villages, rivers and lakes—would form one of the largest objects which the eye, or even the imagination, can steadily grasp at one time. But such an object, grand and extensive as it is, forms no more than the forty-thousandth part of the terraqueous globe; so that before we can acquire an adequate conception of the magnitude of our own world, we must conceive 40,000 landscapes, of a similar extent, to pass in review before us : and, were a scene, of the magnitude now stated, to pass before us every hour, till all the diversified scenery of the earth were brought under our view, and were twelve hours a-day allotted for the observation, it would require nine years and forty-eight days before the whole surface of the globe could be contemplated, even in this general and rapid manner. But, such a variety of successive landscapes passing before the eye, even although it were possible to be realized, would convey only a very vague and imperfect conception of the scenery of our world; for objects at the distance of forty miles cannot be distinctly perceived; the only view which would be satisfactory would be, that which is comprehended within the range of three or four miles from the spectator.

Again, I have already stated, that the surface of the earth contains nearly 200,000,000 of square miles. Now, were a person to set out on a minute survey of the terraqueous globe, and to travel till he passed along every square mile on its surface, and to continue his route without intermission, at the rate of thirty miles every day, it would require 18,264 years before he could finish his tour, and complete the survey of “this huge rotundity on which we tread :"-so that, had he commenced his excursion on the day in which Adam was created, and continued it to the present hour, he would not have accomplished one-third part of this vast tour.

In estimating the size and extent of the earth, we ought also to take into consideration, the vast variety of objects with which it is diversified, and the nume.

rous animated beings with which it is stored; the great divisions of land and water, the continents, seas, and islands, into which it is distributed; the lofty ranges of mountains which rear their heads to the clouds; the unfathomable abysses of the ocean ; its vast subterraneous caverns and burning mountains; and the lakes, rivers, and stately forests with which it is so magnificently adorned ; the many millions of animals, of every size and form, from the elephant to the mite, which traverse its surface; the numerous tribes of fishes, from the enormous whale to the diminutive shrimp, which “play” in the mighty ocean; the aerial tribes, which sport in the regions above us, the vast mass of the surrounding atmosphere, which encloses the earth and all its inhabitants as “with a swaddling band.” The immense variety of beings, with which our terrestrial habitation is furnished, conspires, with every other consideration, to exalt our conceptions of that Power by which our globe, and all that it contains, were brought into existence.

ISAAC ASHFORD.

Rev. GEORGE CRABBE.
To pomp and pageantry in nought allied,
A noble peasant, Isaac Ashford died.
Noble he was, contemning all things mean;
His truth unquestioned and his soul serene :
Of no man's presence Isaac felt afraid,
At no man's question Isaac looked dismayed :
Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace;
Truth, simple truth, was written in his face:
Yet while the serious thought his soul approved,
Cheerful he seemed, and gentleness he loved :
To bliss domestic he his heart resigned,
And, with the firmest, had the fondest mind!

Were others joyful, he looked smiling on,
And gave allowance, where he needed none;
Good he refused with future ill to buy,
Nor knew a joy that caused reflexion's sigh:
A friend to virtue, his unclouded breast
No envy stung, no jealousy distrest;
Yet was he far from stoic pride removed ;
He felt humanely, and he warmly loved :
I marked his action when his infant died,
And his old neighbour for offence was tried;
The still tears, stealing down that furrowed cheek,
Spoke pity, plainer than the tongue can speak.
If pride were his, 'twas not their vulgar pride,
Who, in their base contempt, the great deride;
Nor pride in learning, though my clerk agreed,
If fate should call him, Ashford might succeed;
Nor pride in rustic skill, although we knew
None his superior, and his equals few;
But if that spirit in his soul had place,
It was the jealous pride that shuns disgrace;
A pride in honest fame, by virtue gained,
In sturdy boys to virtuous labour trained;
Pride in the power that guards his country's coast,
And all that Englishmen enjoy and boast;
Pride in a life that slander's tongue defied,
In fact, a noble passion, misnamed pride.

In times severe, when many a sturdy swain
Felt it his pride, his comfort, to complain;
Isaac their wants would soothe, his own would hide,
And feel in that his comfort and his pride.
I feel his absence in the hours of prayer,
And view his seat, and sigh for Isaac there;
I see no more those white locks, thinly spread
Round the bald polish of that honoured head:
No more that awful glance on playful wight,
Compelled to kneel and tremble at the sight,
To fold his fingers, all in dread the while,
Till “ Mister Ashford" softened to a smile;

No more that meek and suppliant look in prayer,
Nor the pure faith, to give it force, are there;
But he is blest, and I lament no more,
A wise good man, contented to be poor.

THE COMMON LOT.

James MONTGOMERY.
Once in the flight of ages past,

There lived a man: and who was he?
Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be cast,

That man resembled thee.
Unknown the region of his birth,

The land in which he died unknown;
His name hath perished from the earth,

This truth survives alone :-
That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear,

Alternate triumphed in his breast;
His bliss and woema smile, and tear!-

Oblivion hides the rest.
The bounding pulse, the languid limb,

The changing spirits' rise and fall;
We know that these were felt by him,

For these are felt by all.
He suffered,—but his pangs are o'er;

Enjoyed,—but his delights are fled;
Had friends,-his friends are now no more;

And foes,-his foes are dead.
He loved—but whom he loved the grave

Hath lost in its unconscious womb :
Oh, she was fair! but nought could save

Her beauty from the tomb.

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main;
Erewhile his portion, life and light,

To him exist in vain.
He saw—whatever thou hast seen;

Encountered-all that troubles thee :
He was,—whatever thou hast been;

He is,—what thou shalt be.
The clouds and sunbeams o'er his eye

That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky

No vestige where they flew.

The annals of the human race,

Their ruins, since the world began,
Of him afford no other trace

Than this-THERE LIVED A MAN!

SORROW FOR THE DEAD.

WASHINGTON IRYING. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal—every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open--this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal ;