squirted out upon a dead horse, he lifted up his hand to
heaven, and cried out, Ah! comrade, the joys of my soul
are greater than all the pains of my body! Yes, indeed, He
is precious; and I now prove, that having loved His own,
He loveth them to the very end. Adieu, comrade! I am
now indeed going to be with Jesus.' And then waving his
hand, and gazing around him, he cried out, with a peculiar
tone of voice, that I shall never forget, while I held my
hand to his wound: 'Farewell, marches and trenches!
farewell, fatigue parties, and midnight revellings of drunken
comrades! farewell, fields of battle and blood and slaughter!
and farewell, sun and moon and stars-and-.' He
paused, almost exhausted with his feelings; but, turning to
me, he cried, 'Yes, farewell, beloved comrade in Christ
Jesus! Meet me in glory; for, O! in a few minutes more,
my
soul must depart; and then, yes,—

Then I'll march up the heavenly street,
And ground my arms at Jesus' feet!'

His head sunk upon my shoulder; and suddenly the bugles sounded to call in stragglers from the field, on some special duty. I was compelled hastily to run to our company, and fall in for duty; but after firing a short time at some renewed attack, we grounded our arms; and, in a little while, a soldier from the field came up to me, saying, 'Briery, I dug a small pit, and have just put your comrade William into it. He was a good fellow: I could not bear to see him lie there without a grave.' Ah! comrades, I was immediately like David, when he had lost his friend and brother in the war; and I cried out, in his mournful language of deep sorrow, 'How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan! thou wast slain in thine high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"" (2 Sam. i. 25-27.)

The soldier finished his simple and heart-affecting tale ; and we all kneeled down while he poured out his soul

before God for the army and the navy in particular, that sailors and soldiers might choose William's God, and enjoy William's triumphs, as they were infinitely greater on the field of death than ever the Duke of Wellington enjoyed in quitting that field for all the glory that could be conferred on him by his country. I do not remember to have heard anything told with more simplicity, and ease, and command of utterance, Christian pathos, and humility, in my life; so that, I solemnly declare, it left such an impression upon my soul, that I thought I was never more fit to die than at that moment; and, indeed, for many weeks afterwards, I occasionally felt a sort of ardent momentary desire, with inexpressible delight, to die like William, taking leave of all sublunary objects, and proclaiming the same language of triumph to friends and foes, to family and kindred, in the prospect of full redemption by the blood of the Lamb. "Then I'll march up the heavenly street, And ground my arms at Jesus' feet.”

--Christian Treasury.

FROM LUTHER'S TABLE-TALK.*

2981. PHILIP MELANCTHON once said to Dr. Martin Luther, that court-life is like books of tragedies, rich on the outside with gold and purple, but full of miseries within. To this Luther said: "Yet everybody wants to be at court; they all want to be rich, powerful, and great there, just alike; and to many it so happens, that in magno magni capiuntur flumine pisces. Ah, well! Great Lords can make a poor fellow rich enough!

3002. Doctor Martin Luther said: "The press is the greatest and the last gift, by means of which God mightily promotes the cause of the Gospel; it is the last flame for the unloosing of the world. This is the last great doxology. When the holy Fathers fell asleep, they longed to behold this day of the revelation of the Gospel.

3007. Dr. Martin Luther said: "The world is just like a drunken boor. One lifts him into the saddle on one side,

Vermischte deutsche Schriften. Tischreden, Band VI. Frankfurt a. M. 1854.

and he falls off again on the other. One cannot help him, set him on which way he will. Even so will the world persist in giving itself over to the devil."

Yet Dr. Martin Luther, while mistrusting all human efforts to set right this reeling world, had strong faith in God, who can do the things impossible to man. And thus

believing, we still sing,

"The world cannot withstand

Its ancient Conqueror;

The world must sink beneath the hand

Which arms us for the war.

This is our victory!

Before our faith they fall:

Jesus hath died for you and me;

Believe, and conquer all."

NEW BOOKS.

(Literary, Scientific, Educational.)

LIDDELL and Scorr's Greek-English Lexicon comes out in its fourth edition from the Oxford University Press. It contains 1617 densely-printed quarto pages, and is enriched with the fruit of much additional labour by the learned lexicographers and their friends. The principal Greek Fathers and the Byzantine historians now enlarge the basis of this invaluable work; and, in the present edition, there is also a tinge of Sanscrit, the earnest, perhaps, of a more copious infusion into future editions.

Miss Farmer, daughter of Thomas Farmer, Esq., one of the Treasurers of the Wesleyan Missionary Society, has given scope to her Missionary spirit in writing a history of Tonga and the Friendly Islands. The volume courts perusal by its exterior beauty in typographical execution and pictorial elegance. The intrinsic merits are nothing lower; and although the authoress has modestly employed the style of one who writes for juvenile readers, her history is worthy of universal perusal, being rich in information gathered from personal correspondence with Missionaries, as well as from written sources. We cordially recommend Tonga and the Friendly Islands; with a Sketch of their Mission History. Written for Young People. By SARAH S. FARMER. (Hamilton, Adams, and Co.)

We can remember how, in the beginning of this century, little boys learnt "words and meanings," as they were daily called; and dry they were. But the idea then carried out so meagerly, is that which must be made subservient to the whole science of language.

This is done admirably well for younger children, in A Hand-Book of Anglo-Saxon Root- Words, (New-York,) by an American Literary Association. The importance of this instructive school-book may be judged of by the fact, that "by the use of nine terminations, twentyfive suffixes, and eighteen prefixes, we form some five thousand derivative words from the one thousand root-words" that are the basis of the largest and most valuable part of our language.

The Theory and Practice of Landscape Painting in Water-Colours. By GEORGE BARNARD. (Orr and Co.) Mr. Barnard, Professor of Drawing at Rugby School, is the writer and artist of this valuable and splendid book. The text conveys copious instructions,-not in drawing, which is supposed to have been already mastered-but in landscape-painting in water-colours. The use of pencil, brush, and palette, the arrangement of colours and forms in the picture, and the philosophy of colours, are taught as only a master can teach, and exemplified in the most perfect style of modern art by the chromatic process.

In the year 1555 began the martyrdom of the reign of Queen Mary, and continued until her death in November, 1558. For the assistance of those who wish to revive their acquaintance with that part of the history of England, Mr. Seeley publishes a Kalendar of the Martyrs of 1555.

The admirable paper on The Crystal Palace, contributed by the REV. WILLIAM ARTHUR to the "London Quarterly Review," is reprinted in a distinct form, and published by Walton and Maberly. There are sternly pure principles of art enounced in this witty and fascinating article, as well as a sound Christian teaching on the sanctification of the Lord's day, that commend it to the universal attention which we trust it will command. We would assign this Essay to the most honourable rank among educational writings,— not for the elementary education of the school, but for the guidance of the mind amidst the recreations and pleasures of daily life. And as to the London Quarterly itself, we must say that it sustains its high position in every respect, is honourable to its projectors and supporters, and renders inestimable support to the cause of evangelical religion and right principles.

POETRY.

THE SONG OF DEATH.

MEN speak of me with a feeling of dread,

And with a slavish fear:

They hold their breath when they hear of Death,

And strive not to think me near;

They pile up fair their castles in the air,
That glorious rise to the sight;
But as I come, they vanish away,
Like dreams at the morning light.

I do not love the bright blue sky,
Or the verdant country view;

Nor the rushing breeze, as it waves the trees;

For there my conquests are few:

But where smoke in a cloud surrounds, like a shroud, The dark and murky town,

And poverty, fever, and filth form array,

With fiendish joy I look down.

Like a ghost I glide among men in their pride,

Unseen by mortal eye;

But I leave my trace, for I breathe in their face,
And like flowers they wither and die :

The young and the old, the fearful and bold,
My presence none can flee;

No power can save from the yawning grave,
But all are a prey for me.

O! often I come when I'm look'd for least,
When hearts are merry and blithe,-
As among them I pass, they fall like grass
Before the mower's scythe:

By fire and flood, by famine and sword,
I hurry my victims away,

In the gloom of the night, I walk in my might,

And seize my slumbering prey.

The Monarch may frown, but with scorn I look down,

I am mightier far than he;

The loveliest form is food for the worm,

For all are alike to me:

The rich and the poor, the bond and the free,

At my stern summons they fall;

They own my power in that dread hour,

And Death is the monarch of all.

I subdue the pride of the high-born and great,
And dim the brightest eye,

And courage the hearts of the brave forsakes,
When 'tis time for them to die:

I think with pride, as in triumph I stride,
That let them be fair as they may,
To the uttermost pole, far as seasons roll,
All, all are doom'd to decay.