an Englishman, a zealous supporter of the Bible Society. They travelled together to London, and had much intercourse during the Abbe's stay in that city. The English gentleman availed himself of the opportunity to intrust to the Abbe a splendidly bound Bible, of a beautiful edition, begging him to present it to the unhappy exile. He thankfully undertook the commission, saying that he was sure the emperor would highly value the present. This proved to be the fact. Persons fully entitled to credit, who attended Napoleon's dying bed, have declared that he assiduously read the Holy Scriptures; and that, in the pangs of his severe malady, he often, with strong emotion, uttered the great name of Jesus. It may be even said that he 'confessed Christ before men.' In a familiar but solemn conversation, he exclaimed, with expressive accent and emphatic brevity, which had an electric effect, 'I know men; and I tell you that Jesus was not a man. His religion is a self-existent mystery, and it proceeded from a mind not human. There is in it a deep peculiarity of character, "INDIVIDUALITE," which has produced a succession of doctrines and maxims till then unknown. Jesus borrowed nothing from human knowledge. Only in himself are found completely the example or the imitation of his life. Neither was he a philosopher; for his proofs were miracles, and his disciples from the very first adored him. In fact, science and philosophy are powerless to salvation; and the sole object of Jesus, in coming into the world, was to unveil the mysteries of Heaven and the laws of mind. Alexander, Cæsar, Charlemagne, and I, have founded empires; but on what have we rested the creations of our genius? Upon force. Only Jesus has founded an empire upon love; and, at this moment, millions of men would die for him. It was not a day, nor a battle, that won the victory over the world for the Christian. No; it was a long war, a fight of three centuries; begun by the apostles, and continued by their successors, and the flow of generations that followed. In that war, all the kings and powers of the earth were on one side; on the other side, I see no army, but a mysterious force, and a few men, scattered here

and there through all parts of the world, and who had no rallying point but their faith in the mysteries of the cross. I die before my time, and my body will be put in the ground, and become the food of worms. Such is the fate of the great Napoleon! What an abyss between my deep wretchedness, and Christ's eternal kingdom, proclaimed, loved, adored, and spreading through the world! Was that dying? Was it not rather to live? THE DEATH OF CHRIST IS THE DEATH OF GOD.' With these words Napoleon ceased; but Gen. Bertrand making no reply, he added, 'If you do not understand that Christ is God, I have been wrong in calling you General.'"

Original

AN OMNIPRESENT GOD.

BY MRS. M. L. GARDINER, SAG HARBOR, L. I.
THROUGH nature's wide and vast domain,
In every part a God I see;

In suns and stars, in hill and plain,
In stormy clouds and rolling sea.
I see him ride on whirlwinds dire,
That o'er the skies in terror sweep;
And wrap in night yon orb of fire,
While trembling millions stand and weep.

I see him in the moon's soft light,
That plays upon a thousand streams;
In every gem that decks the night,
And guides the pilgrim by its beams.
I see him in the wide-spread lake,
Whose gloomy forests girt the shore;
In wilds untrod, and tangled brake,
Where deadly monsters prowl and roar.

I see him in the flowery spring,

When wild-birds tune their sweetest notes;
And to my ear their music bring,
In every gentle breeze that floats.

I see him in the flocks that feed
In quiet round the forest glade;
The lambs that gambol o'er the mead,
At early dawn, or twilight shade.

I see him in the rolling spheres,
That round in endless circles run;
And feel him in the weight of years,
That show my wanderings nearly done.
Where'er I look, through boundless space,
In heaven or earth, on sea or air;
In every part my God I trace,
And see his footsteps printed there.

Original.

SELF-KNOWLEDGE.

A CHARACTERISTIC of the ancients is seen in their comprising in a few words matter sufficient to fill volumes. One of the most laconic and expressive of these was inscribed on the walls of the temple at Delphi, "KNOW THYSELF." If we search all the books within our reach, containing the lore of generations, nowhere can we find more salutary counsel, more important advice, in so short a sentence.

"Know thyself," examine the secret workings of the heart, search the hidden springs of nature, lay open the inexhaustible treasures of the mind-"know thyself” as a human being, possessing its frailties—as an immortal being, stamped with the impress of the Deity.

A knowledge of our organic constitution-its wonderful mechanism, its nicely constructed parts, the adaptedness of each of its constituent parts to the harmony of the whole, its delicate fibres, its arteries, its innumerable nerves-is calculated to fill the mind with admiration and astonishment. The beating pulse, the throbbing heart, proclaim the truth which

fell from the lips of Israel's king-"I am fearfully and wonderfully made."

To know ourselves as immortal beings, destined to survive the pangs of expiring nature; the relation we sustain to that eternity which is before us, to that God who is to judge us, is to possess that knowledge which schoolmen of former times fruitlessly endeavored to grasp with their gigantic minds. Philosophy in vain unfurled the banner of reason, and with torches lighted at her altar, sought with sacrilegious effort to discover this knowledge. Futile were the attempts of the sages of antiquity to seize, with the palsied hand of nature, this priceless jewel, discovered alone by Heaven's unerring light.

Philosophy cannot reach it. Reason cannot discover it. If obtained at all, it must be secured by a close investigation of our principles of action-by a perception of our moral destitution, and, above all, by the light of Heaven, beaming from the page of inspiration.

The importance of self-knowledge none will question-few endeavor to obtain it. What inconsistency marks our conduct in this respect! That knowledge, which should have the pre-eminence in our minds, is seldom regarded, while too much time is thrown away on things of minor importance. Should we spend our days and nights in the acquisition of that knowledge, by which we may hope to see our names enrolled on the annals of fame-or descry, with the eye of Herschell, the orbs of Heaven-or, with the intellect of Franklin, draw the lightning from the threatening clouds—yet ignorant of ourselves, our knowledge will be like the light of the meteor that shoots across the heavens, and suddenly disappears, leaving the soul deeper in obscurity and confusion.

Destitute of self-knowledge, with any and every other attainment, we are ignorant of that noble principle which binds us to the skies, and which, by divine illumination, can teach us to aspire to those immortal wreaths of glory which the envy of wicked men and fallen spirits can never pluck from the brow.

P. D. 0.

THIS singular animal is eighteen feet high, of a light fawn color, marked with dark spots. The tail is terminated by a tuft of long dark hair. It inhabits Central Africa. The shoulders are so high that it gives the fore legs the appearance of being as long again as the hind ones. The neck is very long and slender. Its head is beautiful, and resembles that of a horse, and its eye soft and animated. In its native country, the giraffe subsists upon the twigs of trees, particularly those of the Mimosa genus. It can with difficulty take food from the ground. Its gait, when it walks, is neither awkward nor unpleasing; but when it trots, its long neck, swaying backward and forward, presents a most singular picture.