the act of dying, it is instantaneous-the soul departs from the body, and, according to the Scriptures, we fall asleep. It is recorded in the New Testament concerning the death of Stephen, that he was stoned-" calling upon, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my soul—and he fell asleep."

And when our Lord went to Bethany to raise Lazarus from the grave, He said unto His disciples, "Our friend Lazarus sleepeth; but I go that I may wake him out of sleep. Then said His disciples, Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well. Howbeit, Jesus spake of his death: but they thought that He had spoken of TAKING OF REST IN SLEEP. Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead."

And St. Paul, when proving the certainty of Christ's resurrection, says, “He was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve. After that He was seen of above five hundred brethren at once; of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are FALLEN ASLEEP."

Why then should the fear of death or dying take such strong hold of us? It is surely because we do not sufficiently exercise our minds concerning the things that are upon record in the Holy Scriptures for our consolation. A proper attention to them would, no doubt, be all-sufficient to sustain us against further dread of resigning our breath to Him who gave it. And the calmness with which some depart out of this life, is a con

firmation of the ease with which the soul and body separate. How frequently does it happen, that the dying person is speaking one moment, and unexpectedly to those who are present, falls asleep the next to awake only, "in another and a better world ?”

Death, then, is not so terrible in itself, as to behold. To the survivors it is certainly one of the heaviest afflictions of this life. Of all the ills that flesh is heir to, there is surely none equal to that of losing those we love. Indeed it is almost too grievous to be borne. It rends the heart, and renders it insensible to remonstrance, and incapable of receiving consolation. It is a natural and a sacred grief; it should not be disturbed by casual obtruders; none but the privileged should presume to interrupt the sad mournings of affection. While the whole soul is absorbed in its sorrows, a reasonable indulgence should be allowed the mourner. Time alone can effect that calm submission, which friends, in the goodness of their heart, imperatively impose as a religious obligation on a surviving relative. It certainly requires all the energies of the mind-all the powers of reason and religion-to combat against an affliction that deprives us of every hope, and is calculated to damp every enjoyment of this life. But, neither reason nor religion require that the sensibilities of the heart are to be closed against the natural impressions they must make upon a susceptible mind.

NUMBER XXXIX.

ON VULGAR ERRORS.

Custom, the world's great idol, we adore,
And knowing this, we seek to know no more.

"ERROR," it has been very justly observed, "is never so fatal in its effect as when inculcated by men of celebrity. Their authority gives it that external appearance of truth," says the same author, "without which, in some degree, it never becomes prevalent." When the public mind is thus influenced by assertions not altogether correct, it behoves the man of study and research, when he has discovered mistakes, to make known, for the benefit of society, the inaccuracy of such statements.

To refute errors, to do away prejudices, or to oppose a generally received opinion, is a bold undertaking. It requires confidence, as well as energy and diligence, in the individual who aspires to such a task; more particularly where public errors are sanctioned by the authority of a great name, or tolerated by custom. Many, who have the opportunity of diving into truths, are too

timid, perhaps, to meet a sneer or an overbearing rebuff, by advancing an opinion contrary to that which has been generally adopted; or, they may be too indifferent to national benefits to give themselves the least trouble to improve the public mind. Thus, error and prejudice make daily encroachments on a nation's judgment, and lead multitudes astray; the majority of mankind not having the opportunity of convincing themselves by referring to chapter and verse. And many, even admitting they had, have not the industry to trace out truths, and draw conclusions from clear and impartial accounts; but take all upon common report, and give into custom without a reflection, be the blunder never so palpable.

It may be asked-who's to decide when doctors disagree? or how it is to be known which are clear and impartial accounts?

To these inquiries it may be answered, by proving them, as we do all other accounts; which may easily be done by men of experience and research, though a Goldsmith or a Lyttleton be compromised in the attempt. When it is considered in what manner the former wrote his historical epistles, it may not, perhaps, seem strange that inadvertencies should appear among his literary performances; and yet this historian is generally put into the hands of young people. It is said of this great genius, that after dedicating the early part of the day in reading Gibbon's Histories, he usually rode out for a couple of hours

to digest the subject of his morning study; returned home, and put to writing the result of his meditations!

Hume, too, who was highly complimented, it is said, on the correctness of his style, particularly in his History of England; yet, he made a most egregious blunder in asserting, that, "if ever the National Debt came up to one hundred millions, this country would be ruined." Being asked by a friend, "how he could make such a mistake, seeing that the debt was then far above that sum, and likely to be much more?" " Owing to a mistake, sir," said he, "common to writers by profession, who are often obliged to adopt statements on the authority of other people!"

It was the wise maxim of Pythagoras, however, to impress upon the minds of his scholars the propriety of making themselves masters of their subject, before they attempted to discuss it. How much more necessary then, that historians should examine events, by comparing notes, and searching into the origin of things, instead of tamely submitting to the erroneous assertions of others, and negligently handing down to posterity partial accounts and false statements for decided facts.

The almost universal opinion that Henry the VIII. was the first English Monarch that assumed the title of " Defender of the Faith," seems to be as gross an error as ever appeared on the pages of history; but having been once asserted by a