Your birthday comes round again, amidst the circling anniversaries and epochs of your thraldom, and with its earliest light there comes another herald, rattling with his urgent message at the wicket in the door. "From Sinai." Still from Sinai! with its stern demands for payment, and its long arrears of yet uncancelled debts.

O that the wicket-gate no more might swing upon its hinges, if its opening is ever to be the signal for these cruel and insatiable invasions! O God! what abject slavery is the bondage of despair! No dawning ray of hope or distant sigh of liberty, but only fresh reminders of my dread captivity, and new reverberations of the music of my chains! Better to die than live for ever thus. O conscience! thou unswerving menial, who hast waited on my bondage so untiringly; cans't thou not strike some mortal blow? Cans't thou not plunge some barbed arrow in my soul that shall destroy its immortality, and end its woe? Hark! Even now I hear another footstep, and dread the entrance of some fresh tormenter. Listen again! the step is lighter than my usual visitant's, and I hear the jingling of keys. It is a cruel trick to tantalize my soul with thoughts of liberty. The key is in the rusty lock, and not the wicket only, but the ponderous and folding doors are flung wide open. O what a balmy rush of air is this that fans my throbbing brow! O what a radiant glimpse of heaven's light was that which flashed across my startled vision! "From Calvary," the herald cries; and smites the fetters from the captive's limbs! From Calvary with the receipt in full for all thy debts, and a true passport to eternal life! From Calvary with gracious news of mercy, and a free pardon written in atoning blood! Yes; this is the ransom that the Son of God has purchased! This is the liberty wherewith Christ can make you free!

Smiles and Tears;

A LECTURE

BY THE REV. A. MURSELL,

IN THE

FREE TRADE HALL, NOVEMBER 29TH, 1857.

I NEED not pause long to dilate by way of introduction upon the extraordinary effect of these several manifestations as weapons of attack upon the hearts of men. It would be superfluous to stay for one instant to remark upon the electric shock which thrilled through John Thomas's bosom when the chaste Susannah cast a smile upon him at the church door, or to describe the way in which all Frederick's valorous determinations came unscrewed, as soon as the first tear of remonstrance was seen to roll down Angelina's cheek. The young men are all perfectly aware, by experience, of these powerful influences, without any assistance from me-and as to the fair ones themselves, none can possibly be more conscious of their power than those who wield them with such signal effect. Ladies, no doubt, often congratulate one another, in private, upon the mighty spell they exercise and they have not scrupled to launch forth their exultations on the world in general-in rapt and soul-inspiring verse. See how strong a stress is laid upon the efficacy of Smiles and Tears, in the following beautiful and expressive lines, -supposed to be spoken by a young lady :

"The lords of creation men we call,

And they think they rule the whole;
But they're much mistaken, after all,
For they're under woman's control.
For ever since the world began

It has always been the way;
For did not Adam, the very first man,
The very first woman obey?

Ye lords, who at present hear my song,
I know you will quickly say,

Our size is more great, our nerves more strong,

Shall the stronger the weaker obey?

But think not, though these words we hear,
That we mind one thing you say,

For as long as a woman's possessed of a tear,
Your power will vanish away.

Or if there should be so strange a wight,
As not to be moved by a tear,
Though much astonished at the sight,
We still shall have nothing to fear.
We'll let them please themselves awhile,
Upon their fancied sway;

But as long as a woman's possessed of a smile,
She will certainly have her own way.

Now ladies, since I've made it plain,
That the case is really so,

We'll even let them hold the rein,

But we'll show them which way to go!

For ever since the world began,

It has always been the way;

And we'll manage it so, that the very last man
Shall the very last woman obey.

Seeing, then, that it is only a work of supererogation to say anything at all about smiles and tears, in connection with the influence of the gentler sex over men-we will at once acknowledge their power, and, begging them to have mercy upon us, and "spare while they strike," as the peace men say, we will go in search of other instructive aspects in which our title may present itself.

Smiles are generally the signs of happiness. I don't mean the bloated laughter of a tap-room, or the hyæna grin of sottish revelry. I don't mean the idiot leer of stupid brutality, or the ironic pout of sullen, bitter retrospect; but I mean the honest hearty smile of pure light-heartedness-I mean the bounding, joyous gleam of innocent delight.

I'm not a very early riser generally-being rather a late sitter-up-but still one morning, when I was visiting, with a friend, upon the banks of Loch Lomond, in Scotland. I contrived to turn out about two o'clock in the morning. My object was to ascend the huge mountain which overhangs the lake, and see the sunrise from the summit. I set out all alone-my companion being too lazy to get out of bed-and too fat to climb the mountain, even if he had got up. It was starlight when I cominenced plodding up the shaggy breast of the hill-and I could see the eyes of heaven reflected in the clear surface of the lovely lake-like jewels sparkling on the bosom of a royal

maid. I trudged up higher and higher, through the chill and misty air, which seemed to hang upon the heather like a flimsy shroud. Wearying, and growing fagged, as the ascent grew steeper and more dangerous, I began to blame myself for venturing up alone; but I determined, having got thus far, to go on. Great yawning clefts and chasms full of mist, kept opening at my feet and I could hear the yielding earth go tumbling down into the gulf below, just underneath my foothold. Ever and anon I could hear the scream of the raven or the hawk, as they woke up to quit their nests for prey; and as the morning dimly dawned, I saw the wild-goat browsing on the mountain side. Tired, and rather frightened at the solitude, solemnity, and danger of the place, I lay down upon my back, and looked into the sky. The stars were waning, and gently melting into the gathering light of coming day, and one by one they seemed to shut their twinkling eyes, and sink to sleep. But I had higher yet to climb, and was determined not to be beaten. The mountain dew was sparkling, as if some of the stars had lost their hold, and fallen from the sky. At length another hour's clambering brought me to the top, and as I stood alone, upon that heath-clad brow, I felt as though I was monarch of all I surveyed; and certainly I surveyed a most majestic prospect. Down at the mountain's base the glassy tide of fair Loch Lomond gleamed, and in the blushing of the early morning light I could descry its thirty verdant islands studding the surface, with their summer villa houses bowered in trees. The noble Clyde rolled its calm waters to the sea, between a shelving battlement of blue and sky-kissed hills-the clustering masts of Greenock harbour could be seen-and, further up, the hazy smoke of mighty Glasgow wreathed like a giant's breath into the air. Eastward the zig-zag track of the meandering Forth guided the eye to the turrets of Stirling, with its tales of history and associations of romance—and further on, where the waters widened, and where the white sails gleamed towards the German Ocean--the prouder rampart of the modern Athens reared its head. As I looked round through the grey morning twilight on the panorama, as it stretched around me, and scanned the abruptly jutting Bass Rock, as it seems to sprout out of the ocean bed its whitened breast seemed to grow whiter still, and all around its jagged base the waters seemed on fire-the flitting sails brightening light like wings of snowy plumage. was golden with excess of lustre, and all the east bathed and steeped in a ruddy flood of glory. mellowing effluence that suffused the scene was

flashed with a The sky above horizon seemed At length the pierced by a

thousand darting rays, and the bright orb of light came rising from behind the wave, and transfixed the day with a volley of effulgent arrows from his dazzling quiver-and darkness was stared out of countenance, when God said "let there be light." Well, this I thought is a fit specimen of a smile, and when I saw that glorious sun ascending the bright canopy of blue, I fancied it was the smile of God upon the earth; and as each field and garden, each vale and mountain side, each stream and flower beamed more brightly underneath its light, I thought that this was nature smiling back again to God-a grateful creation, humbly conscious of its charms, smiling on a kind Creator, proudly scanning His own handiwork-a lovely world. laughing in lightsome joy, as its mighty Maker looked complacently upon it, and seemed once more to call it "very good!" Yes, and though it was but a light fancy, when I saw the dewdrops drying from the petal of the heather-bell, and falling from the blade of grass, or from the thatch of the mountain hut, I could not help just thinking that it was like the hand of God wiping tears from off all faces!

And this is how the sun rises every day-this is how heaven smiles upon the earth-and how the earth smiles back to heaven and yet on how much misery and sin the light pours down its rays! The soaring lark is ever ready with its gladdening hymn to pour its matins forth, and praise its God. The flowers and the fields are vocal in His praise the insects and the creeping glow-worm lay their meed of worship at His feetand every living thing pays tribute, from the darting fishes in the caverns of the deep, to the "cattle on a thousand hills." Yes, and no further! Where is man, amidst all this universal adoration? Where is the "immortal reptile man?" Where is the proprietor of a deathless soul and an undying spirit, while this incense of nature's praise ascends to heaven from the brute creation, and from the trees, and woods, and flowers? Go, seek him in the mountain glade; you'll surely find him hymning his Creator's praises there, beneath His own blue heaven. No, he is not there. I see the bird shake the dew from off its wing, and pour its anthems forth. I see the goats and lambkins skip and frisk about as though in grateful joy-I read the language of thanksgiving in the unfolding leaf and blushing flower-but I see no man there, nor hear the sound of human voice. Go seck him in yon village church, haply you'll hear the voice of praise swelling from a worshipping assembly from within. No, he is not there. The linnet sits upon the belfry, and warbles a carol to the God who made it, and the sheep bleats with a free