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give it some reflection before the approaching Yearly Meeting. M. 3d month, 1857.
THE PROPHET EZEKIEL.
A full and clear evidence of the workings of the Divine Spirit upon individual minds, is thus given by this anointed one: "As I sat in my house, and the Elders of Judah sal by me, the hand of God was upon me,and took me in spirit to Jerusalem." Here we see how his mind was occupied during this sitting—what disclosures were made, and unfoldings given, of the condition of those to whom he was to bear messages from the Great Supreme. He was shown the chambers of imagery and the secret apertures, where the most distinguished among them entered; and there upon the wall were portrayed their beloved idols, representing the lowest order of created things, which we understand as figurative of the passions that governed them, to which they made obeisance and offered iucense. Here, too, at the very entrance stood the image of Jealousy, provoking to jealousy; corrupting, if it were possible, every channel through which the Almighty designed good should flow in upnn them; and here they offered incense. Could they be hid from the penetrating eye of infinite purity? Indeed they could not! and to show the remnant that remained his compassionate regard failed not, he baptized bis servant into their state, and then commissioned him to invite their returu to a Shepherd that would feed them in a good pasture, and upon a high mountain set their fold. 0, ye shepherds that have fed yourselves and* not the flock, " I will require my flock at your hand." Solemn responsibility! may it claim a consideration in our day. "I myself will be their God, and make with them a covenant of peace; I will make them and the places round about my hill a blessing." "Not for your sakes will I do this, 0 house of Israel, but for my holy name's sake, which ye have profaned among the heathen."
"W hen ye exchange your many ornaments for the more lovely adorning of heavenly mindedness, keeping my covenants and my statutes, then will I return unto you, with a restoration of ancient favor. And though your state be as the dry bones spread out in the valley, I will show through my faithful servant, that in my word is power sufficient to reanimate, to cause a shaking, and bring again upon the feet, with every bone and sinew in its proper place; then will I breathe upon them, and they shall live and magnify my praise."
[To be continued. \
Wood And Anthracite.—It is stated on good scientific authority, that as wood contains a great quantity of oxygen, and anthractie coal
none, less air is taken from an apartment when wood is used for fuel, than when anthracite coal is used. For this reason, the atmosphere of apartments heated with wood is more genial, and wood is more healthy, and requires less cold air from the outside to supply the fire.
For Friends' Intelligencer.
Slavery in this country, although claiming increasing attention, is far from occupying a hold upon the public mind, as an evil of the first magnitude and one that ought speedily to be removed; although such is the atrocity of the system that it snatches from the fond embrace of parental affection the offspring at birth; it places them under the entire control of their captor; and confers upon another, ownership in the avails of their laborduring life. Who can imagine grosser injustice and robbery than this? It cannot be surpassed; to say nothing of the sufferings, cruelties and crimes attendant upon, and inseparable from such a violation of right. What can be more revolting to every friend of humanity, than man claiming property in his fellow-man; yet, if we take the official expressions of our most public men, as the indication of public feeling on the subject of slavery, it is deemed a matter of minor consequence, and one that should be let alone. Take, for instance, the late address of one, who is about to enter upon the official duties of the highest office in the gift of the nation, a nation holding more than three millions of its subjects in the most abject bondage; yet with this evil staring" him in the face, he comes before the country and pledges himself for the fulfilment of many good deeds, in the suppression of injustice, fraud, and vice, and the promotion of justice, fairness, and equal laws; but does he promise to use his utmost influence in hastening the liberation of this vast multitude of injured bondmen, by all peaceful and Christian means in his power 1 No! so far from this, he proclaims, " most happy will it be for the country, when the public mind shall be diverted from this question (slavery) to others of more pressing and practical importance." There appears a remarkable discrepancy in the address alluded to; for notwithstanding this effort to extinguish all enquiry into the wrongs of the slave; in other parts of it we find language used as though there was not a single slave in the country, when setting forth the duties of government, and the protection experienced by the people under it, thus, "it is the indispensable and imperative duty of the government of the United States to seoure to every resident inhabitant the free and independent expression of his opinion by his vote; this sacred right of each individual must be preserved," &c. Now for the protection, "Hitherto, in all our acquisitions, the people, under the protection of the American flag, have enjoyed civil and religious liberty as well as equal and just laws, and have been contented, prosperous and happy."
Who would have the least suspicion, that under such a government as is here set forth, and with the just and equal protection described, three and a half millions of the people are legally subject to be sold upon the auction block, as though they were beasts of burthen; separating husbands from wives, parents from children, causing scenes of suffering and affliction revolting to humanity, and shocking to contemplate. Now we would ask, where is the sacred right to the slave (if he be deemed a human being,) that "mustbe preserved to each individual," and what protection has this class of the community? What enjoyment of civil and religious liberty? What happiness and contentment do they exhibit, when, to restrain them from fleeing, to return them if they dn, and to hold them in this thraldom of bondage, laws have been enacted of the most odious character that ever disgraced the statute book of any civilized nation or country.
The foregoing quotations have been made to shew that there is much improvement wanting in the public mind; and that slave-holding is not viewed with that deep, earnest detestation and abhorrence its enormity merits. These facts show that there is a field of labor in faithfully bearing testimony against it, as the convictions of truth upon the mind may best dictate, in agreement with justice, morality, and Christianity. How soon such labors rightly prosecuted would correct public feeling, and prepare the community for moving in the right direction to extinguish from the nation, such injustice and tyranny, now threatening the termination of our long enjoyed prosperity.
So just, and imperative is the claim of the bondman upon every free man and woman, that why should we not attend to the little that first opens as a manifest duty? This would qualify for other and greater services, secure true peace of mind, the approval of divine goodness, and the respect of all good men. Thus from individual concern and action would ultimately be produced united labor, by which, through the blessing of Providence, great and good deeds would be accomplished, and a great and powerful nation, even at this late period, bo induced to restore its afflicted bondmen to their sacred and inalienable rights, and thus avert national retribution and calamity. D. I.
Dutchess Co., N. Y.y 3d mo. 1857.
The worst examples in the Society of Friends are generally among the children of the rich. There is no greater calamity than that of leaving children in affluent independence.— Clarkson's Portraiture of Quakerism.
Flowers are the alphabet of angels, wherewith they write on hills and plains mysterious truths.
For Friends' Intelligencer. SUFFERINGS OF FRIENDS UNDER THE CONVENTICLE ACT. [Continued from page 28.]
On the 17th of 10th month, those who had [ been set by were brought to the bar to receive sentence. First, four married women, condemned to the house of correction for twelve months, the rest to banishment, the men to Barbadoes, and tlie women to Jamaica, there to remain seven years. Thus the persecuting magistrates and judges continued to imprison, try, and condemn to banishment the members of this society in great numbers; there being by an account published at this time upwards of six hundred in prison.
By authentic records it appears that upwards of two hundred were sentenced to banishment in different parts of the nation, in this and the succeeding year, and what is very remarkable, there is no account of more than two at one time, and about fifteen at others, who were actually transported; which was not owing to any relaxation of severity in the government or subordinate magistrates, but the- disappointments they met with of the means of transporting them, as has been observed with regard to those condemned at Hartford.
There were two Friends named Edward Brush and James Harding, who, on the 24th of the Third month, very early in the morning, were, without any warning, hurried from Newgate by some of the turnkeys, to Blackfriars, and thence to Gavesend, where they were forced on board a ship, which carried them to Jamaica, where it pleased God to prosper them, so that they lived there in good circumstances; and Edward Brush, who was at that time, a gray haired, aged man, a citizen of good repute among his neighbors, and well esteemed by many persons of consequence, after suffering the anguish of being thus violently separated from a beloved wife and only child, aged as he was, survived the term of his exile, lived to come back, and end his days in peace at home.
Along with these two, a third, named Robert Hayes, was also in like manner put on ship board; in whom we have a fresh instance of the barbarity which actuated his persecutors; for being taken out of prison, fasting, and in a weak state of health, he was carried down the river on a very cold day, and without any refreshment being afforded him; soon after he was put on board, he died there, and his body was brought back to London, and interred in the burying ground belonging to Friends in that city. George Whitehead, who knew Robert. Hayes, gives the following account of him. "He was a very innocent, loving man, a goodlike person, of a fresh, comely countenance, seemed healthy, and in the prime of his strength when first imprisoned j" and adds, "I was very sorrowfully affected, when I heard how quickly he was despatched out of the world, by the shameful cruelty and inhuman usage of these merciless persecutors." Yet while these rigorous measures were thus rigorously executed for forcing uniformity in religion, true religion was perhaps never less cultivated, or promoted, than at this time by the ruling party. The manners of the age were corrupt and immoral to a scandalous degree. Through the example of their superiors, and the pliant doctrines of their teachers, adapted to flatter the great, and in general more pointed against non-conformity than vice, the common people, says Neale, gave themselves up to drunkenness, profane swearing, gaming, lewdness, and all kinds of debauchery, which brought down the judgments of heaven upon the nation. The people called Quakers also of this age, looked upon the train of succeeding calamities as divine judgments inflicted upon a sinful and persecuting generation; and although the secrets of the Almighty are a great deep, and his ways above the investigation of human wisdom, yet Scripture warrants us to consider signal national calamities in this light, when national corruption becomes remarkably general, as at this time. The first of these evils, mentioned by Neale, was a war with the Dutch, wantonly, and in unjust policy, commenced by the English court, and promoted by the selfish policy of France, which cost the nation much blood and treasure, and many lives were lost on both sides, and no advantage gained by either. The next calamity which befel the nation had more the appearance of a divine visitation for the sins of the people; it was the most dreadful plague that had been known in the memory of man. Neale writes that it was preceded by an unusual drought; the meadows were parched and burnt up like the highways, insomuch that there was no food for the cattle, which occasioned first a murrain among them, and then a general contagion among the human species, which increased in the city and suburbs of London till eight thousand or upwards died in a week. The wealthy inhabitants fled into remoter counties, but the calamities of the poorer sort, and those who staid behind, are not easily described. Trade was at a full stand and the intercourse between London and the surrounding country was much interrupted. In London, the shops and houses were quite shut up, and grass was growing in the most populous streets, now become a scene of solitude, silence, and gloom; and it was remarked that the first house in which it broke out, was the very next door to the late dwelling of Edward Brush, lately transported on the conventicle act. These persecuting magistrates, unawed by these symptoms of divine displeasure, proceeded for a season to carry this conventicle act into force, by increasing the number of Quaker prisoners and exiles, as if nothing extraordinary had fallen 0ut. In the fourth month, 1665, twelve more
of this society were sentenced to transportation, and seven more taken from Newgate to Gravesend, and there put on ship board to be transported to the plantations; and in the succeeding month eight others. At the next sessions of the Old Bailey, four more were condemned to transportation; under which sentence there remained in Newgate more than one hundred and twenty persons, whom the Sheriffs knew not how to get rid of; for the masters of ships, persuaded of the men's innocence, generally refused to carry them, and the increasing pestilence confirmed them in their refusal, it being estimated by them, and many others, as a judgment on the nation for its persecuting laws. To remedy this difficulty, an embargo was laid on all merchantmen, with an order that none should go down the river, without a pass from the Admiral; and this would be given to no master going to the West Indies, but on condition of his engaging to carry some Quakers. Remonstrances of the illegality of carrying Englishmen out of their native country, by force, were vain.
[To be concluded.]
THE BIRDS OF SPRING.
My quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, politics, and the money market, leaves me rather at a loss for occupation, and drives me occasionally to the study of nature, and other low pursuits. Having few neighbors, also, on whom to keep a watch and exercise my habits of observation, I am fain to amuse myself with prying into the domestic concerns and peculiarities of the animals around me; and, during the present season, have derived considerable entertainment from certain sociable little birds, almost the only visitors we have during this early part of the year.
Those who have passed the winter in the country, are sensible to the delightful influences that accompany the earliest indications of spring; and of these, none are more delightful than the first notes of the birds. There is one modest little sad-coloured bird, much resembling a wren, which came about the house just on the skirts of winter, when not a blade of grass was to be seen, and when afew prematurely warm days had given a flattering foretaste of soft weather. He-sang early in the dawning, long before sunrise, and late in the evening, just before the closing in of night, his matin and his vesper hymns. It is true, he sang occasionally throughout the day; but at these still hours, his song was more remarked. He sat on a leafless tree, just before the window, and warbled forth his notes, few and simple, but singularly sweet, with something of a plaintive tone, that heightened their effect.
The first morning that he was heard, was a joyous one among the young folks of my household. The long, death-like sleep of winter was at an end; nature was once more awakening; they now promised themselves the immediate appearance of buds and blossoms. I was reminded of the tempest-tossed crew of Columbus, when, after their long, dubious voyage, the field-birds came singing round the ship, though still far at sea, rejoicing them with the belief of the immediate proximity of land. A sharp return of winter almost silenced my little songster, and dashed the hilarity of the household; yet still he poured forth, now and then, a few plaintive notes, between the frosty pipings of the breeze, like gleams of sunshine between wintry clouds.
I have consulted my book of ornithology in vain, to fiud out the name of this kindly little bird, who certainly deserves honour and favour far beyond his modest pretensions. He enmes like the lowly violet, the most unpretending, but welcomest of flowers, breathing the sweet promise of the early year.
Another of our feathered visitors who follow close upon the steps of winter, is the Pe-wit, or Pe-wee, or Phoebe-bird; for he is called by each of these names; from a fancied resemblance to the sound of his monotonous note. Ho is a sociable little being, and seeks the habitation of man. A pair of them have built beneath my porch, and have reared several broods there, for two years past, their nest never being disturbed. They arrive early in the spring, just when the crocus and the snow-drop begin to peep forth. Their first chirp spreads gladness through the house. "The Phoebe birds have come 1" is heard on all sides; they are welcomed back like.members of the family; and speculations are made upon were they have been, and what countries they have seen, during their long absence. Their arrival is the more cheering, as it is pronounced by the old weather-wise people of the country, the sure sign that the severe frosts are at an end, and that the gardener may resume his labors with confidence.
About this time too, arrives the blue-bird, so poetically yet truly described by Wilson. His appearance gladdeus the whole landscape.. You hear his soft warble in every field. He sociably approaches your habitation, and takes up his residence in your vicinity.
The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the European lark in my estimation, is the boblincon, or boblink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our year, which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May, so often given by the poets. With us, it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year; and later than this, begin the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval, nature is in all her freshness and fragrance : "the rains
are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land." The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel; the air is perfumed by the sweet-brier and the wild rose; the meadows arc enamelled with clover-blossoms; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum, begin to swell, and the cherry to glow, among the green leaves.
This is the chosen season of revelry of the Boblink. He comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows; and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long flaunting weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich tinkling notes; crowding one upon another, like the outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the same rapturous character. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstacy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his paramour: always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody; and always with the same appearance of intoxication and delight.
Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the Boblink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom; but when I, luckless urchin! was doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong day, in that purgatory of boyhood, a schoolroom, it seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me, as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. 0, how I envied him! No lessons, no task, no hateful school; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I then been more versed in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo:
Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
Thou hast no sorrow in thy note,
O ! could I fly, I'd fly with thee;
Our annual visit round the globe,
Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this little feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to impart, for the benefit of my school-boy readers, who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him only as I saw him first, in what, I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a manner devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, and sensibility and refinement. While this lasted he was sacred from injury; the very school boy would not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits; doffs his poetical suit of black, resumes a russet dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyments of common vulgar birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear; he is stuffing himself •with the seeds of the tall weeds, on which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become a bon vivant, a "gourmand;" with him now there is nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while he grows tired of plain homely fare, and is off on a gastronomical tour in quest of foreign luxuries. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind, banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware; and grown corpulent with good feeding. He has changed his name in travelling. Boblincon no more—he is the Reedbirdnovi, the much-sought for titbit of Pennsylvania epicures; the rival in unlucky fame of the Ortolan! Wherever he goes, pop ! pop !■ pop ! every rusty firelock in the country is blazing away. He sees his companions falling by thousands around him.
Does he take warning and reform'! Alas, not he! Incorrigible epicure! Again he wings his flight. The rice swamps of the south invite him. He gorges himself among them almost to bursting; he can scarcely fly tor corpulency. He has once more changed his name, and is now the famous Rice-bird of the CaroUnas.
Last stage of his career: behold him spitted with dozens of his corpulent companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on the table of some Southern gastronome.
Such is the story of the Boblink; once spirittual, musical, admired, the joy of the meadows and the favorite bird of spring; finally, a gross, little sensualist, who expiates his sensuality in the larder. His story contains a moral, worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys; warning them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits, which raise him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of his career; but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dissipated indulgence, which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end.
Many persons see corks used daily without knowing whence come those useful materials. Corks are cut from large slabs of the cork tree, a species of oak, which grows wild in the southern countries of Europe. The tree is stripped
of its bark at about sixteen years old; but before stripping it off, the tree is not cut down, as in the case of the oak. It is taken while the tree is growing, and the operation may be repeated every eight or nine years; the quality of the bark continuing each time to improve a£ the age of the tree increases. When the bark is taken off, it is singed in the flame of a strong fire, and being soaked for a considerable time in water, it is placed under heavy weights, in order to render it straight. Its extreme lightness, the ease with which it can be compressed, and its elasticity, are properties so peculiar to this substance, that no efficient substitute has been discovered. The valuable properties of cork were known to the Greeks and Romans, who employed it for all the purposes for which it is used at the present day, with the exception of stopples. The ancients mostly used cement for stopping the mouth of bottles or vessels. The Egyptians are said to have made coffins of cork, which, being spread on the inside with a resinous substance, preserved dead bodies from decay. Even in modern times, cork was not generally used for stopples to bottles till about the seventeenth century—cement being used until then for that purpose.
For Friends' Inttilllgenoer.
Written by R. C. on his 81s< birth-day.
Eighty-one years have passed away, with years before the Hood;
I've little lelt to lean on now, but the mercy of my God,
Who guided well my childish feet through the slippery
paths of youth, And brought my soul in early life to fall in love with
0, wondrous grace—redeeming love! that condescends to meet
A prodigal, half-way between the earth and mercy seat.
Hut, Oh I the conflicts none can tell, save those the
path have trod, That ltads from Egypt's dusky land, up to the throne
Briers and thorns infest the path, temptations oft assail;
Yet they who trust in Israel's God, most surely will pi evail.
No weapons or enchantments formed against this
wrestling seed, Shall prosper, for His arm is near in every time of
He will not quench the smoking flax, or break the bruised reed;
His love and power will still support all such as feel the need.
And none but such can worship Him in spirit and in truth.
And such He seeks to worship Him—the aged and the youth.
Then, 0, my soul, be calm and still, and feel thy Saviour near.
'Twill help to smooth tby rugged road, and silence every fear.