Wheeler Chapel." This statement, if it mean "Africans," and includes the slaves in the West Indies, I regard as one of those instances of exaggeration to which the mind is prone in speaking of those who have first strongly affected it. The seeds of his doings had been sown before, by other circumstances and other hands; though they were watered, doubtless, by Mr. Pratt, and sprang up under his ministry. If the statement was limited to Africa, and referred to his interest in missions, and his anxieties respecting the spiritual benefit, as well as the temporal freedom and elevation, of its inhibitants, it may be more correct. But, in either case, it teaches a lesson worthy of remembrance.

The last and perfecting event, that which gave fixedness and maturity to Sir Fowell Buxton's religion, which brought it out as life in the experience, as well as light and knowledge in the intellect, was an alarming illness with which he was visited in 1813. I do not mean that he had not, subjectively, experienced something of religion before, or that the spiritual life now only began. The process has been gradually advancing for years. The light had early and long been "as the morning spread upon the mountains," and had struggled and increased against mist and darkness. Life had been stirring and augmenting within him, like the growth and ripening of the infant in the womb; it was now to be developed in a higher form, and to become a thing both of distincter consciousness and of richer manifestation. The account given of this event is deeply interesting, and the frequent references to it by the father justify fully the statement of the son, that the period of its occurrence was that "from which may be dated that ascendency of religion over his mind, which gave shape and colouring to the whole of his after life." The points I would direct you to observe are, the sight which he obtained of the utter insufficiency of his own virtue; his glad reception of the Christian atone ment; with the happy persuasion and high assurance of his interest in it. The effect, too, of the whole process in deep

OUR BIRDS OF SONG.

OUR singing birds, with a very few exceptions, are silent during the month of August, and do not resume their notes till about the middle of September. The note of the blackbird may occasionally be heard. There is one little bird, the wood-lark-which must not be confounded with the sky-larkremarkable for the softness of its notes, which delights us during this month. It may be heard in the air on a calm sunny morning. Its song is more melodious than that of the sky-lark, but does not consist of so great a variety of notes. It is frequently found on the margin of woods, and on the approach of man, is seen to crouch close to the ground, and then suddenly darts away, as if for instant flight, but settles again almost immediately. It continues its song, circling in the air, a scarcely visible speck, by the hour together; and the vast distance from which its voice reaches us in a calm day, is almost incredible.

BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

ABOUT the end of this month, swallows, and some other birds of passage, begin

to assemble, as a preparation for their approaching departure to a warmer climate. Their actual departure, however, does not take place till near the close of September, or, perhaps, the beginning of October.

"Warn'd of approaching Winter, gathered play

The swallow people; and toss'd wide around, O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, The feather'd eddy floats, rejoicing once, Ere they retire, to warmer climes convey'd, With other kindred birds of season; there They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months Invite them back. Far thronging now Innumerous wings are in commotion all.". Several well-ascertained facts prove that birds of passage perform their flight with astonishing rapidity. An American passenger pigeon was shot, at a distance of eight hundred miles from land, whose stomach was found to contain rice, unchanged by the digestive process, showing that this vast distance must have been passed over in very few hours. A sparrow has been known to fly at the rate of thirty miles an hour; and various experiments with the common kite, show that this bird can fly with great ease from the northern_extremity of Scotland to the land's end

in one day. Those birds of passage which do not fly so swiftly, nevertheless reach the south of Europe, or even the north of Africa, within a very few days after leaving the shores of England. Birds of passage must have a sense of the mutual advantages which they seeure by taking their long flights in flocks. Their preparatory arrangements for departing, and their uniting together in great numbers, indicate that they are actuated by a genuine love of society. It is a real pleasure to them,

"With kindred and clan to mingle the strain; They love by the birds of their race to abide, When they come to their forest haunts again, To build their warm nests by the green hillside.

When the stormy winds unroof their retreat, And wither the wreaths of their summer bowers,

Then, afar in the valley the wanderers meet, And in concert beguile the sad wintry hours.”

THE HUM OF INSECTS.

"THE pleasant hum of insects" must arrest the ear of every one who takes a walk into the fields during the month of August. The "ceaseless hum" of insects has been sung oft by Thomson the poet, and discoursed upon by others in sober prose. Mr. White, of Selborne, one of the most minute observers of natural phenomena, says, "There is an occurrence to be met with in the highest part of our downs on a hot summer day, which always greatly amuses me, although without any satisfaction as to the cause of it; and that is, a loud audible humming in the air, though not an insect is to be seen. Any one might suppose that a large swarm was in motion from some neighbouring hive; nay, that they were even playing over his head." We think this circumstance may be easily explained. Insects very generally soar high in hot weather; and hence, the pleasant hum produced by numbers may reach the ear, although the gleesome little creatures producing it are not within the range of sight. The May-beetle still "wheels his droning flight;" and, if he be observed to fly in the early morning, his appearance

indicates a fine day. The hum of the honey-bee is peculiarly agreeable, and suggests the idea of cheerful and useful labour. When this busy worker alights upon a flower her hum ceases, but is resumed again as she flies off with her booty. The numerous family of hawkmoths, as well as some other kindred tribes, continue their glad hum while rifling the fragrant flower-cups which furnish them with their spoil. The most sonorous of insect-hums belongs, perhaps, to the large humble bee, whose booming, audible at a considerable distance, becomes sharp and shrill as the insect approaches the listener's ear.

BEES AND BUTTERFLIES.

Ir has been remarked, that the passions of fear or anger, joy or sorrow, eager ness or surprise, which produce exclamations among ourselves, occasionally elicit from insects certain sounds expressive of their feelings. Angry chidings are occasionally heard among flowers; take, for instance, the indignant tones of the humble-bee, when lying upon his back on some couch formed of rosepetels. If any one presumes to touch the little being, he kicks and scolds with all his might. Even the hivebees, though the most cheerful, as well as the most industrious of insects, will produce, when irritated, a shrill and peevish sound, and will follow from field to field, with persevering hostility, the person who offends them.

Butterflies are very abundant in the month of August, especially the small white garden butterfly. One of the most beautiful of the butterfly tribe is commonly called "the painted lady," and is only occasionally-as is the case with the more splendid butterflies-seen in Scotland. The surface of the wings of butterflies is clothed with minute. feathers, which are often of the most gorgeous tints. These feathers are of so delicate a texture, that the slightest touch is sufficient to brush them off; and so minute, that unless viewed through a microscope, they resemble a fine powder. Their numbers almost defy calculation. Upwards of 400,000

have been counted on the wings of a moth, and a butterfly's wing is no less profusely feathered.

THE DAHLIA.

THE stately dahlia, which some fifty years ago was found only in the gardens of noblemen, is now a cottage flower. It is a native of Mexico, and was first brought into Europe by Baron Humboldt in the year 1789, when he presented a plant of it to the curator of the Botanic Garden at Madrid. In the same year it was introduced into this country as a greenhouse plant. In its wild state the dahlia grows to the height of eight feet, is naturally a single flower, and of a dull purple hue. Cultivation, however, has done for it more, perhaps, than for any other flower; as it sports itself into such endless varieties, that it has become the most extensively cultivated florist's plant of the present day. The more common tints are scarlet, orange, puce, purple, crimson, and pink, as well as pure white. More than 200 varieties have already been raised

from the wild Mexican flower. A blue dahlia is, however, still an object of desire among florists.

THE SUNFLOWER.

THE showy sunflower-so designated, either from the form and colour of the flower, or from its habit of turning to the sun-grows wild in countries far apart from each other. Dr. Clarke saw it in great abundance in the plains of Tartary. It grows to a great height in the woods of Canada, and bears flowers eight or ten inches in diameter. It is, however, with South America, that we especially associate this flower, as its name recalls the remembrance of the

maiden priestesses of Peru, crowned with garlands of golden sunflowers, and worshipping in the gorgeous temple,

"When with unceasing ray, Blazed forth in a flood of ceaseless light, The orb of the God of day.".

The sunflower is cultivated in the United States for the sake of the oil which may be expressed from its seeds; and in Canada the seeds are gathered and stored up as food for poultry and some other domestic animals.

A QUESTION FOR SABBATH EVENING. "Where hast thou gleaned to-day?” Ruth ii. 19.

AMIDST all the Sabbath profanation that we have to mourn over in our country, it is a pleasing thought that throughout the land agricultural pursuits are very generally suspended on the Lord's-day. And what would the toil-worn peasant do without the Sabbath rest? Then, according to Divine appointment, the ox and the horse rest also. The busy harvest-time is no exception to this general rule. The worldly and the wicked, with few exceptions, bow to the custom, though they do not reverence the Lord'sday as a divine institution. The reaper withholds his hand on that day; no corn is then gathered into the garner, and even the poor gleaners, to whom some handfulls of the precious ears are

of importance, cease to go forth into the fields over which they lie scattered. Would that the towns and cities of our

country were like the agricultural districts in this respect.

But still the Lord's-day is a gleaning day; yea, the gleaning day, during which all immortal beings should go forth to gather up food for the soul. Into the ears of all, the loving Saviour pours the wondrous tidings, "My Father giveth you the true bread from heaven." To the worldly he says, "Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of man shall give unto you, for him hath God the Father sealed."

To the lovers of pleasure, who weary themselves for very vanity, he exclaims in gentle upbraiding tones of pity, "Wherefore do you spend your