they will not assume the slight humiliation of agreeing with us, when, perhaps, they can differ only in the merest trifle. We are provoked at their unreasonableness, and our opponents are impatient with us in return, and long and angry argumentation or denunciation is entered upon on both sides. It happens that many of the points of difference among the several evangelical denominations of christians, those, we mean, which divide them, are of small importance in themselves; and of still less moment are the shades of variance among the members of the same denomination, or people who hold the same great and distinctive principles. They neither augment nor diminish the evidence of christian character. And yet the speculatists of these different schools will maintain their different opinions as strenuously, as if the salvation of souls was confessedly depending. Concede, therefore, that religious controversy is to be upheld, and you encourage such an effect; you create the most numerous disputes, where there are the fewest reasons for them. You add fuel to a flame which might go out were it let alone. A person who meddles with strife of this sort, ought to see what is to be the end of it, should there ever be an end. He ought to calculate whither the flame may run, and what of piety, and happiness, and order, it may consume in the land. 2. Contention on religious subjects, fails, in most cases, to answer the purpose of convincing oponents, and in general the parties interested in the dispute. Of all others, it is, perhaps, the most unlikely method to produce this conviction. It is proverbially impotent as to this effect, on those who are personally committed to the debate. They are usually more strengthened in their own opinions by this means. You cannot commonly adopt a surer plan to establish a man in a cherished sentiment than to call it in question. Engage him in defence of it, and you make him twice a convert to his own opinion. The more he is employed in examining it, and fortifying it against attacks, the more he thinks it impregnable. Even where a person has been doubtful at first in regard to any point, attempt to prove it fallacious by disputing him directly, and his faith in it will grow exceedingly fast. Leave it unnoticed, except in friendly conversation, or establish the opposite truth in some anti-belligerent way, and he will be much more likely to care but little for it himself. If after a long and anxious debate, a person from the force of truth, owns that he is in the wrong, renounces his sentiment, and embraces that of his opponent, he must be a much more favorable specimen of human nature, than is usually found. The whole course of human experience is against the probability of success in convincing strongly committed opponents in debate, as also their respective parties. In fortifying the mind in its own advocated opinions, every one is aware that regard of character, pride of knowledge, love of victory, the wishes of friends, the considerations of the world, are all concerned. We are mortified by defeat, and are not often disposed to acknowledge it in the plainest case. And in fact, a man's own mind is generally blinded and steeled against conviction by the efforts which it puts forth, under these circumstances, to produce conviction in other minds. The object in this case is commonly not to learn the truth ourselves, but to impress it on others, and thus to show our superiority. And hence how little can success in controversy be calculated upon in any common condition of things! Knowing what human nature is, who can be eager to enlist in so fruitless an attempt, as to produce conviction of truth in the minds of men, by entering the arena of strife and debate? It is true the warfare may cease after a time-a person may be silenced, (especially when he has nothing to say,) but is he convinced-is he converted from the error of his way y? He may be unable to produce a satisfactory reply, but does he feel the less against the truth, when he yields to it only at the end of a disputation? Few persons would dissent from the remark of Mr. Jefferson, (who would of course be indifferent authority in matters purely religious, but of some weight where general principles in morals are concerned,) that a man is never, or very rarely convinced by disputation that he is in an error, but that conviction to this effect, is, in almost every case, the result of calm and solitary reflection. As a means of aiding reflection, or as independant and seperate sources of conviction, he might have added, some practical exhibition of the futility of one's sentiments, some dispassionate conversation of a friend, or had his views happily extended thus far, some stirring divine providence-some motion of the Holy Spirit upon the heart, or some general revival of religion. In a single season, for instance, of revivals in a land, more disputants are set_right-more errorists are induced to renounce their dogmas-more truths are embraced, than would seem to be the case in any of the most laborious and prolonged disputations that have ever been undertaken among evangelical churches. It is hopeless to suppress, by controversy, those errors that do not shut out genuine revivals of religion, and errors that genuine revivals of religion do not suppress. They are harmless errors in that case. We should then avoid, as far as may be, a mode of expelling error and of establishing truth, which is so likely to miss of its end. [To be continued.] POETRY OF THE BIBLE. Turning to the law and testimony, how is it that we cannot open those glorious pages without being reminded at once, that of half its living lines poets were themselves the 'penmen! How is it that leaf after leaf unfolds to us sweet idyl, noble elegy, or burning ode? Why is this long drama of the Uzzian written, enforcing a moral, that like Iliad's, might be "folded in a nutshell ?" Why have we this rhapsody on the horse, this canto on leviathan?-why this song of Arcturus, and the bands of Orion, and the sweet influence of Pleiades?-wherefore this ode on the ostrich ?-this high lyric on behe moth? Nay, another leaf;-and for what is the book of PSALMS !and the Proverbs!-and the Preacher!-and lo!-THE SONG OF SONGS! The bride of Christ sings espousals; and the Lord of the church, our Redeemer and God, can reply. And here are the pæans of Isaiah ;-high lyrics, that are worthy of the hallowed lips that were lighted by an angel for the office. And the plaint of Jeremy :-the very woes of God's people are denounced to them in song. And now listen to the rapture of Ezekiel; and then to the far voices that come up to the prophet's ear, from the unborn ages of the gospel. Scarcely have we time to listen to the prayer of Habbakkuk,-for hark! the virgin" doth magnify the Lord" in poetry :-and Zacharias is on fire with song :-and old Simeon raises his faltering voice in the swan-like -Nunc dimittis:---yea, the very heavens are alive with the rapture; and the anthem they are chanting, peals in our ears below," Glory to God in the highest; and on earth peace; good will to men.' And the visions of the Apocalypse are full of music, and hymnings, and harps. There is poetry in the presence of God. The ransomed are returning with songs and everlasting joy. The elders have harps with their vials full of odours. The Godhead is worshipped in poetry! COWPER AND HIS TASK. Who would have prophecied that the melancholy Cowper should be eminently the bard of the " merry homes of England?" Nature delights in paradoxes;-the crushed rose emits the most fragrant odours,―the mourner laughs in the extremity of his anguish, -the bedlamite sings banquet songs,-the doomed prisoner dreams away the last hour of his breathing: and Cowper-the confirmed old batchelor, -the man of blighted affections and diseased life,-the very soul of sorrow, he it is that starts our unsuppressible ha, ha, in John Gilpin, and paints all the joys of English fire-side, in the merry light of old comfort and religion. What a life we live in reading that misnomered Task! What an evening we pass in Cowper's parlour! Happy faces are shining in the blaze of the ingle-side around us; and the broidery is growing under the visible fingers of fair ladies. Amid us sits the bard himself, all alive to the charms of woman's blest society, and of happy seclusion in our own little world. Winter is without, but the heart's eternal summer within : "And the blast That sweeps the bolted shutter,” hark! it is alive with the twanging horn of the scampering post-boy, bringing all London at his back, and our evening's joy shall be,- "To see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd." Blessed be lady Austen,-the only Task-master we ever loved; and blessed be Cowper, who certainly did more than "make bricks without straw," when he built this wonderful poem on a Sofa. A big arm chair the subject; and a broken-hearted invalid the artist-what are we to expect! Is it possible that we, who may lounge on couches, and have got a step beyond his ultimatum in ottomans and divans, is it possible that we have found nothing yet which can make us quit the Sofa? Is it possible that rocking in our stuffed easy chairs, we read by the home-like light of the astral, the musings of that sick man, as the happiest way to make an evening go by with profit and with cheer. Yes! stir the fire! If we would relish the storm without, and snatch a comfort from the big flakes that are fleecing over the deadened colours of the Autumn,— "Let fall the curtains,-wheel the sofa round, and TASK in hand, let us read away the hours, with a tear and a blessing for the memory of its author. And now by turns we are gay; -or our joy is mellowed to a sober thought-or we are raised to dignified reflection ;- —or warmed to a holy fervor; or touched with the live coals of a sublime religion ! NAVIGATION IN ANCIENT GREECE. [From an officer in the Royal Navy.] We purpose in this and the following numbers to give our readers a few sketches of the progress of navigation and commerce in our own and other countries. Such details are interesting to every one, but we think they will be especially so to our professional readers. We shall be able to trace the growth of that excellent skill which has secured to England her naval renown and commercial prosperity; and which, under God, has been her salvation in time of peril and danger. Navigation and ship-building are arts so complicated, that they require, more than any other, the ingenuity and experience of many ages, to bring them to some degree of perfection. They are so related, that an improvement in ship-building would be followed by a fresh discovery in navigation, or the further practice of navigation would suggest some better method of ship-building. A boat would do well enough to paddle on a river, but when a breeze comes, the infant navigator would hoist a sail, and to hoist a sail he must erect a mast-to prop the mast, he must lay out stays. After a while he thinks of a jib to bring his little craft round better,-then he hits on a bowsprit as an improve his ment to this, and a support to his mast. Thus one little discovery is made after another; he adds a rope here, and a tack there, invention runs with his success, and every alteration calls for some new plan to help it out. If his vessel sail so well with one mast, she will sail better with two,-so he erects a main-mast;-and by and bye a mizen-mast. But it has occurred to him before this, that if he can carry more sail, the faster the reel will run off,- and he lengthens his mast and spreads his canvas till he gets a capsize, or every thing is swept over the side. This and a few other disasters teach him the use of a topmast and other spars, which he may strike or hoist at his pleasure; and so, in time, the fine machine is perfected. But, as was observed at first, this was so gradual,—the uncultivated mind is so averse to any alteration, that hundreds of years might elapse between every step. Though there is no doubt that we have discovered some points in navigation, yet we are indebted for the general practice of the art to the Portuguese,-the Portuguese to the Venetians,-and the Venetians to the ancient Grecians and Romans. Its birthplace is the shores of the Mediterranean; and we shall commence therefore with some account of navigation among the Greeks. Where so little is certain, it is useless to go further back to the early Phenecians. Greece is admirably situated for a naval country. Her shores are indented with wide and capacious harbours-sheltered from the weather, and large enough to equip numerous fleets. But more than this, the Greeks were erratic and enterprising-of a disposition to be led away by the mere spirit of adventure. In this, they were distinguished from the Romans, who, though inhabiting a country as favourable as Greece for a maritime nation, yet confined their successes to the land, and were indifferent to commerce and navigation-pursuits which they left to less warlike people, whom they first subdued and made their servants. The Greeks, from choice, and afterwards from necessity, were better and more skilful sailors. But when we speak of ancient ships, and naval victories obtained by them, we are not to suppose that their war-vessels any more resembled the gallant appearance of a line-of battle-ship, than the leathern coracle of the primitive Britons did the "trim built wherry" celebrated in the song. Their magnitude and force exist only in the figurative description of the poet. They were without decks—and had but one mast-nor could they work to windward. Thongs of leather were used for cordage-their chief dependance was on their oars,-for sails were used principally in their merchant vessels ;-add to this, they were ignorant of all those appliances of modern art and discovery, which give us such a vast superiority. Their ships were, in fact, long row-boats, in which the manœuvres were performed by the rowers. The Grecian vessels were distinguished by different names, according to the service to be performed, whether for warfare, or transporting troops, or conveying provisions. Their ships of war were called makrai, and these we shall describe rather minutely :-The ship was divided into the body, the bow, or prow, and the stern. The war-galleys alone had a keel, (the rest being flat bottomed,) which was strongly |