rica. But, even if maize really came from the American continent first; if the Indian fig and the closely-related agave, which now grow wild around the Mediterranean, and add so much to its picturesque scenery, have their true home in the New World, those two plants would still be the only ones that have ever travelled eastward, single and isolated exceptions to the great law of nature, that plants, animals, and men, all must travel towards the setting sun.

This mysterious but undeniable movement is still going on. It proceeds, even in our day, on a grand and imposing scale, and essentially alters, from time to time, the vegetable character of whole countries, as they are newly discovered or newly settled. It shows us in indelible signs the silent, irresistible force with which humble plants prescribe their path on earth, to both the animals that feed us and the different races of men. For such is the strange relation between plants and man: they are of paramount importance for his existence not only, but also for his welfare. It is little to say that they feed and clothe him, and that they enable him to sustain the life of those animals, from whom he receives in return not only food and comfort, but, what is incomparably more valuable, service, affection, and gratitude!

'BORROBOOLA GHA.
A stranger preach'd last Sunday,
And crowds of people came
To hear a two-hour sermon,
With a barbarous-sounding name;
'Twas all about some heathens,
Thousands of miles afar,
Who live in a land of darkness,
Call'd 'Borroboola Gha.'

So well their wants he pictured,
That when the plates were pass'd,
Each list'ner felt his pockets,

And goodly sums were cast;
For all must lend a shoulder
To push the rolling car
That carries light and comfort
To 'Borroboola Gha.'

That night their wants and sorrows

Lay heavy on my soul,

And deep in meditation,

I took my morning-stroll;

Till something caught my mantle,
With eager grasp and wild,
And looking down with wonder,
I saw a little child-

A pale and puny creature,

In rags and dirt forlorn; What could she want, I question'd, Impatient to be gone.

་

With trembling voice she answer'd,
'We live just down the street,
And mammy she's a-dyin',
And we've nothing left to eat.'
Down in a wretched basement,
With mould upon the walls,
Through whose half-buried windows
God's sunshine never falls-
Where cold, and want, and hunger,
Crouch'd near her as she lay,
I found a fellow-creature
Gasping her life away.

A chair, a broken table,

A bed of dirty straw, A hearth all dark and cheerlessBut these I scarcely saw; For the mournful sight before me, The sad and sickening showOh! never had I pictured

A scene so full of wo.

The famish'd and the naked,

The babes that pine for bread, The squalid group that huddled Around the dying bed

All this distress and sorrow

Should be in lands afar. Was I suddenly transplanted To Borroboola Gha?'

'

Ah! lo! the poor and wretched
Were close behind the door,
And I had pass'd them, heedless,
A thousand times before.
Alas! for the cold and hungry
That meet me every day,
While all my tears were given
To the suffering far away.

There's work enough for Christians
In distant lands, we know;
Our Lord commands his servants
Through all the world to go;
Not only for the heathen:

This was his charge to them, 'Go, preach the Word, beginning First at Jerusalem.'

'O Christian! God has promised, Who e'er to thee has given

A

cup of pure

cold water,

Shall find reward in heaven. Would you secure the blessing

You need not seek it far

Go find in yonder hovel

A 'Borroboola Gha.'

NEWSPAPER DUNNING IN

་

AMERICA.

Many years ago, a man named Dunn was employed to collect debts, and was so successful in his undertakings, that when merchants met with an awkward customer, who did not pay his bills, they recommended each other to dunn him; hence the singular, but too well understood word, dunning. Of all men, says a writer in Graham's American Magazine,' newspaper editors and proprietors can do this dunning well: for, first, they have talent to do it; secondly, among a large number of subscribers they have opportunities for doing it; thirdly, the frequent tightness' of their money-market sharpens their wits, and prompts them to do it; fourthly, they sometimes want something to fill, and to spice their papers, and so they do it; fifthly, it is of no expense to them, and therefore they do it; and perhaps we ought to add a sixth reasonthese said editors regard it as a trial of strength with each other, and the contest is who can do it best. After this preface, we proceed to our present proper business, which is to show our readers some of the ingenious ways in which this dunning is done. We give but a few instances selected from thousands.

To begin with the most important. Some have even dunned on scriptural grounds. One paper quotes from Paul's Epistle to the Romans, Owe no man anything,' and then adds, 'We fear some of our subscribers never read Paul's Epistles.' The editor of a paper in the State of New York thus affectingly appeals to his readers:

'Where is the money coming from to pay for our next issue? We cannot get a quire without the cash in advance. We have borrowed until our credit is gone. We have worked two years for nothing, and boarded ourselves-or rather our wife has boarded us-free gratis for nothing.' Our compositors want their wages. Our children want shoes, and our wife wants a new calico dress. We are out of wood, out of potatoes, out of flour, out of meat, out of butter, out of sugar, out of patience-in short, out of nearly every thing, except a clear conscience. We dodged the sheriff until we could not dodge any longer; and have dodged our creditors until we are tired. We have not a shilling in our pocket, and you owe us Two Thousand Dollars! We are trying to live a Christian life, and hope to get to heaven. It affords us no satisfaction to think we shall not meet you there. We should greatly prefer to have you pay us, and thereby remove a very great ob

stacle in the way of your reaching that place of rest.'

Other editors have assumed 'the oppositeground,'and have pretended great anger on the subject. Here are examples:

'Send us our dues-or may you be shod with lightning, and compelled to wander through deserts of gunpowder; your eyes be sore, and a chestnut burr for an eyestone. May you have a hornet's nest in each boot, and be rode by Irish bog-trotters in the night, vipers in your ears, scorpions in your bosom, with a two-bushel bag of potatoes tied to each leg.'

It would seem that the idea of this article struck the minds of many editors very favourably, for soon after we find it borrowed, and all sorts of attempts made to improve upon it. We give a few specimens, and here we shall mention the papers in which they appeared.

THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT PAY THE PRINTER.

pelled to wander over a desert of gunpowder.' May he be shod with lightning, and com

-N. O. Pic.

'May he have sore eyes, and a chestn burr for an eyeball.'-Balt. Clip.

'May he wither under the volumino curse of Dr Slop.'-Ev. Post.

May his sorrows double daily, and life lengthen in the same ratio that his sorrows are multiplied.'-Frankford Yeoman.

'May every day of his life be more despotic than the Dey of Algiers.'--N. York News.

May he repose his weary limbs at night on a bed full of fleas, and inhale the odour of ten thousand bed-bugs.'-Cin. News.

May he never again be permitted to see the face of fair woman, and be BORED to death by boarding-school misses practising their first lesson of music, without the privilege of seeing his tormentors.'- Memp. Exp.

May he, upon pulling on a tight boot, find a live hornet in the bottom! May he be rode on a rail after getting his boot off, with a sharp edge up, with a bushel-bag of sand tied to each leg, by a torch-light procession,. and hissed by all the boys in ten miles round.' -Brownlow's Whig.

'May a troop of Printers' Devils, lean, lank, and hungry, dog his heels by day; and may the famine-stricken ghost of an editor's babe haunt his evening lullaby, and hiss murder in his dreaming ear.'-Star State Patriot.

'May he be compelled to walk during the day, with bare feet, over prickly-pears; and sleep at night in a muskeeto chapparel, without a blanket or lariat to keep the rattlesnakes of.'-Houston Beacon.

'May he have a scolding wife and a smoking chimney, and his days be many.'-Western Texan.

'May he be in debt, and dunned every hour of every day by creditors as remorseless as Shylock, and as importunate as the widow in holy writ. May no sleep come to his eye

lids, nor rest to his conscience, until the last mite of his indebtedness is cancelled. May he be lathered with aquafortis, and shaved with a hand-saw by a drunken barber, who shall read to him during the operation every line and syllable of the supplement to the Virginia Convention.'-Fred. News.

May he have to ride on the back of a rough trotting mule one thousand miles, over a bad road, and have a porcupine saddle.'American Unionist.

'May he be doomed to the editorship of a country newspaper, every subscriber of which is as mean as himself.'-Ottawa Free Press.

May every dollar he gets prove as base coin as he is humanity, himself be forced to beg, and every sentence from his cold heart freeze fast in his throat, his under-shirt turn to wasps, and he not suffered to go down to his hole in the dirt, "unwhipt, unconcerned, and unstung."-Quincy Herald.

'We had a chap who got the 'Mirror' three years without paying for it, and when we sued him, he was dishonest enough to deny it off. We know he has not slept well ever since. Give him a kick, and let the miserable creature pass.'-Tazewell Mir.

'Not enough yet! May he be stowed into a barrel of tar, and boiled down and japanned over. May he then be kiln-dried and split up into wooden shoe-pegs; or may he be cut up and used for cat-fish bait.'-Union. C. Star.

In many other instances, these troublesome editors have sought to work upon the fears of those who would not pay. Here is a sample or two:

'A Mr Blindman, pilot on a flat-boat on the Ohio, recently saw a most wonderful sight in the heavens. He was watching eagerly the comet's tail, when at once he saw the tail curl up, and form in big letters the word

'PAY

Some men have taken another plan, and have sought to persuade their friends to pay, by telling them tales like these:

'It is worthy of remark, that no person who took a newspaper regularly and paid for it, was ever justly convicted of a capital offence. No such person was ever willingly sent to the penitentiary, or any other prison. No such person ever knowingly committed suicide; and with a few exceptions, longevity has been the consequence of so upright a practice.'

'We find the above, says another paper, mainly in one of our exchanges. Doubtless the statement was not made without due exa

'It has been ascertained that people who take the papers, and pay for them in advance, are seldom struck by lightning. The season of thunder-showers has arrived, and delinquents will find it cheaper to pay up than to purchase lightning-rods.'

'There is a man up the country who always pays for his paper in advance. He has never had a sick day in his life-never had any corns or toothache-his potatoes never rot― the weevil never eats his wheat-the frost never kills his corn or beans-his babies never cry in the night, and his wife never scolds. Reader! have you paid the printer in advance?'

'W. B. writes us that he could not sleep of nights-first thought it was "hot weather," then "fleas "-finally, tried our celebrated printer's receipt, and sent on the money due for the 'Post'-and, "for the two nights since, has slept perfectly well!"'

The 'Boston Cultivator' tells a good story on this subject:

'It seems that one of its subscribers was much troubled with the nightmare, and applied several remedies to no good effect, till his excellent lady asked him if he had paid for his newspaper! On going to see, he found he was in arrears two years. He at once paid up, and slept soundly for three or four nights; but fearing the trouble might come on again, he went to the office and paid a year in advance. This has proved an effectual cure, and as such is recommended in all like

'The oldest man that ever died in this country took a newspaper from the day he was twenty-one years of age, to that of his death, and always paid for it in advance.'

The editor of a paper down east offers a premium for the best dunning address to his delinquent customers.

A southern editor advertises that he

wishes to unite himself to an 'Owe-Nothing Society,' and hopes all his subscribers will do likewise.

The Christian Secretary,' published in New England, adds to the above:

'We should be glad to join such a society ourself, but cannot do so without the co-operation of all our subscribers. By the way, we are very much in want of funds at this time, and would remind those who are still in arrears for their paper, that a remittance will be thankfully received. We hope this

TRANSLATIONS FROM HERDER. I. THE CHILD OF MERCY.

When the Almighty was about to create man, he assembled together the archangels in council around him.

'Create him not,' said the Angel of Righteousness; 'he will be unjust towards his brethren, and will deal hardly and cruelly towards those that are weaker than he.'

'Create him not,' said the Angel of Peace; 'he will fatten the earth with the blood of his fellow-men, and the first-born of his race will slay his brother.'

'He will profane thy sanctuary with falsehood,' said the Angel of Truth; 'even though thou shouldst stamp thine own likeness-the seal of loyalty—upon his countenance.'

And as they spake, Mercy, the youngest, dearest child of the Eternal Father, came near to his throne, and embraced his knees, and said

'Create him, Father, in thine own image, a favourite child of thy goodness. Should all thy servants forsake him, yet will not I forsake him; but I will be with him in love, and turn even his errors to good. I will make the heart of the weak one compassionate, and turn him in pity towards those that are weaker. If he wanders from the path of Peace and Truth-if he sins against Righteousness and Justice-the fruits of his errors shall lead him back again, and thus in love improve him.'

The Father of men created man, a weak and erring creature; but even in his errors a pupil of his Father's goodness --a son of Mercy-son of a love that never forsakes him, but ever chastens and improves.

Remember, then, thine origin, O man, if thou art merciless and unjust. Of all God's attributes, it was Mercy alone that called thee into being, and Pity and Love nursed thee on their paternal bosoms.

II. THE HEAVENLY SHEPHERD.

Deep in the midnight that preceded the festival of spring, at which the first two sons of the human race were to bring a thank-offering to the Creator, their mother saw in sleep a wondrous dream. The white roses, which her younger son had planted around his altar, were changed to blood-stained roses and more fully blown, such as she had never before seen.

She tried to pluck them, but they withered beneath her touch. Upon the altar, whereon milk alone was the principal offering, now lay a bleeding lamb. Voices of lamentation were heard around, and amid them one voice of despair, till at last all died away into tones of melody, such as she had never heard before.

And a beautiful plain lay before her— more beautiful even than the Paradise of her youth—and upon it wandered, in the likeness of her son, a shepherd clad in white. The red roses were in his hair, and in his hand he had a harp, from which those tones of melody came forth. He turned affectionately towards her, began to approach, and vanished. With him vanished the dream.

And as the mother awoke, she saw the day dawn red and blood-like; and she went forth with a heavy heart to the festival of the thank-offering.

The brothers brought their offerings; and their parents returned homeward. But at evening their younger son came not back. Full of anxiety, the mother sought for him, and found only his scattered and mournful herd. He himself lay all bloody by the altar; the roses were stained with his blood, and the agonising voice of Cain rang loud from a neighbouring cavern.

Senseless she sank upon the corpse of her son, and a second time the vision appeared to her. The shepherd whom she saw in that new Paradise was her son. The red roses were in his hair; sweet tones resounded from his harp; and he sweetly sang to her, 'Look upward to the stars in heaven; my weeping mother, look upward. Behold yon glittering chariot there; it bears us to other plains, to a more beauteous Paradise, than thou in Eden sawest; where the blood-stained rose of innocence more fully blooms, and sighs are changed to sounds of melody.'

The vision disappeared; and Eve arose with new strength from the pallid corpse of her son. And on the morrow, when she had bedewed him with her tears, and crowned him with the roses of the altar, his father and mother buried him by the altar of his God, in the light of a beauteous day-dawn. And oft at midnight sat they by his grave, and gazed toward heaven, upwards to the high-moving chariot of stars, and sought their shepherd there.

III. THE DEATH OF ADAM.

Adam was nine hundred and thirty