dyeing liquor, of a uniform color; and yet, when removed from it, soon after, that they were found to be stained with indelible colors, differing from one another, according to the nature of the drugs, which had been applied to different parts of the stuff.*

The Tyrian purple has already been mentioned, and I need only add, that the art of producing it was for centuries lost, in consequence of the restrictions which imperial pride placed on the use of it. The Roman emperors appropriated this color entirely to themselves, and denounced the punishment of death against those who should presume to wear it. This tyrannical restriction so limited the dyeing of the purple, that, with the imperial throne, the process itself was lost. In the twelfth century, neither the shellfish, which furnished the dye, nor the methods which the ancients employed to communicate to cloths the rich and beautiful purple which it afforded, were at all known. At a later period, however, the material of the dye was again discovered. Cole, in the year 1686, found some shellfish, on the coast of England, which yielded it. Reaumur detected it in the whelks† which he obtained on the coast of Poitou; and Duhamel, in a shellfish, produced in great abundance on the coast of Provence. It has been discovered, also, in South America, in the Antilles, and on various shores of the Mediterranean; and there is reason to believe, that it exists in as great plenty now, as it did in the days of the ancients. If this dye, therefore, is not used in our day, it is because we are acquainted with more beautiful, as well as less expensive colors for the art.

The Greeks and Romans made but little progress in the art of dyeing. Public opinion, among them, placed the fine and the useful arts at an immense distance from each other; for, while the highest honor was connected with the former, the latter were degraded among the dishonorable and servile employments. This prejudice,

* Pliny, book xxxv. chap. 2.

[The Buccinum undatum, found also on our New England coast, is called the whelk in England.-AM. ED.]

which well accounts for the small improvement made by these otherwise active and ingenious nations, in many of those employments that have made such rapid advancement in our own days, forms a remarkable contrast between ancient and modern times. The philosopher of our day does not affect the distant and austere habits of the sages of antiquity. He mixes freely in society, and does not disdain to derive information from whatever Nature or art may offer to his observation. The instruction he has received from the artist, has been amply repaid by the light which science has shed on the arts, and the explanations it has afforded of their various processes. *

NINTH WEEK-SUNDAY.

THE SOCIAL AND RELIGIOUS ENJOYMENTS OF HEAVEN.

THE intellectual, and perhaps also the moral powers, might be, in some degree, exercised apart from society. We can conceive the human mind, in perfect solitude, thinking and reasoning, and exerting its ingenuity; and we can even suppose that, in such a state, it might have some faint notions of right and wrong. But it is certain that these faculties bear reference to other beings, and that man is destined for social intercourse. It is only, indeed, among our fellows, that the mental faculties can acquire any great stability or expansion. We have already seen something of the means which the Creator has cinployed, to unite mankind together in communities, and to call forth their powers in their social intercourse; and the system by which they are thus trained, is at once simple and profound. But it partakes of the imperfection of all sublunary things. If we would seek for its consummation, we must penetrate beyond the present scene,

* Edinburgh Encyclopedia.

and, by help of light from heaven, look into the eternal world.

In the Sunday paper immediately preceding, I have noticed this subject, in reference to the effects produced on the mind itself; but it yet remains, to regard it in connexion with the relation in which we stand to others. We are united together as brethren, the creatures of one God, the descendants of one parent, endowed with common faculties, subjected to similar influences and vicissitudes, alike subject to decay and death, and alike destined to live again in an eternal world. In regard to that eternal world, the sentence is equally pronounced on all, "He that soweth to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; he that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." We are thus united together by our origin, by our sympathies, and by our destiny; nor are we less united by our interests. Alone, man is helpless and unhappy. When he joins with his fellows in mutual labors, he becomes intelligent and inventive; capable of exerting much power, full of hope, and buoyant with energy and enjoyment.

But there is a canker here, as in other sublunary things. Man is but imperfectly social. He prefers his own interest to that of others; to that even of his nearest and dearest friend. He does not fulfil that Divine law," Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" and, therefore, he does not follow the golden rule founded on it, which requires him "to do to others as he would that they should do to him." On the contrary, he undermines, overreaches, defrauds,-and is miserable.

It is not so in heaven. Charity survives all earthly

gifts, all earthly graces. "Whether there be prophecies,

they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away;" faith shall end in sight, and hope in enjoyment; but charity is the very breath of heaven; it never faileth. When other attainments have fulfilled their purpose, and are shuffled off with our mortal coil, charity expands, till it envelopes the whole soul; it forms the cement which unites heart to

heart-the bond of perfectness which encircles and draws together the whole family of heaven.

The spirits of the just made perfect mingle with angels, and are their companions and friends. They are actively engaged with them in the same exalted pursuits. The earth-born sympathize with the natives of heaven; they love what these celestial spirits love; in their joy they rejoice; in the same temple they worship. The same wise, and holy, and gracious Being is their Father and their God.

To those who were once mortal like themselves, they are bound by a still dearer tie. They, like them, have passed from death unto life. They were under the same condemnation; they are saved by the same means; they are all equally the redeemed of Christ. To Him they mutually look as their common benefactor, with unspeakable gratitude and affection. In Him they find a bond of the tenderest and most endearing union.

There is a peculiarity and a depth, in the sentiment thus inspired, which angels cannot feel; and which, if it is not more intense than their feelings, seems at least better adapted to the nature of the human soul. The devout affections of angels are not, like those of the redeemed, enhanced by the remembrance of sins forgiven, of torments escaped, and of tears wiped away. They have no Saviour like them, who evinced his matchless love in torture and death; and in whom all the affections of the soul, elevated and rendered intense by this most endearing relation, may centre and repose. The children of mortality, become immortal, have, therefore, a peculiar bond of union and of sympathy. They sing together the song of Moses and the Lamb. Their love and their rapture are complete, when they think of the wonders of redeeming grace; and, adding their voices to the praises of those who, with themselves, have escaped the shipwreck of eternal destruction, swell the glorious anthem, peculiar to the race of Adam,-'Worthy is the Lamb. who was slain, for He was slain for us, and hath redeemed us by his blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation. Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and made us kings and

priests unto God and his Father; to Him be glory and dominion for ever.'

Our

But there is a higher and more ennobling employment still, which crowns the enjoyments of the celestial paradise. I allude to the exercise of the devout affections. Even in this world, imperfect and faint as are our conceptions of God, we can view Him with delight. We can, with feelings of admiration and reverence, see his perfections reflected from his works, and trace his hand in the operations of his providence and grace. hearts warm and overflow with gratitude, when we know that we ourselves are the objects of his paternal care; and when we further learn, that He has "not spared his own Son, but delivered Him up for us all," we are transported with astonishment, affection, and joy. What, then, must be our sensations when admitted to that heavenly temple, where, with open face, we shall behold the glory of the Eternal; and, being changed into his image, shall see Him as He is! How exalted, beyond all mortal conception, must be the pious feelings of the soul, when we shall be permitted to stand before the throne, and unite with angels, and with our fellow-redeemed, in worshipping the Father-God! Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.” And this world is a state of preparation for these unspeakable blessings! "What manner of persons, then, ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness ?" Compared with the glory which shall hereafter be revealed, "how weary, stale, and unprofitable are all the uses of this world!" How poor is worldly ambition; how unsatisfactory and perishable worldly pleasure; how contemptible all sublunary pursuits! Here, we have nothing we can call our own: and, if we had, how short would be our possession! There, we are invited to inherit all things. Are we desirous of improving our rational powers, and eager in the pursuit of useful knowledge? It is well; but let us seek for these attainments on the road to heaven. In no other way can our intellectual faculties be so well employed; by no other means