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We refreshed ourselves with hot milk, and pushed ahead, with better horses. At 4 o'clock it was bright moonlight, with the stillest air. We got on bravely over the level, beaten road, and in two hours reached Korpikyla, aJarge new inn, where we found very tolerable accommodations. Our beds were heaps of reindeer skins; a frightfully ugly Finnish girl, who knew a few words of Swedish, prepared us a supper of tough meat, potatoes and ale. Everything was now pure Finuish, and the first question of the girl, "Hvarifraan kommar du f" (Where dost thoa come from ?) showed an ignorance of the commonest Swedish form of address. She awoke us with a cup of coffee in the morning, and negotiated for us the purchase of a reindeer skin, which we procured for something less than a dollar. The husbonde (house-peasant, as the landlord is called here) made no charge for our entertainment, but said we might give what we pleased. I offered, at a venture, & sum equal to about fifty cents, whereupon he sent the girl to fay that he thanked us most heartily.

To-day has been a day to be remembered: such a glory of twilight splendors for six full hours was beyond all the charms of daylight in any zone. We started at seven, with a temperature of 20° below zero, still keeping up the left bank of the Torneaa. The country now rose into bold hills, and the features of the scenery became broad and majestic. The northern sky was again pure violet, and a pale red tinge from the dawn*rested on the tops of the snowy hills. The prevailing color of the sky slowly bright-: ened into lilac, then into pink, then rose color, which again gave way to a flood of splendid orange when the sun appeared. Every change of color affected the tone of the landscape. The woods, so wrapped in snow that not a single green needle was to be seen, took by turns the hues of the sky, aud seemed to give out, rather than to, reflect, the opalescent lustre of the morning. The sunshine brightened instead of dispelling these effects. At noon the sun's disc was not more than 1° above the horizon, throwing a level golden light on the hills. The north, before us, was as blue as the Mediterranean, and the vault of heaven, overhead, canopied us with pink. Every object was glorified and transfigured in the magic glow.

At the first station we got some hot milk, with raw salmon, shingle bread and frozen butter. Our horses were good, and we drove merrily along, up the frozen Torneaa. The roads were filled with people going to church, probably to celebrate some religious anniversary, today being Tuesday. Fresh, ruddy faces had they, firm features, strong frames and resolute carriage, but the most of them were positively ugly, and, by contrast with the frank Swedes, their expression was furtive and sinister. Near Packila we passed a fine old church of red brick, with

a very handsome belfry. At Niemis we changed horses in ten minutes, and hastened on up the frozen Torneaa to Matareugi, where we should reach the Arctic Circle. The hills rose higher, with fine sweeping outlines, and the river was still half a mile broad—a. plain of solid snow, with the track marked out by bushes. We kept a sharp look-out for the mountain of Avasaxa, one of the stations of Celsius, Maupertius and the French Academicians, who came here in 1736 to make observations determining the exact form of the earth. Through this mountain, it is said, the Arctic Circle passes, though our maps were neither sufficiently minute nor correct to determine the point. We took it for granted, however, as a mile one way or the other could make but little difference; and as Matarengi lies due west of Avasaxa, across the river, we decided to stop there and take dinner on the Arctic Circle.

The increase of villages on both banks, with the appearance of a large church, denoted our approach to Matarengi, and we saw at once that the tall, gently-rounded, isolated hill opposite, now blazing with golden snow, could be none other than Avasaxa. Here we were, at last, entering the Arctic zone, in the dead of winter —the realization of a dream which had often flashed across my mind, when lounging under the tropical palms, so natural is it tor one extreme to suggest the opposite. I took our bearings with a compass-ring, as we drove forward, and as the summit of Avasaxa bore due east we both gave a shout which startled our postillion and notably quickened the gait of our horses. It was impossible to toss our caps, for they were not only tied upon our heads, but frozen fast to our beards. So here we are at last, in the true dominions of winter. A mild ruler he has been to us, thus far, but I fear ho will prove a despot before we have done with him.

Soon afterward, we drove into the inn at Matarengi, which was full of country people, who had come to attend church. The landlord, a sallow, watery-eyed Finn, who knew a few words of Swedish, gave us a room in an adjoining house, and furnished a dinner of boiled fish and barley mush, to which we added a bottle labeled " Dry Madeira," brought from Haparanda for the oecasion. At a shop adjoining, Unlisted found a serviceable pipe, so that nothing was wanting to complete our jubilee. We swallowed the memory of all who were dear to us, in the dubious beverage, inaugurated our Arctic pipe, which we propose to take home as a souvenir of the place, and set forward in the most cheery mood.

Our road now crossed the river and kept up the Russian side to a place with the charming name of Torakankorwa. The afternoon twilight was even more wonderful than that of the forenoon. There were broad bauds of purple, pure crimson and intense yellow, all fusing together into fiery orange at the south, while the north became a semi-vault of pink, then lilac, and then the softest violet. The dazzling Arctic hills participated in this play of colors, which did not fade, as in the south,.but stayed and stayed, as if God wished to compensate by this twilight glory for the loss of the day. Nothing in Italy, nothing in the Tropics, equals the magnificence of these Polar skies. The twilight gave place to a moonlight scarcely less brilliant. Our road was hardly broken, leading through deep snow, sometimes on the river, sometimes through close little glens, hedged in with firs drooping with snow—fairy Arctic solitudes, white, silent and mysterious.

We reached here at 7 o'clock. The place is wholly Finnish, and the landlord, who does not understand a word of Swedish, endeavored to make us go on to the next station. We pointed to the beds aud quietly carried in our baggage. I made the usual signs for eating, which speedily procured us a pail of sour milk, bread and butter, aud two immense tin drinking-horns of sweet milk. The people seem a little afraid of us, and keep away. Our postillion was a silly fellow, who could not understand whether his money was correct. In the course of our stenographic conversation, I learned that " cax" signifies two. When I gave him his drink-money he said "ketox!" and on going out the door "huwesfe!"—so that I have at least discovered the Finnish for" thank you!" and "good bye 1" This, however, won't suffice to order horses at (i o'clock to-morrow morning. We are likewise in a state of delightful uncertainty as to our future progress, but this very uncertainty gives a zest to our situation, and it would be difficult to find two jollier men with frozen noses.

The mercury has risen to zero, with a heavy sky and damp air, threatening snow. If we can but get to Muonioniska before the storm comes!

B. T.



Oh ! prize not the scenes of beauty alone,
And disdain not the weak and mean in our way:
For the world is an engine,—the Architect's own.
Where the wheels of the least keep the larger in play.
We may question the locust that darkens the land,
And the snake, flinging arrows of death from its eye;
But remember they come from the Infinite hand;
And shall man in Lis littleness dare to ask why?

O, let us not speak of the " useless or vile i"
They may seem so to us, but be slow to arraign;
From the savage wolf's cry to the happy child's

From the mite to the mammoth, there's nothing in vain.

Nature designed the heart to be always warm, and the hand to be often open.

A PRAYER FOR GUIDANCE. Father ! the skies are dark above me;

Before me lies a boundless waste— Long thin hast Thou seen good to prove me—

Oh God, to my deliverance haste!

I do not ask that Thou shouldst lighten
The clouds impending o'er my way;

I only pray that Thou wouldst brighten
Their darkness with ont guiding ray.

1 ask Thee not to make less weary

The waste through which my pathway lies;

I would but feel that path, though dreary,
Is leading onward to the skies.

Guide me, my Father! if before me

The Angel of Thy Presence go, I will not shrink, though clouds are o'er me,

And round me gathered many a foe.

I do not falter at the distance,

That parts me from my heavenly home; Weary as seems this earth's existence,

I know 'tis bounded by the tomb.

Nor do I dread the ills that gather,

Thick " from the cradle to the grave,"—

Not from earth's cares and griefs, my Father,
Do I implore thy power to save.

Only from this—this darkness brooding
O'er every path oflife I tread,— *

And from the gloomy fear intruding
That Thou my spirit hast not led.

I seek thy aid; I ask direction;

Teach me to do what pleaseth Thee,— I can bear toil,—endure affliction,

Only thy leadings let me see.

Saviour! Theu knowest that earth is dreary, For thou hast trod its thorny maze;

Guide me through all its wanderings weary; Keep me forever in thy ways.

Oh God! my Gnd I make no delaying'

Haste Thee to help me when I cry! Oh, let me hear thy Spirit saying,

"This is the way! Thy Guide is nish!" Guidance and strength! for these imploring,

Jesus! my prayer ascends to Thee; Lead me through life, that I adoring,

May praise Thee, through eternity!

THE PREDICTED COMET. Influence of Comets on the Weather. Astronomers at this time are looking for the re-appearance of Hallcy's great comet of 1765. This announcement has caused a panic in some parts of Europe, equal to that of the Miller excitement in this country. The following extract from a letter written last November, published in the National Intelligencer, announces a theory respecting the electrical influence of comets, which may, perhaps, be regarded as a cause of the extreme cold of last winter:

"The near approach of this planet in embryo, will influence our planet, perhaps the entire solar system. It will be attracted by the sun, and then repelled by it; it will both attract and repel the planets of the solar system, and appear to create disorder and confusion. But have no fears. It can neither attract nor be attracted, so as to come in contact with any of the heavenly bodies. The most it can do to any of the planets (ours not excepted,) will be to change the currents of their electrical envelopes! This will have the tendency to give us the warmest or coldest winter, (should the comet appear soon,) experienced siDce 1765. Should the earth's electricity be attracted or repelled to either polo, the temperate zones will enjoy an unusual degree of mildness; on the other hand, should the earth's electric sheen be gathered in folds nearing the equatorial regions, then indeed may we expect the most intense cold ever experienced in this climate. In either event, the disturbance of electricity in which the solar system floats, will produce extraordinary results in atmospheric temperature, wind currents, and vegetation, until the electric equilibrium shall be re-established."


The cedars, which still bear their aDcient name, stand mostly upon four small contiguous, rocky knolls, within a compass of less than forty rods in diameter. They form a thick forest, without underbrush. The older trees have each several trunks, and thus spread themselves widely around; but most of the others are cone-like in form, and do not throw out their boughs laterally to any great extent. Some few trees stand alone on the outskirts of the grove; and one especially, on the south, is large and very beautiful. With this exception, none of the trees came up to my ideal of the graceful beauty of the cedar of Lebanon, such as 1 had formerly seen it, in the Jardin des Plantes. Some of the older trees are already much broken, and will soon be wholly destroyed. The fashion is now cowing into vogue to have articles made of this wood, for sale to travellers; and it is also burned as fuel by the few people that here pass the Summer. These causes of destruction, though gradual in their operation, are nevertheless sure. Add to this the circumstance that travellers,in former years (to say nothing of the present time ), have been shameless enough to cause large spots to be hewn smooth, on the trunks of some of the noblest trees, ia order to inscribe their names. The two earliest which I saw were Frenchmen; one was dated in 1791. The wood of the cedar, Pinus Cedrus, is white, with a pleasant but not strong odour, and bears no comparison, in beauty or fragrance, with the common red cedar of America, Juniperus Virginiana.

I made no attempt to count the trees. Probably no two persons would fully agree in respect to the old ones, or in the number of the whole. Yet I should be disposed to concur in the language of Burckhardt, who says: "Of the oldest and best-looking trees, I counted eleven or twelve; twenty-five very large ones;

about fifty of middling size; and more than three hundred smaller and young ones." Yet there is no room to doubt that, during the last three centuries, the number of earlier trees has diminished by nearly or quite one-half; while the younger growth has, in great part, if not wholly, sprung up during that interval. Busching enumerates, by name, no less than twentysix travellers between A. D. 1550 and 1755, from P. Belon to Stephen Schulz, who had described and counted the trees; and, since that time, the number of like descriptions has probably been hardly less than twice as many. In the sixteenth century, the number of old trees is variously given as from twenty-eight to twentythree ; in the seventeenth, from twenty-four to sixteen ; in the eighteenth, from twenty to fifteen. After the lapse of another century, the number of the oldest trees, as we have seen, is now reduced to about a dozen. All this marks a gradual process of decay; and it also marks the difficulty of exact enumeration. This is rightly ascribed by Furer, and also by Dandini, to the fact that many of the trees have two or more stems, and were thus reckoned differently by different travellers, sometimes as one tree sometimes as two or more. All the travellers of the sixteenth century speak only of the old trees; thoy nowhere mention any young ones. Bauwolf, himself a botanist, seems to say, expressly, that he sought for younger trees, without being able to find any. If this be so, it would appear that, with the exception of the few remaining ancient trees, perhaps none of those which now make up the grove can be regarded as reaching back in age more than three hundred years.

In the minds of the common people, an air of sanctity is thrown around the grove, the river and the region. The ancient trees are sacred, as coming down from the times of Scripture and Solomon; and the river which has its course near by is sacred, and is called el-Kadisha. In former centuries, the Patriarch of the Maronites imposed various ecclesiastical penalties, and even excommunication, on any Christian who should cut or injure the sacred trees; and the story is recorded that, when some Muslims, who were pasturing in the vicinity, were so hardened and impious as to cut some of the trees, they were punished on the spot by the loss of their flocks. In former times, too, the Maronites were accustomed to celebrate, in the sacred grove, the festival of the Transfiguration—when the Patriarch himself officiated, and said mass before a rude altar of stones. This law and these ceremonies are, to a certain extent, continued at the present day; and the influence of them, unquestionably, has been great upon the popular mind. The rude altars of stones have, in our day, been superseded by a Maronite chapel, built within the last ten years. Several persons were residing here, during Summer, in connection with the chapel; but we did not learn what services were held in it. A part of the object of these persons seemed to be to wait on travellers, or to supply their wants, and thus gain a claim for bakshish. A monk brought us wine for sale, and seemed disappointed when we declined the traffic.

The cedars are not less remarkable for their position than for their age and size. The amphitheatre in which they are situated is of itself a great temple of Nature—the most vast and magnificent of all the recesses of Lebanon. The lofty dorml ridge of the mountain, as it approaches from the south, trends slightly toward the east, for a time; and then, after resuming its former direction, throws off a spur, of equal altitude, toward the west, which sinks down gradually into the ridge terminating at Ehden. This ridge sweeps round so as to become nearly parallel with the main ridge—thus forming an immense recess or amphitheatre, approaching to the horse-shoe form, surrounded by the loftiest ridges of Lebanon, which rise still two or three thousand feet above it, and are partly covered with snows. In the midst of this amphitheatre stand the cedars, utterly alone, with not a tree beside, nor hardly a green thing insight. Hie amphitheatre fronts toward the west, and, as seen from the cedars, the snows extend around trom south to north. The extremities of the are, in front, bear from the cedars south-west and north-west. High up, in the recess, the deep, precipitous chasm of the Kadisha has its beginiiing-^-the wildest and grandest of all the gorges of Lebanon.

The elevation of the cedars above the sea is given by llusseggerand Schubert at 6,000 Paris feet, equivalent to 6,400 English feet. The peaks of Lebanon rise nearly i>,U0O feet higher.

Ut side the natural grace and beauty of the cedar of Lebanon, which still appear in the trees of middle age, though not in the more ancient patriarchs, there is associated with this grove a feeling of veneration, as the representative of those forests of Lebanon so celebrated in the Hebrew Scriptures. To the sacred writers, the cedar was the noblest of trees, the monarch of the vegetahle kingdom. Solomon " spake of trees, from the cedar-tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall." To the prophets it was the favorite emblem for greatness, splcudor, and majesty; hence kings and nobles, the pillars of society, are everywhere cedars of Lebanon. Especially is this the case in the splendid description, by Ezekiel, of the Assyrian power and glory. Hence, too, in connection with its durability and fragrance, it was regarded as the most precious of all wood, and was employed in costly buildings for ornament and luxury. In Solomon's temple, the beams of the root, as also the boards and the ornamental work, were of the cedar of Lebanon; and it was

I likewise used in the later temple of Zerubbabel. j David's palace was built with cedar; and so lavishj ly was this costly wood employed in one of Solomon's palaces, that it is called "the house of the forest of Lebanon." As a matter of luxury, also, the ced.ir was sometimes used for idols, aud for the masts of ships. In like manner, the cedar was highly prized among heathen nations. It was employed in the construction of their temples, a* at Tyre and Ephesus, and also in their palaces, as at Pcrsepolis. In the two latter instances, however, Ephesus and 1'ersepolis, it does not follow that the cedar came from Lebanon, though that>of Syria was among the most celebrated. It is also very possible that the name cedar was sometimes loosely applied I to trees of another species.—Rubinson's Biblical I Researches in Palestine, and Adjacent Regions.


The solid rock, which turns the edge of the chisel, bears, forever, the impress of the leaf and the acorn, received long, long since, ere it had become hardened by time and the elements. If we trace back to its fountain, the mighty torrent which fertilizes the land with its copious streams, or sweeps over it with a devastating j flood, we shall find it dripping in crystal drops, I from some mossy crevice, among the distant I hills; so, too, the gentle feelings and affections < that enrich and adorn the heart, and the mighty | passions that sweep away all the barriers of the : scul, and desolate society, may have sprung up i in the infant bosom, in the. sheltered retire| ment of home. "1 should have been an atheist," ; said John Randolph, "if it had not been for one recollection; and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hands in hers, and caused me, on my knees, to say, 'Our Father which art in heaven !'"


Flour Abd Meal.—Flour is still very inactive. Good brands are held at $7 50 per bbl., and brands for home consumption at $7 62 a $7 87, and extra and fancy brands at $8 12 a 8 37. There is very little demand for export, and little stock to operate in. Rye Flour is dull at $5 00 per barrel. Lf si sales of Pennsylvania Corn Meal at $4 00 per barrel.

Grain.— Wheat is dull, but rather more offerihg. Sales of prime Pennsylvania red were made at $1 84 a $1 86, and $1 90 for good white. Rye is scarce. Pcnna. is selling at $1 10. Corn is less active. Sales of Penna. yellow in store at 90c. Oats are steady; sales of Pennsylvania and Delaware at 60c per bu.

KEMOVAL.—SARAH M. GAKRIGUES, Bonn-t Maker, removed from No. 230 Arch Street, to North Ninth Street, 6th door below Vine, east side, Philadelphia, where she still continues her former business.

6th mo. 15, 1857.

Morriiiuw A ThompiOD, Pre., Lodge St., North side Pel




No. 15.


No. 324 South Fifth Street,

rillLADKLPIIIA, Every Seventh day at Two Dollars per annum, papable in advance. Three copies sent to one address for Five Dollars.

Communications must be addressed to the Publisher, free of expense, to whom all payments are to be made.

An account of the life, travels, and Christian experiences in the work of the ministry tif Samuel Bownas.

(Continued from page 211.) An account of my Travel) in America, the first time.

As advised by Friends appointed to assist me, I took my passage on board the Josiah, John .Sowden, master, bound for West river in Maryland, and we left England about the 24th of the Third month 1702, and landed in the river of Patuxent in Maryland, about the 21)th of the Fifth month following.

I visited some meetings in that province; but George Keith being there, and challenging disputes wherever he came, gave both me and Friends some exercise: to me, by challenging a dispute without my previous knowledge, in the following terms.

"To the Preacher lately arrived from England.

Sir,—1 intend to give notice after sermon, that you and myself are to dispute to-morrow, and would have you give notice thereof accordingly

Sir, I am your humble servant.

George Keith."

Dated the 1st Sunday in Avijust, 1702.

lie writ this on occasion of an honest Friend's speaking sharply to him, and giving him the title of an apostate; adding, she could not pretend to dispute with him, but a Friend that was to be at their meeting on First day next, (meaning me,) she did not doubt would talk with him. Well then, said Keith, next Monday let him come, and I will prove him, and all the Quakers, unsound in both faith and principle. With more of that kind. The honest woman being warm, and zealous for the cause, replied, he will not be afraid of thee, I'm sure.

The messenger that brought the letter, delivered it in haste, as he was ordered, to John Faulkner, a young man from Scotland, who was

then storekeeper in B. Brains and company's employ. We were just then a considerable number of us in company, going to a meeting at Chester in the woods, some distance from any house, and John insisted for me to write an answer, adding, Keith would call the country together, and make much noise about it, as if we were afraid, &c, and 'twas best to nip his expectation in the bud. And as we knew nothing of the conference Keith had with the woman Friend two days before, I writ to the effect following.

"george Keith,

I have received thine, and think myself no way obliged to take any notice of one that hath been so very mutable in his pretences to religion; besides, as thou hast long since been disowned, after due admonition given thee by our Yearly Meeting in London, for thy quarrelsome and irregular practices, thou art not worthy of my notice, being no more to me than a heathen man and a publican; is the needful from

Samuel Bownas."

Dated the same day. •

John Faulkner carried my answer, and we went to our meeting, being at Chester in Maryland, as aforesaid. By that time the meeting was fully gathered, John Faulkner came back, and we had a comfortable meeting. Afterwards John Faulkner told us George Keith read my letter publicly amongst his company, appearing very angry at the contents of it; and the company laughed very heartily, many of them being much pleased with it. But John Faulkner came out of the company, and a substantial planter followed him, and told him, he had much rather go with him to our meeting, than to hear George Keith rail and abuse the Quakers; but he, being in the commission of the peace, must (as Keith was recommended by the Bishop of London,) shew some • respect; withal adding, that John Faulkner should bring me to bis house to dine the next day; which John Faulkner would have excused, urging, that as they had a value forme, sundry Friends would be for bringing me on my way farther; adding, we should incommode his house. He urged it the more, saying, we should all be welcome. Accordingly several went with me there, and he was very kind, giving us an account of George Keith's railing against us the day before, and how disagreeable it was to the assembly. Keith left a broad sheet printed,

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