the borders of Tibet, is stated to be about 27,000 feet, or a little more than five miles in perpendicular height in its highest range, and is visible at the distance of 230 miles.

A company of men and camels, is called a caravan. Camels will smell water a mile off, and travel very fast, till they come to it. A large camel can carry 1000 lbs. weight. Their masters sing or whistle to make them go, and the louder they sing, the faster these animals will go.

Mr. Ireland, in his "Picturesque Tour through Holland, Brabant, and part of France, in 1789," gives the following account of the inventor of printing, when describing the city of Haerlem.

"Haerlem claims the invention of the art of printing. It is attributed to Lawrence Koster, an alderman of this city, in 1440; whose house is yet standing in the market-place, opposite the church. Amusing himself one day in the neighbouring wood, with cutting the bark of trees into the letters that formed the initials of his name, he is said to have laid them on paper, and falling asleep, when he awoke, observed, that from the dew, their form was impressed on the paper. This accident induced him to make further experiments: he next cut his letters in wood, and, dipping them in a glutinous liquid, impressed them on paper, which he found an improvement; and, soon after, substituting leaden and pewter letters, erected a press in his house; thus laying the foundation of this noble art, which has thence gradually risen to its present excellence. The art, it is said, was stolen from him by his servant, John Faustus, who conveyed it to Mentz, and, from the novelty of the discovery, soon acquired the title of Doctor and Conjurer. The original specimens are now shown at the library in the Town Hall. The first is on a leaf of parchment, and the second and third on paper, printed only on one side, and the corner left blank for capitals. At the top are wooden cuts, representing the creation, and, as it is called, Lucifer's Fall."

1

CORYDON, OR PASTORAL ELEGY.

1 What sorrowful sounds do I hear,
Move slowly along in the gale!
How solemn they fall on my ear,
As softly they pass through the vale :

Sweet Corydon's notes are all o'er,
Now lonely he sleeps in the clay;
His cheeks bloom with roses no more,
Since Death call'd his spirit away.

2 Sweet woodbines will rise round his tomb,
And willows their sorrowing wave;
Young hyacinths freshen and bloom;
While hawthorns encircle his grave.
Each morn, when the sun gilds the East,
The green grass bespangled with dew,
Will cast his bright beams on the west,
To charm the sad Caroline's view.

3 O, Corydon! hear the sad cries

Of Caroline, plaintive and slow;
O, Spirit! look down from the skies,
And pity thy mourner below :
'Tis Caroline's voice in the grave,
Which Philomel hears on the plain,
Then striving the mourner to sooth,
With sympathy joins in her strain.

4 Ye shepherds so blithesome and young;
Retire from your sports on the green,
Since Corydon's deaf to my song,

The wolves tear the lambs on the plain;

Each swain round the forest will stray;

And sorrowing, hang down his head,

His pipe then in symphony play,

Some dirge to young Corydon's shade.

5 And when the still night has unfurl'd
Her robes o'er the hamlet around,
Gray twilight retires from the world,
And darkness encumbers the ground;
I'll leave my lone gloomy abode,
To Corydon's urn will I fly;

There, kneeling, will bless the just God,
Who dwells in bright mansions on high.

6 Since Corydon hears me no more,
In gloom let the woodlands appear,
Ye oceans, be still of your roar,
Let autumn extend round the

year,

I'll hie me through meadows and lawns,
There cull the bright flow'rets of May,
Then rise on the wings of the morn,
And waft my young spirit away.

HYMN AND TUNE " HUMILITY."

1 The man that views his guilt and sin, with clear enlight❜ned eyes, He sees how vile a wretch he's been, and down in dust he lies. ▸ With humble, low submission 'tis, his soul is brought to say, That God the sov'reign potter is, and he but worthless clay. 8 His views are just and adequate, he sees it would be right If God should fix his future state in black, eternal night. 4 He gives it in both free and frank, his all he then resigns; He's willing now to sign a blank, and God should write the lines. 5 But yet he can't despair of grace, he wrestles with his God, And begs his precious soul might taste, the merits of his blood.

6 He pleads the merits of the Lamb, that his poor soul might live; He can't be willing to be damn'd, such language he doth give. The souls condemn'd to endless flames, blaspheme the God above, While heav'nly saints on highest strains, do praise redeeming love. 8 Should I be doom'd to endless wo, to burn for ever more,

'Twould never pay the debt I owe, nor cancel all the score. 9 Ten million years in fire and smoke, amidst the livid flames, Will gain no credit on the book, the debt is still the same. 10 But if by Christ my soul is freed, he will my surety stand, And every mite will then be paid, which justice can demand. 11 If such a brand of fire as I, should now be pluck'd from hell, How would the winged seraphs fly, such blessed news to tell. 12 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, what glory would redound How would the spotless, heav'nly hosts, their golden trumpets sound! 13 Must I despair of future bliss, and so withdraw my suit? No, God forbid, since mercy is thy darling attribute.

14 My ardent cries shall still ascend, while I have power to speak, And if I perish in the end, I'll die beneath thy feet.

15 The man that's brought to suth a case, God won't his suit deny;

But he will give him saving grace, and lift his soul on high.

16 The One in three, and three in One, all glory is their due, From beings far above the sun, and human creatures too.

HYMN AND TUNE "PILGRIM'S FAREWELL.”

1 Let us rise and go to Zion's hill,
Where all the peace and glory dwells,
And sit and sing to God my king,
And praise his name for evermore :
I'll go and see what joy is there.

2 Fare ye well, my friends, I must be gone,
I have no home nor stay with you;
I'll take my staff, and travel on,
Till I a better world can view :
Farewell, my loving friends, farewell.

3 Happy soul, just gone from earth to heav'n,
He flies to distant worlds above;

No more in this poor house of clay,
He dwells with God around his throne,
Where pain and death can never come.

:

4 We will go, like him, to see our God,
And change this earth for heav'n above
Come dry your tears, Christ is our friend,
He came to save poor sinful men,
In him our sorrows soon will end.

5. Travel on to blest eternity,

Where Jesus waits for us to come;
In death's dark gloom shout victory,

And rise to your eternal home,

Where fear and change shall be no more..

6 Golden joys above where Jesus dwells,
His love is full for every saint ;
Fountain of life immortal flows,

Thro'th' heav'nly world without restraint:
All's mine, if faithful here below.