firmament sooner than expunge from the oracles of God the vital doctrine of spiritual regeneration. The question may be asked- the question was asked, by one of no mean report or limited acquirements in Israel" How can these things be?" But the doctrine is indelibly engraven on the records of God's revealed truth. God grant that the power of the doctrine, and its momentous reality, may be experienced by the hearts of all now before me.-Rev. T. Bissland. COMFORT IN SORROW.-The utmost that philosophy can pretend to have is words only, and empty sounds in comparison. Ten thousand such volumes at Seneca and Epictetus can never lie so close at our hearts, or give that sweet repose to spirits in perplexity, as this single text from St. Paul rightly applied would do: "Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."-Dean Stanhope. GOOD WORDS.-Good words will do more than hard speeches; as the sunbeams, without any noise, made the traveller cast off his cloak, which all the blustering of the wind could not do, but made him bind it the tighter.-Archbp. Leighton. THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.-If we believe and know that the Scripture is inspired by God, then we can entertain it with no other than an awful address; and we cannot be Christians if we do not so believe. Every clause, therefore, of that God-inspired volume must be as reverently received by us, so seriously weighed and carefully laid up, as knowing that there is no tittle there without his use. What we read, we must labour to understand; what we cannot understand, we must admire silently, and modestly inquire of. There are plain truths, and there are deep mysteries. The bounty of God hath left this well of living water open for all: what runs over is for all comers; but every one hath not wherewith to draw. There is no Christian that may not enjoy God's book, but every Christian may not interpret it; those shallow fords that are in it may be waded by every passenger, but there are deeps wherein he that cannot swim may drown. "How can I, without a guide?" said that Ethiopian eunuch: wherefore serves the tongue of the learned, but to direct the ignorant? Their modesty is of no less use than the other's skill. It is a woful condition of a Church when no man will own himself to be ignorant. -Bp. Hall. Poetry. NATIONAL BALLADS.-No. V. IMMORALITY THE BANE OF ENGLAND. BY M. A. STODART. (For the Church of England Magazine.) ENGLAND! a crown is on thy brow, Thy sceptre's on the sea, And tribute-treasures round thee flow, A glory too, from years gone by, My country! tear-drops force their way I love the land my fathers trod; That thou, the favour'd one of God, Yet so it is along thy streets The winds loud curses waft, And vice the idle passer greets With sparkling, burning draught; The drunkard sits within the gate, And Christ is made his song, And jokes and gibes upon him wait, In careless, reckless throng. Lady of kingdoms! doff thy crown, And bow thee to the dust; Thou canst not stand God's withering frown, The cry is loud and deep; O rouse thee, ere the work be done, I cannot sing as poets sing, My harp is faint and weak; OUR OLD CATHEDRALS. I LOVE our old cathedrals, When the morning sunbeams shine Through the richly painted windows, Above the altar-shrine; I love our old cathedrals, When the evening lamps burn bright, And through the lofty arches stream Their rays of softest light. I love our old cathedrals, With their organs pealing high, While the choristers are singing, And the vaulted roofs reply; I love our old cathedrals, With the anthem pealing loud, When praises are ascending From the densely mingled crowd. I love our old cathedrals, When heaven-devoted zeal Unites the heart and voice in prayer I love our old cathedrals, I love our old cathedrals, When silence reigns around, And the faint footstep's hardly heard To break the still profound; I love our old cathedrals, The cloisters' solemn gloom, Where I may muse a pensive hour, And wand'ring thoughts call home. STATE OF SOCIETY IN SYDNEY.-In 1836 the free population of New South Wales amounted to 59,255, of whom about 17,000 had been convicts. In 1834 the free population of Van Dieman's Land did not exceed 23,315, of whom about 3000 were expirees. Of the state of society in the towns of these colonies, a general idea may be formed from a description of the town of Sydney, according to the accounts given of it by its chief police-magistrate, and by Mr. Justice Burton. In 1836 Sydney covered an area of about 2000 acres, and contained about 20,000 inhabitants; of this number 3500 of them were convicts, most of them in assigned service, and about 7000 had probably been prisoners of the crown. These, together with their associates amongst the free population, were persons of violent and uncontrollable passions, which most of them possessed no lawful means of gratifying-incorrigibly bad characters, preferring a life of idleness and debauchery by means of plunder, to one of honest industry. Burglaries and robberies were frequently perpetrated by convict servants in the town and its vicinity, sometimes even in the middle of the day. No town offered so many facilities for eluding the vigilance of the police as Sydney did. The unoccupied bush, near and within it, afforded shelter to the offender, and hid him from pursuit. He might steal or hire a boat, and in a few minutes place an arm of the sea between himself and his pursuers. The want of continuity in the buildings afforded great facilities for lying in wait for opportunities of committing crime, for instant concealment on the approach of the police, and for obtaining access to the backs of houses and shops; and the drunkenness, idleness, and carelessness of a great portion of the inhabitants, afforded innumerable opportunities and temptations, both by day and night, for those who chose to live by plunder. The greater portion of the shopkeepers and of the middling classes had been convicts; for the tradesmen connected with the criminal population have an advantage over free emigrants. Those of the emancipatists possessed of property had generally gained it by keeping grogshops, gambling-houses, by receiving stolen goods, and by other nefarious practices: they led a life of gross licentiousness; but their wealth and influence were such, that one-fourth of the jurors who served in the civil and criminal courts during the years 1834, 1835, and 1836, belonged to their number. More immorality prevailed in Sydney than in any other town of the same size in the British dominions; there the vice of drunkenness had attained its highest pitch. The quantity of spirits consumed in Sydney was enormous. Even throughout the whole of New South Wales, the annual average for every human being in the colony had reached four gallons a-head. With a free population little exceeding 16,000, Sydney contained two hundred and nineteen public-houses, and so many unlicensed spiritshops that its chief police- magistrate felt himself incompetent to guess at the number. The great portion of these public-houses were kept by persons who had been transported convicts, and who were notorious drunkards, obscene persons, fighters, gamblers, receivers of stolen goods, receivers and harbourers of one. thieves, and of the most depraved of both sexes; and who existed upon the depravity of the lower orders. Such, according to the authorities we have quoted, are the towns to which transportation has given birth; and such are the inmates furnished to them by the criminal tribunals of this country. In the country districts of New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land, the proportion of convict men to women is as seventeen to As the greater proportion of the agricultural labourers belong to the criminal population, they constitute a peasantry unlike any other in the world — a peasantry without domestic feelings or affections, without parents or relations, without wives, children, or homes-one more strange and less attached to the soil they till than the negro slaves of a planter. They dwell crowded together in miserable liuts; the hours of recreation which they can steal from the night are usually spent in the unlicensed spirit-shops to be found in the vicinity of every estate. In these places, kept by some ticket-of-leave man or emancipated convict, the assigned servants of settlers generally purchase the means of gratifying their appetites for liquor, gaming, and every species of debauchery, by the proceeds of their depredations on the flocks and herds, and other property of their masters.-Keport of House of Commons' Committee. RELIGIOUS DESTITUTION OF TROOPS ABROAD.-Next in importance, if not even more important than any considerations connected with the arrangements of the medical staff, I would call your lordship's attention to the great, and I might almost say criminal, negligence of the government, in not providing a sufficient number of chaplains for the forces on foreign stations. While a regiment continues in Great Britain or Ireland, the men are made to attend divine service regularly, at some church or chapel, on every Sunday throughout the year; but the moment they are embarked on board ship for colonial service, all care for their souls' welfare is entirely lost sight of. There is not, in the whole of our West India possessions, a single church or chapel where a regiment can be assembled to hear the prayers of the Church read, or the Gospel of Christ preached. There is not even a shed where they can meet to receive any religious or moral instruction. They are literally compelled to live without God in the world; and Sunday becomes, of all days, the most distinguished for drunkenness, and all manner of irregularity; and generally sends more patients to the hospitals than all the other six days of the week. There is, it is true, with the early dawn of every Sunday morning, what is generally (I had almost said, in mockery) called a church parade. The men are assembled in front of their barracks, exposed to the damp and noxious exhalations from the moist earth, and the slanting beams of the rising sun; when some clergyman of the colony, in a hurried manner, reads over the prayers of the morning service, or perhaps only a part of them; and of what he does utter, few, if any, of the soldiers can hear one word. The men are then dismissed, and the day is spent by the great portion of them in listless idleness in their barrackrooms, or in sleeping exposed to the currents of air in the verandas or corridors; while the more profligate crowd into the canteens and grog-shops, to get drunk and quarrel with each other. From this Sabbath idleness, and these Sunday broils, arise many of the diseases which prove most fatal in the colonies.-From a Letter to the Right Hon. the Secretary at War, &c., by Sir Andrew Halliday, M.D. London: Published by JAMES BURNS, 17 Portman Street, Portman Square; W. EDWARDS, 12 Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country. PRINTED BY ROBSON, LEVEY, AND FRANKLYN, 46 ST. MARTIN'S LANE. THE NEW CREATION. BY THE REV. CHARLES RAWLINGS, A.B. Curate of Towednack, Cornwall. II. Ir should ever be borne in mind, that the new creature is a complete creature. The moral change produced on him is an universal change; the energy of the Spirit's work pervades the entire man. Not one, but all the powers and faculties of the new-born soul, are enstamped with the sacred seal of heaven. There is a constant, a persevering, mortification of the lusts of the flesh; for they that are Christ's have crucified, and do crucify from day to day," the flesh, with the affections and lusts." There is the habitual exercise of self-denial carried out and exhibited in a thousand ways; and there is a growing victory over the world in the power of divine faith. Immeasurably important is it to be the subjects of the new creation in Christ Jesus. It is the exhortation of an apostle, "Examine yourselves whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves." Self-examination cannot be too often enforced, because it is always a necessary task. There are who labour under a delusion in reference to the state of their souls: and almost innumerable are the sources of delusion to the fallen spirit of man. In the presumptuous confidence of the Laodicean Church, we may say we are "rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing;" whilst the deeply humbling fact is, "we are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." This is the awful reality of the spiritual condition of multitudes before God, and yet they know it VOL. VII. NO. CLXXIII. not. PRICE 1d. Satan labours to keep up the delusion, to silence the appeals of conscience, and to confirm his tyrant power. The voice of warning is addressed to us in almost every page of the inspired volume. It is solemnly declared, "there is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death;"" there is a generation which are pure in their own eyes, and yet is not washed from their filthiness;" there are who name the name of Christ, and that is all they do; to whom it will be said another day, "I never knew you; depart from me, all ye that work iniquity." A conscience penetrated with the arrows of conviction, a trembling apprehension of the wrath of the Almighty due to sin, a feeling of intense earnestness about the salvation of the soul, a fleeing for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before us in the Gospel, even a crucified Redeemer,-these are among the decided evidences of the new creation: all this must be the experience of those who are in Christ. There must have been a sense of disease, before there could be an application to the Physician for a cure; there must have been a consciousness of guilt, before there could be a desire to wash in the fountain of a Saviour's blood; there must have been a dread of condemnation and eternal vengeance, before there could be an anxiety to escape both, and find shelter in the ark of safety. An humble submission to the terms of Gospel-mercy, a grateful welcome of Christ to the soul in the glory of his Person, the perfection of his righteousness, and the allsufficiency of his atoning sacrifice, this must precede and does accompany the new creation. There is nothing of equal value and importance to an interest in the Redeemer's merits; [London: Robson, Levey, and Franklyn, 46 St. Martin's Lane.] C there is nothing which will support a man in the sick and dying hour, but a persuasion that Christ is ours and we are his. Here is the true rest of the soul amidst all the fluctuations of time, and in the deeply solemn prospect of eternity. But once more: a renewal of the heart and affections, by the power of the Holy Ghost, is discovered at once by its blessed effects on the disposition and practice. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." Those who created in Christ Jesus are sensible of a con are straining power to the performance of good works," which God has before ordained that they should walk in them;" they seek increasingly to realise in their souls the life and spirit of religion; they labour to abound yet more and more in "the fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ unto the glory and praise of God." "We know," says St. John," that we are passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." Love of the brethren in Christ Jesus, is one striking proof that we are spiritually alive unto God; careful and anxious should we be to exhibit this proof. Let us love the people of God because they are his people, and bear his image enstamped upon their souls. Let us love the people of God with a tender and an affectionate love; consider them " fellow-citizens with us, and of the household of God;" think of them as children of the same Father, heirs of the same glory, and travellers to the same home. TRAVELLING, a few years ago, in a midland county, while my horse was resting at the village-inn, I strolled through some neighbouring fields, until I suddenly arrived at a dilapidated gateway, ornamented with mortuary coats of arms, which was obviously the entrance to a park of considerable magnitude. The rusty gate was open; and I proceeded for upwards of a mile on a broad, grass-grown walk, before I reached a large and stately mansion, the appearance of which betokened marks of decay. The approach to it was almost a wilderness of rough weeds, and strikingly contrasted with the neatly trimmed lawn of a newbuilt parsonage, on which were some blithe children at play, and the equally well-kept burial-ground of an ancient Gothic church at no great distance. Seated at the principal door of the mansion was an old woman, exceedingly neatly dressed for her rank in life, knitting stockings, to whom a girl was reading from a large Bible. Proffering a kind of apology for my intrusion, to which she curtsied in return, I made some obscrvation as to the exquisiteness of the weather, and the beauty of the surrounding scenery. "I think by your dress, sir," said the old woman, "that you are a clergyman; and I am always glad to see you gentlemen. I am thankful to say, sir, that our good vicar, who lives there (pointing to the house already referred to) is a very kind friend to His good lady and himself generally come and see me two or three times a-week, and read and explain the Scriptures. But should you like to walk me. into the hall, sir, and rest? for it is very hot." There was something peculiarly interesting in the scene, and in the demeanour of the good old woman; and I ing, in the Elizabethan style of architecture; but its gladly accepted the offer. The hall was a noble builddamp walls, damp and desolate even amidst the bright sunshine of a bright July day,-told a melancholy tale; and while under the guidance of my conductress, who hobbled along as fast as rheumatism would permit, I passed through the magnificent cham bers, on the walls of which were here and there suspended some fading and mouldering portraits, I was insensibly led to indulge very melancholy feelings. One portrait for a moment riveted my attention. It was that of an elegant girl, probably about seventeen, and bore all the marks of being the production of a master-hand-perhaps that of a Kneller. "Ah, sir," said the old housekeeper, observing that I was attracted by the painting, "that is the picture of the old squire's mother, Lady Alice Blanche. The old squire by his mother's side was of noble blood. She died in childbed of her first-the old squire that was. Old squire's father married again, an excellent lady, as I have been told, kind to the poor, and beloved by all the neighbourhood: a fine family they had had; and she loved the old squire as much as if he were her own; but, some how or other, my own father, the old squire's father's butler that was, has often told me his master never was the same man after Lady Alice's death. Father has often seen him leave the drawing-room when all was gay and cheerful around him, and his merry family were in high glee, and come and look upon this picture; and has seen his large fine eyes filled with tears as he sat on the chair opposite to it. They say, sir, there is no love like youth's first love;" and she wiped a tear away with the corner of her white apron; "but, sir, we must not set our hearts and affections on things of earth." Perhaps even the experience of this good old woman bore testimony to the truth of her remark. I confess I was amazingly struck with the scene around me. The mansion was obviously that of a family of the highest grade among the commonalty of the land; and curiosity would have prompted me to inquire beyond what was right into the peculiar circumstances which had led to the desertion of the mansion. I found, however, my conductress silent upon the subject. She spoke much of the days of her youth, when she recollected the old squire's marriage. She descanted largely, and with apparent satisfaction, on the magnificent style of the establishment; on the festivities which used at certain seasons to be kept up. "I think I see the squire," she said "I was but a child then going to church of a Sunday with all the family and servants. It was a noble sight. The old squire's half-brother was the vicar, and much liked he was; faithfully he preached the Gospel, when such preaching was rare; but he died of a decline. There was not a tenant that thought of being absent from divine worship. We were all like one family, as it were; but now things are all contrary. It makes my heart sad of a Sunday to see the old family-pew with no one in it; and the old crimson lining does look so faded and worn. I need not, however, tell you more." I saw there was a keeping-back on her part, which prevented my questioning her further-a keepingback which raised her the higher in my estimation; for it is peculiarly disgusting to find the domestic of a family, as I have often found, expatiating on its faults: but I afterwards learned, that this good woman had, from a very early age, been under the influence of deep religious feelings; and these feelings led her, as they invariably do, to dwell but slightly, if at all, on the faults and failings of others. Alas, how fearfully do they deceive themselves who think that calumny and slander are consistent with a profession of the Gospel of Christ! It may safely be affirmed, that no individual who has been brought to a saving knowledge of Divine truth can ever feel inclined to expatiate on the errors of others, however truly he may deplore them; and the very fact that there is such an inclination, is an unquestionable evidence of the want of true religion in the soul. Returning to the small inn, I there found from the landlord the true cause of the desolation of this once splendid mansion, of its dreary chambers, and the decay manifested all around it. The old squire, so designated by the housekeeper, having died, the estate came into the possession of his only son, nay, only child, who squandered his fortune in vice and riotous living. Gambling, horse-racing, and cock-fighting, were the chief amusements of the day, and deep drinking the business of the night; and many a young man might trace his ruin to his intimacy with this new squire. Hall became notorious for its profligacy; and no one who valued his own or his family's reputation would visit there. It became the haunt of characters, male and female, of the worst description, who lived on the wealth of its abandoned possessor, until that wealth was entirely squandered. It was in vain that the vicar, his uncle, expostulated with him. He forbade the good man entering his door; and he never went to church himself. Sunday was one of his most riotous days. In youth he had been sent to travel in foreign countries, and had imbibed not a few of the lax notions too prevalent on the subject of religion. He became, in fact, a confirmed unbeliever; and the fruit of his unbelief was a total disregard of the restraints of morality, or even the common decencies of life. He had found an early grave while resident on the continent; for he fell a prey to his licentious habits; and those present at his last hours declared that nothing could exceed the horror and agony of his mind. He died intestate; and the estate became the subject of endless litigation. It was now suffered to go to ruin during the uncertainty of a long-pending Chancery suit. The advowson had gone into other hands; and the old housekeeper and an old gardener were the sole inmates of the hall, kept there by trustees, who scarcely allowed them the means of support. "The stately homes of England, Amidst their tall, ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land! The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam; And the swan glides past them with the sound HEMANS. "Stately and beautiful," to use the language of the poetess, the old Hall still stood, though the voice of merriment no longer resounded in its chambers, and its tall, ancestral trees were fast hastening to decay. It stood a monument of the ruin which inevitably follows in the train of guilt. It seemed to speak, with the voice of solemn warning, "the wages of sin is death." It read to all a valuable lesson, that "he that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption." Few incidents in my life, I confess, have made a deeper impression on my heart than the desolation and stillness of old Hall. Z. NATIONAL EDUCATION. BY THE REV. NEWTON SMART, M.A. Master of Farley Hospital, Wilts; and Chaplain to the Bishop of Ripon. II. IN considering the subject of national education, the first inquiry which naturally presents itself is, as to the existing provision for the education of the children of the labouring classes. It would seem, indeed, hardly necessary to bring proofs of a fact which all admit, that such provision is totally inadequate, but it is desirable, as far as possible, to ascertain the amount of popular education supplied by the various societies, and by private schools, by which, though imperfectly, the ground is already occupied. It is, however, impossible, from any documents yet furnished, to obtain accurate information upon this point. The select committee appointed by parliament in 1838 to consider the best means of providing useful education for the children of the poorer classes in large towns throughout England and Wales, state in their report that they "have to lament that the materials are so scanty which are afforded them for giving an account of the present state of education of the humbler classes. Until very recently, the subject appears to have entirely escaped the attention of government. There appear to be no returns to parliament of any authority on this point; nor, indeed, are there at present adequate means of making them. The returns made to queries sent out by the committee on education of 1835, are found to be incorrect as well as defective; and on this matter, important as it is to the welfare of all classes, there seem to exist no sources of information in any department of government." In the absence, therefore, of a full body of authentic documents, an approximation to the amount of popular education is all that can be obtained, and is sufficient for the present purpose, which is not to supply an accurate list of schools and scholars, but to shew that the existing provision for the education of the labouring classes is, however excellent in part, deficient in quantity and defective in quality, when taken as a whole, and considered as a provision for the nation. England is suffering deeply at this time from having outgrown the provision made for the instruction of the people. In 1710, the population of England and Wales was 5,066,000; in 1831 it was 13,897,187; now it is more than 15,000,000. The numbers between the ages of 2 and 16, requiring cheap education, have been calculated at nearly 4 millions. The results of the parliamentary inquiry in 1833 were, upwards of one million of day-scholars, and upwards of one million and a half of Sunday-scholars. These results have been rejected, as deduced from inaccurate returns; but it is probable they are below the real amount of day and Sunday scholars, allowing for duplicate returns where the same child attends both a day and Sunday school. It appeared in evidence before the select committee of last session, that the statistical society of Manchester states, "That the gross amount of error actually detected by the committee in the government-tables, in the 5 towns they have examined, is, 34,000 scholars; and the real error is probably considerably more :" "that is to say, there was a return of fewer scholars |