it appears, if not the sole, yet a conspicuous ornament of the scene where but lately it filled so subordinate and unpretending a place. Surely this may remind us that, in the days of health and strength, amidst the joys of prosperity and the vortex of dissipation, too often are the "solid joys and lasting pleasures" which religion alone can impart overlooked and undervalued, nay, despised and scorned. But when riches have made to themselves wings and flown away, as the party-coloured leaves of the wood have fled before the autumn gale; when the buds of hope and blossoms of pleasure are nipped and withered, before the storms of adversity, and freezing blasts of trial; when body and mind are alike laid prostrate, and the dearest delights and most cherished objects do but wound the heart which so fondly trusted in them, then is it that the incorruptible inheritance, and the "hope which maketh not ashamed," purchased by the Saviour's blood and applied by the influences of his Holy Spirit, are rightly estimated as alone able to impart a peace which the world giveth not and cannot take away. What plantation in our region of storms and changing seasons would be complete, however gay and brilliant its blossoms, and rare and graceful its forms, were the evergreen tribe excluded from its limits? Gay and brilliant as its spring-tide and summer beauties might appear, how quickly would they vanish, how many dreary uncheered months must be passed in gloom and desolation! And should we, the dwellers in a world of cares and changes, be beguiled by aught below to forget, how soon we may, and how certainly we must, experience the common lot? for "we all do fade as a leaf;" and that our fondest hopes and brightest joys are yet more fragile than ourselves? But they who in faith and prayer have sought and found "the one thing needful," know and feel that, like our modest evergreen, it adds a charm to every joy and enhances every delight in a tenfold degree, while it cheers the most gloomy hour, and smiles the brightest, when all around is most dark and desolate. "Lord, teach us this one thing' to choose, Which they who gain can never lose; Sufficient in itself alone, And needful were the world our own. Let grovelling hearts the world admire, If the 'one needful thing' be mine."-NEWTON. SIN FRUITLESS. SIN is fruitless, as being attended with pains that are greater than the pleasures which it brings. Sin, like a trap, may possibly at the top be smeared with a little honey, underneath which is contained a draught of deadly wine, far more pricking and terrible than the delights were pleasant which it pretended to bring; like as Jael did to Sisera, it decoys us in with the offer of wine and milk, until, taking advantage of our sleep and security, it nails and rivets our very souls to the chambers of death. Thus, for the most part, sickness is the just chastisement of excess in diet; and from abundance of wine a man becometh a beast, with this difference only, that he is a beast, with reason, as a beast is so without it. The delicious parts of sin soon run away, and leave nothing but bitterness and dregs behind. The worldly sensualities which men enjoy; the sprightly and brisk vigour that, with a blushing and furious frenzy, quickens their pursuit of the pleasures of the flesh; the delights they are wont to receive from ceremonies, and the little formalities of courtship and address; all these, by a violent shock or two of an acute disease, or, at farthest, by the stormy gusts and winter that accompany old age and grey hairs, are blown away: and indeed it would be well if the sinner could so escape; but, alas, it proves far otherwise; for as the fruits and delicacies pass away, so there is left behind a long catalogue of infirmities and loathsome diseases; and of all evils the worst, a foul recoiling conscience, which will not only bear witness against the sinner, but will be a severe judge. If sin be fruitless and without satisfaction, then, let this persuade us to abate our eager pursuit after it; for why should we spend our labour on that which will not recompense our toil, or lay out our money on what will not satisfy us? What man in his sober senses would enter on an action which he knew beforehand would not agree with his purpose, or conduce to the bringing about his design? Or who ever willingly would spend a day in the course of life which he certainly knew would not contribute to his pleasure or advantage? And yet we add days to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years, in the purchase of that, the possession of which we know can never please us. Wherefore let us entertain a low and mean notion of the glories of this world, and the pomp thereof, and no longer trust in unstable riches, honours, or power, nor permit ourselves to be puffed up by the large share of them which we perhaps may enjoy, seeing that, without real goodness and virtue, they will arise to no true value; for, till then, let a man have all the choicest curiosities of nature crammed into his body; let him be made of the finest ingredients and most delicate principles the world can afford; let there be in his face a concurrency of all beauty and shape, in his nature an eminence of all sweetness and ingenuity, in his mind a conspiration of the politest and most desirable varieties of all kinds of learning; yet, notwithstanding this, in respect of eternal happiness, his soul has no greater right or assurance than that of the meanest slave or beggar.-Dr. Barrow. CORAL ISLANDS. No. I. THAT islands or vast reefs, extending for many miles, should owe their origin to minute animals, of almost gelatinous texture-lithophyte or stone-forming polypes-is so startling, that were not the fact proved, we might be pardoned for withholding our belief; we are indeed amazed to learn how intimately these extensive masses are connected with or ganic life; and admitting the fact, imagination falls powerless in the attempt to estimate the myriads upon myriads of individual polypes, all at work upon their imperishable masonry. The polypes, or lithophytes, which form banks or reefs of coral islands in the sea, or additions to the coast, belong to the tribe of madrepores, such as meandrina, and astræa; and we may lay it down as an axiom, that they cannot, and do not labour at any great depth. These creatures, adorned often with beautiful colours, require the influence of light, and the rays of the sun, and consequently never lay the foundations of their calcareous tenements in the dark and stilly depths of the ocean. Yet, be it remembered, that corals often form vast beds, of upwards of a hundred feet in thickness, and even more, still covered by the water, and constituting a sunken reef; while, again, on the contrary, as on the shores of Timor, near Coupang, they form a bed from twentyfive to eighty feet in thickness, over rocks elevated above the level of the sea. But before we enter into the theory of the formation of coral reefs and islands, let us take a general survey of some of the principal works constructed by these strange architects, well termed by Montgomery "Unconscious, not unworthy instruments, It is in the South Sea and Indian ocean that the rock-forming madrepores are the most abundant. In the Red Sea coral reefs are very numerous, and are usually found extending in a straight line, parallel to the coast. They differ from the coral formations of the Pacific, inasmuch as they never exhibit a circular form, nor contain a lagoon in the centre. In many places they unite with the coast which they thus render inaccessible, for though immediately beyond them the water is often very deep, yet but a few feet of water covers them, and in this way they have blocked up bays or harbours, into which, in former times, vessels could freely enter. In other cases the reefs are unconnected with the shore, and often at several miles distance. Towards the sea they sink abruptly, and the water is very deep, but they gradually slope on their side towards the land, and the strait thus formed will admit vessels of moderate burden. The water here is always, or mostly, very tranquil, being less influenced by the winds, which, during the greater part of the year, regularly set in at certain times of the day, and strongly agitate the main sea. Besides these larger reefs, there are others of variable size, and isolated character, dangerous to the navigator; especially in the straits of Tiran, and in the neighbourhood of the Farsan islands. Coral reefs more or less surround the shores of the Isle of France, the Papuan, the Marian, and the Sandwich islands, and in these instances the depth of water between the shore and the reefs is moderate, and protected from the violence of wind. At Turtle island, however, Captain Cook failed in his attempt to fathom the water between the madrepore reefs and the land. Sometimes, indeed, between two reefs, there is found a narrow channel, with great depth of water. There are other instances in which coral reefs run in a line with the coast, and are separated from it by deep water, as at Vanikoro, the place where the ill-fated Le Peyrouse was shipwrecked. The reef runs at about two miles distant from the shore, rising seaward from an ocean of profoundest depth, that of the channel varying from fifty to three hundred feet. The grandest coral reef known is one which runs parallel to the north-east coast of Australia, varying in distance from the shore, to the extent of twenty, and in some parts fifty, or even seventy miles, and stretching out for nearly a thousand miles in length. The arm of the sea which flows between this vast reef and the shore averages from ten to twenty fathoms in depth, but, at one part, increases to forty, fifty, and sixty fathoms. This extraordinary reef is an apt example of a particular class, termed barrier reefs; but there are others, which are denominated encircling reefs; and to these we shall next attend. Many islands are surrounded by a coral reef, at a variable distance from the shore. When speaking of reefs of madrepore generally, we alluded to Vanikoro; here we have the example of an encircling reef; it forms a ring, with an island rising, as it were, in the centre of a lagoon it incloses. The beautiful island of Tahiti is also surrounded by a belt of coral, over which the white breakers foam, but between which and the shore, the water reposes in tranquillity. New Caledonia is also encircled by extensive coral reefs, which are carried out to a great distance beyond the island. A modification of the encircling reef has been termed, by Mr. Darwin, the fringing reef; in this case, the distance of the reef from the shore is very trifling, and the water between very shallow. Many of the islands in the Indian Archipelago, as Waigiau, New Guinea, Ceram, etc., etc., are thus skirted. Quoy and Gaimard particularly describe the island of Timor, which is surrounded by banks of coral, exposed above the surface of the water. The whole shores of Coupang are formed of them, and the low hills in its vicinity are enveloped in them; but a few hundred yards from the town they disappear, and distinct strata of slate are plainly visible. The depth of the exposed bed of madrepore over the rocks along the shore varies from twenty-five to eighty feet in thickness. This island is then skirted rather than fringed with coral, which was evidently once a fringe to its coast, or even assumed the form of an encircling belt. M. ACORNS. THE following quotation from the Northampton Herald refers to the great abundance of acorns which prevailed in the year 1844. Deer were provided for, pigs banqueted in the woods, and squirrels held their revels on the topmost boughs of the laden trees. The antler'd roamer of the park- And the nimble climber of the wood "Productiveness of the Oak.-A cir cumstance has come to our knowledge which will interest our readers, not only because it illustrates this year's unusual productiveness of the oak, but because it shows the way in which that productiveness has in one instance been singularly beneficial to the poor. A correspondent writes thus :-' I was driving three or four weeks ago on the road from Daventry to Badby, when I saw a boy, apparently about sixteen years of age, with a sack under an oak tree. picking up acorns, my lad?" said I. Yes, Sir," said he. "What do you get 66 "Are you for them ?” "A shilling a bushel." 'How long are you collecting a bushel ?" 66 Oh, Sir, I can pick up a bushel a day, but not unless I am allowed to go into Sir Charles Knightly's woods, which all the poor of Badby were allowed to do till a few days ago." "But if you could collect a bushel now, how much could you collect earlier in the season?" "Oh, about four but that did not last long." "How long? bushels a day." "Indeed!" "Yes, Sir, six weeks, eh?" "Yes, I should say it lasted as long as that, but not much longer." Here our dialogue ended, and as I was going to Sir Charles Knightly's, I mentioned to him what had passed between me and the Badby lad. Upon this, Sir Charles took me to his woodyard, where he showed me 1745 bushels of acorns lying on the floors of two barns, which had been collected for him by the Badby poor. He had paid £70 for the collecting; and in addition to what Sir Charles Knightly had bought, which he had purchased as keep for his deer, the farmers in the neighbourhood had, I found, been extensive purchasers of acorns as keep for their pigs."" THE UNCONVERTED. WHILST thou art unconverted thy body is but the living coffin of a dead soul.—W. THE POPE. The Pope, on Palm Sunday. In the services of the last week of Lent, as celebrated at Rome, the pope is peculiarly conspicuous. The principal function takes place on Palm Sunday, in the papal chapel, commonly called the Sistine, and consists of the mass. It differs from the service of any other Sunday, in the blessing and distributing palm, or olive branches, as a commemoration of Christ's entrance into Jerusalem. A procession is then formed about the Sala Regia, in which these branches are borne, a cardinal priest, according to Picart, chanting the mass. The procession begins with the lowest in clerical rank, who move off two by two, rising gradually, till bishops, archbishops, and cardinals appear, and at the close of all-for in the Romish church the most distinguished always brings up the rear-the pope meets the view, borne in his chair of state, on men's shoulders, with a crimson canopy over his head. APRIL, 1845, "The procession," says an eye-witness, "issued forth into the Sala Borgia, (the hall behind the Sistine chapel,) and marched round it, forming nearly a circle, for by the time the pope had got out, the leaders of the procession had nearly got back again; but they found the gates of the chapel closed against them, and an admittance being demanded, a voice was heard from within, in deep recitation, seemingly inquiring into their business, or claims for entrance there. This was answered by the choristers from the procession, in the hall, and after a chanted parley of a few minutes, the gates were again opened, and the pope, cardinals, and priests returned to their seats. Then the passion was chanted, and then a most tiresome long service commenced, in which the usual genuflexions, and tinkling of little bells, and dressings, and undressings, and walking up and coming down the steps of the altar, and bustling about, went on; and which terminated at L last in the cardinals embracing and kissing each other, which is, I am told, the kiss of peace.' The palms are artificial, plaited of straw, or the leaves of dried reeds, so as to resemble the real branches of the palm-tree, when their leaves are plaited, which are used in this manner for this ceremony in Roman Catholic colonies in tropical climates. These artificial palms, however, are topped with some of the real leaves of the palm-tree, brought from the shores of the Gulf of Genoa." Need it be asked whether St. Peter and St. Paul were ever thus carried in pomp and childish show? On Thursday a singular ceremony takes place, an account of which shall be given on the same authority:-"It is instituted in commemoration of our Saviour's washing the feet of the apostles; but here there were thirteen instead of twelve. The odd one is the representative of the angel that once came to the table of twelve that St. Gregory was serving; and though it is not asserted that the said angel had his feet washed, or indeed did anything but eat, yet as the pope can hardly do less for him than the rest, he shares in the ablution as well as the repast. "The twelve were old priests, but the one who performed the part of the angel was very young. They were all dressed in loose white gowns, with white caps on their heads, and clean woollen stockings, and were seated in a row along the wall, under a canopy. When the pope entered, and took his seat at the top of the room, the whole company of them knelt in their places, turning towards him; on his hand being extended in benediction, they all rose again and reseated themselves. "The splendid garments of the pope were then taken off; and, clad in a white linen robe, which he had on under the others, and wearing the bishop's mitre instead of the tiara, he approached the pilgrims, took from an attendant a silver bucket of water, knelt before the first of them, immersed one foot in the water, put water over it with his hand, and touched it with a square fringed cloth, kissed the leg, and gave the cloth and a sort of a white flower, or feather, to the man; then went on to the next. The whole ceremony was over, I think, in less than two minutes, so rapidly_was this act of humility gone through. From thence the pope returned to his throne, put on his robes of white and silver again, and proceeded to the Sala della Tavola, | whither we followed, not without extreme difficulty, so immense was the crowd. The thirteen priests were now seated in a row at the table, which was spread with a variety of dishes, and adorned with a profusion of flowers. The pope gave the blessing, and walking along the side of the table opposite to them, handed each of them bread, then plates, and lastly, cups of wine. They regularly all rose up to receive what he presented; and the pope having gone through the forms of service, and given them his parting benediction, left them to finish their dinner in peace. They carry away what they cannot eat, and receive a small sum of money besides." Now, what an absurdity is there in this annual ceremony! When Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, he charged them to do to others as he had done to them; but the best obedience would be rendered not to the letter, but the spirit of the command. In eastern countries persons travelling usually on foot, had to pass over dusty spots and scorching sands, having only the soles of their feet covered with sandals, which were fastened with thongs about the ankles. Any one coming a journey felt, therefore, that the first thing necessary for his comfort, was the washing of his feet, and hence the performance of this service even providing him with water being the first kind action that was required by a friend or a stranger, came, of course, to designate all the duties of hospitality and brotherly kindness. Thus Paul mentions the washing of the saints' feet as implying a spirit of true benevolence; in this sense, then, and in this only, Christ's example is as binding now as it was in the first age of Christianity. The pope has, therefore, no more authority for his practice on this occasion, than he has for the use of holy water-for being enveloped as he is with clouds of incense, or for many other ceremonies of his degenerate church. At the frowns of the pope we need not be alarmed. A worm is a miserable object to excite dread; and yet on the Thursday of "holy week," one of the cardinals curses all Jews, Turks, and heretics, which latter term includes every Protestant, by bell, book, and candle." The little bell is rung, the curse is sung from the book, and the lighted tapers thrown down amongst the people. A spectator describes this cursing as follows: "The clergy and friars being assembled |