is very often I by itself I, from beginning to end. "I did thus: " "I agreed to that, and I felt resolved to prevent the other."

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It is not in the alphabet only, and printed books, and public and private speeches, that I by itself I is to be found. No, it is to be seen living and moving in all ranks and stations of life, from the monarch to the mountebank.

It is an every day error, when speaking or thinking of vanity and pride, for us to look towards the great folks of the earth, as though pride and vanity had taken up their abode with them alone, while, in fact, they dwell with the low as well as with the high, and sometimes puff up the heart of a cobbler as much as that of a king.

A writer, I have said, is almost always an I by itself I. He plumes himself on giving information to his readers, and imagines that he has outdone those who have written on the same subject. Then when his book comes out, with what vanity does he regard it! He persuades himself that it will be very popular, and that hundreds, and perhaps thousands, will admire the taste and the talent that the author has displayed.

Oftentimes, too, the reader is as much an I by itself I, as the writer, for he sits in judgment on the book, points out its manifold defects, suggests numberless improvements, and thinks how much better the work would have been executed, had he taken the pen in hand, or benefited the writer with his valuable observations.

It was but yesterday, that I stopped to exchange a word with some bricklayers who were building a wall near some large houses. In a short time a good-looking,

well covered with flesh, and whose flesh was well covered with a good suit of clothes, came up, and gave directions to the workmen. There was an elevation of the eye, and a consciousness of power, visibly stereotyped in his features. He pointed with his cane as he spoke, and raised his voice as one having authority; as one whose word was law, and whose law was no more to be disputed than that of the Medes and Persians. Old Humphrey saw at a glance, that he was an I by itself I, and found, on inquiry, that he was the wealthy landlord of all the houses around.

It was not more than half an hour after, that I met a thin stripling of a young fellow, whom I knew to be a draper's apprentice, he had a ring on his finger, a chain across his breast, and a sparkling pin stuck in his bosom. The way in which he walked, with his hat a little on one side, amused me; for the springing up of his heel, and the lifting up of his elbow, told me that, whatever he might be in the opinion of others, he was an I by itself I in his own.

There is a neighbour of mine who is the leader of a concert, and I am told that when he presides, he has an air of as much importance as though the welfare of the four quarters of the world depended solely on the sounds that he produces from his fiddle-strings. Next door to him lives one skilled in the mathematics, who utterly despises the musician, and laments that a man having a head on his shoulders should be content with fiddling his way through the world. Nothing like mathematical knowledge in his estimation. I overheard him the other day say to a friend of his, "Some people take our neighbour Old Humphrey to be a wise man; but, poor creature, he knows no more of mathematics than I do of astrology." The musician undervalues the mathematician in his turn, and says, "If there be a proof of a man's being a simpleton, it is when he has no ear for music; but when he bothers his brains in useless calculations, there is no hope for him." Each of these is an I by itself I.

Vanity assumes strange shapes and wears strange disguises, but is pretty sure to manifest itself at last. It is bad enough to see any man in any place influenced by it; but there is one place where the shadow of it should never appear. An I by itself I in the pulpit is terrible. When a minister forgets God and remembers himself; when he indulges in exhibitions of his own talents, playing his brilliant parts before their eyes,

whose souls are hungering for the bread of life, it is sad indeed. Oh, the blessing of a simple-minded, faithful, and affectionate minister of the gospel! one who considers himself a round O, rather than an I by itself I; one who is mainly anxious to watch over and gain the souls of men, and willing to be nothing, that his heavenly Master may be all in all.

In looking abroad, I sometimes fancy that there are many more I by itself I's than there are other letters among mankind, for vanity, more or less, at particular seasons, seems to lift up every head, and to puff up every heart. Some are vain always, some generally, and others only occasionally; but to find one person perfectly free from vanity and selfishness would be a hard day's work.

If you wish to see an I by itself I in common life, you may soon have your desire. A girl is an I by itself I when her first waxen doll is given her; a boy, when first put into buttoned clothes; an apprentice, the day he is out of his time; a servantgirl, in her new bonnet and blue ribands; and a churchwarden, the first time he enters his great pew.

I might give you a score more illustrations; but, to tell you an honest truth, I hardly know a more confirmed I by itself I, than Old Humphrey. Oh, what pride and vanity, at times, gather round an old man's heart! He is shrewd enough in observing others' failings, but it costs him much to keep under his own; he values himself on the very wisdom he has gained from others, and feels proud even of his humility, when acknowledging his own infirmities. Surely it becomes him, if it be comes any man on earth, to exercise charity and forbearance!

To gaze with pity on the throng
To failings somewhat blind;
To praise the right, forgive the wrong,
And feel for all mankind.

have very little influence upon the mind. The man of the world is reconciled to his sins, and not to his state. The man of piety is in hostility to his sins, and reconciled to his state. The men of the world are always changing their state, and imagining a happiness which continually flies from them. It is the same in every period of life. In youth, the objects of the world not being tried, they think themselves at liberty to take excursions after happiness, and place it in the gratification of their passions. Weary of these, they become men, and affect a grave and dignified course they then pursue riches, and aspire after grandeur and consequence, but soon find that these have their cares and anxieties. When they become old, they look with equal contempt upon both periods; for both appear to them like a confused dream, that leaves nothing but a succession of images which have lost their charms. But piety will produce satisfac tion with our condition, and prevent the indulgence of the passions. In fact, in every way and at all periods, it will preserve them; in youth, in manhood, and in advanced age. It will teach men that they have one solid good to obtain, and that time is short for obtaining it. Dejection and gloom can have no place in that man who, having spent his life in serving God, looks forward "to glory,honour, and immortality;" for he "runs without being weary, and walks without being faint." He has exchanged the vigour of youth for the full growth of the christian, and is ready to say with the apostle, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me in that day."-Robert Hall.

CONTENTMENT.

EVERY one must perceive, that an almost universal discontent with their condition pervades mankind. Every one is anxious to change his own state for another, in which he imagines he shall be more happy. Religion reverses this disorder of the mind, which springs from the corruption of our nature: it shows us our unworthiness on account of sin; and while it produces content with the place we are in, it makes us dissatisfied with ourselves; so that the state and external condition in which we are found, will

THE DOCTRINE OF ATONEMENT.

If the doctrine of atonement by the cross of Christ be a divine truth, it constitutes the very substance of the gospel, and conseThe doctrine of quently is essential to it. the cross is represented in the New Testament as the grand peculiarity and the principal glory of christianity. It occupies a large proportion among the doctrines of scripture, and is expressed in a vast variety of language. Christ " was delivered for our offences, wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities; died for our sins," &c. In fine, the

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doctrine of the cross is the central point in which all the lines of evangelical truth meet, and are united. What the sun is to the system of nature, that the doctrine of the cross is to the system of the gospel; it is the life of it. The revolving planets might as well exist and keep their course without the attracting influence of the one, as a gospel be exhibited worthy of the name that should leave out the other.-Fuller.

THE WAY OF THE WORLD.

If you were standing on the margin of a great river, and saw a multitude of persons, in a vessel over which they had no management, floating rapidly down the stream, towards a cataract, so near that they were already within sight and hearing of persons before them, trembling, fainting, shrieking, when they were brought to the brink, and then sinking and disappearing amidst the foam and roar of the waters; if you saw, that notwithstanding the appalling condition, they had given themselves up to amusement, and merriment, and indulgence; or that they were intent in making observations on the objects that were swiftly passing in review before them in their course; or that they were engaged in contentions and competitions about precedence and distinction, or about the possession of rich dresses, or conspicuous places in the vessel, while the rapid tide was sweeping them along to the dark yawning gulf already in their view; what could you say of them, but that they were mad or intoxicated? If, indeed, there was no possibility of escape for them, you night suppose that, in their desperation, they were merely endeavouring to divert their thoughts from a fate which they saw to be inevitable. But if you saw some reasonable prospect of deliverance held out to them, men from the shore offering to assist them, boats launched, ropes conveyed to them, and yet that they disregarded every signal, every warning, every cry of entreaty, and continued intent on their revelry, or their vain pursuits, till they came to the brink,-when they, too, immediately began to tremble and faint, and shriek, and bewail their folly, like those that had gone before them, and then plunged into the abyss, and disappeared for ever; you could not account for so strange an exhibition of human nature, but by supposing they were under the power of some awful infatuation -some diabolical witchery-some species of insanity that deprived them of the com

mon understanding and the common feelings of men. Now such is the exhibition which the great mass of mankind, who are rapidly carried in succession down the stream of time, towards a dark unknown eternity, present to those whose eyes are opened to discover things as they are; and such precisely is the cause to which the scripture ascribes their portentous, foreboding insensibility: it declares that they are under the influence of strong delusion; that a fatal infatuation has been thrown over their understandings by a malignant spirit; that "the god of this world has blinded their minds, lest the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them."-Carlile.

BOTANY.-No. XXV.

GRAMINEE, THE GRASSES. THE gramineæ, or grasses, compose one of the most natural and useful tribe or family that is to be found within the compass of the vegetable creation; since the wheat, which yields the "staff of life," the oats, that furnish the most suitable provender for the horse, and the barley, which by the processes of art affords at once the most agreeable and substantial beverage, all belong to the natural order of the grasses. Also the various sorts of grass which flourish in our meadows, yielding the most wholesome pasturage for our cattle in summer, and a goodly super-abundance for a store in winter. We will not, however, insist any further upon the utility of objects so extensively applied and understood, but proceed to adduce some of those peculiar circumstances which distinguish this family from all the rest. We may begin with the stem, which is hollow, but divided by knots, conspicuous on the outside, and is hence, for distinction sake, called a culm. Whilst the stems of other plants are variously branched, we find the culm single, till, in some instances, it parts to produce a cluster of flowers. In the leaves, we find a singularity in the length of them, when compared with their breadth; and we are so accustomed to look for a narrow leaf, that were we shown a strange plant, which in flowers coincided with the grasses, but producing leaves not more than twice as long as they were broad, we should be inclined to look upon it as a great deviation from the general rule. The flowers, we observe, are composed of concave valves, applied one over the other. When four of these valves appertain to a single seed, the

lower pair are called the calyx, and the | because the eye, after turning from one upper the corolla. developement of beauty and grandeur to another, sought at last to rest itself upon some grassy plot of ground, but sought in vain.

In some grasses, every particular seed is accompanied by a calyx and corolla, as, for example, the canary grass, distinguished by the prettiness of its compact head of flowers, or in Timothy grass, (phleum,) remarkable for its long spike of flowers, which may be likened to the tail of a cat. The latter is frequent upon the grassy wastes, which form an edging to some of our roads. The round long tapering flower will indicate it, whereever, during the sultry months of summer, it may be seen.

As another example of a grass in which each several seed is accompanied by four minute leaves or valves, we may next refer to the cock's-foot grass, which may be found in almost every place where grass grows. The form of the flower was thought by our forefathers to bear some resemblance to the foot of the cock, and by this similarity it may be distinguished from the rest. If, therefore, one of our friends should find a grass which imagination likens to the foot of some animal, while the separate parts resemble the balls upon the foot of the dog or a cat, he need entertain very little doubt about its identity with the dactylis glomerata, or rough cock's-foot. The essential character of dactylis consists in one of the outer pair of leaves, or calyx belonging to each seed, being larger than the other.

Another example under this head is extremely common, which is the common bent, (agrostis vulgaris ;) the flowers of which, from their dark impurpled colour in some places, communicate the name of black bent (flower) to this grass. It is very abundant in every pasture, and may most frequently be seen shooting its clusters at the top of a stem, about ten inches or a foot long, by the sides of ditches, especially in places where the cattle are prevented from cropping it off. The short descriptions which we have given will assist the inquirer in detecting and distinguishing it from the others. The interest which every one feels in the soft verdure of a grassy plot of ground, or knoll, might fairly stimulate the most indifferent to a desire of knowing something more than that certain plants are called grasses, without being in the least degree aware of those instructive characters, which the Creator has thought fit to impress upon each one of them. There is something delightfully refreshing in the appearance of a grassy champaign: some of the most sublime scenes the writer was ever privileged to behold,seemed to want something,

We have now referred to an example or two, in which each seed is accompanied by two pairs of minute leaves, called the calyx and the corolla; we may next refer to an instance which, in each of the lower pair, called the calyx, contains two of the pairs which bear one seed in each; hence if we call the latter pairs with the parts they contain the florets, each calyx will in this case contain two florets. When we enter the opening glades of some wood, the eye is often attracted by large tufts of grass, which give rise to a bundle of tall flowering stems, that are remarkable for the purple colour and the extreme fineness of the branches by which the silken flowers are borne. So conspicuous an object does this grass offer in some of our sheltering woods, that we can scarcely imagine a person to pass it without saying, "I wonder what this grass is called!" This is the turfy hair grass, (aira caspitosa,) and a handful fresh gathered of it would be no uncomely ornament for a cottager's mantel-piece after she had put the floor and the furniture in a cleanly preparation for the sabbath rest. In low meadows and in verdant nooks, where the water stagnates during the greater part of the year, we generally find tufts of a deep green and rank growing grass, with tall stems, bearing large clusters of delicate flowers: this is known by the name of the water hair-grass (aira aquatica.) The leaves are thick and curiously plaited lengthwise, and by their length and number, in a single tuft, will not fail to interest the attention of one who occasionally enlivens a walk of duty or exercise by casting his eyes along the sides of the pathway.

In the last of those three divisions into which botanists, for the convenience of the student, usually distribute the grasses, a single pair of calyx leaves contains several florets. A very pretty example of this kind may be found in all the months of summer, on the margin of every stream of water. This is the floating sweet-grass, the leaves of which are borne upon the surface of the running stream in its downward course. Connected with these floating leaves are many stems, which bear several small tapering spikes, or ears. The leaves of the calyx and corolla are neatly marked with lines. But the

prettiest object is the delicate branching of down (the stigmas) which crown the seed. They form a proper subject for microscopic entertainment, and have this advantage, that the grass may be met with by the sides of every piece of water, great or small, for three or four months of the year.

The very first grass which makes its appearance upon a bare plot of earth is another example of a pair of calyx leaves, containing several florets. It is the annual meadow-grass, (poa annua,) of which the stems or bents are in flower for nearly half a year. It grows at the foot of every wall, and augments the labour of keeping a pavement clean, by springing up with a pertinacious growth between its stones and pebbles.

terraces of raised earth, for purposes of a copious irrigation. Hence the methods of the farmer of wheat and the cultivator of rice are of an opposite character; the former, when the land is moist, takes care to guide the deep-dug drain to some convenient dyke or ditch, to dry the humid soil; the latter is not less solicitous to stop the career of the running stream, and to turn its fertilizing waters upon the rice crop. The writer, when in Loo-choo, off the coast of China, saw fields tilled in this manner, which, from the neatness of the surrounding terraces, presented a very beautiful appearance.

COALS.

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Of this division the wheat, (triticum,) MR. BRANDE has made some interesting the oat, (avena,) and the barley, (hor- observations on this subject, which are redeum,) afford examples. Those small yel-plete with good sense. 66 says, When, low points which beautify an ear of wheat, indeed, we reflect upon the vast importance when in "flower," are the anthers, or the of this species of fuel in a country dependtops of the stamens, of which there are ent, not merely for its prosperity, but even three, with a uniformity of occurrence for its very existence,upon its manufactures, that has very few exceptions. Nor is this and consequent commerce; when we reinstance of uniformity more complete than member its enormous and increasing conanother, which consists in the unvarying sumption; when we consider that the me existence of two threads at the top of tropolis alone swallows up annually conevery seed these, called the styles, siderably more than a million of chaldrons, are pretty objects when viewed with an exclusively from the Tyne and Wear disassisted eye, and sometimes of peculiar tricts, it might appear that the apprehenelegance, as in the floating sweet-grass sions of some worthy persons upon this mentioned above. score were not altogether without foundation. It is, however, admitted on the other hand, that the Newcastle mines only are capable of continuing their supply for another thousand years; and, if this reflec tion be insufficient, they may console themselves with the knowledge, that there are many other districts which have only been, as it were, begun upon, and probably numerous deposits of which we are as yet ignorant, but which will be searched for and found when wanted. Besides which, it may, I think, be calculated, that, of every chaldron of coals consumed in our ordinary fires, about one-eighth part is lost in the character of soot, smoke, and other unburnt matters; that in London only, upwards of one hundred thousand chaldrons of coals are thus dissipated and unprofitably applied, to the contamination of our atmosphere, which smoke, by improved methods of combustion, or burning, might be turned to profitable account.' The waste of coals at the pit's mouth may also be stated at one-sixth of the quantity sold, and that left in the mines at one-third.

By way of sweetening the dryness of botanical detail, we will conclude by citing two examples, which are not less conspicuous for their beauty, than for the grateful food which they yield. The first of these is the sugar-cane, (saccharum,) which, under favourable circumstances, rises to more than twenty feet in height. The top of this lofty stem is surmounted by a large bunch of deep purple flowers, while each seed is surrounded by a circlet of silky down, which is beautifully contrasted with the impurpled exterior. But we hope to find another opportunity of illustrating the history of this important grass. The other is the rice, (oryza,) which holds the same rank among the necessaries of life in Hindoostan and China that wheat does in England. The habits of these precious vegetables are very different; a dry summer is generally followed by a harvest abundant in the quality and quantity of wheat, whereas a dry season destroys the crops of rice, since it grows in enclosures covered with water, which is confined by causeways or

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• Outlines of Geology, 1829.

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