He repeatedly acknowledged, with the deepest emotion, the kind offices of his medical attendant, his nurses, and the two dear friends who were seldom absent from him during his sickness. Never will they lose the impression of his form, his countenance, his manner, when on one occasion, a short time before his death, he was about to take a little wine of the kind called Lacryma Christi, which had formerly been given to him by a member of his own college: he gently raised his feeble arms from the bed on which they lay extended, and, with a voice of peculiar solemnity, invoked the best of blessings on all present, and on the kind friend whose gift the wine had been, in nearly the following words: "May all the blessings which my adorable Saviour purchased for me with his tears-yea, even with his own precious life-blood, be now given to me to enjoy, and to my two dearest friends, (mentioning them distinctly by name,) and to that dear friend who gave me this wine, that they may enjoy the same in time and eternity." Little after this appears to have occurred: nature was gradually sinking. Once, indeed, when he expressed his surprise that he should be so long in dying, Mr Carus quoted those texts, "I will wait all my appointed time." "He will make all thy bed," &c., and then one of his own expressions, "All is ordered in infinite wisdom and unbounded love." He replied immediately in a very energetic way, "And that is quite sufficient for me." The last words Mr Carus addressed to him were on Friday night: his hands were extended on the bed, and his eyes closed, his head supported on one side by pillows. Mr Carus gently took his withered hand in his own, and then solemnly pronounced that benediction, "The Lord bless thee and keep thee," &c. He faintly endeavoured to say, "Amen;" and after that he spoke no more. The same blessed frame of mind was evident to all, but weakness and exhaustion prevented any further manifestation of his feelings. He died on Sunday, November 13th, 1836, a few minutes after two o'clock in the afternoon, as the last peal was tolled for that very sermon which he had been appointed by the University to deliver as their select preacher. The following extract from a private letter of an eyewitness of the Funeral, gives the most vivid account of that solemnity which the writer has seen :— "The funeral took place on Saturday, November 19th. You know King's Great Court and the noble Chapel. The procession round the Quadrangle, usual on the burial within the precincts of a college resident, was very striking. The persons who made the procession, walking two or three abreast, nearly extended round the four sides of the Quadrangle. As we turned off by the south end of the new building, taking the outside walk, (close by the new building, and between that and the river,) I observed a large party of spectators on Clare-Hall-piece, who had not been able to gain admission. On entering the west door of King's Chapel, I was struck by the multitude of persons who filled the nave; men, women, and children, all, so far as I observed, in mourning, and very many giving proof that they were real mourners by their sighs and their tears. These I understood to be the hearers and parishioners of Mr Simeon, who, by his desire, as I was told, had been permitted to attend: and through this sorrowing crowd the procession moved on into the quire. The stall which I occupied allowed me a full view of the interior, and it was indeed a solemn sight: nor was it the least interesting circumstance, on an occasion when all was interesting, to see the young men of the University, as they stood during the service between the coffin and the communion rails, all in mourning, and all, in appearance at least, feeling deeply the loss which had brought us together, and the solemnity of the service. The vault in which the body was deposited, is near the west door of the building. Here, of course, the service concluded. The provost read most expressively; and, taking under review all the circumstances and accompaniments of the funeral-the affectionate respect for the departed, himself the Luther of Cambridge-the sorrowing multitudes, including several hundreds of University men-the tones of the organ, more solemn than ever I heard them the magnificence of the building, &c., I should think that no person who was present could ever fail, so long as he remembers any thing, to carry with him a powerful remembrance of that day. At Trinity College Chapel, on Sunday evening, we had a funeral anthem. The Master of Trinity went with me to Mr S.'s church to hear the sermon. Many of the leading members of the University likewise attended the funeral sermon. In a word, turning to my old recollections, I could scarcely have believed it possible that Mr S. could thus be honoured at his death! His very enemies, if any of them lived so long, seemed now to be at peace with him." The following epitaph was found among his papers: "In memory of CHARLES SIMEON, a long time Fellow of King's College, and . years Vicar of this Parish, who, whether as to the ground of his own hopes, or as to the subject of all his ministrations, determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified.1 Cor. ii. 2." Underneath it were written the following words: "I am not solicitous where my body is placed. A sermon to be preached before the University, to be printed, and a copy given to every inhabitant—to be entitled, Simeon's bequest, or statement, or vindication of evangelical religion or something to that effect." [The above interesting article is Extracted from "The Christian Intelligencer," a monthly periodical published in Calcutta.] "PUT ON THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD." EPHESIANS vi. 11. GIRD thy loins up, Christian soldier; Patch up no inglorious peace; As thy foes and fears increase. In the paths of promise tread; Wield the Spirit's two-edged sword; Then present the shield of faith. Sheathed in love and quenched in blood.. Though to speak thou be not able, Always pray and never rest; Prayer's a weapon for the feeble-Weakest souls can wield it best. Ever on thy Captain calling, Make thy worst condition known; He shall hold thee up when falling, Or shall lift thee up when down. HART. THE ALGUM, OR ALMUG TREE. BY THE REV. WILLIAM PATRICK. OUR translators have taken the names here as they stand in the original. The plant is named almug in Kings, and algum in Chronicles, in the same way that in the one passage we have Hiram and in the other Huram; the difference is one merely involving letters, and the same plant (like the same individuals) is alluded to in both cases. This tree is only mentioned three times in Scripture. In 1st Kings we are told that "the navy also of Hiram, that brought gold from Ophir, brought in from Ophir great plenty of almugtrees, and precious stones. And the king made of the almug-trees pillars for the house of the Lord, and for the king's house, harps also and psalteries for singers." In the second book of Chronicles the same statement is given, the algum-trees are described as coming from Ophir, and the same assertion is made in both passages that "there were none such seen before in the land of Judah." In the second chapter of the second book of Chronicles, Solomon, in his embassage to Huram for workmen and provision of stuff for erecting "a temple unto the Lord," seems to admit that a sort of algumtree was found nearer than Ophir, for, among other things ordered, he says, "Send me also cedar-trees, fir-trees, and algum-trees, out of Lebanon; (for I know that thy servants can skill to cut timber in Lebanon;) and, behold, my servants shall be with thy servants." From the circumstance of the algum-tree being supposed to be found in Lebanon, and it being admitted that musical instruments were made of the wood of it, some commentators have supposed that it must have been a sort of pine-tree, probably the Pinus deodara of India, which affords a very beautiful wood of great fragrance. We are told that "all the most sacred and valuable works in the peninsula of India are made of this sacred wood-and not unworthily-for such is the odour, hardness, and veiny colourations of the wood, that those who have seen articles of furniture manufactured from it, cannot wonder at the preference." The mistake committed here is that of supposing that the algum-tree did grow in Lebanon. Solomon only sent a request to Huram to have such and such articles; and in the answer, the king of Tyre promises to "cut wood out of Lebanon, as much as he would need;" but he does not promise to send algum-trees from Lebanon; but, on the contrary, we are expressly assured (1 Kings x. 11, 12, and 2 Chron. ix. 10, 11,) that these were brought from Ophir. Solomon, when he wrote to Hiram, had not seen the almug-tree, for "there came no such almug-trees, nor were seen unto this day." The Israelites were not a commercial people, but, like the Egyptians, hated and dreaded the sea. But the Tyrians knew the almugtree, and where it was to be found, and instead of seeking for it in Lebanon, brought it from Ophir in the East Indies. In bringing home this precious wood, and other objects of value, we learn that "Solomon went to Ezion-geber and to Elath, at the sea-side in the land of Edom," (on the castern gulph of the Red Sea,) "and Huram sent him by the hands of his servants, ships, and servants that had knowledge of the sea. From these ports on the Red Sea, the expedi . tion sailed direct to Ophir in the East Indies, from whence they returned with the gold, algum-trees, and precious stones, and also with apes and peacocks. There seems no reason, therefore, from departing from the opinion now generally entertained, that, by the algumtree, we are to understand the Pterocarpus santolinus of modern botanists, or the Red sanders wood of the English. This is a lofty tree, having alternate branches, which, like the trunk, are covered with a bark resembling that of the common alder-tree. The leaves are in threes, roundish, very smooth, and rolled back at the edges. The wood is dark red, with black veins, capable of taking a high polish, is close-grained, and so heavy as to sink in the water. Like many of the red Indian woods, it transudes a blood-red juice, which. when collected, is sent to Europe under the name of dragons'-blood. The common dragons'-blood of the shops, however, is obtained from another species, which has the trivial name draco, and is peculiar to the West Indies and South America. Koenig was the first to detect the true almug-tree in the East Indies, where it is only to be found. It is a genus of the class Diadelphia, order Decandria. Besides the present, there are five other species known to botanists. THE SAVIOUR IN HEAVEN. YES, I see Him,-but not as he hung On his cross, 'twixt the earth and the sky; When the deep glooms of midnight were flung O'er the city that doomed him to die. I behold Him,-but not as he lay Close immured in the house of the dead, While the grave triumphed over her prey, And the earth wept her dews round his head. It is Jesus, but where are the thorns That not long since environ'd his brow? How different the robe that adorns, And the crown that encircles him now! Once, inferior to angels, he trod For a while this dark valley of tears: And his sceptre the universe sways; He himself full of mercy reveals; For the flesh half his glory conceals. But ere long, to his presence conveyed, All his glories my eye shall explore; And no veil intervene with its shade "Tween my soul and the God I adore. EAST. THE CHRISTIAN EDUCATION OF THE YOUNG: A DISCOURSE.* BY THE REV. W. M. HETHERINGTON, A. M., "From a child thou hast known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus."-2 TIM. iii. 15. WE often feel our interest excited, in a very lively degree, by reference to the circumstances which called forth the various epistles in the New Tes Preached in behalf of an Orphan Society. would form to treasure them up in his memory, and, with the aid of God, to make them the rule of his future life and conduct. But "all Scripture is given by inspiration of God," and was intended for the good, not of one individual or one peculiar period, but for all men, throughout the whole succession of ages, till time shall be no more. Opening our minds as far as we can to the influence of these circumstances, and admitting as much as we can of their spirit, let us proceed to consider the instruction applicable to us, and to our present object, which may be deduced from this most interesting passage. tament, and to the character of those to whom, or by whom, they were written. This must be the case in no ordinary measure with regard to the epistles of Paul to Timothy. There is good reason to believe, that the second of these epistles was written by Paul early in the summer of the year 66, when he was in hourly expectation of being again brought before Nero, and was looking for nothing but death, which, indeed, occurred certainly in less than a year, probably within a few months, after the writing of this epistle. The perilous condition in which he was placed had struck terror into the hearts of many of his converts, and even companions, till he was left with no one but the faithful Luke to console him in the midst of suffering, and the sure prospect of a painful and ignominious death. Amid such circumstances, the heart of man casts off all merely convenient friendships and connexions of a day, and turns to those alone whom it has grappled to its very core, prepared alike to share its sweetest pleasure or its extremest woe. To make choice of Timothy, therefore, at such a time, proved the depth of the apostle's affection for him, and was also the greatest honour he could confer. It proved, likewise, the singular merit of the person thus selected; and, indeed, the brief notices we have of him in Scripture records are extremely interesting. The first mention we find made of him is in the sixteenth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, first and second verses, and there with marked approbation; again, in the first chapter of this epistle, third, fourth, and fifth verses,-in which honourable mention is made of his pious mother and grandmother, by whom, in all probability, he had been taught the holy Scriptures from his childhood, as is stated in our text. Thus we are enabled to trace the progress of this distinguished person,-to see him instructed in the principles of true religion from earliest infancy, by the tender and pious care of his aged grandmother, or his widowed mother, as she appears to have been, growing up in the practice of those virtues in which his youth had been trained, and well reported of by the brethren,-selected by Paul himself to be his companion in his apostolical journeys, and frequently commissioned to impart his counsel and instruction to Churches which it was not practicable for the apostle himself, at such times, to visit,—and, finally, when the hour of Paul's departure was at hand, and he was ready to be offered another martyr for the truth, we see Timothy honoured in being chosen to receive the last affectionate charge and instruction from the hands of his beloved pastor, the great Apostle of the Gentiles. And could we realize the feelings which must have filled the heart of Timothy, when first he perused this most affecting proof of the dying apostle's Christian friendship, we might form some conception of the melancholy pleasure which would pervade his whole being, the reverential respect with which he would read its injunctions, the deep impression they would make upon his mind, and the fervent resolutions he I. " From a child thou hast known the holy Scriptures." That must have been a privilege of no slight importance in the estimation of Paul, which he considered worthy of peculiar mention, at such a time, and in his dying charge to his most beloved friend and companion. And when Timothy himself traced back the course of his life to his earliest years, recalling the kind and assiduous care of his grandmother Lois, and the still more tender anxiety of his mother Eunice, whose only solace, perhaps, it had been to train up her infant son in the way he should go, and to teach him to know and to serve the God of Israel, while her Grecian husband was engaged in the profane worship of his country's idols, or, in her early widowhood, had found one spring of pure enjoyment not dried up, while listening to the lisping tongue of her only boy repeating, with holy look, the solemn sentences of inspired prophets and venerable men of God,-when the memory of those youthful days rose upon his melting mind, as he perused the apostle's touching allusion, he too would most readily acknowledge the gracious hand of providence in having thus blessed him with the inestimable advantages of an early religious education. Yes; "from a child he had known the Scriptures." Men, who deem themselves philosophers, may sneer at the knowledge of a child, and the piety of a child, thinking it impossible that childhood can intelligently either know or love God. Here, as in the case of Samuel, we have a proof that no period can be justly considered too early; and our Saviour himself exclaimed, "Suffer little children to come unto me." Besides, who is there that can tell how soon the infant mind is capable of forming intelligent ideas concerning God and the law of God? How soon can it comprehend the meaning of a father's authoritative and commanding frown, or the checking and controlling, yet affectionate smile of a mother! And, by the very simple process of combining these perceptions, and comparing in order to elevate them, how soon may it be taught to form some idea of a Being whose authoritative laws are similar, though vastly superior, to those of a father, and yet whose surpassing love, infinitely transcending that of a mother, shall endure when hers may have waxed cold, or waned utterly away, or been hid behind the darkness of the tomb! Many, no doubt, among you will be able to trace back to the instructions mitting to grow, the very causes of its own disruption and decay. For it is in the haunts of neglected poverty and vice, where ignorance, and its twin-sister, degradation, most prevail, that the deadly venom has often unheeded grown, spreading slowly on all sides, forcing its influence upwards, and communicating its fatal taint, like a leprosy, to all with which it came into contact, till the whole body of the nation, having caught the mortal infection, sunk into utter and irrecoverable ruin. Such elements of national disgrace and danger abound among you also; and it is both your wisdom as Britons, and your duty as Christians, to stand forth and stay the spreading pestilence, by lending effectual aid to such societies as that whose cause we this day plead-the sole aim of which is to ward aside national ruin and check national degradation, by becoming a father to those whom the providence of God has made fatherless. But while I consider such views well worth the attention of true patriots and Christian parents, I would not limit my appeal to them alone. May I not, with perfect propriety, endeavour to engage on my side the warm and active sympathies of younger bosoms? May I not also address those who are in more favourable circumstances-point of a parent, in a period to which you can assign | bosom,-and thus nursing, or at least perno exact date, the germs of religious impressions and ideas, which, refreshed by the dews of the Spirit, have since expanded into the full maturity of true Christian life. For myself, if you will pardon the personal reference, I can remember nothing more distinct than standing, a very infant, at my mother's knee, while she strove to teach me to read the Scriptures, and to know and love my God! Others, alas! there may be, whose earliest remembrances present them with nothing but scenes and language of violence and impurity, blotting the fair visions of youth, and causing them to wish they could erase all youthful recollections from the polluted tablets of memory. Christian parents! ye whose remembrances speak of early piety, and who know its value, make it your most earnest endeavour, as it assuredly is your bounden duty, to give to your own children those blessed privileges, the memory of which you so warmly and gratefully cherish! And should you perceive little progress for a time in your children, still persevere, it is yours to sow the seed, it is God alone that can give the increase; nor think your labour spent unprofitably. Should any of your beloved offspring become, like Timothy, a "man of God," is not that a reward, the worth of which the tongues of seraphs could not adequately celebrate! What think ye were the feel-out to them their own duties under those circumings of Eunice, the mother of Timothy, if, as is very probable, she still lived to peruse the epistle of Paul to her beloved son? Would she have exchanged that epistle and that son for all the wealth, and all the splendour, and all the power of the wide world itself? No; that joy was a true foretaste of heaven and heaven's unchanging happiness, and the world's fleeting vanities would all have vanished in the comparison! If, on the other hand, there be any present, whose remembrance only serves to recall what they would most gladly forget for ever, this they can at least dothey can save their own children from early corruption, through the force of bad example, with all its painful and unhallowed remembrances; and it is, in one sense, the very object of the Orphan Society to discharge the same merciful and gracious duty,-to stretch forth a helping hand to those "little ones" who have lost the support and the guidance of a father, and who, under the pressure, it may be, of severe poverty, which the mother's most strenuous industry is too feeble to withstand, are in danger of being crushed downward into the lowest haunts of misery, and of having all the bright hopes and the honourable aspirations of youth blackened and overborne beneath the dark, the sluggish, the polluting tide of vice, indolence, and degradation. It is to place them on a fair equality with those more favoured children, who still enjoy the blessing of surviving Christian parents to train them up in the way they should go; it is at once to be a father to the fatherless, and to save society from the danger and the disgrace of increasing immorality and crime,-of cherishing the germs of a moral pestilence within its own stances and try to induce them also, by the gratitude which they ought to feel for their own mercies and privileges, to do what may be in their power, either now or hereafter, in lending assistance to those who have been early left to depend on the world's precarious bounty, or the too-stinted allowance of an almost half-frozen charity? To you, then, I for a few moments address my selfto you, who have the happiness of being the children of living and Christian parents. You cannot sufficiently estimate the privileges you enjoy; but, remember, the value of those privileges is exactly equalled by the greater responsibility you are under for the use you make of them. During many years of your life your parents stand to you, in some measure, in the place of God. It is their duty to train you up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; but it is equally your duty to render them love, respect, and almost implicit obedience. This is the first law of nature; and it is also an exact counterpart of the law of God. He requires subordination and obedience from all his creatures; and you must begin to learn it early, by paying it to your parents and teachers. Such conduct will both fit you more and more for deriving the greatest advantages from your privileges, by making you teachable and affectionate; and it is the very best method of showing the estimation in which you hold them. Nor is such conduct without natural and very great reward. Do you not feel your young hearts swell with pleasure when rewarded by a father's words of approbation, or a mother's approving smiles? Do your utmost now to earn that approbation, and treasure up those approving. forts and conveniences of home, are not the ends of justice, to a great extent, defeated? Such has been the unfortunate result of the agitation of the question of prison discipline in France. Sympathy has been excited in behalf of the prisoner, and it is well that it should be so; but that sympathy has been directed towards the amelioration of his physical, rather than his moral condition. And it is at this point, we conceive, the great error lies. The philanthropist ought never to shut his eyes upon the harsh and unfeeling treatment to which the inmate of a prison has been too often subjected; but, in seeking to increase his temporal comforts, he ought to view these as strictly subordinate to the recovery of the man from the state of moral degradation into which his crimes have plunged him. This is the chief point to which the attention of the true philanthropist ought to be directed, otherwise, in the exercise of an indiscreet and ill-judged sensibility, he may become the patron of crime, while he is only anxious to show himself the friend of the criminal. "I have been engaged," says a recent French writer, (M. Fauquet,) “ all this winter at Paris in making inquiry into the state of prisons; I have visited them smiles; for, believe me, the time will come when, cast on the world's wide scenes, far remote it may be from the sweet home of young affection, strange faces, cold looks, and alien interests all around you, dear, unutterably dear, to your longing and lonely bosoms will then be the remembrance of a father's praise and a mother's tender rewarding smile! From the instruction given, the principles imbibed, and the feelings cultivated around the happy hearth of the Christian family, spring up the grace, the strength, and the glory of a truly Christian community. In the earlier and better days of our country's fame,nay, till within a short time, not two generations since, many a father has denied himself at least one meal a-day, and plied his weary labours but coarsely and scantily clad, in order to acquire the means of procuring for his children a fair and respectable, if not a superior, education. And are the results unknown? From what land have so many sprung out of the poor and labouring classes, who have shed imperishable lustre on their race and nation, as from our own beloved Scotland? In what land have children displayed an equal de-all with the utmost care and minuteness, and I am congree of dutiful affection, in providing for the increasing wants of their parents in their declining years? And if the glory of these, our better days, has indeed greatly departed, if a sound religious education is not now so much as it once was the heritage of our very poorest population, yet all those who still enjoy that inestimable heritage, whether as parents to bestow or as children to receive it, are deeply culpable if they do not exert themselves to the very utmost, both to make a right use of their high privilege and to testify their grateful sense of its value, by extending it as far as possible to all around them who are placed in less favourable circumstances, oppressed by poverty, and perishing for lack of knowledge. (To be continued.) THOUGHTS ON PRISON DISCIPLINE. THIS important subject, amid the many engrossing to- vinced that, from the cry which has been raised in regard to the unhealthiness of prisons, and the miserable state of the prisoners, such an improvement in these respects has taken place, that the prisons are transformed alinost into hospitals, and the condition of three-fourths of the condemned is now better in these prisons than they are ever accustomed to at their own houses; and the result has been, a fearful increase in the number of criminals." Such is the testimony of a humane and benevolent individual, who has devoted much attention to the subject. And what is the consequence of this sickly sentimentalism? Prisons, it may be, are more comfortable; but if no efforts be put forth for the moral and spiritual recovery of the prisoners, is not this very im provement in their comfort an incentive to crime? How many cases are there occurring every day of individuals who have no sooner been set at liberty, than they proceed anew to the commission of crime, for the sole purpose of finding that comfortable food, shelter, and clothing, within the walls of a prison, which they have no hope of finding any where else! We appeal to those who are at all acquainted with the records of crime, if such instances are not, alas! too frequent. Here, then, is an obvious error, which has arisen from the prevalence of a mistaken sensibility in regard to the state of prisons. The place of punishment has been improved, and the character of the criminal has undergone no change, at least for the better. Ah! what avail your comfortable lodging, your nourishing diet, your warm clothing, if the villain whom you have thus fed, and clothed, and lodged, is, through your neglect, a villain still! Nay, he is probably a more depraved and abandoned character than ever. He was comparatively a novice in crime, perhaps, when he was admitted into the elegant prison. But he is permitted to associate with men who are schooled in vice of every description. They initiate him in the mysteries of crime,—they pity his ignorance,—they laugh at his modesty,—they taunt him for his cowardice. He gradually becomes the dupe of their craft and cunning, and he issues from the |