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tend in the spirit of that great Apostle, who, conscious of bis own early errors, and having experienced the evils inflicted on the Church by those who would rather see the Gentiles continue in their false and degrading worship than expose the law of Moses to an imaginary contempt, gave this memorable advice to the most eminent members of the Church of Philippi: “I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded : and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you. Nevertheless, whereto we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us mind the same thing."* Let us, without prejudice to the interests of the system of scriptural truth which forms the centre of our Churchunion, endeavour at all times to imitate the truly apostolic patience and forbearance which St. Paul recommends in regard to those whose faith is still of a low standard. “Whereto we already attained” (in common) let us walk (as brethren in Christ) by the same rule, let us mind the same thing, (and avoid contention,) while, with the apostle, we cultivate an ardent zeal to speed our own progress towards the mark of our calling, let us temper that zeal with a fraternal tenderness for those who are willing to enter on the same course, and yet cannot persuade themselves to begin it at the very point from which we start. However clear the remote logical connection of certain points, with the “ truth as it is in Jesus,” may be to us, let us beware of making the whole of Christianity stand or fall with our systematic deductions. Dissent even upon what may be called secondary doctrines, may be a sufficient ground for refusing admission into a particular communion, where the points in question are expressly settled in authorized articles. But this sort of exclusion tends only to the preservation of internal peace within definite portions of the Church of Christ; yet without interfering with that hope of salvation through him, which all Christians cherish in common. The censures with regard to which (acquainted as a painful experience has made me with the incredulous mind) I implore all the tender anxiety of sincere charity—are such as leave to the wavering but one alternative. Far be it from the ministers of the gospel to tamper with false views, or Jax systems of scriptural interpretation. But let them bear in mind that positive declarations that whoever maintains certain views must be an infidel, are likely to force that necessity upon many whose imperfect faith, had it not been thus severely quenched, might have grown into the

* Ph. iii. 14.

fulness of Christ. I do not deny the necessity of such declarations in some cases, nor question the right of competent judges to make them: I only entreat, by the mercies of him who would not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax, that when duty shall call upon us to demand a certain belief as the indispensable condition of Christian hope, we make charity preside over our knowledge. Christianity, in itself, is a perfect whole; a chain of revelation which runs from beginning to end of the Bible; and heavy indeed must be the responsibility of him who, with an irreverent spirit, tries to draw its links asunder. But as “in the house of our Father there are many mansions," so we may expect that various degrees of knowledge, added to general yet sincere faith, will obtain admission into the heavenly inheritance. I must, in conclusion, repeat what, were it not of vital importance, I should fear to have said too often-We must not compromise the truth; but in doing our duty we should constantly pray that we may so use our peculiar advantages as not to discourage the weak and doubting from approaching the Saviour of men; and that on giving a final account of the flock, we may not find to our sorrow “that through our knowledge a weak brother hath perished for whom Christ died.”



Economy is the welfare of states as of individuals. By economy, in its best and widest sense, is meant, that just and wise distribution of means and efforts, which out of the given con. ditions produces the largest sum of good and happiness.

To spend little is but one and a very meagre branch of economy, in many instances no economy at all. In states especi. ally, to gather much is at all events equally important. When we look around upon the world, survey the numbers in want almost of their daily bread, while the earth given to man to be subdued and rendered productive by the labour of his hands is still, in an infinite number of cases, totally without culture, and never except with a few rare exceptions producing what it is capable by skill and industry of being made to produce, it is impossible not to believe that our knowledge of the science of political economy is in its very infancy ; its true principles little practised or understood. Man is seen on all sides in that most affecting of all situations, willing to labour, crying for the privi. lege of being allowed to work, starving in want of the merest necessaries of life, while the bounteous earth lies spread around him, offering her liberal rewards for labour, and not finding hands.

What inexhaustible mines of wealth yet unexplored does the surface even of our own well-peopled and well-cultivated British Islands present; what sources of riches, strength and happiness lie buried in the bogs of Ireland alone!

Soils far more ungrateful have, by a judicious and economical culture, been made the fruitful source of wealth and felicity, and perhaps there is no contemplation more useful and agreeable, than that of such a picture.

The manner in which sand hills, such as those which, covered with wiry grass, line many of our shores, have on the southwestern coast of France been rendered useful and productive in a high degree, is a striking example of well-directed and successful efforts of this nature.

In the Departments of the Gironde and of the Landes, on the shores of that stormy ocean which raves between the mouth of the Gironde and Bayonne, the most magnificent pine forests are at this day waving, where not many years ago was nothing but a dreary and threatening desert of sand.

These forests cover an immense extent of land round Teste and the basin of Arcachon, and might be extended so as to cover the whole of the above-mentioned coast, an extent of sixty French leagues, or about one hundred and fifty English miles.

Teste and the basin of Arcachon will be found, on consulting the map, to lie on the shores of the ocean, in the southern part of the Department of the Gironde, from which the Department of the Landes extends southwards. Every one in the least acquainted with French geography has heard of the Landes : of those immense level plains, and has pictured to himself their dreary monotony—their shepherds, elevated on stilts, and wrapped in grey sheep-skins, leaning upon their staffs, and watching, motionless, the flocks scattered over the measureless pasture.

The force of the western wind has raised upon this coast, as upon many others, hills of sand, from thirty to sixty metres in height (a metre is something more than an English yard); the French give these sand hills the name of Dúnes; they are composed entirely of the dry sea sand, driven inwards in various places, as upon some of our own coasts.

These sand hills having attained a certain elevation fall, are driven forward by the wind, and invading the plains behind them, menace the Landes with inevitable destruction.

Populous towns have fallen victims to the advance of this slow but, as it was long thought, irresistible enemy. The Dúnes advanced annually, and the gradual destruction of the productive plains might be predicted with mathematical certainty, Even the city of Bourdeaux itself seemed doomed, sooner or later, to perish under this deluge of sand.

This state of things at last excited public attention, and towards the end of the last century, the means of arresting this fatal progression were sought for—and, as is the usual consequence of being sought for—found.

A man of the name of Bremontier, we do not know whether he is yet living or not, imagined a method of staying the plague, and of rendering this element of desolation and despair a source of wealth and population. He formed and executed the project of covering these moving hills with forests of pine, (le Pin maritime,) the roots of which, by conglomerating together these light particles, and forming them into heaps of solid earth, might fix them permanently in their place, and arrest their further progress.

About the year 1587, this experiment seems first to have been tried, and the Dúnes were soon covered with an immense wall of verdure, which, promising to protect the plains in the interior, held out also the prospect of a considerable profit in

themselves. The revolutions which since then have agitated France, and which, as a sensible French author remarks, “ Se font toujours en invoquant le bonheur des nations, et dont l'effet immediat est de suspendre ou de paralyser les entreprises et les travaux qui leur sont utiles," --are always made in the name of happiness, and which, for the time being, have the effect of interrupting those plans and labours on which happiness depends. The various revolutions which have distracted France have interrupted at different times the cultivation of the Dunes ; the operation has proceeded slowly, and one hundred thousand Hectares of the Dúnes are still in their primitive state.

Fifteen thousand Hectares are now covered with the Pine; those plantations which date from the time when Bremontier began his operations, now present to the eye, in place of the desolate sand hills, magnificent forests, “ waving majestic above the restless ocean.”

“ These sublime objects are thus brought together, and the voice of the surge below unites with the deep breath of the winds as they wave these dark plumes in the air ; this magnificent spectacle is more especially to be admired upon the danes of Moulan, planted in the days of Bremontier, in the neighbourhood of Teste-magnificent spectacle !the basin of Arcachon—the lighthouse-the Cape Feret, thrusting its sandy point into the ocean, complete the landscape.”

The Dunes extend sixty leagues, being in breadth from threequarters of a league to three leagues : the hills are intersected by vallies, called in the country Lédes.

The trees are raised from seeds--cast on the spot on which they are intended to grow—they are not transplanted : when the seed is sown, the moving of the light sand is prevented by covering the ground with brambles or young pine branches, fifteen hundred faggots of these being necessary to cover one Hectare: the seeds are sown thick, and when the young plants are of seven or eight years, the first thinning is made. If there were any means of cheap transport, these thinnings, sold at Bourdeaux, would be extremely profitable. After this thinning, the remaining plants grow with increased vigour, and in ten years reach the height of fifteen to twenty feet; at the end of twenty-five years they produce turpentine.

The collection of the turpentine does not necessarily injure the tree; in the great forest of Teste, which is of a date long antecedent to the plantations of Bremontier, there may be seen trees of three hundred years standing, which have been cut for turpentine till their huge trunk presents only a hollow cylinder, yet their tops are still green and flourishing.

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