Immediately after the separation, Rehoboam assembled the forces of his two tribes, and found them, as I have said, one hundred and eighty thousand men. Some eighteen years afterwards, Ahijah, his son, was able to raise against Jeroboam (who still, however, was vastly stronger) four hundred thousand, 2 Chron. xiii. 3. This is a considerable step. Some six or seven years later, Asa, the son of Ahijah, is invaded by a countless host of Ethiopians. On this occasion, notwithstanding the numbers which must have fallen already in the battle with Jeroboam, he brings into the field five hundred and eighty thousand: so rapidly were the resources of Judah on the advance. About two and thirty years later still, the army of Jehoshaphat, the son of Asa, consists of one million, one hundred and sixty thousand men, 2 Chron. xvii. 14-18: a prodigious increase in the population of the kingdom of Judah. On the other hand, we may trace (the act, it must be observed, is altogether our own, no such comparison being instituted in the history) the gradual decay and depopulation of the kingdom of Israel. Jeroboam himself, we have found, was eight hundred thousand strong. The continual diminution of this national army, we cannot, in the present instance, always trace from actual numbers, as we did in the former; but from circumstances which transpire in the history, we can trace it by inference. Thus, Ahab, one of the successors of Jeroboam, and contemporary with Jehoshaphat, whose immense armaments we have seen, is threatened by Benhadad and the Syrians. Benhadad will send men to take out of his house, and out of the houses of his servants, whatever is pleasant in their eyes, 1 Kings xx. 6. It is the insolent message of one who felt Israel to be weak, and being weak, to invite aggression. Favoured by a panic, Ahab triumphs for the once; but at the return of the year, returns Benhadad. Ahab is warned of this long before. "Go, strengthen thyself," is the friendly exhortation of the prophet, ver. 22;-no doubt he did so, to the best of his means, but after all, when "the children of Israel were numbered, and were all present, and went against them, the children of Israel pitched before the Syrians like two little flocks of kids; but the Syrians filled the country," ver. 27. And in Joram's days, the son and successor of Ahab, such was the boldness of Syria, and the weakness of Israel, that the former was constantly sending marauding parties, "companies," as they are called, or "bands," 2 Kings v. 2; vi. 23; xiii. 21, into Israel's quarters, sometimes taking the inhabitants captive, and sometimes even laying siege to considerable towns, 2 Kings vi. 14, 23. And in the reign of Jehu, the next king, Syria, with Hazael at its head, crippled Israel still more terribly, actually seizing upon all the land of Jordan eastward, Gilead, the Gadites, the Reubenites, and the Manassites, from Aroer to Bashan, 2 Kings x. 33. And to complete the picture, the whole army of Jehoahaz, the next in the royal succession of Israel, consisted of fifty horsemen, ten chariots, and ten thousand foot, Syria having exterminated the rest, 2 Kings xiii. 7; so gradually was Israel upon the decline. Now, it must be remembered, in order that the force of the argument may be felt, that no parallel of the kind we have been drawing is found in the history itself; no invitation to others to draw one: the materials for doing so it does indeed furnish, dispersed, however, over a wide field, and less definite than might be wished, were our object to ascertain the relative strength of the two kingdoms with exactness; that however it is not; and the very circumstance, that the gradual growth of Judah, and declension of Israel, are sometimes to be gathered from other facts than positive numerical evidence, is enough in itself to show that the historian could have no design studiously to point out the coincidence of facts with his casual assertion, that the Levites had been supplanted by the priests of the calves, and that multitudes had quitted the country with them, in just indignation.-Rev. J. J. Blunt. THE BURIAL GROUND AT THERE is a certain spot which I never pass without feelings of interest; it is the last resting place of my relatives and friends. My infant feet were led through its paths by pious parents to the house of God, and faintly traced upon my mind are recollections of very early childhood respecting some whose excellences I had been taught to revere, and whose burial in that place made an impression on my young heart. youth I was acquainted with many who were cut off in the flower of their age In my around me; and as years have advanced, ticularly her faithfulness as a servant, lead how have the numbers increased of those us to believe that "the root of the matter" whose heads have been laid low in this was in her. quiet dormitory! Let me try to recall the memory of some few, that they being dead may yet speak; and that their "good name," which "scents like the rose," may awaken a desire to follow them as far as they followed Christ. I omit to notice many, around whom early recollections hover, and pass on to the days of my youth, when I saw those who appeared as likely to live as myself, cut down like the grass of the field; and the one I would mention here, is Eliza At eighteen years of age she was There lies my first old schoolmistress, one of the meek ones, who are counted indeed most lovely, intelligent, and sweet blessed by our Lord. I have but an im-tempered; and had she been spared to perfect recollection of her features; but more mature years, some one, or perthe mild expression of her face, and the haps, many Christian graces might have gentle and winning ways she used with us, shone forth with lustre in her character; her little scholars, are by no means for- for those who knew her intimately, reagotten. I recollect, also, the long and dily discerned that the good seed of the painful illness which brought her to her word was sown in her heart. A teachend; and the peaceful happy expressions able spirit, that spirit without which we which fell from her lips, and were ga- cannot see the kingdom of God, was thered up as pearls by her own dutiful most manifest in her; but, like the children who surrounded her. I was flower of the field, she flourished; the too young then fully to understand her wind passed over it, and it was gone. words; but since I have found that they beautifully exemplified the main feature of her character-a meek and lowly spirit. The next who recurs to my thoughts is the old pew-opener. Contentment was the grace which shone in her; one of the earliest members of the church, she had watched its progress with heartfelt interest, and in its prosperity her soul rejoiced. I have, in remembrance, now her humble cottage, covered with a spreading vine; and there her simple tales of truth have delighted my ear. She was a woman who had seen affliction; but the firmness of her principles were such, that she really seemed to be able to say, with the apostle Paul, "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content:" poverty, pain of body, losses, and disappointments, were all received as from the hands of a heavenly Father, who was "Too wise to err, too just to be unkind." Her pretty flower garden no longer blossoms, her rural abode is pulled down, and her debilitated frame, which she often compared to a cottage of clay, rests close to the walls of the Zion she loved. The remains of another very humble Christian, who nurtured the infancy of the writer, repose in the graveyard of She went through life with unostentatious behaviour. She made no parade of her religion, but was found looking unto Jesus; and surely, if the tree may be known by its fruits, her consistency of conduct generally, and par Let me now come to later times; and how many venerable characters crowd upon my recollection, "whose faith" may writer and reader be enabled to 'follow!" I saw a fine head, which had grown grey in the ways of wisdom, borne to his grave. And soon after him followed his aged companion. Diligence in business and fervency of spirit marked this holy pair: parents of a large family, their duty called them to work willingly with their hands. The mother was a pattern of frugality, industry, and maternal affection; yet in the midst of all her anxieties, God was her chief good; she loved his ways, his house, his people, and she is now at his right hand. The father walked closely with God, was a man of prayer, and brought his religion into action in his life and conversation. The end of each was peace. One who might well be named after Bountiful, the sister of Mercy, in Bunyan's Pilgrim, rests among the remains of these departed saints. Benevolence and humility were the master graces of her renewed nature. She was a faithful stewardess, kind and generous to all; and the poor of the household of faith found in her an untiring friend. She was a cheerful giver, and devised liberal things, on all occasions, for the cause of Christ, or the purposes of charity; and when she had done her utmost, with humility of spirit she disclaimed any wor thiness of her own; but acknowledged herself, in the sincerity of her heart, an unprofitable servant. "Precious Saviour!" was her frequent expression, as she was passing through the cold waters of Jordan, till she was received on the shore of immortality, and we saw her no more. Many others might be added to these sketches; some, indeed, respecting whom I dare not trust myself to speak, lest the veneration I feel for the memory of the just, should lead me into a partial strain. Reader! the time must shortly come when you and I shall be called to lay these mortal bodies in the grave, as has been the case with those whom I have been describing. "These all died in faith;" and the virtues I have recorded sprung from the love of Christ in their hearts. The blessed memory of each, like a fair flower, still blossoms over their sleeping dust. Meekness, contentment, faithfulness, teachableness, diligence, fervency of spirit, benevolence, and humility; what a cluster of Christian graces is here! Shall we leave the fragrance of some one, or all of these fruits of the Spirit behind us? Above all, shall we approve ourselves unto God? "OVERCOME EVIL WITH GOOD." but I know that he was generally successful, and that the workpeople employed by him had to submit to a reduction of wages many times over. I also knew some of those that were thus reduced; they were men of prayer: they have now and then hinted to me that they thought themselves aggrieved, but, like other good people, they did not trouble me much with their complaints; they knew where to find a support and consolation. They were careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication they made their request known unto God. I would not presume to judge upon this point in any degree; but the very frequent occurrence of these quarrels brought home to the minds of most men a strong persuasion that the individual referred to must have been culpable. However, his riches still increased his partner retired from business with great wealth, and left him sole proprietor, as well as sole manager, of their vast establishments; and now his heart was set upon the honours, the distinctions, the pleasures, that his reputation for wealth procured for him, and he grew proud and supercilious. No one could be in his company without perceiving this to his inferiors and those in his employ, he was haughty and overbear considerate towards them; to those whom he now considered his equals, he made himself ridiculous by an uplifted, self-important bearing. But this is by no means the point to which I would now direct attention. In a well-known town, there was a very rich man, or which, for the time, is much the same thing, one who hading in manner, though often kind and the reputation of being so. He had once been very poor; but he was industrious and saving, and God had given him mental powers somewhat superior to those of other men; and then he was energetic and persevering. These qualities were perceived and appreciated by the owners of the mill in which he was employed, and he was advanced to a higher station with better wages. This had the effect upon him that it ought to have had; it stimulated his industry and zeal for his master's welfare. In consequence, he rose rapidly, and in a few years became sole manager of a vast mercantile establishment with a small share in it. Thus his riches increased, but he had set his heart upon them firmly, immoveably: it was wedded to his gold. He became greedy and grasping; he was constantly at variance with those who had formerly been his fellow workmen, upon the subject of their wages. I do not say that he was always in the wrong, and they always in the right. I know nothing of the details of the matter; One of the seven wise men of ancient Greece, was once endeavouring to convince a wicked king of the omnipresence of God. The monarch listened to him impatiently, and soon interrupted his discourse with the scornful question, "What is God doing now?" The answer of the sage was brief, but significant, "Humbling the proud." In the midst of this man's prosperity, the commercial difficulties arose, the pressure of which has already reduced so many from comfort to poverty, and is still filling so many hearts with anxiety, and clouding so many faces with care. One of the first signs of the approach of these bad times in the neighbourhood of which I am now speaking, was the rumour that this man was embarrassed, which was followed with a rapidity unusual in such cases, with the fearful tidings that he was unable to pay his debts, and must be made a bankrupt. Then the secret of all his supposed wealth was disclosed. What a world of iniquity had the love of money heaped upon this man's conscience! He had defrauded his best friends; he had robbed the widow; he had plundered the orphans, whom their dying parents had solemnly committed to his trust. He had obtained of the workmen employed under him the use of their little savings, under various pretexts. An exceeding bitter cry pierced the ears of the Lord of sabaoth. It is much to be desired, that the ministers of God's word would at this time very frequently, and very earnestly, press upon their hearers the evil of the love of money, which is so pre-eminently the besetting sin of this age and nation, and which is so evidently provoking God's wrath against us. God heard the cry of the oppressed; the stony heart of this stubborn man was broken by the revilings and reproaches of the many without, whom, by fraud and robbery, he had involved in hopeless ruin, and by the stings and lashes of his outraged conscience within. He laid him down to die in the prime and vigour of his life, and with no other ailment than the mental torments which reflection upon his past life and mortified pride inflicted upon him. But it is time I said something, also, about another person, of whom I wish to speak. Riches had increased with him also, but in good or evil tidings "his heart was fixed, trusting in the Lord." He loved and feared God, and God has hitherto given, and I trust will continue to give, that "blessing which maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow with it." This person had had large commercial transactions with the man who now lay dying; who had shamefully taken the advantage of him at length, so that at the time of his bankruptcy the good man was involved to the amount of the full half of his goods. The bankrupt had always avoided an interview with him, for he dared not look him in the face. They met, for the first time, after the failure early in his last illness This individual hastened to his house immediately on hearing of it, and asked for an interview. It was not denied him, for the unhappy man had made up his mind for the worst. He received him with a dogged determination to endure every thing. Expecting nothing but keen reproaches and stern inquiries, he was supported in an upright posture, and saw him enter the room with something like calmness and composure, though the scalding tears which the sorrow of the world had wrung from his heart were yet moist upon his cheek. But when the good man approached his bedside, with a smile of kindness and benevolence, held out his hand to him, and assured him that he had entirely forgiven and forgotten all that was past, and that his only object in calling upon him was to inquire how he could minister to his wants, and add to his comforts; he fell back upon his bed groaning with anguish, and hid his face in the pillow, frantically exclaiming, "Anything but that; I cannot bear that!" The good man's whole deportment showed how he rejoiced in this opportunity of exemplifying the most difficult of his Saviour's precepts. He saw the temporal wants of that man abundantly supplied; he visited him almost daily until his death; he read the Scriptures to him; he prayed with him; he pointed out to him earnestly and affectionately Jesus Christ and him crucified, whose blood cleanseth from all sin. But every successive act of kindness did but wring from the wretched sufferer another cry of agony, แ Tell me how I have wronged you!" he raved incessantly, "Tell me how I have defrauded you, how I deceived you; tell me what a villain I am: you never mention these things. Oh, I cannot bear that; you cannot forgive me!" It is needless to proceed with the painful details of these interviews. Suffice it to say, that if there was a hope in his death, he who pointed this dying sinner to the Saviour was his largest creditor. What an exemplification was there of the inspired precept-"If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good," Rom. xii. 20, 21. FATAL EFFECTS OF PROSPERITY. I REMEMBER an instance in which sudden prosperity was followed by even fatal effects. An industrious couple were at the same time seized with a malignant fever. They were placed in separate | And why would the censure, withholden rooms, but within hearing of each other. in the one case, be awarded in the Their mutual inquiries were almost in- other? Simply, because, in the first cessant, till delirium in both ended all instance, the facts are admitted; and, in anxiety. The husband died, and was the second, they are disbelieved. And buried, while the wife was in a state of such, in truth, amidst all the reverence utter unconsciousness. When she be- which they pretend to pay to religion, is gan to recover her reason, the first indi- the infidelity of a large portion of the uncation of its return was the affectionate converted.-Ford's Decapolis. inquiry, "My dear! my love! are you better?" But there was no voice, neither any that regarded. She became alarmed. To keep her quiet, the nurse wickedly told her that her husband was better; but that the doctor had sent him away for change of air. This falsehood satisfied her for several days, and then she awoke to the overwhelming conseiousness of her bereavement, and found herself the widowed mother of five children, with little prospect of anything but the workhouse: the staff of the family was gone. She was, however, a woman of spirit, and she roused herself to exertion. Early and late she toiled to keep together the little business that remained, and in part she succeeded. It was a hard struggle; but still, by diligence and frugality, she kept herself and her babes from pauperism. Thus things continued, till one morning the postman brought her a letter from the executors of an old gentleman, a distant relation to her late husband, but of whom she had never heard, and from whom, of course, she had no expectations, informing her of his death, and that he had left her eight hundred pounds. This sudden reverse of fortune was too much for her to bear; for a whole fortnight she never closed her eyes, and then she died. Her death was universally attributed to excessive joy; and though many lamented it for the sake of her children, none seemed to think it strange: certainly, not one was heard to remark on the evils of property, or found to opine that an unexpected legacy is a very dangerous thing. Now, suppose that instead of being in straitened circumstances, she had been under deep anxiety about her soul; and that instead of being informed of a legacy of eight hundred pounds, she had obtained an assurance of her acceptance with God, and that, in consequence of such assurance, joy had kept her awake for a fortnight; at the end of which she died -what would the world have said then? How rife would have been the imputations of extravagance and fanaticism! A RAMBLING, UNCONNECTED, DESULTORY CHAPTER, BY OLD HUMPHREY. NOTHING is more delightful, when we have a praiseworthy object in view, when the intellect is clear, and the heart full of enterprize, than to take up the pen, and pursue a subject with the same ardour with which a keen sportsman pursues his game. Though words come uncalled for, they come not quick enough to express our rapid conceptions. We hurry on, breathe quick, write fast; virtuous and high-minded thoughts and words are ennobled by virtuous and high-minded intentions; a thrilling susceptibility spreads through our veins, and the glow upon the cheek is not the symbol of shame, but rather the token of successful achievement and inward delight. Such a season as I have described is, however, the very reverse of the present one with Old Humphrey. Sickness and pain have somewhat subdued him; and he takes up his pen free from excitement and enthusiasm, having no other object intelligible to himself than that of indulging in the quiet amusement of noting down his rambling, unconnected, and desultory thoughts. Some four or five weeks ago, when sitting on a rail at eventide, my crazy seat gave way beneath me, and I fell backwards into a dry ditch, bruising my arm and my elbow. I gathered myself up again, thinking but little of the matter, and left my bruises to themselves, nothing doubting that in a little How time they would be seen no more. dim sighted are the eyes of men when While writing gazing on futurity! these lines, my arm is bound up with a splint, like a broken bone. The injury received was greater than I at the time supposed; I can, it is true, now use my arm, and I contrive to write with my hand, but not without difficulty. A right hand is an important appendage to every man, and mine is indeed so to me; but will it become |