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under a variety of designations, according to local and suggestive circumstances, but the antitypes were probably always the same. Some extend their number to seven, and believe them to represent the family of Noah, exclusive of its head, to whom separate and superior honours were assigned. The hierophantic mysteries would thus depict the horrors with which the ark was surrounded, the gloom in which its inmates were immersed, and the passage through death to life and light ultimately granted them. Some reduce to three the number of the Cabiri, and would see in them emblems of the Divine Triad, the Father, the Word, the Spirit. Thus, the sphere or circle would symbolize the Divine nature without beginning or end. The serpent protruding from the sphere, would typify the Word that created and clothed the world; and the wings, the Spirit, that imparts vital and motive energy. So the three stones within the northern temple of Abury, have been construed into three mighty ones, enclosed by a circle of eternity. Thoth the Beneficent stands alone in the circle of time, represented by the one stone in the southern temple; while the ring-stone placed apart, destined to the office of slaughter, has been taken to indicate Typhon, the evil genius, and the whole is shut in by the large outer circle of space.

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MISSION SCHOOL FRUIT. SHOULD you ever visit the great western prairies of America, do not fail to spend a Sabbath in C- and, at 2 P.M., go to the

Mission Sabbath School. There you will see what can be accomplished by warm, strong hearts, and willing hands. A little more than two years since this school was commenced,—the district being one of the most uninviting in the city ; now there are over 1,000 children who meet in this Sabbath Home.

The history of this school I cannot now relate : but, as you pass up the eastern aisle, just stop midway, and observe that class of little boys; they are roughly clad, and their unseemly raiments tell of a near approach to want; but their faces are clean, their eyes bright, and so interested are they in what their teacher says, that they scarcely notice you or others who are there to look. interested. I knew you would be. Now turn to their teacher. Why, you say, she's but a child herself. True indeed, for fifteen summer suns have not yet passed her head. Little Mary R--was one of the first-fruits of this work of love, and she is thus proving her devotion to that Shepherd who has so recently gathered her to His fold. Look how the boys drink in her words! She is in earnest, as she tells the story of the Cross; and the seed she is sowing is falling into other than stony ground, and Mary waters it with her tears.

I would like to tell you much of this young, zealous Christian; but you can talk with her, and learn from herself the story of God's love. Let me, however, repeat one incident which you would not hear from her.

Mary's father was a sailor; and soon after she had found the Saviour, she went with him on one of his trips up our beautiful lake. As they returned, a storm arose ; the wind blew a perfect gale, the vessel was tossed upon the furious waves; the danger was imminent, and all seemed lost. While sailors, who had often encountered the stormy perils of the sea, were filled with terror and dismay, little Mary sat composedly by the hatchway, sweetly singing one of her Sabbath school hymns, -

“ We have nothing to fear from the wind or the wave,

Under our Saviour's command;
And our hearts in the midst of the dangers are brave,
For Jesus will bring us to land.

Then let the hurricane roar,
It will the sooner be o'er;
We will weather the blast,

And will land at last
Safe on the evergreen shore."

The sailors asked her if she was not afraid ? Why should I fear," she replied; “I trust in Jesus—He can save me from the water as He has from my sins.” Strong men were rebuked, and when the vessel gained her port—which she did without serious injury-all felt constrained to acknowledge the power and the goodness of Mary's God.

The next Sabbath saw several of these rough sailors-Mary's father included-at the Mission School and its prayer-neeting ; and we hope that they too may soon sing

“ We are joyously voyaging over the main,

Bound for the evergreen shore,
Whose inhabitants never of sickness complain,

And never see death any more."
But go and talk with little Mary.

J. T. G.


The little Village School-louse stood near the sloping green,

rosy children weekly met in garments neat and clean ;
Ah me! that was a pleasant sight, that glorious Sabbath morn,
To see the groups of children bright, go strolling o'er the lawn.
The bags they carried on their arms, contained the hymns they learn'd,
With many a pretty story book, the prizes they had earn'd.
And when they reached the village lane, where sombre fir trees grew,
The sun cast shadows o'er the track of soft and pleasant hue ;
The turnstile at the end is reached, and they pass through by turns
And wend their way 'neath hawthorn boughs, and through the waving ferns.
At length the School-house gate is gained, and teachers there they meet,
Who welcome them into the place, with smiles and kisses sweet;
Then through the open casements, out on the stilly air,
Is heard the voice of singing, of simple earnest prayer.
Classes then gather round the knees of teachers whom they love,
Who speak with gentle voice to them, of their great Friend above.
Ah then it is, as to their minds, His sufferings they reveal,
From soft blue eyes, through sunny curls, the tear is seen to steal ;
And thus in hallowed duties, the Sabbath day is pass'd,
And the pleasant cottage home is reached, ere evening's shades are cast :
Yet through the hours of childish play, the following week allow'd,
The thoughts of Sabbath School days spent, would to their memories crowd.



By the Great Exhibition at Bloomsbury, my readers will at once understand that the British Museum is intended. There has been

talk of removing it from its present position to some more occidental part of London, which would be obviously more difficult for its visitors to reach, and as this can scarcely be the object in view, it is well to know the removal is talk and nothing more.

Now, rather more than a century ago, when George the Third's grandfather was king, and Jacobites were clinking their cups over a bowl of water in secret homage to the romantic Stuart King on the other side of the Channel; when powder and periwigs were in fashion,

deep politicians, lounging at the chocolate-houses, were known by a liberal display of snuff on the upper lip; when the dandies of the day, in coats of glowing colours, ventilated their tailors' frippery at Ranelagh, and varied their inane lives by insulting peaceably disposed people, and taking the wall of those who wore no swords; when Hogarth was painting his inimitable pictures ; Pope “ doing" Homer into polished English ; Handel composing his magnificent music; Wesley and Whitfield, amid a storm of reproach and contumely, awakening the sleepers by their earnest zeal; when the rich and poor-the fashionable butterflies and vulgar caterpillars of society, were alike stirred by Arminian or Calvinistic Methodism—then Sir Hans Sloane offered, in his will, to Parliament the collection of curiosities which he had been collecting for a life-time, together with some rare old books, for something less than half their value. Parliament accepted the offer, and raised the money by means which we have learned to regard as immoral—as a mere gambling transaction-but at which our forefathers looked in another light; and so the funds were realized by a lottery. For the Sloane Museum £20,000. was paid; £10,000. for the Harleian Collection of Manuscripts; and £10,250. to the Earl of Halifax for the mansion known as Montague House, in Bloomsbury,- in those days a very much more dignified locality than it is now.

So began the British Museum, one of the most splendid national collections in the world. Availing themselves of the nucleus thus formed, eminent men became liberal donors, and the additions were numerous and valuable. George II. presented the Royal Library to the Museum, and granted the right to the trustees of claiming a copy of every book entered at Stationers' Hall. Hamilton's vases, Abercrombie's spoils, Cook's trophies, the libraries of Banks, Birch,

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Hawkins, Burney, Garrick, Arundel, Lansdowne, and Bridgewater, swelled the treasures of the Museum ; curiosities of civilized and barbarian life, from all quarters of the globe, crowded up the mansion, until it was found necessary to re-build, and alter, and enlarge and contrive, so that the wealth of the National Museum might be seen by the nation, and not be as completely concealed from public view as the bullion in the bank. A new British Museum was commenced in 1823, and notwithstanding the extent of the area occupied, and the economy which has been practised as to space, the Museum is still too small to hold its daily increasing treasures.

What a storehouse of learning the building has become! What an eloquent exponent of the dead past to the living present! What light it flings on the page of history from its sculptured stones and common household goods and pictures-how solemn the lessons which it teaches, how impressive the morals they enforce !

I am very often at the Bloomsbury Exhibition, spending a great many hours every week in the rearling room, to which I shall allude more particularly by-and-by. The public are admitted to the Museum on three days in the week only: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; but not a few, ignorant of or forgetful of these arrangements, come up to Bloomsbury to see the sight and find the gate closed; a man inside to open to visitors bound for the reading room, and to answer the unfortunate comers who are disappointed of the sight. I remember hearing two country lads debate the question with the Janitor, urging upon him the fact that it was their last day in town, and that they could not come another time. They were very earnest about it, and entered into some minute family particulars, which interested the policeman on duty, and three or four lads on errands, and a woman with a big basket and a little child; but it was of no possible use, the gate-keeper was civil, but could not make the disappointed visitors understand that he had no authority; they grew cross about it, and were going to write to somebody and “have that sort of thing cleared up.”

It is a curious sight to see the crowds that come to the Museum, that stand in its central hall and look up at its painted ceiling and round on its sculptures, and officials, with a sort of pleased wonder. The visitors, especially at holiday times, are a sight to see. Mechanics in their Sunday suits, fathers of families with their wives and children; girls in parties of three or four, who have arranged to meet each other and "go to the Museum ;" a large number of young people, with a predilection for sitting on the landings of the two grand staircases. I have sat there myself and watched the people

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