MARS is invisible, being obscured by the rays of the sun.

JUPITER is now very splendid in the south-east at midnight; he rises on the 1st at five minutes before eleven, and on the 26th at ten minutes after nine. On the 24th he is near the Moon. SATURN, though not hood he now is,) yet is

so bright as Jupiter, (in whose neighbouran interesting object, every fine night of this month. He rises on the 3d at a quarter-past ten, and on the 27th at half-past eight. His fine large ring is highly worthy the notice of every person who is in possession of a good telescope.

From Saturn's ring,

In which of Earths an army might be lost,
With the bold comet, take my bolder flight,
Amid those sovereign glories of the skies,
Of independent, native lustre proud;

The souls of systems! and the lords of life

Through their wide empires! What behold I now?

A wilderness of wonders burning round;

Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres:
Nor halt I here; my toil is but begun;
"Tis but the threshold of the Deity."

YOUNG.

JUVENILE OBITUARY.

DIED, in Devizes, December 23d, 1839, Jane Elliott Adlam, aged sixteen years and ten months. At an early period of life she was taken to a Sabbath-school, where she was soon convinced of the necessity of religion; and her convictions were deepened while attending the ministry of the word. When about eleven years of age, she obtained a clear sense of pardon. From this time she became decidedly pious; full proof of which was given by her devotedness to God. Of the means of grace she formed right views; and in them she sought that her strength might be renewed; and she was not disappointed. She loved prayer, and was, for her age, well-acquainted with the word of God. She gave proof of this during her affliction; for it was truly delightful to hear her quote Scripture with such ease and correctness. Her views of God's

method of saving man were very clear; Jesus was her all, and in all. Jane was greatly afflicted for several years; but she was perfectly resigned to the will of God. During the last two months of her life, she was much worse, but always happy in God. Being once asked if she was satisfied as to her interest in Jesus, she said, with a smile, "Yes." "Then you have no doubt on your mind?" "No; to doubt would be sinful." In this delightful frame of mind she continued to the end. Her language was, "Is this dying? O that I could tell all the world what I feel! What a mercy that God should notice such a poor creature as I am!" last Sabbath she lived, she said to her aunt, "What a blessed Sabbath that will be that will never end!" During the day, she requested some friends who were with her to read some portions of the word of God, and to sing some hymns. They did so, and at

The

the close of the day she said, "This has been a blessed Sabbath." Through the night she appeared to be conversing with her Saviour, and said, "Jesus is here: I shall not be kept from him long." Her heavenly Father blessed her with the most delightful peace and hope to the very last. She quoted the line, "Tell me, my soul, can this be death?" and exclaimed, waving her hand, "Victory, victory, victory!" She began to say, "O death," but went no farther. Her hand dropped; her tongue was silent; her happy spirit was removed from suffering to the rest that remaineth for the people of God.

THOMAS BROTHWOOD.

POETRY.

THE AGED MISSIONARY.

MY native land! long toilsome years have fled
Since on thy shores I linger'd: time and care
Have whiten'd with their snows this hoary head,
And thinn'd the locks that once were clust'ring there,
Since, at His high behest whose name I bear,
To thee I bade farewell. Not light and vain
My bosom deem'd the pang it then did share,
The parting agony; yet was it gain.

Who suffer with their Lord, with him for aye shall reign.

Long years have fled; and change its work hath wrought,
And many a bounding heart hath ceased to beat;
And they, the loved, the cherish'd, they are not;
And radiant eyes have closed in slumbers sweet.
When shall the lone, those kindred spirits greet?
Thine hills, perchance, yet bloom in native pride;
Thy summer bowers are trod by fairy feet;

Thy cottage homes are smiling side by side;

But who hath known not change all earthly things betide.

Yet mourn I not: sweet days of inborn peace,

And holy joy, and rapture, have been mine;

And blessings rich of untold happiness,

And gleams of blessedness "far more divine."

The lowly incense of my spirit's shrine

Frail gift and worthless!—He hath deign'd to own
Who erst between the cherubims did shine:

And now the lone one is no longer lone;

For earth is heaven begun,―bliss unconceived, unknown.

Well nigh my race is run; and now I kneel,
As erst in youth's first freshness, at thy throne.

These eyes have seen thy glory, and thy seal
Hath crown'd the labours of thy feeblest one.
Henceforth let weakness trust in Thee alone;
Be thine all praise and glory! Still to Thee,
Who to the wanderer hast mercy shown,

In toil, and grief, and danger, still to thee
Be given his fleeting days, till heaven crown victory!
Kingston, Jamaica, 1841.

THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH.

HUSH! 'tis a holy place,

The spirit's passing hour;

A mortal one hath run his race,
A Christian claims his dower.
Be still, nor let an earthly thought
Mar the deep calmness of his lot.

Hath he not done with earth;
Its glory and its pride?

Its passing scenes of woe and mirth,
Its pleasures scorn'd, though tried?
Hath he not conquer'd death and sin;
And joy'd eternal life to win?

And toil and strife are o'er,

And earthly cares are past;

And he hath gain'd yon blessed shore;
Hath won the palm at last.

O! who would cling to mortal woe,
When heaven such glory can bestow?

In yon bright land above,

How rich the deep repose!
No cloud, by blasting sorrow wove,
Its blighting shadow throws:

No care obstructs the radiant light

ADELINE.

Where day ne'er shrinks from hastening night.

Then follow we his track,

Through Him who death o'ercame ;
Since death restores not loved ones back,

Be ours such bliss to claim.

Be ours to gain the glorious prize,

Life, life eternal in the skies!

Jamaica, 1841.

Roche, Printer, 25, Hoxton-square, London.

ADELINE.