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and the thunder of the surf is heard mingling with the thunder of the clouds, and the booming note of the guns fired as signals of distress. A moment more, and the noble vessel is lying a helpless wreck at the foot of the rock. Such calamities have, alas! been frequent, and it was off this point, about three years ago, and within sight of the cliff, that the unfortunate "Dalhousie," bound to Australia, foundered in deep water, when all on board perished, except one solitary seaman.

AN ADVENTURE ON BEACHY HEAD. IN N the line of lofty cliffs of chalk which form the south-eastern boundary of England, the bold promontory, known as Beachy Head, is one of the most remarkable. Its elevation from the level of the sea, when it lies calm in the sunshine at its base, is five hundred and eighty-eight feet; and as the situation of the cliff is one of the most exposed along the whole line of coast, it follows that a moderate breeze suffices to send the waters chafing and foaming up its rugged face. It will be readily believed, therefore, that in a south-year 18-, that three friends, young men, set out westerly gale gigantic waves come rolling in with indescribable fury, bursting in thunder against the stupendous wall of chalk rock, and throwing sheets of foam half-way up its entire hight.

The crest of the cliff is visible far out at sea; the last expiring beams of day linger upon its summit, tinting it with a rosy hue when the sun has sunk to rest below the horizon. How many a wistful eye has looked upon it from the deck of the "outward bound!"

"When slow the ship her foamy track,
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her fluttering pennant looking back
To that dear land 'twas leaving."

The young cadet, who has just torn himself from
the embrace of his widowed mother, has gazed
upon it with a full heart as it gradually faded
away in the gray of evening; and then, when
returning home, after a lapse of twenty or thirty
eventful years, the master of wealth and honors,
the well-remembered outline of the cliff has met
his eyes in bold relief against the brightening sky

at sunrise:

"While homeward bound with favoring gale,
The gallant ship up channel steered,
And, scudding under easy sail,

The mighty headland first appeared."
But another picture still forces itself on the
imagination. How often in raging storms, while
the good ship, laden with the treasures of the
east, and crowded with passengers, has been la-
boring in the trough of the sea, in the blackness
of night, while the captain has been pacing the
deck anxiously, looking out to ascertain his dis-
tance from that dreaded lee-shore, a vivid flash
has lighted up the towering headland in all its
ghostly whiteness! Woe, woe betide the un-
happy ship that, in such a night, has not miles
of sea-room! If once she approaches that fright-
ful precipice, her doom is sealed. At each suc-
cessive flash of lightning, the stupendous wall
of chalk is more vividly revealed; while sheets
of foam are tossing themselves half up the hight,

It was on a fine afternoon in September, in the

from the village of Eastbourne to walk to Beachy Head, the distance being about a mile and a half. One of the three was a collector of fossils, and he took with him the little hammer which he commonly used for breaking the lumps of chalk which so often contain specimens of antediluvian sharks' teeth, echini, and shells. Arriving on the beach below the cliff, they found the sea almost calm, and wandered about for some time searching for agates and pebbles; and one of the three-the fossil-hunter-found among the shingles a large spike-nail, a relic, perhaps, of one of those fearful wrecks which are not uncommon at this awful point. Perhaps he held the old superstitious opinion that it is lucky to pick up and preserve any piece of old iron. At all events, the spikenail was safely deposited in his pocket, and he wandered on, intently searching for fossils along the base of the cliff, which frowned above his head. Presently he came to that spot where a portion of the topmost strata of chalk has erumbled away, and fallen like an avalanche upon the beach below, forming a sloping, rugged wall, to the hight of about four hundred feet, with numerous crags and fissures, which might tempt a chamois or a hunted fox to search for a pathway, but which offered no likelihood of a hold for human foot. But our narrative will, perhaps, proceed more easily and naturally in the language of the adventurer himself.

"I was so occupied with my search among the masses of chalk which lay at the foot of the cliff, that I had for a full half hour parted from my companions, and when I raised myself from my stooping posture to look for them, I was surprised to find that I had gradually climbed a good way up a narrow, shelving track, which seemed to present no obstacle to my further progress. My friends were not in sight; they had probably gone along the beach beyond the projection of the headland. It was of no consequence; I should see them presently; and so I continued my ascent, finding from time to time specimens which

absorbed my attention, and made me quite regardless of the increasing difficulties of my path. On a sudden, however, I was startled by the scream of a sea-gull, and, looking round me, was at once aware that I had reached a point of considerable danger-that, in fact, it would be quite impossible to retrace my steps for the last twenty or thirty feet that I had mounted, and that I had no alternative but to proceed onward, in the hope of finding a track by which I could descend. In this situation I shouted to my companions; but they were not in sight, nor could. I perceive any moving object on the beach, which lay far below, or on the expanse of sea, over which the sun now glared through a rising fog-bank in the west-a blood-red disk resting on the horizon. No time was to be lost; it would soon be dusk, and the peril of my path would be increased. At every step my footing became more and more insecure; and when my hand or my foot loosened a fragment of chalk, down it went, rushing, and bounding, and disturbing other projections in its course, till I heard the sullen, distant crash as they fell upon the beach below, and read in that sound a warning of my inevitable fate if I should lose my hold.

"But to retreat was impossible. I had now arrived at a spot where the cliff rose perpendicularly overhead. About twelve or fifteen feet up was a fringe of grass, which gave me hope that there must be a ledge of rock, which would afford a better footing. But how to reach it? How was it possible I could climb that wall? And should I fail? It was an awful moment. We talk of fervent prayer, and sometimes, when ensconced in our cushioned pew at church, we think that we are praying earnestly for blessings to be bestowed or dangers to be averted; but ah! how dull and languid are such prayers compared with the aspirations of him who is standing on the brink of destruction, alone, as it were, with God, while death hovers over him in the gathering shades of night! At such a time he does indeed feel his entire dependence on the sustaining arm of Him who is 'mighty to save; and his heart is strengthened and his nerves are braced while he remembers that 'the Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him in truth.'

"My situation was becoming desperate, and I had not a moment to lose. My hammer was still in my hand, and I recollected the spike-nail I had found on the beach, and drew it from my coat-pocket. With the hammer I dug out little hollows in the chalk for my feet, and then, driving in my spike above, I held by it while I cut the next, and the next, and thus I proceeded in

my slow and most hazardous task, till, at the end of an hour, as nearly as I could guess, and just as the dim twilight was deepening into night's darkness, I succeeded in clambering up the grassy ledge. Success was it? I was at a hight of four hundred feet, at least, and above me the cliff rose nearly two hundred more-its bald and rugged top rather overhanging the narrow shelf on which I was crouching, so that to climb it, even if I had nerves of steel, would have been entirely hopeless.

"At this moment my hammer, which had rendered me such good service, slipped from my hand and fell. I dared not watch its fall down that frightful precipice; but I heard its chinking sound as it struck two or three times against projections in its course, and it sounded on my ear like a funeral knell.

"It was now nearly dark, but I could just perceive two or three moving figures on the beach, and I shouted to them with all my power; but the distance was great, and the noise of the waves upon the shingle must have drowned my voice. I saw them walk leisurely away, and, commending myself to the providential care of Him who had preserved me thus far, I made up my mind to the necessity of spending the night where I was, with the faint hope that at daylight I might be able, by hoisting a signal of distress, to obtain assistance.

"But now a new difficulty began to press upon me hunger, thirst, and fatigue were taking hold of me; my hands, swollen and wounded, and my finger-nails, worn down to the quick by grappling with the rock, caused excessive pain. Yet, in spite of all this, I began to feel a drowsiness which I dared not indulge; for there was no friendly branch or twig to which I could fasten myself, and to fall asleep on that narrow shelf of rock, would be to fall into the sleep of death.

"From this imminent peril I was preserved in a manner which, while I live, will, I trust, ever dwell in my memory, and serve to raise my aspirations of gratitude to Him whose merciful providence is over all his creatures, and who in this hour of misery and distress sent me help in the form of a friendly sea-bird. A scream, and then the flapping of a sea-gull's wing, roused me from my stupor. It came and went as the bird wheeled around me, and then sailed away far, far below. Another came and went, and came again; and thus the pair hovered about me in the darkness, through the weary hours of that fearful night, and their screaming notes, and the flapping of their long wings, so near me, at times, as to fan my face, became as music in my ears, bidding me look up to Him who alone had the power to save

me from destruction. No doubt the poor birds had their nest in some crevice near me, and their natural efforts to scare away an invader of their territory, proved the means of safety to me. And so my eyes were 'held waking,' and I gazed on the deep-blue sky, 'fretted with golden fires,' and watched the great constellations—the Bear, and Orion, and Cassiopeia-as they moved around their central star, and saw the planet Venus rise from her ocean bed and walk the sky in silent beauty. I looked wistfully toward the east, and longed-0, how earnestly!-for the day.

"At length the first streak of light appeared, and from that moment my eyes were turned constantly to the beach below, in the hope of descrying some fisherman, for I knew that they were | often early at their work. The light gradually increased, and I was just able to distinguish objects at that distance, when to my great joy I saw a man close to the water's edge. Happily there was little or no wind, and I had the better chance of making myself heard. I waved my hat and my white handkerchief, and shouted, using my hands as a speaking-trumpet; presently the man stopped, and turning slowly round, stood gazing at me. I renewed my shouts, and was answered. The sound of his voice rose distinctly to my ear, backed as I was by the reverberating rock.

small, and I much doubted if it would bear my
weight-perhaps the men had underrated that—
for I was near six feet high, and weighed nearly
two hundred pounds. I shouted to the men,
"Will it bear me?'

"Ay, ay,' was the answer, 'have you pluck?'

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'Ay, I hope so,' was my reply. "Then make it fast round your body, and swing yourself quietly off-steady, now.'

"I question whether any criminal, when submitting his neck to the gentle attentions of the hangman, ever experienced a more deadly sensation than I did at that moment. A cold damp stood on my brow, and my heart beat audibly as I passed the cord round my chest, and secured it in front with the best knot I was master of. Then I kneeled and looked up to the clear sky, and in a few fervent words commended myself to the Divine protection.

"The men above called out,

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"Hold on a bit,' he said, 'and I'll tell the moving a large fragment of chalk which had been coast-guard people.'

“Here was a ray of hope; but how could they help me? There was but one way that appeared possible they might lower ropes from the top of the cliff; but should I have the courage or the strength required for the ascent? Yes, if it come to that, I must find resolution to meet a danger which scarcely equaled that to which I had been already exposed. I knew not how long a time elapsed; for I had neglected to wind up my watch; but it seemed hours before I saw or heard any thing of the promised assistance. At last I heard, through the still morning air, a voice above my head, and, looking up, saw the heads of two men projecting over the edge of the cliff; they were lying on their faces, and were lowering a rope; it looked but a thread as it swung gently backward and forward in the morning breeze, and when at last it reached the place where I stood, it was swinging more than a yard from me, because the edge of the cliff projected so much. It was shaken, however, by the men, and still swinging backward and forward. Watching my opportunity, I caught the end and drew it toward me. It had a loop tied in sailor's fashion, and I knew that would not slip; but, alas! the line was but

TOL. XVII-11

disturbed by the friction of the rope, and which, if it had fallen on my head, must have killed me instantly. He did succeed in removing it; but, as I afterward learned, I was held by his one companion alone while his hands were so occupied. Again I began to ascend, and hope returned. I heard the voices of my deliverers as they gave each other the word to haul together; and I rose, and rose, and at last felt my wrists seized by a friendly grasp, and fell stretched upon the turf. I just heard the hurrah that was uttered, and then for a time lost all consciousness.

"When I revived, I found myself in bed at a little inn, where, by the aid of kind and watchful care, such as English hearts and hands are ever ready to bestow, I recovered in a few hours from the effects of my perilous adventure.

"It may readily be supposed that such an escape became the prevailing topic of conversation, and that I was for some days 'the observed of all observers. The impression left on my own mind I will not attempt to describe. Those who read my narrative will believe how earnestly and how heartily at church on the following Sunday I joined in those expressions of thankfulness for daily preservation with which the Episcopal Lit

urgy abounds. On that same Sunday evening, when alone and unobserved I walked at sunset on the beach, and looked again upon the face of that terrible cliff, how deeply did I feel the force and beauty of those passages in the Psalms which had already cheered me during the lonely watches of that memorable night! With my Psalter in my hand, I lingered, reading and musing till the daylight faded, and then the moon rose in calm serenity from the blue horizon of the wide waters, and I read again by her light, which seemed to impart a glow of sanctity to the inspired words, "Whoso dwelleth under the defense of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall defend thee under his wings, and thou shalt be safe under his feathers; his faithfulness and truth shall be thy shield and buckler;' 'My soul hangeth upon thee: thy right hand hath upholden me;' 'Thou shalt make room enough under me for to go, that my footsteps shall not slide;' 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh even from the Lord who hath made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved, and he that keepeth thee will not sleep. The Lord himself is thy keeper, the Lord is thy defense upon thy right hand.'”

his enthusiasm for the false prophet, this is his testimony concerning the Koran :

"We also can read the Koran.

Our translation of it, by Sale, is known to be a very fair one. I must say, it is as toilsome reading as I ever undertook. A wearisome, confused jumble, crude, recondite, endless iterations, long-windedness, entanglement, most crude, incondite-insupportable stupidity, in short! Nothing but a sense of duty could carry any European through the Koran. We read in it, as we might in the State Paper office, unreadable masses of lumber that, perhaps, we may get some glimpses of a remarkable man. With every allowance, one feels it difficult to see how any mortal ever could consider this Koran as a book written in heaven, too good for earth, as a well-written book, or as a book at all, and not a bewildered rhapsody, written, so far as writing goes, as badly as any book ever was."

With all Carlyle's reasons for ignoring the word of God, this is his testimony concerning the book of Job, a portion of those Scriptures to which he gives so little heed:

"I call that, [the book of Job,] apart from all theories about it, one of the grandest things ever written with a pen. One feels, indeed, as if it were not Hebrew. Such a noble universality, different from noble patriotism or sectarianism, reigns in it. A noble book; all men's book! It is our

THE BIBLE VERSUS THE KORAN. first, oldest statement of the never-ending prob

A

BY A. D. FIELD.

PERSON with whom I have had some intercourse, for a few years past, has lately written a book setting forth his objections to the Bible. One prominent doctrine of the book is, that the Koran and the teachings of Confucius are far superior to the Bible. Knowing that some other praters are of this way of thinking, I wish to bring up a witness against them who may well claim to be heard upon this subject. Thomas Carlyle is, to say the least, not to be regarded as having any special friendship for the religion of the Bible. He is what Theodore Parker is. He looks for lessons to such German rationals as Strauss and Hegel. He is certainly not prejudiced in favor of the Scriptures; and hence, in the eye of infidelity, may be very competent to judge of their merits.

Carlyle gives us his idea of the Koran in a dissertation on Mohammed. He makes Mohammed a hero, a sincere prophet of Allah, a saint. He apologizes for the use of the sword in the propagation of Islamism-ay, approved of the warring spirit of Mohammed, till one would think him a pervert to Mohammedanism. And yet, with all

lem-man's destiny and God's ways with him here in this earth. And all in such free flowing outlines; grand in its sincerity, in its simplicity, in its epic melody and repose of reconcilement. There is the seeing eye, the mildly understanding heart. So true every way; true eyesight and vision for all things; material things, no less than spiritual. The horse, 'hast thou clothed his neck with thunder; he 'laughs at the shaking of the spear.' Such living likenesses were never since drawn. Sublime sorrow; sublime reconciliation; oldest choral melody, as of the heart of mankind. So soft and great; as the summer midnight; as the world with its seas and stars. There is nothing written, I think, in the Bible, or out of it, of equal literary merit."

TALKING TO CHILDREN.

THE habit of talking familiarly and usefully to children, to each according to his capacity, is an invaluable qualification in a teacher or parent. Its practice should be encouraged and cultivated; for it will prove not only delightful, but most successful in imparting instruction, and enkindling in them a love for learning.

1

L

MOUNT VERNON.

BY C. COLLINS, D. D.

OCALITIES, memorable from their connection with great characters and great events, possess a wonderful moral attraction. Witness their power to wake up the slumbering trains of associated thought and devout or patriotic feeling. Who could visit Marathon or Thermopyla, Jerusalem, Mecca, or Waterloo, without feeling some new power, like a charm, searching at once "all the cells where memory sleeps," and bringing forth the buried recollection of whatever he had heard or read of those memorable spots? With what interest does the heart turn to them to render its instinctive homage!

It may be an idle vagary, and philosophy will perhaps repel it as without substantial foundation; but it seems to me that places consecrated by the exhibitions of human greatness, become ever after sacred in the eyes of superior beings, who keep watch and ward over them as their tutelar divinities. Perhaps the souls of the dead linger in the haunts which they loved while on earth, or which became identified with their exploits or virtues. Who, for instance, could wander through that fearful mountain pass, where Leonidas withstood the Persian, and not feel as if the spirits of the immortal three hundred were flitting around him, calling each other in the answering echoes, and chattering, whispering, and sighing in the commingled voices of birds, waterfalls, winds, and rustling trees? Every time-beaten rock would seem the perch of some heroic spirit, all gashed with the wounds of that horrid conflict; and the breezes, as they pass, appear yet vocal with the shouts of valor, mixed with the dying groans of that holocaust of patriotism. To me it is no unpleasant thought that,

"The spirits of the dead may walk again." Thus likewise with other memorable localities. When the Christian pilgrim, foot-worn and dusty with long travel, sees for the first time the domes and the towers of Jerusalem gleam on his view, it is impossible for him to bring it down to the level of other vulgar cities. He sees it not with the same eyes. It has, to him at least, an existence borrowed from the past as well as the present; from memory and imagination as well as from sense. The old walls and towers, hoary with the rust of so many centuries, the mosque of the infidel and the sepulcher of the Savior, the narrow streets and antique, dilapidated dwellings, together with scattered herds of Turks and squalid Jews, are not all. Imagination has its realities

too. It is the city of David and Hezekiah. The glory of Solomon still gleams on the summit of Moriah in the morning and evening sun. He hears the people's voice as of old. Before him is the very dust trod by

"Those sacred feet,

Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nailed, For man's advantage, to the accursed tree;" and all around are the memorials of events which have thrilled the great heart of humanity for so many ages. These glowing associations are a part of Jerusalem-they are among her fixed institutions as much as her walls.

Why it is that local associations have such influence over us we need not stop to inquire. Suffice it that there is a deep philosophy in these matters. It is the heart's sympathetic response to the great principles of our common nature.

With feelings somewhat akin to those above described, we went, last summer, to discharge a debt of patriotism in visiting Mount Vernon. Sacred in American annals has become that consecrated spot. It is not that the locality itself surpasses in beauty, fertility, or grandeur a thousand other interesting spots. A noble river indeed washes its base, but the aqueous arteries of the great western valley surpass it. Prospects, rich in landscape beauty-hill, plain, forest, and waving field, are there, just as they met the gaze of the hero and statesman; but other places daily meet the eye of the traveler, where Nature is even more prodigal in the display of her charms. A glorious sky bends above it, but the same bright dome covers other lands also. Yet there is a charm about Mount Vernon that is known to no other place in the republic, causing the heart to turn to it as to the shrine of its most sacred treasures.

As the times of Washington recede from us, and the generations pass away on whom the great facts of his life made their distinct impression, patriotism will seek more and more to refresh, at his tomb, the recollection of his virtues. In the nature of things the distinct impression of cotemporary life and action must give place to the haze of distance and time. Already are party animosities forgotten, and but for the record of competent writers, we, at the present day, should hardly know that Washington had enemies, and those too as bitter, proscriptive, and unrelenting as any that are formed in the political stadium at present. Yet such he had.* But prejudice and pas

This is sufficiently shown by the following anecdote, as given by Irving, of the late Governor Jay, one of the purest and most illustrious statesmen, furnished by his son, Judge Jay: "Shortly after the death of John Adams," says Judge Jay, "I was sitting alone with my father

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