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THE DAY,

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1832.

HOURS OF LEISURE.-No. V.

ON THE SENTIMENTS PROPER TO THE PRESENT CRISIS.

Ah, self-deceived! Could I, prophetic, say
Who next is fated, and who next to fall,
The rest might then seem privileged to play;
But naming none, the voice now speaks to all.

COWPER.

THE circumstances of our country, at the present moment, are eminently calculated to awaken to serious reflection the most thoughtless and inconsiderate, and to lead others of an opposite character to a more severe examination of the line of conduct they are pursuing, and of the principles and motives on which they are acting. In the course of God's mysterious providence, we have been visited with a formidable disease, the accounts of whose dreadful ravages in other lands we had often perused with breathless interest, but whose contagious taint had never before been wafted to our highly-favoured shores. The extraordinary excitement produced in the public mind when the appearance amongst us of this dreadful malady was first announced, is not to be wondered at; for the most cursory glance at its appalling features, is enough to make the heart of the observer to fail within him, and his knees to smite each other from terror and alarm. The premonitory symptoms of this pestilential scourge are so very equivocal, that its unhappy victims have scarcely ascertained that danger is nigh, until they find themselves locked in the arms of the fell destroyer, who, secure of his prey, laughs in savage triumph at the efforts of science to undo his grasp, and inflicts such an inconceivable amount of torture, in a limited space of time, that the weary spirit ardently longs for the arrival of that solemn moment which shall release it from its shattered tenement.

Multitudes of our fellow-countrymen have already fallen beneath the stroke of this insidious foe; and, notwithstanding of the praiseworthy exertions of the influential and the opulent, to alleviate the distress of their poorer brethren, and to fortify them against the attacks of disease, the relentless emissary of death is still pursuing his desolating career, scattering contagion in his progress, and sweeping into one common grave men of every character and condition in society. When the work of devastation shall cease, and the pestilential sword be returned to its scabbard, is known only to Him who gave to the destroying angel his commission, and fixed unalterably the period of its recall. In the meanwhile, it is the duty of all to cherish those sentiments, and to follow those practices that are reasonably to be expected from rational and accountable creatures in seasons of general distress. Perspicacity, in determining the feelings and conduct that are proper to the circumstances in which we are placed, although constituting a material part of true wisdom, is an attainment but very rarely to be met with. And, even after the path of duty has been clearly ascertained, the natural corruption of the human heart will prevent the very best of men from entering on it, unless their attention be repeatedly directed to the necessity of holy living, and to the motives to obedience with which we are furnished by the Gospel.

We shall, therefore, endeavour to point out the manner in which we ought to deport ourselves at the present important crisis, when the sword of Divine justice

is hanging over our heads, threatening every moment to take vengeance on us for our national and individual crimes. And, first of all, we remark, that we are especially called on to recognise the alarming distemper that at present prevails amongst us, as an instrument, employed by God, in the government of his moral and rational creatures.

In effectuating the infinitely wise and gracious purposes for which the Benign Ruler of all exerted his creative power in the formation of the universe, he is pleased to employ a number of subordinate agents, differing from each other, in their character, and in their mode and sphere of operation, yet all admirably fitted for, and, notwithstanding of counteracting influences, eminently successful in promoting the glory of the Divine Being and the ultimate good of every holy intelligence. In every department of creation, the working of this system of agency may be discerned. Sometimes we are called to admire the ardent and disinterested zeal exhibited by those who, voluntarily, co-operate with the Creator of all in accomplishing his most gracious designs. At other times, we witness the unseemly spectacle of creatures wilfully opposing their heavenly benefactor, who, nevertheless, renders them the unconscious instruments of advancing his glory, for "the wrath of man shall praise the Lord and the remainder thereof he will restrain." The various movements in the political world, the rise and fall of nations, the overthrow of dynasties, the alterations in the forms of government, and the no less important changes, that are constantly occurring in the moral world, will all find their ultimate issue in an eternal state of things, and influence the everlasting destiny, not of the actors only, but of thousands of those who now deem themselves nothing more than unconcerned spectators.

The various evils that are incident to humanity, national calamities, personal and relative suffering, of every kind and degree, the desolating hurricane, the devouring sword, and the pestilence that walketh in darkness, are all divinely-appointed messengers, sent forth to execute the high behests of heaven. Those dispensations of Providence that bring peace and prosperity to men, hold an equally important place in the system of means employed by God in the government of the universe. To this proposition very few will be found to except. It requires but little reasoning to persuade a man, that the more pleasant parts of the divine procedure towards him, bear the impress of infinite wisdom and goodness. But, no sooner is the sun of prosperity obscured, and impending danger announced, by the gathering clouds that darken his horizon, than his views of the divine character undergo a change, the natural tendency in the human mind to atheistical principles begins to exhibit itself, and doubts and suspicions, as to the rectitude of the moral government of God, take the place of the unsuspecting confidence that he was wont to repose in the Supreme Ruler of all.

This unhappy state of mind will, probably, continue until deliverance be obtained from the painful dispensations that induced it and some counter-revolution of the mysterious wheels of Providence reinstate the individual in the possession and enjoyment of his former privileges. The facility with which such hard

thoughts of God establish themselves in the minds even of good men, affords a melancholy proof of the weakness of human nature, and the baneful effects that have resulted from the apostacy of our race. In judging of the character, and in interpreting the conduct of our fellow-men, we are accustomed to proceed according to certain rules which have been dictated by a careful observation of passing events, and by a tolerable acquaintance with the motives by which we, ourselves, are actuated. But however correct the deductions may be to which we are led by an application of these rules to the procedure of those around us, we ought never to forget that they are, and in the very nature of things, must be incapable of affording us the least assistance in our efforts to acquire a knowledge of the character and ways of God. Yet is it to the forgetfulness of this very obvious truth that our misapprehensions of the Supreme Being are mainly to be attributed. We bring down the Sovereign of the universe from his exalted throne, and place him on a level with his rebellious subjects, we associate what is infinite with that which is finite-unerring wisdom with the foolishness of folly-boundless knowledge with total ignorance-perfect holiness with unmixed depravity-in short, all the essential attributes of Deity with the characteristics of fallen and guilty creatures, and, viewing all through the same medium, we pronounce a judgment which, so far as the Creator of all is concerned, is as widely removed from truth, as either pole is distant from the other.

The only effectual method we can take to rectify our notions respecting the character of God is, seririously and devoutly, to study the displays of his perfections afforded us in the works of creation, providence and redemption. A perfect knowledge of the Divine character we cannot, indeed, hope to attain, until freed from this body of sin and death, our spirits take up their abode in those regions of unutterable bliss, where the splendours of the God-head are contemplated, without a veil, by countless myriads of holy intelligences. We may rest assured, however, that, in the kind providence of God, we have been furnished with sufficient means for acquiring that degree of acquaintance with the natural and moral perfections of the Deity, which is necessary for the performance of the duties and the enjoyment of the privileges of our present condition. The volume of nature which is accessible to all, conveys to the attentive student much valuable information respecting the character of the Almighty parent of the universe. There is reason,

however, to fear, that the illustrations of the natural attributes of God with which the material world abounds, are too little attended to by professing Christians. There are many well-meaning, though ill-instructed individuals, who would loudly declaim against that Christian Minister, who, in his public ministrations, would have temerity enough to dwell at any length on the evidences of the wisdom and goodness of the Deity, which the natural world affords.

Nothing can be more absurd than this unphilosophic prejudice. In the study of what are called the laws of nature, some of the brightest intellects that have adorned the world have spent many of their most pleasant and profitable hours. The regular and harmonious operations of those laws, the perfect adaptation of the means to the end, and the order and magnificence which everywhere prevail, furnish the contemplative mind with such irrefragable proofs of the omniscience and beneficence of the Supreme Being, as impel it to pursue its enquiries in higher regions, and to seek for clearer discoveries of the perfections of the Deity, in the attentive study of the character of his moral government. And, although the wisdom of the Divine procedure, towards his rational offspring, may not in every case be apparent to the finite and depraved mind of man, yet the uniform conclusions at which an unprejudiced enquirer, who avails himself of the aid of Revelation, will arrive, will be found utterly subver

sive of those specious but fallacious systems which sceptical philosophy has long endeavoured to substitute in the room of the Christian religion. The clearest Revelation which God has been pleased to give us, of his glorious perfections, is contained in the intimations of the scriptures, respecting that wondrous plan through which mercy and forgiveness are extended to the guilty sons of men. The flood of light which by these intimations has been poured on the various dispensations of providence, renders it impossible for any one to misunderstand the end which the Sovereign Ruler of the universe has in view, in permitting a contagious disease to remove, to an eternal world, so many of our contemporaries. But what that end is, the li mits of our paper prevent us from at present enquiring.

ON CHURCH MUSIC.

To the Editor of THE DAY. SIR,-Some of your late papers contained a number of very ludicrous observations, on particular annoyances which had crept inte our places of public worship. Judging, from the approbation which these observations elicited from many respectable readers of your Journal, I am inclined to believe, that their aim, in some instances, will be secured. Perhaps it may be consistent, with your desire to advance general improvement, to afford room in your columns for a few remarks, on what I cannot but consider even a still greater annoyance, than any of those which have already been so justly animadverted on.

No one who feels any interest in the matter at all, will deny, that praise constitutes an essential as well as a most delightful part of public worship. Nor will it, I think, be denied, that the depth and the intenseness of individual devotional feeling, during the celebration of praise, depends not less on the taste and the energy, with which the musical part of devotion is conducted, than on the propriety and poetry of the language, in which the devotional sentiments are clothed. Sacred music utterly fails in its object, and as a department of divine worship, becomes altogether futile, when it does not awaken, strengthen and elevate devout emotions towards the Supreme intelligence. Should it be degraded to a mere mechanical and listless emission of sounds, of unequal duration, it assumes the character of religious mockery. Now, although it be true, that individuals, impressed with the grand realities of religion, will be solicitous to sing the praises of the Almighty, "with the understanding," in whatever manner the musical part of the services may be carried on, it is nevertheless certain, that when the music is ill conducted, and destitute of harmonious energy, it has a tendency, even in regard to the most devout, to degenerate into an unfelt expression of words, the meaning of which is lost sight of, and an inanimate emission of sounds, the aim of which, is, for the time utterly forgotten. Aware of this, pious and intelligent individuals, more immediately connected with ecclesiastical management, have often been anxious to get measures adopted, by which the psalmody of the congregations to which they belong, might be improved, and made to secure its legitimate object. In consistency with the general simplicity of the Presbyterian system, and in accordance, I think, to the practice of the primitive christians, instrumental music is not permitted in our churches, to lend its mighty aid to the inkindling and the invigorating of the dearest affections. A substitute, however, and one which, when conducted on proper principles, and under judicious management, is by no means inefficient, has been found, in what, in Scotland, are usually termed bands. Now, Sir, what I should wish to be remembered is, that the only legitimate uses of these bands or choirs, are; first, to lead the devotions of the congregation, in a decorous and solemn manner; second, to be instrumental in elevating the general tone of the congregational music and last, in virtue of the refined energy, which science enables its possessors to throw into musical compositions of every description, to circulate, as it were, a solemn vigour and refined pathos, through the music of the entire congregation, which may excite the devotional sentiments that may be slumbering in the bosom of one, elevate the spiritual conceptions that may already exist in the heart of another, and transfuse throughout the whole assembly, a healthy and a heavenly influence. But are these really the purposes which bands, in a great many instances are made to subserve. On the contrary, do they not, in some of our churches, appear to act in the character of substitutes for the general congregation? On looking around those congregations to which I allude, during the celebration of praise, one is almost tempted to believe, that their object in having assembled, was not, in part, to unite in praising Him, who claims the devotional services of all his intelligent creatures, but to find a musical gratification. Instead of appearing absorbed in those high meditations, which the thought of being immediately employed in the worship of the Omnipotent, ought to awaken, may many not be observed to turn their eyes towards the choir, and while the praises of the creator are chaunted, to regard the performers with a sort of theatrical complacency? Now, Sir, this is an annoyance—and to a pious mind, a very great annoyance. Such a mind cannot but feel it very painful, to comtemplate a number of dependant

:

and responsible beings, exhibiting such an apparent indifference towards their creator, that they would seem to consider it almost a degradation-a lowering of their personal respectability to mingle their voices, in celebrating the divine excellencies, in a congregational capacity. And while such a sight almost involuntarily gives birth to feelings, and originates trains of thought, painfully felt, to be at variance with the feelings and the thoughts, that should predominate in a worshipping bosom, an emotion even more painful, arises in the breast of the modest and devout worshipper, from the reluctance he feels to let his solitary voice be heard amid the comparative stillness with which he is surrounded. In spite of his convictions, that the diffidence is not only groundless and unreasonable, but positively culpable, he feels himself, nevertheless, forced to give way to it. He is reluctant to encounter the disapproving eyes that might be turned towards him, should he presume to mingle his untaught, though heartfelt notes, with the euphony and the tasteful melody, which seems so much to delight the ears of the surrounding audience. In such circumstances, bands, instead of being an advantage, must be regarded as one of the greatest disadvantages, to a congregation. Not only do they not serve their only legitimate purposes, but they are positively pernicious. Instead of leading the music, they make an ostentatious monopoly of

it.

Instead of improving, they destroy it. Instead of making it a noble instrument to execute devotional sentiment, it becomes under their almost exclusive appropriation, only a more solemn sort of amusement. Indifferent psalmody is to be deprecated, because it wants the power to awaken the devout affections. But, should the means intended and calculated to improve it, and thereby render it instrumental in the accomplishment of its lofty aims, be suffered to become the cause of its banishment, and an agent to seal the lips of the professed worshipper? Shall that which contains in itself, the power to prevent a delightful part of the services of the sanctuary, from degenerating into unmeaning discordance, and solemn thoughtlessness, be regarded in the light of a proxy for singing the praises of the Eternal, and a mere Sunday medium for the excitement of pleasurable emotions. I could wish, Sir, that those who imagine their Creator may be worshipped through the medium of a choir, would take the matter into serious consideration; and, although I feel I am taking ground which ought not to be taken on such a subject, I could almost make an appeal to their personal gratification. What heart, alive, in the least degree, to the power of sympathy, does not feel, that nature herself, in the hallowed aspect of devotion, inspired the exclamation of the poet,

Lord! how delightful 'tis to see, A whole assembly worship thee.

I am sure all will acknowledge, that there is a delight desirable from the symphonious swell of a large assemblage of worshippers, animated with the same feelings, and giving utterance to the same sentiments, having reference to one common omniscient Father, which no limited number of voices, however concordant, or managed according to scientific principles, can inspire. But the reason which should induce every individual, without exception, to join in the public praises of the Almighty, is one, with which neither fashion, nor custom, nor pride, ought, for an instant, to be permitted to interfere,-a reason founded on the indissoluable and eternal relationship that subsists between the creature and the Omnipotent Creator. "Let the people praise thee, O God; let all the people praise thee." But, I find I have already encroached too much on your indulgence. If you judge these loose observations worthy of a place in your paper, your insertion of them will oblige, W.

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THE PROGRESS OF IDOLATRY.

Man hath an inborn whisper in his breast,
Of higher powers a longing dubious dream--
Struggling with ills, his gropping foot would rest
On some firm rock to stem affliction's stream.
Mark him untutored, 'mid the wilderness-

Some fell tornado sweeps the wrathful skies,
Appalling thunders heaven's dark arch oppress,

Red light'ning's skaith his fear averted eyes,

While awful earthquake rends the cave to which he flies. Trembling he deems each angry element,

A vengeful and malignant Deity;

And soon his feeble powers in rites are spent,
As furious as the Gods for whom they be.

But spirits thus in fancied being dress'd,

Of man's untutored eye elude the gaze,
The child of sense, acute and soul depress'd,
Holds not the spectral form to which he prays,
And his own erring hands the sculptured idol raise.
Woe, woe to man! that dismal pit is open,

From whence the black sulphurious vapours rise,
In volumes rolled, till resting and unbroken,
They veil each ray of heaven from mortal eyes.
And rioting within that noisome cloud,

A thousand fiendish shapes of horrors come,
With scorpion fang, dark superstitious brood,

To torture earth, in soul-en wrapping gloom,

While Angels from their stainless heights weep o'er its doom.

As peopled haunts begin to crowd the plain,
And fort and tower the gazer's eye demand,
A priesthood rise with all their impious train,
Of fanes and altars, frowning o'er the land-
Fiction and fraud with them conspire to weave,
In darker folds the web of misery,
Quench every light that man can undeceive,
And serpent hate and tiger cruelty,
Unloose to suck the blood of infant charity.
Lo, wood-heaped piles their boding shadows throw,
Red murder's knife is drenched in kindred gore,
The fury-kindled fires of torture glow,

And drowning shrieks disturb the river shore.
New victims, yielding to the voice of fate,

To their dark doom before the altar bend;
Blood, is the cry! more blood the God to sate,
While shouting mobs the smoke-dim'd ether rend,
And round the rites the hagard priests in whirling
mazes wend.

Mad'n'd by the scene, now frantic devotees,
Tearing their locks, rush to that dance of death,
With mangled limbs, the demon to appease,
Until convulsed, they fall and pant for breath;
No hand may chafe those self-inflicted wounds,
That mingle with the dust their purple flow,
The dying groans are lost amid the sounds,
Of tumults swell'd, to drown the voice of woe,
While not one breast, a sigh of pity may bestow.
Dark Juggernaught! thou suicidal grave,

Indignant mercy turns, in tears, from thee,
Whose shore is laved by ocean's gentle wave,

Yet strewn with every token of cruelty; Golgotha silent city of the dead,

Whose countless bones are bleaching on the plain, All ritual now, hath, from thy precincts fled,

Save where thy Priesthood move in sullen train,
Or some self-tortured pilgrim counts his hours of pain.
But, when yon temple banners high have hung

From its grim towers, to mark thy festival,
When gongs have far their mimic thunder's flung,
The way-worn crowd of worshippers to call.
Pour'd from each path between the crescent hills,
That gird thy dreary circuit to the sea,
The wretched bands, exulting in their ills,
Rush to obey the idol's dark decree,

Seeking through travel, heat and toil, thy vale of misery. Then horn and trumpet, louder rend the sky,

Then drum and cymbal sound a wilder peal,
Mixed with the maddening crowds, exulting cry,
O'er the red murders of his chariot wheel.
While from on high, along its crimson track,

The eagle and the vulture, mark their prey,
Of mangled limbs, and air-poised echo back
A scream of joy, on this, their festal day-

A carnival they seek more due than battle fray.
And, when those rites fulfilled, and tumults o'er,

The parted tribes their homeward path pursue, When nothing breathes along that dismal shore At midnight, save a sick and famished few Left to expire, without one pitying look;

Glares thro' the gloom, the tiger's burning eye, Who, scent-drawn, hath his jungle dense forsook,

While prowling wolves, and fell hyena's cry,

Strike terror even on those who suffering, fain would die. But, hark! that demon cry for infant blood

Chaldea yields her offspring to the flames-
Her crimson'd streams seek Jordan's sacred flood,
While prophecy the wrath of heaven proclaims.
But Judah turns-her wanderings are confess'd-
The brand is quenched from Moloch's gory shrine-
The mother clasps the babe unto her breast,

And grateful kneels before that power divine,
Who watchful guards the young of Israel's chosen line.
Where Ganges rolls in winding folds his tide,
Or Indus seeks the sea o'er golden sands,
The Hindoo widow, by her dead lord's side,
Dies 'mid the flames, as Brahma's law demands,
Slave in her life, yet faithful to the last,

With tremulous eye she views the funeral pile,
And round one wistful look of longing cast;

She mounts her couch of death with ghastly smile,
That not one parting tear her offering may defile.
From Druid fane on Scandinavian wild,

Where, through the long winter, forests sleep in snow,
And summer from the south so brief hath smiled,
That hardy pines scarce in her favour grow,
To where Banana's green and spreading shade
Cools the fierce altar of the dark African;
From zone to zone, wherever Nature laid

Her wandering foot-new victims bled in man-
Till o'er his vision dim a brighter dawn began.-OMEGA.

SOLUTION OF THE BIBLICAL QUERY.

"How old was Jacob, when he left his father Isaac, to go into the land of Padan-Aram ?"

To the Editor of THE DAY.

SIR,-The above query propounded by Philo-Chronologicus, though a somewhat complicated one, I shall endeavour to answer as clearly as the "light of scripture" will enable me :

In the 5th verse of xxi. chapter of Genesis, we are told, that "Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born unto him,"-now, as the best Chronological writers, on sacred history assert, that Abraham was born in the year 2008, it then follows, that the birth of Isaac must have happened in 2108; again, in the 26th verse of the xxv. chapter of Genesis, it is stated that "Isaac was 60 years old, when Rebecca bore Jacob,"—the birth of Jacob, therefore, must have happened in 2168. From this period we have no other definite date given, until we come to the 9th verse of the xlvii. chapter of Genesis, wherein it is said, that "Jacob was 130 years," when Joseph brought him before Pharaoh; Jacob must have, therefore, entered Egypt in the year 2298; we are farther told in verse 6th of the xlv. chapter of Genesis, that "the famine had been two years in the land," when Joseph sent for his father Jacob, previous to which, "the seven years of plenteousness" had transpired-making in all nine years since the time Joseph had been appointed overseer to Pharaoh, at which period "he was 30 years old," (Gen. chap. xli. v. 46.) Joseph was therefore, 39 years old on the arrival of Jacob into Egypt; hence deducting 39 from 2298, (the year of Jacob's arrival) gives 2259, as the year of Joseph's birth,-from which event we arrive at the solution of Philo-Chronologicus' query. It is recorded in the 25th and 26th verses of the xxx. chapter of Genesis, "when Rachel had bore Joseph, Jacob said unto Laban, send me away, &c. for thou knowest my service which I have done thee,"-which service, we are informed in the preceding chapter, was "seven years for Leah, and seven years for Rachel,' -so deducting these 14 years from 2259, (Joseph's birth) gives 2245 as the period when Jacob entered on the service of his father-in-law Laban, at which time, Jacob must have been 77 years old, (having been born in 2168,) which is the answer required.

In conclusion, I hope I have "searched the scriptures," in "proving all things" to the complete satisfaction of Philo- Chronologicus,-being, Sir, yours respectfully,

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J. T.

P. S. In addition to giving simply the age of Jacob, at the period of his going to Padan-Aram, I have made the record more complete, by also appending the dates to the several events enumJ. T. erated in the illustration thereof.

* Jacob afterwards "served six years for the Cattle," Gen. ch. xxxi. v. 41.

REV. THOMAS SCOTT.

UNPUBLISHED LETTER

FROM THE AUTHOR OF "THE COMMENTARY 33 ON THE BIBLE, AND "THE FORCE OF TRUTH." DEAR SIR,-I was glad to hear from you, and that you are willing to adopt some of the blame of our interrupted correspondence, the whole of which I supposed to belong to myself. If you please we will divide it. I received your sermons some time since, I suppose after they were published, and I have read several of them which I thought very pertinent and useful, but I have not read the whole, nor any of them, very lately, being engaged in a work which, with my other engagements, leaves me scarce time I shall send to eat, or to sleep, and none for other avocations. you, by your friend Mr. C-ll, a few trifling publications which have come out since I saw you, and a number of proposals resThat I do not pecting a more arduous and important work. pretend to present you with, but, if you can do us any service in promoting the sale, my publisher, I am persuaded, will, very readily, send you a copy, as far as we have gone, which is 55 Not having numbers, to the end of the first Book of Chronicles.

*

very good health, and my hands so full, and it being now halfpast ten Saturday night, and your friend being to call on me toI am morrow, you must excuse my not writing very fully. already exhausted-I am persuaded you will meet with much better counsellors and better informed than I can be, respecting * * However, I trust the Lord your intentions. will direct you; make him your counsellor and you will not greatly err. Your friend seems to answer your description by an half-hour's converse I had with him, I hope to have more tomorrow. He seems sensible, modest and pious, and he can give me information in some things which are acceptable and useful to me; I pray God my conversation may not be utterly useless to him.

I have many discouragements in my situation, but yet, I trust, not quite without usefulness. Faith, patience and a spirit of fervent prayer, might do wonders, but we have so little of them the Lord encrease them. The practical observations attending the notes on the Scriptures, are a sermon on each chapBut the ter upon a more enlarged scale than Brown's.

* Illegible.

heavy and the publishers want help; I have very little interest in it. If you can make it known I hope it will be a good workI said, and you will see I am exhausted. But that does not interfere with my cordiality in wishing and praying, that the Lord may be with you as a counsellor, a guide and a comforter. I have sometimes thought it would not be amiss if you could make a lodgment amongst our friends at

Mrs. S. desires her respects.-I am, your sincerely affectionate friend, THOS. SCOTT.

Chapel Street, April 18, 1789.

ODDS AND ENDS.

A DREAM.-On Thursday night, Nov. 25, 1779, Lord Lyttleton sat up late, after the vote on the Address, in the House of Lords. He complained of a violent head-ache next morning, seemed much discomposed, and recited a very striking dream, which he said would have made deep impression on his mind, had he been possessed of even the least particle of superstition. He had started up from a midnight sleep, on perceiving a bird flirting near the bed curtains, which vanished shortly, when a female spectre in white raiment presented herself, and charged him to depend upon his dissolution within three days. He lamented jocosely the shortness of the warning, and observed it was too short a time for preparation, after so disorderly a life. On the Saturday morning be found himself in spirits, and when at Epsom said he should jockey the ghost if he escaped a few hours, for it was the third and last day. He was seized with convulsions in the evening, and expired as his clothes were pulled off that he might go to bed.

DIFFIDENCE AND SUPERSTITION.-Adriano, a Spanish monk, was born at Cordova, and died there in 1650. He amused himself in his convent by painting religious subjects, and some of his pictures are still in the convent to which he belonged. This artist was so diffident that he used to mutilate and destroy his pictures as soon as he had executed them, in consequence of which his friends interceded with him for the preservation of his most valuable performances in the name of souls in purgatory, by which exorcism many exquisite productions were rescued from destruction.-Elmes. A young clergman of Cambridge having been affronted by the Mayor, who was a butcher, resolved to take an opportunity of being even with him; accordingly, when it came to his turn to preach before the Corporation, in the prayer before the sermon he made use of the following expressions :-" And since we are commanded to pray for our enemies, we pray for the Right Worshipful the Mayor-give him the strength of Sampson and the courage of David, that he may knock down sin like an ox, and cut the throat of iniquity like that of a calf; and let his horn be exalted above his brethren."

In the pirate ship there is as much of provident and laborious preparation to brave the elements, and dare all, and deceive all, when all are foes, and as much of skilful and fearless guidance in tempest or in battle, as if the object were to relieve or bless, instead of the calm and steady purpose to plunder and to destroy.Adamson.

Wherever the glance of the eye may fall, it must alight on what is an evidence of the wisdom, and an expression of the overflowing goodness of Jehovah. Every aspect of the globe which we inhabit the transparent waters of the ocean-the venerable mountain, the verdant hill and the fruitful valley-all continually proclaim the Gracious Being who made all, and are to man the silent and impressive monitors of wisdom, piety and virtue.-Cairns.

The time for grinding corn in the East, is break of day. If one goes out in the morning, one hears every where the noise of the mill, and it is so great as often to awake people.

Putting off the shoes, is to this day an act of sacred reverence in the East; it is emblematical of putting off the corruptions of the world, and precedes the acts of sacred worship. EPITAPH ON AN INFANT.

Ah! why so soon, when just the flower appears,
Strays the brief blossom from the vale of tears;
Death view'd the treasure to the desert given,
Claim'd the fair flower, and planted it in heaven.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. WANT of space has compelled us to omit several communications that were in type.

We thank Giovanni" for many favours, but we beg he will display his wit on another subject than the one he has selected. His communication on the weather we shall insert with pleasure. "R. H. G.'s" lines will be sent to our Poetical Critic, and those of "Jaques" are also under his consideration.

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THE DAY.

A MORNING JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, FINE ARTS, FASHION, &c.

CARPE DIEM.

GLASGOW, MONDAY, APRIL 30, 1832.

ON THE REMAINS OF THE FEUDAL SYSTEM IN THE TENURE OF PROPERTY IN SCOTLAND.

"This system was the offspring of the human mind, in her day of ignorance."

DISCOURSE ON THE FEUDAL SYSTEM.

THE barbarous nations of the north, who, on the fall of the Roman empire, over-ran Europe, introduced the Feudal System, as a means of consolidating their authority over the conquered countries where they permanently settled. It was a fundamental part of their military policy; and, during the dark ages which followed, became deeply rooted in the feelings and institutions of mankind, throughout Europe. Its leading principles were few and simple. The general or prince of the invading army was held to be the supreme and primary proprietor of the whole lands within the boundaries of his conquest.

The prince, thus vested, made grants of large tracts or districts of conquered territory amongst his principal officers, while the latter, in like manner, made grants of smaller portions of the land to those under them, according to their respective rank and merits.

The highest grants, or those by the prince, were made under a condition of homage or fealty, which comprehended not only a perpetual acknowledgement of the sovereign, as, in virtue of the grant, peculiarly the lord of the grantee, under whom he should continue to hold his lands; but, also military service, in the field by himself, and all those holding inferior interests in the lands, by virtue of inferior grants from him. Those inferior grants were also upon a condition of military service to the chiefs by whom they were granted. The military service of the inferior grantees to their respective chiefs, so far from being inconsistent with the same duty of those chiefs towards the crown, was the very means of enabling them to perform it more effectually, since it implied not only the personal service of himself, but of all those under his controul. When the sovereign summoned his chiefs to the field, they appeared each, as the commander of his own vassals, whose fidelity to himself was thus identified with his own fidelity to his prince.

The modern term, "superior," denotes the granter of the fief or land-right; "vassal," the grantee or receiver of it. Each grant or fief, whether by the crown, to a subject, or by one subject to another, had the effect of creating a distinct relationship betwixt the parties to it, as superior and vassal, so that, in the early stages of the system, the prince was the superior of his principal officers; receiving grants from him, while these same vassals of the crown would, in like manner, be superiors over those holding inferior grants under themselves.

On the abolition of the feudal system, as a political constitution in our own country, an annual payment, in money, or some other performance came to be substituted for military service. But, with this, and a few other exceptions, which it is unnecessary here to notice; we find the leading principles of the system firmly retaining their place in the tenure of land, of houses, and certain other interests connected with them. The amount of accumulated evil which the public have sustained by such a state of things, it were difficult to compute. Some of its most obvious features, however, we shall afterwards lay open to our readers.

In the meantime, we have to mark one circumstance, which has materially contributed to keep the public comparatively unconscious of their injuries, and to prevent them from making those united exertions, which seem necessary, in order to rouse the legislature to a reform in this department. We allude to the occult nature of the feudal tenures in question, which, although sufficiently simple in their original principles, have in the course of ages assumed a form so practically complicated, as to exclude the cognizance of any, excepting that powerful class of professional men, who, being benefited by the system, are interested in the concealment of its deformities; and, from whose patriotism and public spirit, it is perhaps as much as we can expect, that while they do nothing either to awaken or give impulse to public exertion, on this subject, they yet refrain from active measures of opposition. Hence, it has always appeared to us a prominent defect in the few attempts which have been made to rouse the public mind on this subject, that the reformer has cried out "an evil, an evil," without sufficiently explaining what that evil was. Despairing to make intelligible to the uninitiated community, a system so wrapt up in the dust and mystery of antiquity, and in the inextricable technicalties of legal practice, he has contented himself with general allusions to the system, and these as might have been expected, have fallen vaguely, and without making any effective impression on the public ear. This error we shall endeavour to avoid, and if our readers will only give us a small portion of that attention, which the real importance of the subject demands, we hope, without bewildering them, with its more complicated and technical details, to simplify and convey to their understandings, a sufficient knowledge of the system, to enable them to appreciate the nature and extent of the evils which it has entailed upon the property, and general interests of this country.

We shall first endeavour to give such a simplified explanation of the general or essential principles of the present tenure of landed rights, as may be necessary towards understanding the extent of the evils suffered from it. Second, we shall advert more particulary to the evils arising from the state of things; and thirdly, we shall propose a remedy for them.

A right or interest in land, or indeed almost any thing whatever, may be conceived to be held by the owner of it, either absolutely, and supremely independent, or under an acknowledgement of inferiority to, and dependence upon, some superior power. Dependence of this nature is still the fundamental characteristic which marks feudal rights of every description, as opposed to money or other free property. In truth, a right, feudalized, is nothing more than its conversion from a state of absolute freedom, into a state of homage or acknowledgement of superiority in some higher power.

DOUGLAS.-A TRAGEDY!!!

FROM MY THEATRICAL NOTE BOOK.-NO. IV.

THE character of Norval has always been a favourite effort with theatrical amateurs. Every spouter is enamoured with the nobleness of the youth, who succeed

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