Page images
PDF
EPUB

Is it sustaining our patience in a course of holy and unreserved obedience? Or are you in danger of perishing-perishing eternally for lack of knowledge? Consider these things.

Jubenile Reading.

REMARKABLE SOUNDS IN NATURE".

well known, but to what extent would be scarcely
credited had we not the most undoubted evi-
dence, viz., that of the celebrated traveller, Dr.
Clarke. He "A remarkable circumstance
says:
occurred, which may convey notions of the propa-
gation of sound over water, greater than will per-
haps be credited; but we can appeal to the testi-
mony of those who were witnesses of the fact, for
the truth of that which we now relate. By our
observation of latitude, we were one hundred
miles from the Egyptian coast: the sea was per-
fectly calm, with little or no swell, and scarcely a

"The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound breath of air stirring, when the captain called

thereof; but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth "-JOHN iii. 8.

MOST persons who are accustomed to attend to the varied phenomena of nature must have heard at times strange sounds which they were at a loss to account for. Any one, who has sat alone in a retired dwelling during the stillness of a calm night, may remember to have heard occasionally low murmurings rising and falling on the ear, which ignorance and superstition, or an imagination uncorrected by religion and science, might easily convert into sources of terror. The unaccustomed sounds in nature startle because they occur seldom, or during the night only, when the busy sounds of day are hushed; or, being observed only in particular spots, they thus fall mysteriously

upon the ear.

our attention to the sound as of distant artillery, vibrating in a low and gentle murmur upon the water, and distinctly heard at intervals during the whole day. He said it was caused by an engagement at sea, and believed the enemy had attacked our fleet at Alexandria. No such event had, however, taken place; and it was afterwards from an attack made by our troops against the known that the sounds we then heard proceeded fortress of Rachmanie, on the Nile, beyond Rosetta. This had commenced upon that day, and hence alone the noise of guns could have originated. The distance of Rachmanie from the coast, in a direct line, is about ten leagues: this allows one hundred and thirty miles for the space through which the sound had been propagated

when it reached our ears.'

[ocr errors]

bells was heard on board a ship sailing along the coast of Brazil far out of sight of land. The sound was heard during an hour or two, at a particular spot on deck, and it seemed to vary as in and were convinced as to the existence and nature human rejoicings. All on board came to listen, of the sound; but to account for it was impossible. Months afterwards it was ascertained that at the time of the observation the bells of the city of St. Salvador, on the Brazilian coast, had been

Dr. Arnott relates a case where the sound of

That the intensity of sound is greatly increased by night cannot be doubted; and this has been ascribed by Humboldt to the presence of the sun acting on the propagation and intensity of sounds, by opposing them with currents of air of different density, and partial undulations of the atmosphere, caused by unequally heating different parts of the earth. In these cases, where the air suddenly changes in density, the vibrations which produce the sounds are divided into two waves; and a sort of acoustic mirage is produced in the same manner as a luminous mirage takes place from a simi-ringing on the occasion of a festival: their sound, lar cause. But there are, probably, other causes therefore, favoured by a gentle wind, had travelled connected with the presence or absence, excess or over perhaps a hundred miles of smooth water, diminution of solar heat, of moisture, &c., which and had been brought to a focus by the concave may operate both in the increase and continuance sail in the particular situation on the deck where of sound, while many peculiarities of place or season may create or modify certain sounds, which being local admit only of special explanation.

Captain Parry, during the intense cold experienced in Winter Harbour, was surprised at the great distance at which the human voice could be heard: "I have," he says, "often heard people distinctly conversing, in a common tone of voice, at the distance of a mile; and to-day I heard a man singing to himself as he walked along the beach, at even a greater distance than this." The strong tendency of sound to ascend has also a great effect. Humboldt has remarked that the barking of a dog has been heard when the listener was in a balloon at an elevation of about three miles. It has also been noticed that from the ridge of the Table mountain, which is 3,600 feet high, and the upper part of which rises perpendicularly at the distance of about a mile from Cape town, every noise made below, even to the word of command on the parade, may be distinctly heard.

The case with which sound travels over water is • From "Chronicles of the Seasons." Parker, London, 1844.

it was listened to.

residence of madame de Sevigné, is a remarkable In the gardens of Les Roches, once the well-known reverberating powers of a flat surface. The chateau echo, which illustrates finely the conducting and des Roches is situated not far from the interesting and ancient town of Vitré. A broad gravel walk house. In the centre of this, on a particular on a dead flat conducts through the garden to the spot, the listener is placed at the distance of about ten or twelve yards from another person, who, similarly placed, addresses him in a low and, in the common acceptation of the term, inaudible whisper; when "Lo! what myriads rise!" for immediately from thousands and tens of thousands of invisible tongues, starting from the earth beneath, or as if every pebble was gifted with powers of speech, the sentence is repeated with a slight hissing sound, not unlike the whirlings of from this spot, however trifling the distance, the small shot passing through the air. On removing and within a few feet ceases to be heard. Under intensity of the repetition is sensibly diminished, the idea that the ground was hollow beneath, the

submitted to the woodman's axe, but the noble
Grindstone oak was respected in its hoary age,
and it still exists, though its benuty has passed
away; and, before many years have gone by, its

soil has been dug up to a considerable depth, but
without discovering any clue to the solution of
the mystery. On looking round for any external
cause, the observer who has supplied this descrip-
tion says: "I felt inclined to attribute the phe-place will be known no more.
nomenon to the reflecting powers of a semicircular
low garden wall, a few yards in the rear of the
listener, and in front of the speaker, although
there was no apparent connexion between the
transmission of sound from the gravel walk and this
wall. The gardener, however, to whom I sug-
gested this, assured me that I was wrong, since
within his memory the wall had been taken down
and rebuilt, and that in the interim there was no
perceptible alteration in the unaccountable evolu-
tion of these singular sounds."

On the smooth surface of ice, and on a much larger scale, a somewhat similar effect has been observed. The following instance is given in Head's "Forest Scenes"

March 7.-The frost continued, and the cold increased to a very low temperature, the effect of which upon the extended sheet of ice, which covered the bay, was somewhat remarkable. It cracked and split from one end to the other with a noise that might have been mistaken for distant artillery; but this, when it is taken into consideration that the sheet of ice was fifteen or sixteen square miles in area, and three feet thick, may be easily imagined. Nor was this all: I was occasionally surprised by sounds produced by the wind, indescribably awful and grand. Whether the vast sheet of ice was made to vibrate and bellow like the copper which generates the thunder of the stage, or whether the air rushing through its cracks and fissures made a noise, I will not pretend to say, still less to describe the various intonations which in every direction struck upon the ear. A dreary undulating sound wandered from point to point, perplexing the mind to imagine whence it came, or whither it went, and whether aerial or subterranean, sometimes like low moaning, and then swelling into a deep-toned note, as produced by some molian instrument, it being a real fact, and without metaphor, the voice of winds imprisoned in the bosom of the deep. This night (March 7) I listened for the first time to what was then perfectly new to me, although I experienced its repetition on many subsequent occasions, whenever the temperature fell very suddenly."

THE GRINDSTONE OAK OF HOLT FOREST. THE royal forest of lady Holt lies between Alton and Farnham. One spot in it was long a scene of attraction on fine summer-days to many a party bent on joyous pic-nics. On that spot stood the Grindstone oak, a noble tree, thirty-five feet in girth, now become a leafless ruin. Little more than thirty years ago it still retained many verdant branches, and stood amid a goodly company of younger forest-trees. When, in earlier days, the forest was felled, the workmen used this tree, then in sturdy youth, as the support of their grindstone; and, when this work was completed, they left it to become the father of the forest. More than thirty years ago the forest was again

Many were our sources of pleasure in these summer holidays in the forest. I remember the sort of shuddering interest we felt in perusing wild stories about the deer-stealers, and the bloodhounds kept at the forest-lodge, to trace the footsteps of these lawless men; and our elder companions would speak of the old forest hunting days, when king John had a hunting lodge on a hill a few miles distant from the Holt, and from which, though the house has long been levelled, we can still look down on the road the king caused to be made to Woolmer, another royal forest-a long green road, which is known by the name of "Green-street," though it is, in fact, a true country road, with copse and common and open fields on either side.

We used to talk also of later times, when sir Simeon Stuart entertained George IV., then prince of Wales and a young man, at his house at Hartley park, on the borders of the two royal forests. The old associations with the name of Stuart were in themselves as volumes of romance, exciting our imaginations, while we spoke of the old mansion at Hartley, gone-levelled to the ground, even in our remembrance, the materials sold and scattered over the country, no mark even of garden or pleasure-ground left, save three or four stunted apple-trees and an aged laurel, which have since disappeared.

These, and many other sources of interest, were at hand on our visit to the old forest of lady Holt; but that too is cleared, refined, tamed down, like many other things now-a-days, until there is little left of that wild sylvan character which was its greatest charm. It is one of the spots of which we may truly say to our young friends, "You can never enjoy it as we have done;" yet it still attracts many a summer-party, and, could the old tree find a tongue, tales of deep interest might be chronicled there. S. W.

ASSER*.

ASSER, or Aysserius, a monk of St. David's, was a writer of considerable celebrity, though some points in his own history are involved in uncertainty. He was of British extraction, probably a native of Pembrokeshire, and educated in the monastery of St. David's, or Menevia, and hence his surname of Menevensis. His instructor is said to have been Johannes Patricius, a renowned scholar. He was also on terms of intimacy with the archbishop of St. David's, who was his relation. This has given rise to a mistake, which has converted Asser into two other individuals of the same name-an archbishop of St. David's, and a reader in the university of Oxford. It has been affirmed that this Asser was secretary or chancellor to the archbishop, but on

• The life of Asser was written in Latin, by Francis Wise, M.A., fellow of Trinity college, Oxford, and prefixed to his edition of "Asser's Annals of Alfred" (Oxon, 1722); a work first

Published by archbishop Parker, at the end of his edition of

"Walsingham" (London, 1571).

no good ground. Besides, he tells us himself | ledged the assistance he had received from him that the name of his relation was an archbishop and others in that undertaking. Novis, though it does not appear that he was either his secretary or chancellor. Novis held that honour from 841 to 873, when he died.

It seems to have been the near resemblance of their genius which gained Asser so great a share in the royal confidence, and was the occasion of his drawing up those memoirs of the life of Alfred, dedicated and presented by him to the king, and which are still extant. In this work there is a very curious and minute account of the manner in which that prince and our author spent their time together. Asser relates, that being at the feast of St. Martin, and having quoted accidentally in conversation a passage from some famous writer, the king was so highly pleased with it, that he wished him to note it down on the margin of a book which he usually carried in his breast. Finding there was no room in the book to record the favourite passage, he asked the king whether he should not provide a few leaves in which to set down such remarkable things as occurred either in reading or conversation. Alfred, who was indefatigable in the acquirement of knowledge, was extremely delighted with the idea, and directed Asser to put it in immediate execution. From this hint sprung the "Enchiridion of Golden Sayings;" for by constant additions their collection began to accumulate, till at length it reached the size of an ordinary psalter; and this compilation is what Asser calls the Enchiridion, and Alfred his "Hand-book" or "Manual." In all probability this learned monk continued at court during the whole reign of Alfred, and perhaps for several years after; but when or where he died has been the subject of some controversy. The Saxon chronicle positively fixes his death to the year 910, which seems to be the most probable. It has been fixed as having occurred in 883, which is impossible, for he himself proves by his own statement that he must have been alive in 894.

From St. David's, Asser was invited, from the great reputation of his learning, to the court of Alfred the Great, whom he met at Dean, in Wiltshire, and who received him with great civility, and even evinced for him the strongest marks of favour, so that he recommended him not to return to reside at St. David's, but to continue with him as domestic chaplain, and assist him in his studies; assuring him that he would amply make up to him for his preferments on the other side of the Severn. Asser, however, hesitated to accept this proposal, and seemed to prefer the place where he had been educated and received the order of priesthood. Alfred then expressed his desire that he would at least divide his time equally between the court and the monastery. Asser asked permission to consult his brethren, which was readily granted; but, unfortunately, in his journey to St. David's, he fell sick at Winchester of a fever, which confined him upwards of twelve months, much to the regret of Alfred. On his recovery, he went to St. David's, and, having taken the advice of his brethren on the king's offer, they unanimously agreed that he should accept it, only requesting that his change of residence should be quarterly instead of half-yearly. In this, private interest had not improbably some weight. The monastery and parish of St. David's had often been plundered, and their archbishops sometimes expelled by Hemyed, a petty prince of South Wales. From the favour and friendship of one of their members with Alfred, therefore, the monks hoped, and very reasonably, to derive great advantages in the repression of such violent inroads. When Asser returned, he found the king at Leoneforde. His first visit was for eight I have already mentioned the confusion of mouths; during which he read and explained to certain authors with regard to the personal identhe prince the books in his library; Alfred's tity of Asser. To expose their mistakes by argugreat delight being to be constantly reading. ment or history would be a tiresome and needless Their mutual esteem increased; and, on the labour. It is sufficient merely to observe, that Christmas-eve following, Asser received a gift of Asser the monk, and Asser the bishop of Sherthe monasteries of Ambrosbury, or Amesbury, in borne, are proved, on the authority of Matthew of Wiltshire, and Banwell, in Somerset, with a silk Westminster and Florence of Worcester, to be the pall of great value, and as much incense as a same person; and that he was afterwards archbishop strong man could carry. The gift was accom- of St. David's, appears from the annals of that mopanied with the statement that these were but nastery, as well as from the list of Giraldus Camsmall things, and by way of earnest of better that brensis, who sets him down after Etwal, the sucshould follow them." The promise was soon ful-cessor of Novis. The Saxon chronicles, moreover, filled; for the bishopric of Exeter, and, not long after, that of Sherborne, were bestowed on him. The latter of these preferments he seems to have relinquished in 883. He was succeeded at Sherborne by Sighelm, who was employed by Alfred to carry his alms to the Christians of St. Thomas in India; but the Saxon chronicle clearly proves that Asser survived his quitting that bishopric for seven-and-twenty years, though he always retained the title. From this period he was a constant attendant at court, and is named by Alfred in his testament—which must have been written before the year 885-as a person in whom he had particular confidence. He is also mentioned by the king in the prefatory epistle prefixed to his translation of Gregory's "Pastoral," addressed to Wulfig, bishop of London, wherein he acknow

never mention two Assers, though they speak copiously of one. On the whole, therefore, we may conclude that our author was the individual who composed the "Annals of Alfred," though the story of his teaching at Oxford is either unfounded or applied to a different person. And in regard to his several promotions, it would appear that, from being a monk of St. David's, he became parish-priest, afterwards abbot of Ambresbury and Banwell, then bishop of Sherborne, which he held for a very short time; next archbishop of St. David's, probably in the year 883; and lastly, primate of Wales in 909, through the kindness of Edward the elder, the son and successor of Alfred. There is no less controversy about the works of Asser than about his life and preferments, for some assert that he never wrote anything except

the annals of king Alfred; whereas Pits gives the
titles of five other books, and adds that he wrote
many more. Of these one is a commentary on
Boece, which is mentioned by Leland. The
"Annales Britannica" has been published by
Dr. Gale, though it bears internal evidence of not
being the work of Asser. His "Golden Sentences"
are a monument of his learning and industry. A
book of homilies, and another of epistles, are
also ascribed to him; though the authenticity of
these two volumes can only be presumptive, as no
ancient author says a word about them. The
statement of bishop Godwin, that Asser was
buried in the cathedral church of Sherborne, rests
on no other foundation than his holding that see;
a mode of argument which would apply with
equal truth and more force of reasoning to St.
David's, as the place of his sepulture. On one
point there is no disagreement that this excellent
man was one of the most pious, learned, and mo-science.-Dr, South on 1 John iii. 31.
dest prelates of the age in which he lived.

aver that conscience neither is, nor ought to be, its
own rule. I question not, I confess, but mere opinion
or persuasion may be every whit as strong, and have
as forcible an influence upon a man's actions, as con-
science itself. But then, we know, strength or force
is one thing, and authority quite another: as a rogue
upon the highway may have as strong an arm, and
take off a man's head as cleverly, as the executioner.
But then there is a vast disparity in the two actions,
when one of them is murder, and the other justice.
Nay, and our Saviour himself told his disciples, "that
men should both kill them, and think that in so doing
they did God service;" so that here, we see, was a full
opinion and persuasion, and a very zealous one too, of
the high meritoriousness of what they did; but still
there was no law, no word or command of God to
ground it upon, and consequently it was not con-

The Cabinet,

CONSCIENCE. The allegation or plea of conscience ought never to be admitted barely for itself; for, when a thing obliges only by a borrowed authority, it is ridiculous to allege it for its own. Take a lieutenant, a commissioner, or an ambassador of any prince; and, so far as he represents his prince, all that he does or declares under that capacity, has the same force and validity as if actually done or declared by the prince himself, in person. But, then, how far does this reach? Why just so far as he keeps close to his instructions. But, when he once baulks them, though what he does may be indeed a public crime or national mischief, yet it is but a private act, and the doer of it may chance to pay his head for the presumption; for still, as great as the authority of such kind of persons is, it is not founded upon their own will nor upon their own judgment, but upon their own commission. In like manner, every dictate of this vicegerent of God, when it has a divine word or precept to back it, carries a divine authority with it. But, if no such word can be produced, it may indeed be a strong opinion or persuasion, but it is not conscience; and no one thing in the world has done more mischief, and caused more delusions amongst men, than their not distinguishing between conscience and mere opinion or persuasion. Conscience is a Latin word (though with an English termination), and, according to the very notation of it, imports a double or joint knowledge; to wit, one of a divine law or rule, and the other of a man's own action, and so is properly the application of a general law to a particular instance of practice. The law of God, for example, says: "Thou shalt not steal;" and the mind of man tells him that the taking of such or such a thing from a person lawfully possessed of it is stealing. Whereupon the conscience, joining the knowledge of both these together, pronounces, in the name of God, that such a particular action ought not to be done. And this is the true procedure of conscience, always supposing a law from God before it retends to lay any obligation upon man; for still I

A FUTURE STATE.-The sacred writers had as deep a sense of the emptiness of human enjoyments, and of the vanity of the present transitory world, as any pagan authors, and have described it with as much energy and eloquence. They observe that human life is a mere dream, a fleeting shadow, a sickly flower that blooms and fades in a day; that, short as it is, it is liable to be made shorter by many unforeseen accidents, and that it is attended with a sad variety of sorrows and disappointments. And yet the same writings overflow with the warmest sentiments of piety, represent God as the father and friend of the righteous, whose favour and loving-kindness is better than all worldly blessings, better than life itself; to whom is due, not only the profoundest veneration, but the sincerest love; who is the object of faith and trust and reliance, and to obey whom is the truest wisdom-a language by no means suitable to the doctrine of the soul's mortality, and which could only proceed from the lips, but never from the heart, of one who had no hopes beyond the grave. If our days be short and exposed to many evils, and death closes up the poor transitory scene, the consequence would be irresistible that life is a trifle hardly worth the accepting, and that the condition of man was in some msasure and in some respects worse than that of the beasts; for these have no thoughts of things to come, and enjoy the present without any hopes and fears; but man is plagued with desires of immortality-desires which should not dwell in a creature made only for a few days. Where then would be the motive for gratitude, trust, piety, and devotion? He, to whom so little had been given, could love but little. What should inflame his affections and excite in him such lively sentiments of the immense kindness and goodness of God? Who ever heard of such a thing as a devout epicurean? The thought of perishing soon, and of being struck out of the list of God's creatures, would cast a damp as cold as death upon all his attempts towards devotion; and the nearer he drew to his fatal end, the less regard he would have for his Creator. All that he could do would be to arm himself with stubborn resolution, and endeavour to resign with a good grace what would be soon taken from him; but zeal for the honour and glory of God, a religious sorrow for his offences, a desire to please his Maker, pious love and devout sup

plication, these affections could never take up their abode in his breast.-Jortin.

THE SAVIOUR'S HUMILIATION.-As if all this was nothing (his directing all our ways and prospering all our undertakings), God, to manifest himself still further to thee, came down from his blessed throne, clothed himself with flesh, became subject to his own creatures, yea, and unto death itself, and all to redeem thee from it. O, glorious condescension! O, ravishing expression of divine love! that eternity should stoop to time, heaven come down to earth, glory be wrapped in misery; that God himself should become man; and all to reconcile man to himself. O, what is man, that thou shouldst be thus mindful of him? or the son of man, that thou shouldst be thus merciful to him? Who are we, or what is our father's house, that God himself should not only become man, but suffer for us, and undergo cruelties, reproaches, and stripes, from those that could not lay them upon him, did not he at the same time, enable them? that he should be condemned by such as could not pronounce the sentence against him, did not himself vouchsafe them breath to do it; yea, that he should suffer death from them that borrowed their lives from him? O, how can you think of these things, and keep your hearts within your breasts? How are we able to consider how much God hath done for us, and not burn in love to him? O ye that love yourselves, your sins, your lusts, your friends, your lives, or any thing more than God, behold the Most High himself mocked, despised, spit upon, crowned with thorns, drinking gall and vinegar, and, last of all, undergoing the pangs of death, and all to redeem you to the joys of love. Consider, I say, these things, and then tell me whether he doth not infinitely deserve your love more than the things that have it? Consider that he assumed thy, nature that thou mightest partake of his: he became the son of man, that thou mightest become a son of God: he hungered, that he might feed thee with his own flesh; and thirsted, that he might give thee to drink of his own blood; he was apprehended, that thou mightest be secure; derided, that thou mightest be honoured; condemned, that thou mightest be absolved; and crowned with thorns here, that thou mightest be crowned with glory hereafter; he came from heaven to earth, that thou mightest go from earth to heaven; yea, "he that knew no sin was made sin for us, that we that know nothing but sin might be made the righteousness of God in him." He who was innocent was punished, that thou who art guilty mightest be pardoned: he was crucified, that thou mightest be glorified. He, who had lived in heaven from eternity, came and died on earth in time, that we, who die on earth in time, might go and live in heaven to eternity. O, how canst thou muse of these things, and the fire not burn within thee? Where is thy heart, that thou dost not throw it all on flames with love at the foot of that God that hath done so much for thee.---Bp. Beveridge on Matt.

XXV.

Poetry.

SCRIPTURAL LYRICS.

No. VIII.

DAVID MOURNING OVER ABSALOM. BY MISS M. A. STODart. (For the Church of England Magazine.) THE sound of victory rose :

It spoke of Judah's rest; And many a heart, at the battle-close,

Beat high in the mail-clad breast: Tears fell from eyes which little knew To weep weak woman's tears; While loud that trump of victory blew,

To calm a nation's fears.
There was one, upon that day

Of high triumphant joy,
Who on the ground lamenting lay,

And mourned his wretched boy:
Men wondering gazed, his grief to see:
"My own, my princely one,
Would God that I had died for thee,

O Absalom, my son !

"My beautiful, my brave,

My early hope and pride, He lies in a dishonoured grave,

And as a fool he died.

O cease that mocking joyous strain;
It bids deep anguish start.
Men, fathers, have ye borne in vain
A father's human heart?
"Alas! it was my crime,

My deed of blood and lust,
Blighted my son in manhood's prime :
My punishment is just.
But O, upon this guilty head

Let the quick bolts be driven; And let not others, in my stead,

Bear the dread wrath of heaven!

"I know, I know it all:

Thine is a traitor's fame;
And evil words in anger fall,

To blast thy princely name.
Was it for this thou spurned my love,

For this forgot thy sire?
Braved the commands of God above,
And sank beneath his ire?
"Deep thoughts are in my heart,

Deeper than words may show :
Say, did no prayer for mercy start
In thy last hour of woe?

I rest not on the harrowing thought;
The hour for mercy's gone:

I know not that by thee 'twas sought,
My son, my much loved son !"

London: Published for the Proprietors by EDWARDS and HUGHES, 12, Ave Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.

PRINTED BY

JOSEPH ROGERSON, 24, NORFOLK-STREET, STRAND, LONDON.

« PreviousContinue »