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No. 54.

Saturday, Sept. 19th. 1840.

MOUNT LEBANON.

Village of Brummana.

'Tis now three years since I left Syria, yet the pleasing impressions produced upon my mind whilst straying over the rugged heights of Lebanon have been nothing effaced: its tow'ring summits capped with perpetual snow, or crowned with fragrant pines, and cedars, its olive plantations and vineyards, its clear fountains and pearly streams, its fertile vales and odoriferous shrubberies, are still fresh in my remembrance. Oft have I stood upon a craggy eminence and gazed with rapture on the verdant landscape which lay at my feet; or, from the top of lofty Senneen, viewed the cloud-lost hazy Hermon far away in the south, the chain of Kesrouân to the north, the sister-Lebanon to the east, bounded by the arid desert, and the dark blue waters of the Mediterranean to the west, as it washed the Syrian shore with many a breaking wave. The plain which stretches from the sea-shore to the foot of the mountain varies from three to six miles in width, and in some parts is surpassing lovely. The prospect, for instance, of Beyroot from o'erhanging Lebanon is at once grand and beautiful, nor perhaps can be viewed with greater advantage than from the village of Brummana. To me, the first time I made the journey, the scene was enrapturing beyond description. The stillness and calm of retiring nature was scarcely disturbed by the sleepless crickets as they chirped their tiny song from the neighbouring hills, or by the occasional howl of a wandering jackal. The sun was just about to hide his fiery disk behind his daily goal, and as he scattered his last faint rays of glowing heat, the verdant plain below was flushed with brightness, the slender minarets reflected the sparkling light,

*One of the highest peaks of Lebanon.

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and mountain vale and town seemed to revive with more than noon-day splendour.

Such I can imagine, and even far superior, (for the whole country has long languished through tyranny and oppression) must have been the glory of Lebanon in days of yore, when its beauty, grandeur and fertility furnished so many bold and lively figures in the strains of the Hebrew prophets. Its wine, its cedars, its "cold flowing waters," its snow, its wheat, all excelled, and all contributed to make it that "goodly mountain Lebanon," which even Moses

longed to behold before his death. (Deut. iii. 25). Of it an Arabian poet has said: "Lebanon bears winter on his head, spring on his shoulders, and autumn in his bosom, while summer lies sleeping at his feet." And Isaiah, in his unrivalled imagery, makes use of a beautiful trope, drawn from this mountain, when he fortells the conversion of the heathen nations, and the results which shall follow this happy event: "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abun

dantly, and rejoice even with joy and singing; the glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon." (ch. xxxv. 5.)

Some hundred villages are scattered over the surface of Lebanon, often vying with each other in their picturesque situation, their fertility, or their romantic wildness;—sometimes lost in a forest of trees, or perched at the foot of a precipice, sometimes wedged among perpendicular crags, seeming to defy all access, or sunk in a narrow vale richly interspersed with wood. Among the more romantic, Brummana deserves to have a place. It is situated on two summits of a deep and narrow glen, whose precipitous sides are covered with pines and poplars, and watered with many a little spring of limpid water. The houses are built of mud

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and stone, rude, but comfortable, around which are numerous gardens, the care and support of the humble tenants. The air of the village is pure and healthy, and its elevation in the mountain secures it a temperate climate at all seasons of the year. The inhabitants are chiefly of the Greek Orthodox church, but there are also a few Maronite and Druse families among them. The Emeers or heads of the village are professedly of the Maronite creed, but there is little doubt of their being Druses. They are under the jurisdiction of the Emir Besheer, who dissembles as much as his inferiors; in fact, he it is who sets them the example in this respect.

'Tis to be regretted that the geology of Lebanon has been so little noticed. Nothing scarcely is known of the riches which it contains below its fertile surface. If the mine opened some time since was properly worked, it would yield an abundance of excellent coal. The only attempt made to obtain this mineral was at Kurnail, a village eight hours ride from Beyroot and four west of Brummana. In all this region interesting specimens of geology abound. Beside the lignite, is found an abundance of the radiated sulphuret of iron, soap-stone, pudding-stone of several kinds, many species of petrifactions and quartz, bituminous shale, and brown statactical hematite, yielding at least sixty per cent of iron. Sulphur is likewise said to be met with in different parts of the mountains, and also copper

ore.

Moreover the various sects and people who inhabit Mount Lebanon form another object worthy the philanthropic research of our more cultivated Europe. Besides Mohammedans, Maronites and Greeks, both Orthodox and Papal, there are three other sects, viz. the Mutualis, the Druses and the Ansairiyes, of whose peculiarities and tenets we know hardly any thing beyond conjecture. The present commotions in Syria, will, it is to be hoped, terminate for her welfare in every respect, and soon open her more fully to the superior benefits which our blessed land enjoys.

KING HENRY AND THE ABBOT.

KING Henry the Eighth, as he was hunting in Windsor Forest, either casually, or (more probably) wilfully, losing himself, struck down, about dinner-time, to the Abbey of Reading, where disguising himself (much for delight, more for discovery to see unseen), he was invited to the abbot's table, and passed for one of the king's guard, a place to which the proportions of his person might properly entitle him.

A sirloin of beef was set before him, so knighted, saith tradition, by this King Henry, on which the king laid on lustily, not disgracing one of that place for whom he was mistaken.

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'Well fare thy heart, quoth the abbot, and here in a cup of sack I remember the health of his grace, your master. I would give one hundred pounds, on the condition I could feed so heartily on the beef as you do. Alas! my weak and squeazie stomach will hardly digest the wing of a small rabbit or chicken." The king pleasantly pledged him; and heartly thanking him for his good cheer, after dinner departed as undiscovered as he came thither.

Some weeks after, the abbot was sent for by the Pursuivant, brought up to London, clapped in the Tower, kept close prisoner, and fed for a short time with bread and water. Yet not so empty his body of food, as his mind was filled with fears, creating many suspicions to himself, when, and how, he had incurred the king's displeasure. At last a sirloin of beef was set before him, on which the abbot fed as the farmer of his grange, and verified the proverb, that two hungry meals makes the third a glutton. In springs King Henry out of a private lobby, where he had placed himself, the invisible spectator of the abbot's behaviour.— "My lord," quoth the king, “presently deposit your hundred pounds, or else no going hence all the days of your life; I have been your physician to cure you of your squeazie stomach; and here, as 1 deserve, I demand my fee for the same.' The abbot down with his dust, and, glad he had escaped so, returned to Reading, as somewhat lighter in purse, so much more merrier in heart than when he came thence.-FULLER'S Ecclesiastical History.

LIBERTY.-Civil liberty, rightly understood, consists in protecting the rights of individuals by the united force of society. Society cannot be maintained, and of course can exert no protection, without obedience to some sovereign power. And obedience is an empty name, if every individual has a right to decide how far he shall obey.Bristol Mirror.

As the lark sings at the dawn of day, and the nightingale at even, so should we show forth the loving-kindness of the Lord every morning, and his faithfulness every night.

THE FACULTY OF SPEECH.

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The due and proper use of natural faculty or power is to be judged of by the end and design for which it was given us. The chief purpose for which the faculty of speech was given to man, is, plainly, that we might communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs of the world; for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the good Author of our nature designed us not only necessaries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that being He hath graciously given, and in that condition of life He hath placed us in.

There are secondary uses of our faculties; they administer to delight, as well as to necessity: and as they are equally adapted to both, there is no doubt but He intended them for gratification, as well as for the support and continuance of our being. The secondary use of speech is to please and be entertaining to each other in conversation. This is in every respect allowable and right: it unites men closer in alliances and friendships; gives us a fellow-feeling of the prosperity and unhappiness of each other; and is in several respects serviceable to virtue, and to promote good behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the way of gratification and delight, men must have strange notions of God and of religion, to think that He can be offended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with the strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of conversation, though it has no particular good tendency, yet it has a general good one: it is social and friendly, and tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility.

The government of the tongue, considered as a subject of itself, relates chiefly to conversation; to that kind of discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly meetings, and visits of civility. And the danger is, lest persons entertain themselves and others at the expense of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or offence of their neighbour. If they will observe, and keep clear of these,

they may be as free, and easy, and unreserved, as they can desire.-Bishop Butler.

A GOOD PASTOR.

Give me the priest these graces shall possess-
Of an ambassador the just address;
A father's tenderness; a shepherd's care;
A leader's courage, which the cross can bear;
A ruler's awe; a watchman's wakeful eye;
A pilot's skill, the helm in storms to ply;
A fisher's patience, and a labourer's toil;
A guide's dexterity to disembroil;
A prophet's inspiration from above;
A teacher's knowledge, and a Saviour's love.
BP. KEN.

MATRIMONY.-I shall always endeavour to make choice of a woman for my spouse who hath first made choice of Christ as a spouse for herself; that none may be made one flesh with me who is not also made one spirit with Christ my Saviour. For I look upon the image of Christ as the best mark of beauty I can behold in her, and the grace of God as the best portion I can receive with her. These are excellencies, which, though not visible to carnal eyes, are nevertheless agreeable to a spiritual heart, and such as all wise and good men cannot but be enamoured with. For my own part, they seem to me such necessary qualifications, that my heart trembles at the thought of ever having a wife without them. If I should court and marry a woman for riches, then, whensoever they fail, or take their flight, my love and my happiness must drop and vanish together with them. choose her for beauty only, I shall love her no longer than while it continues, which is only till age or sickness blasts it; and then farewell at once both duty and delight. But if I love her for her virtues, and for the sake of God, who has enjoined it as a duty, that our affections should not be alienated, or separated by any thing but death, then, though all the other sandy foundations fail, yet will my happiness remain entire. If ever, therefore, it be my lot to enter into the holy state of matrimony, I beg of God, that he would direct me

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in the choice of such a wife only, to lie in my bosom here, as may afterwards be admitted to rest in Abraham's bosom to all eternity-such a one as will so live, and pray, and converse with me upon earth, that we may be both entitled to sing, to rejoice, and be blessed together, for ever, in heaven. Bp. Beveridge.

adorn it by the virtues which its duties require. Be content to keep within your station, and

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EXCURSIONS AROUND NAPLES.

Whoever sojourns at Naples, were it only for a day, experiences the irresistible desire of going to see what is passing at the bottom of that crater which perpetually smokes. It is especially towards evening, when the sun has disappeared beneath the horizon, that the vapours of Vesuvius assume a denser tint, and deck its summit with a bouquet of brighter whiteness. At Resina you find horses, donkeys, and conducters, who convey travellers half way up the mountain to the spot called the "Hermitage." This first ride is not an uninteresting one. Here nature is not yet dead. You pass through vineyards, planted in ashes, which yield the celebrated Lachryma Christi wine, two sorts of which are much inferior to their fame; then come some nameless trees, the foremost sentinels of vegetation, which the next eruption will devour, and lastly you reach the "Hermitage," surrounded on all sides save one by the lava of 1794, 1810, 1813, and 1822. Here you alight and enter a region of chaos. No more trees, vegetation, birds, or insects are to be seen Every thing is dark, bristling with points, rent into deep and rugged fractures, covered with scoria of a sulphurous smell, which tear your feet before they burn them. You are now at the foot of the cone; all that remains to be done is to ascend vertically along the external sides of the volcano, halting on your way to cast a glance at a lateral plateau, called La Somma, which was no doubt at one time the main focus of Vesuvius.

If your heart has not failed you along this ladder of dried lava, you will reach the top of the volcano in three quarters of an hour. Here the sight begins—a terrible, original, and unexpected one, notwithstanding all the descriptions given of it. Imagine a funnel five hundred mètres deep, whose upper edges present innumerable crevices,

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whilst from the lower part rise clouds of sulphurous vapour, which escapes by numberless apertures, bordered with dust of a lively orange colour. If you stop to admire in the distance the city of Naples, softly spreading round the gulf, and at your feet the ever smoking crater, you feel the fire penetrating your boots, and the guide will urge you to walk, in order to avoid accidents. The ground, when strongly struck, yields a certain metallic sound, and as you go round the mountain you meet with gaping apertures, at the bottom of which burns a red and fattish flame. I have plunged into one of these pits a long chesnut-tree stick, fresh cut and covered with its still moist bark, and it has instantly caught fire. As you kneel before those infernal gates to ascertain their depth, you distinctly perceive within hand-reach the flame bending upon itself, dense, quiet, and almost limpid; it discharges clouds of sulphurous acid gas, which excite a cough, and soon compel the observer to quit the spot. The ground, if such a name can be given to the dangerous floor which covers the orifice of the volcano,

is strewed with grey lava, ashes, melting sulphur, and pyrite substances, whence escapes, at intervals, a white smoke, which affects your eyes and lungs, and yet you cannot retire without reluctance from that awful scene. One can scarcely conceive how that crater, so narrow in its lower part, has vomited heaps of lava large enough to form a mountain four times as bulky as the Vesuvius itself, without mentioning the ashes, small pebbles, and masses of boiling water, which the wind has sometimes carried to enormous distances.

Notwithstanding its fearful aspect, the Vesuvius may be easily approached even when its eruptions take place. The lava itself, whose progress is so formidable and inflexible, advances with extreme slowness, One has time to avoid or fly before it. The

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