indication that there is left some good-will toward the mother country, notwithstanding the general tone of the press.

The distress, it may be hoped, will be over-ruled for good. Certainly, it is not unmitigated evil. Already it has given a blow to class animosities. The ministers of religion, too, by their self-denying labours in the administration of relief, have removed in many instances the prejudices against their order which were unreasonably cherished by numbers of the working population. Schools for unemployed adults are doing good service to the cause of education. Many places of worship in the afflicted district are reported to be, better attended than formerly; and many who used to spend their Sabbaths in pleasure and dissipation are found in God's house, listening attentively to the proclamation of the Gospel. The general health is reported to have deteriorated, on the whole; but in no instance, so far as we know, has the office of the coroner been called into requisition, or the verdict given, "Died from starvation." Epidemics have not been seriously prevalent, and the rate of mortality has not been excessive. Loss of adult life through drunkenness, and of infant life through the absence of inothers

at the mill, has been much less than in times of prosperity.

The throne of Greece continues vacant. The elect of the nation, our own sailor-prince, is forbidden, by the three powers which thirty years ago guaranteed the independence of that classic land, to accept the proffered crown. The concurrent offer to surrender the Ionian Isles need not alarm any subject of Her Majesty; since Great Britain was their protector, not their proprietor. The aspirations of sentimental Hellenists for union with Greece have lately rendered the custody of them a rather troublesome and unenviable task. The present is a favourable opportunity of acceding, without loss of dignity, to the request of these seven sisters; and of saving ourselves much future vexation and responsibility. It is likely enough that the severance will be to the disadvantage of the Ionians; but with them classical and ethnological sympathies appear to be stronger than material considerations. To keep them would be only to encounter their continued resentment; whereas the offer now made has already brought down their grateful benedictions upon "magnanimous Albion."

January 13th, 1863.

MOUNT TABOR. - At Nazareth I saw an illustration of Scripture, one of cominon occurrence in Palestine, namely, two women grinding at the mill. Some of the ancient Jewish cisterns and tombs remain, affording strong testimony to the antiquity of the place. The cisterns are remarkable excavations; and, from the position of some of them on the hill-side, beyond the present limits of the town, the probability is, that ancient Nazareth may have extended farther up the hill,

The

Its

objects, including the Mediterranean. From this eminence Mount Tabor is very conspicuous; its summit lying apparently only two or three miles distant in a direct line. Its singularly round form and insulated position give it an unique appearance, and completely distinguish it from every other hill within sight. The Little Hermon, seen to the south of it, is not only higher, but has quite a different aspect. This is evidently the Mount Hermon referred to by the Psalmist, when he says, "Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in Thy name.' Tabor stands out alone from the high ground which surrounds Nazareth, and on the north it has at its foot an arm of the great plain of Esdraelon, which sweeps away north-east to the Lake of Tiberias. It lies about five or six miles south-east of Nazareth. mountain consists of limestone. form, as seen from the south-west, is a segment of a sphere; from the west-northwest it presents the appearance of a truncated cone. The ascent is long and winding, occupying generally about an hour; the path is of ancient construction; in some places steps are cut in the fock. The sides have a good soil, and are covered with clumps of oak-trees, There are considerable ruins on the summit. There are traces of a thick wall round the top, the masonry of which seems not later than the time of the Romans. This is very likely to be the wall built round the mountain by Josephus, in the Jewish war. On the ledge of rocks at the southern side of the summit, particularly at its eastern end, there are large ruins of fortifications, and apparently of dwellinghouses. It is known that churches and monasteries stood here both before and during the Crusades. There is a small vault on the south-east, where the Latin monks from Nazareth celebrate an annual mass in memory of the Transfiguration; and on the north side the Greeks observe the same festival among the ruins of a church. The festival of the Virgin is also celebrated here by the Greek priests from Nazareth, and a multitude of pilgrims. There are many cisterns on the summit; most of which are dry, but in one Dr. Robinson found good water.

Th ename of "Tabor" occurs several times in the Old Testament. (Joshua xix. 12, 22; Judges iv. 6, 12, 14; Psalm 1xxxix. 12; Jer. xlvi. 18; Hosea v. 1.) There stood upon it one of the cities of the Levites, belonging to the tribe of Zebulun. (1 Chron. vi. 77.) Tabor is not mentioned in the New Testament; but in the fourth century after Christ the opinion seems to have

The ancient clergy reckoned from the 25th of March; and the method was observed in Britain until the introduction of the new style, A.D. 1752; after which our year commenced on the 1st of January.

THE THOUSANDTH YEAR OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE.-A correspondent writing from St. Petersburg sends to a contemporary some account of the great memorial now erecting at Novgorod, to celebrate the thousandth birthday of the Russian empire.

Of the groups of colossal figures, the first represents Rurik of Rosslagen (in Sweden) arriving sword in hand among the Slavonians of Novgorod, and laying the foundation of the Russian empire (862). Nothing is known of the history of the country now called Russia before Rurik arrived in it, with the able governors and irresistible warriors who extended their dominions in a few years from the Baltic to the Black Sea: and, but for the infusion of this powerful military and political element, who can say that the Slavonians east of the Dnieper would have been able to drive back the Tartars, first in the fourteenth, and finally in the fifteenth century; or that, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, they would have been able to resist the attacks of the Swedes and the Poles, who actually established themselves, the former at Novgorod, the latter at Moscow ?

The principal figure in the second of the colossal groups is the Russo-Norman Vladimir, under whom Christianity was introduced (988); the principal figure in the third is Demetrius of the Don, a prince of Russo-Norman descent, who for a time freed Muscovy from the Tartars (1380); in the fourth, Ivan III., also of the house of Rurik, who founded the Muscovite-Russian Czarate (1462); in the fifth, Michael Fedorovitch, the first Czar of the House of Romanoff, descended from Rurik by the mother's side (1613); in the sixth, Peter the Great, the founder of the Russian empire.

The bas-reliefs include the figures of a hundred and seven persons who have contributed to strengthen or to civilize Russia.

A STRANGE CONFESSIONAL. The Marchioness of Buckingham, daughter of Earl Nugent, had become a Catholic, but could only practise her religion very secretly. So much so, indeed, that it was understood she had been obliged, for concealment, to make her confession to

Dr. Milner as she walked with him up and down the great gallery at Stowe, and in the sight of company. The following admits of no doubt, as it was related by Dr. Milner himself in the year 1819 at Alton. He said, that he had called upon the Marchioness in London, who told him that she had much to say to him, which she could not say at that moment; but that she should be better able to talk with him if he would come to her party on the following evening. He went accordingly; and, while the company were engaged in dancing, the Marchioness took his arm, saying that she wished to have some private conversation with him, and then and there made her confession to him.-Dr. Husenbeth.

AMENITIES OF ROMISH CONTROVERSY.-Had John Milner confined himself strictly to his pastoral duties, his reputation would certainly be much brighter than it is: but he entered eagerly into polemics. As Isaac Milner found two parties in the Protestant, so did John Milner find two in the Romish, Church. When the members of the latter were contending for political rights, there was a party headed by Mr. Charles Butler who were ready to make many concessions to the State, and who desired to be free from an ecclesiastical rule which they felt to be intolerable. The controversy between John Milner and Charles Butler was lifelong, fierce, and uncharitable. The former sneered at his eminent opponent's bad grammar, denounced his and his friends' opinions respecting the limits of papal power, and used very strong language generally. Mr. Butler denounced him as a gross calumniator, a vulgar person, and no gentleman; and John Milner retorted by allusions to his opponent's personal infirmities,-a manifestation of bad taste for which he subsequently apologized. But each controversialist maintained his opinion; and then the Bishop, going. even further than the Pope, published an intimation that Mr. Butler was "to be treated in this district, to which he belongs, as a rebel to ecclesiastical authority, and a public sinner." The "public sinner remarked, that the Bishop was "a fellow," "a demagoguish scribe, without manners or morality, but of unprincipled vulgarity."—Athenæum.

GRASS EVERYWHERE.-In herbage and grain the grasses furnish a larger amount of sustenance to animal life than all other tribes of plants together; and so profusely have they been shed abroad in

every conceivable variety, as climate, soil, and situation may influence their growth, that the earth has taken their colouring for a garment, and presents a firmament of green almost as unbroken as the upper firmament of blue, which is the only other prevailing tint in nature. No matter how elevated or how barren the spot, grasses of some kind will make themselves a home in it; and when every variety of soil and climate has been furnished with its appropriate kinds, others find for themselves sites in water, carpeting the bed of the brook, or binding the shingle together on the shore of the sea; others, on ruins, house-tops, and subterranean retreats, if but a glimpse of daylight reach them. In that remarkable work, "The Flora of the Colosseum," in which Mr. Deakin has described four hundred and twenty plants found growing spontaneously on the ruins of the Colosseum at Rome, there are no fewer than fifty-six grasses entered as flourishing in various parts of that venerable ruin. This universality of grass is one of the most poetical of facts in the economy of the world. There is no place which it

will not beautify. It climbs up the steep mountain-passes which are inaccessible to man, and forms ledges of green amid the rivings of the crags: it leaps down between steep shelving precipices, and there fastens its slender roots in the dry crevices which the earthquakes had rent long ago, and into which the water trickles when the sunbeams strike the hoary snows above. There it leaps and twines in the morning light, and flings its sweet laughing greenness to the sun; there it creeps and climbs about the mazes of solitude, and weaves its fairy tassels with the wind. It beautifies even that spot, and spreads over the sightless visage of death and darkness the serene beauty of a summer smile, flinging its green lustre on the bold granite, and perfuming the lips of Morning as she stoops from heaven to kiss the green things of the earth. It makes a moist and yielding carpet over the whole earth, on which the impetuous may pass with hurried tread, or the feet of beauty linger. And from this universality of growth grass derives its specific name.-Hibberd's "Brambles and Bay Leaves."

SNOWS muffled earth when thou didst go,
In life's spring-bloom,

Down to the' appointed house below,
The silent tomb.

But now the green leaves of the tree,
The cuckoo, and the "busy bee,"
Return, but with them bring not thee!

'Tis so; but can it be (while flowers Revive again)

Man's doom, in death that we and ours
For aye remain?

O, can it be, that o'er the grave
The grass renew'd should yearly wave,
Yet God forget our child to save?

It cannot be for, were it so

Thus man could die,

Life were a mockery, thought were woe,

And truth a lie;

Heaven were a coinage of the brain,

Religion frenzy, virtue vain,

And all our hopes to meet again.

Then be to us, O dear, lost child!
With beam of love,

A star, death's uncongenial wild
Smiling above:

Soon, soon thy little feet have trod
The skyward path, the seraph's road,
That led thee back from man to God!

Yet 'tis sweet balm to our despair,
Fond, fairest boy,

That heaven is God's, and thou art there:
With Him is joy;

There past are death and all its woes,
There beauty's stream for ever flows,
And pleasure's day no sunset knows.

Farewell, then, for awhile, farewell,—
Pride of my heart!
It cannot be that long we dwell

Thus torn apart :

Time's shadows like the shuttle flee: And, dark howe'er life's night may be. Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee!