tainments exceed theirs, as the mark at which they ought to aim. Some have supposed that the evil of esteeming one's self too highly, is not so great as that of setting too low an estimate on one's abilities; for there are enough, it is said, in the world to pull down the proud, and few to raise the humble. This however is not altogether correct as to the fact; and besides, the sentiment is inconsistent with the word of God. We may make a low estimate of ourselves, and yet be confident, that by exertion and perseverance we may make great attainments.

I know that diffidence is very often the occasion of most painful

as faithful in teaching our children these things, as we should be. We do not sufficiently bring our ideas on these subjects, down to their apprehension; nor illustrate them, as might be done, by objects familiar to their minds. We often tell them they must be good; but do not discover to them the insufficiency of their own works to merit any favour from God; nor do we always, in language which they understand, teach them repentance toward God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

(To be continued.)

with much good: and it always goes far, in recommending the possessor to the wise and candid, and in atoning for many casual mistakes. Are we not disposed to pay more attention to such, than to the bold and assuming? Let not your dear Charles and Ellen become those, whom their friends, for their good, will seek to humble by frequent neglect and reproof, and perhaps by severe mortification. Leave them not thus, to learn lessons of modesty and humility, which their own mother ought more kindly to have taught them. Above all, labour earnestly to teach them Christian humility; which differs widely from pusillanimity, and wider still from slovenliness in manners and appearance. It is a grace which must have its seat in the heart; and will be best cultivated, by instilling into their minds the great and fundamental truths of Christianity. Inspire them with a sense of the holy character of God; and of their own lost and sinful condition, by nature and by practice. Teach them the absolute necessity of the Holy Spirit, to renew and sanctify them-of the mediation and atonement of the Son of Godin short, of the whole plan of redemption. We are not as wise or

1820. BY AN AMERICAN CLERGYMAN, OF THE SYNOD OF PHILADELPHIA.

(Continued from vol. iii. p. 552.)

Montpelier, May 25, 1820. My dear Friend,-My last from this place, gave you the result of my superficial observations, during the few days I acted the part of a looker on, in the great city of Marseilles. I took passage in the Diligence, the 25th of last month, for this place; the pleasantness of whose situation, unitedly with the supposed salubrity of the atmosphere, has made it, for ages, the resort of invalids, in pursuit of health. My travel here, which occupied a day and a half, including a night, produced little that is worth reciting. The country through which I

passed, gives evidence of dense population, by its thickly planted houses, with large villages, at short distances. But its husbandry appeared to me to be, generally speaking, far from good. I saw much land that gave signs of great exhaustion; while the buildings and improvements, evidently indicated a poor and unimproving people.

The principal place through which I passed was Nismes: and it indeed is a great place, beautifully

situated, near the foot of a range of high rocky hills, in a fine and fertile plain. Its vicinity shows some very luxuriant vegetation. The stage stopped here early in the afternoon, and remained over night, which gave me some opportunity of looking at the place. Had I possessed the curiosity of health, in stead of the languor and debility of disease, I should certainly have tarried a week; as there is much at Nismes, well worth the traveller's attention. There still exists here an amphitheatre, built by the ancient Romans, when they possessed the country, which is in surprising preservation. These kind of buildings, you know, were erected without cover, for the accommodation of the publick sports. This one at Nismes, is circular, built of massy stone, and covers a space of some acres-speaking by guess. You may form a correct idea of it, by conceiving of a huge bowl, whose bottom encloses a wide space, in which the shows and sports were exhibited; and whose sides within are lined with circular seats, rising one above the other, to the height of sixty or seventy feet. In two places, the depredations of time have made rents in its sides, from the top to the bottom. It is surrounded with an iron paling; and is no doubt a relick of antiquity of sufficient value, from the resort of strangers which it helps to attract to the city, to merit the expense of such a measure for its preservation. I viewed it with deep interest; and who could have done otherwise ? having his thoughts carried back to the remote ages, when this stupendous fabrick was erected, for the pastime of the mighty masters of the world. And in what pastimes did they delight! how cruel! how savage! How immense the benefits of the gospel!-if only in this respect, that it has rescued Christendom from a taste for the murderous sports of fighting gladiators,

and other demoralizing shows, such as were here exhibited.

At no great distance from the amphitheatre, stands a temple of "The great goddess Diana"-probably not less ancient, and as a relick of heathenism, not less interesting. In size it resembles a small church, one story high. It is built altogether of marble, which from age has assumed a very sombre hue. It is without windows, or any avenue that I could discover, to admit the light. Having little time on hand, and in truth, feeling then a more than ordinary depression of spirits, which is always a sufficient damper to curiosity, I contented myself with viewing its exterior, without seeking admission within.

I have learned from the Protestant minister of this place, that Nismes contains a large Protestant population. There are three or four congregations, who have five pastors, settled over them. None of them however are considered entirely evangelical in their doctrines. One of them, is counted a man of some distinction, in point of talents. He conducts a monthly magazine, devoted to moral and literary subjects, with some mixture of religion.

I left Nismes early in the morning, and arrived at Montpelier by noon of the same day. Here I have concluded to make some stay, and try the benefit of this climate. I find constant travelling in the stage is too expensive, and too fatiguing. My first sally from the hotel, where the stage stopped, was to the house of Mons. Lasignot, the Protestant minister, to whom I had a letter of introduction. I found him sick in bed, not however very ill. He received me with much kindness, and I have since found in him a friend of much value. I have taken private lodgings, and ride on horseback almost daily. I have now been here four weeks, during which

I have seen much of the place, with its environs, and shall think my time not entirely lost, if, in communicating a little of what I have seen and heard, I am able to minister something to the gratification of your curiosity.

I would like, in the first place, to give you some idea of the city of Montpelier; as it appears to me a very odd place, quite different from every town I have yet seen in France, or any where else. As its name indicates, it occupies a hill of considerable height; or rather it is built on three sides of a hill, which rises in the midst of a plain, like a sugar-loaf The very top of the hill, and one side of it, being the site of a publick square, and of a reservoir, which supplies the town with an abundance of fresh water. The ancient city is surrounded with a high and strong wall; but a considerable town has grown up on the outside of this wall. The streets, with the exception of two or three, are very narrow and very crooked; paved with round stones, without any foot-ways. There are no yards, either front or back of the houses. Every thing looks old and gloomy, and the style of building, though substantial, is very plain, and in many of the houses very ugly. The interior of the houses, of the middle class, differs in arrangement from any thing I have seen. You enter a passage on the ground floor, at the extremity of which you find a spiral staircase, usually of stone, with narrow steps, and without light, except what it receives at the bottom. By this you mount up, going round and round, as on the threads of a screw, and hold a rope in your hand, which hangs down loose from the top; and which is really necessary, to enable you to preserve your balance, as you ascend and descend. At each story, you find doors opening into the chambers, on all sides. It would seem as if the inhabitants, in constructing their houses, want

ed nothing so much as room. Rows of houses are crowded on one another, so as hardly to allow a street between them, of sufficient width for a comfortable passage; and chambers are packed on chambers, without space for a comfortable stair-case to pass from one to another: as if the Almighty Artificer of the great globe of the earth, had constructed it of too limited dimensions, to allow its multiplied inhabitants to dwell together in comfort. But alas! it is man, himself, who, by his mischievous propensities, has marred his own enjoyment. His cities must be surrounded with walls, for safety from the attacks of his fellow man; and of course, the space within the protecting bulwark, must be husbanded, with an economy that puts comfort at defiance. Without the walls of this city there are considerable suburbs. A very handsome street, wide and planted with trees, passes nearly round the whole of Montpelier.

The publick walk, or square, that occupies the crown of the hill, on the three sides of which the city stands, is by far the greatest curiosity of the kind I have ever seenthe construction of which might have cost an expenditure, little short of what would be sufficient to build a small town. The top of the hill is reduced to a perfect level, making a surface of eight or ten acres, laid out in walks, and planted with trees. On the edge next the valley, farthest from the city, stands a stone temple, which covers a reservoir of water, for the supply of the city. This reservoir is replenished continually from an aqueduct of stone, which is carried high up in the air, over the valley, a distance of more than a quarter of a mile-commencing from the side of an opposite hill. Ranges of stone pillars, which, at the deepest place of the valley, cannot be less than from sixty to an hundred feet high, support this immense aqueduct, in

its course to the reservoir, where it makes its discharge. Standing on the verge of the hill top, and look ing down, you see another publick walk, a great depth below you, about midway between the top and bottom of the hill. The sides of the hill have been dug down perpendicular, and a stone wall built up, to support the earth; and by levelling the earth so dug down, a terrace walk, more than twenty rods wide, perfectly level and planted with trees, has been made to surround the end of the hill, next to the valley; and it reaches along its sides, until it connects with the street outside of the walls of the city. The tops of the trees in this lower walk, are all nicely trimmed to one height; and this height corresponds with the level of the hill top, so that the spectator above, suffers no interruption of his view from the forest below; but looks over the level surface of the tree tops, to the beautiful prospects, which on every hand stretch as far as his eye can carry its vision, from the elevated station which he occupies. A most beautiful prospect indeed, is here to be enjoyed. On a clear day, the spectator who stands on the Peyron, (so they call the promenade on the hill top of Montpelier,) can look over the whole breadth of France; just discerning in the blue horizon on the north, the range of the Alps which separates France from Italy; and the nearly equidistant range of the Pyrenees, which divide it from Spain, on the south. On the east, he has a full view of the Mediterranean, a few miles distant; over which he can usually discern a few scattered sails, appearing like white specks, here and there, on the blue surface of the waters. It is my uniform practice, to spend an hour before breakfast on this delightful spot, where the sublime elevation, the never cloying beauty of the prospect, united with the general serenity and balminess of the morning air in the month of May, seem

to promise the happiest effects on the animal system; at least so far as the animal system can be operated upon by such causes. Being also usually alone, at so early an hour, the best opportunity is enjoyed for meditation and morning devotion-were my dull spirit only sufficiently excited, to seek its Maker and Redeemer, in this paradise of man's making, where art and taste have done so much. Here it has occurred to me, what a powerful auxiliary the wandering invalid might derive, towards the restoration of his health, from the full exercise of that faith which is "the evidence of things not seen, and the substance of things hoped for." The peace, the hope, the joy, thence resulting, and mingling with highly agreeable emotions-the elevation of animal spirits, produced by exhibitions, such as those referred to above-would certainly, at least double their effect, in giving health to the emaciated body. I do verily believe, if I had more faith, and could derive more refreshment from the exercises of devotion, that I should stand a much fairer chance for restoration-as I should certainly find an increased pleasure, in all those objects in which rational pleasure is found.

[The remainder of this interesting letter, we are obliged to defer till our next number.]

FOR THE CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE.

No. IV.

TRANSATLANTICK RECOLLECTIONS.

"Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit." It was in the close of autumn, when in my journeying through Scotland I arrived at its famed and interesting capital. Edinburgh has been so often described, and is so very familiar to the "mind's eye" of most of your readers, that I shall wave any minute delineation of it, and content myself with simply re

cording a few of my recollections of it, which are at present most vivid. Every one who has ever visited Edinburgh, will distinctly recollect the noble eminence overhanging the old city, called, "Arthur's Seat;" because from its summit, there is not only a view of the old and new towns, but of Leith, together with its picturesque harbour. Just beneath this celebrated eminence, as we descend to the palace of Holyrood House, are the ruins of a Catholic chapel, which was dilapidated by the followers of John Knox; and its consecrated Well affords to this day a refreshing draught to the weary traveller at least it did so to me. On my way to the city, I visited the celebrated habitation of the ancient sovereigns of Scotland, rendered peculiarly romantic, by being the residence of the lovely but unfortunate Mary. After passing through a spacious court yard, and along the gallery of paintings, we reached the council chamber; and passing through this, we were ushered into the chamber of Queen Mary, which is still kept in the identical manner in which she left it-not only her bed decorated with the same curtains and covered with the same clothes which she used, but her dressing-box, and work-box, and some of her work, lying on the tables.

Immediately beyond this chamber is the little supper-room, in which Rizzio was discovered with the queen, when her jealous and infuriated husband dragged him out, and passing with him through her chamber, slew him at the remotest part of the council hall. Many are the recollections associated with those rooms and that hall, where Scotland's kings and nobles lived in princely pomp. Yet one anecdote of John Knox, concerning a meeting which he had with Mary in this room, riveted my feelings more closely to it, and brings it more clearly to my memory this VOL. IV. Ch. Adv.

day, than all the tales of kingly pageantry which I heard. The pure, heart-searching doctrines, which were preached by the Scotch apostle, were then, as they are now, offensive to the carnal heart; and hence he was commanded by the voluptuous court of Mary to desist. Knox, who knew no master, and obeyed no mandate, that was in opposition to his God and his Bible, paid no more attention to the command of the palace, than " Arthur's Seat" did, to the unhallowed noise of their licentious revelry, which was borne to it on every midnight breeze. Hearing immediately from the enemies of the cross, who were then, as I fear they are at present, the favourites and friends of the palace, that her orders were disobeyed; the haughty Mary summoned the Scottish reformer into her presence. When Knox arrived, he was ushered into this very room; in which were also the queen and her attendant lords. On being questioned concerning his contumacy, he answered plainly, that he preached nothing but the truth, and that he dared not preach less. "But (answered one of the lords,) our commands must be obeyed, on pain of death-silence or the gallows, is the alternative." The spirit of Knox was roused by the dastardly insinuation, that any human punishment could make him desert the banner of his Saviour: and with that fearful,indescribable courage, which disdains the pomp of language or of action, he firmly replied "My lords, you are mistaken if you think you can intimidate me to do by threats, what conscience and my God tell me I never shall do: for be it known unto you, that it is a matter of no importance to me, when I have finished my work, whether my bones shall bleach in the winds of heaven, or rot in the bosom of the earth." Knox having retired, one of the lords said to the queen, "We may let him alone, for we cannot punish that man." Well there

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