in some abrupt ledges, where a dark, iron-colored stone was contrasted with its whiteness. The wind was, indeed, strong on the summit, and had blown the snow and dirt from the place where the road crossed, leaving it naked and clean. On the very top of the ridge, which is here but six or eight rods wide, runs, transversely, a vein of copper ore, one foot wide, and many of the small stones around are colored green by its oxide. A few rods south of the road is placed a large wooden cross, where some one (report says, an Englishman) was once murdered. LESSON LXV. Approach to the City of Mexico.-J. C. BRIGHAM. COMING to Mexico, the most valuable of the Spanish possessions in the new world, with a population nearly equal to all the others united, and where had long been a numerous and extravagant nobility, I was prepared to find an imposing worship, a corrupt priesthood, and a superstitious people. On the way from the Pacific coast to the capital, I saw continual proof that my anticipations were correct. Nearly every plantation, hill and stream bore the name of some saint every dwelling, even the poorest Indian's hut, was furnished with small images and paintings of the Virgin; and sometimes fancied images were pointed out in the high rocks, where the deluded people came and poured out their supplications. But it was on gaining the summit of the last mountain, which overlooks the spacious upper valley, that their religion appeared in its most imposing form. The great metropolis, with its white walls, was seen in the centre of the plain, its tall spirés, domes and towers shooting up in such numbers that every house seemed a temple, and all the people's business praise. The valley, too, in every direction, was crowded with small villages and churches, where ascended numerous other towers, on which the last ravs of the sun were now falling. As it was the time of evening prayers, hundreds of deeptoned bells were slowly tolling, while the surrounding hills were repeating and throwing back their echoes on the plain below. Had I been a Catholic, I should have said, "This is the beauty of holiness; this is the place where the Lord delights to dwell." But I had before, in other places, seen, with pain, the hollow pomp of their religion, and how seldom it is connected with purity of life. I remembered, too, the days when the troops of Cortez entered this quiet paradise; how they tortured the poor, defenceless natives, and founded in blood the walls of the present city; and, instead of pleasing emotions, I could not but weep over the fallen nature of man, and the vain toys which he can offer his Saviour in place of brokenness of heart. A few miles from the town was shown, by the side of the lake, the ancient convent built by Cortez at the beginning of the conquest; and near the suburbs was pointed out the church where that hypocritical conqueror was interred. Both of these buildings are. yet firm and in use; though, from the lapse of three centuries, and the military association of their origin, they seem invested with a kind of Roman antiquity. LESSON LXVI. Selections in Poetry. "SUFFER that little children come to me, Shrink, trembling,-till their wandering eyes discern GRAHAME.. AWAKE, Sweet harp of Judah, wake, Thus while we dwell in this low scene, 11 KIRKE WHITE. LESSON LXVII. Last Hours of the Missionary Parsons.-PLINY Fisk. Mr. Parsons was a missionary of the American board of missions, and died at Alexandria, in Egypt, February 10th, 1822. Mr. Fisk, who describes the scene in a very simple and affecting manner, was a fellow missionary. His symptoms continued favorable till day before yesterday, and our hopes were rather brightened. Then his diarrhoea returned, though not severely; and the physician said it would be easy to cure it. Yesterday it was worse, and he was weaker than I had ever seen him. My apprehensions, respecting a fatal termination of his disorder, were greatly excited. He conversed on the subject with his usual serenity, referring the event continually to the will of God, as he has always been accustomed to do. Last evening, we spent a most precious hour in reading the Scriptures, prayer and conversation. We read John xiv., and conversed some time about the twenty-seventh verse,— "Peace I leave with you," &c. After conversing about an hour, I told him it was necessary that he should stop, and take some rest. He replied, "I feel as though I could converse two hours longer. You don't know how refreshing these seasons are to me.” He then fell asleep, and I sat down to write. I soon heard him saying, in his sleep, -"The goodness of God-growth in grace-fulfilment of the promises-so God is all in heaven, and all on earth." After sleeping a while, he awoke, and seemed about as usual at that hour. I proposed sitting by his side through the night, but he insisted on my going to bed; said he felt as though he should have a very quiet night; and as his attendant always slept near him, and awoke at the least word or motion, he urged me to retire to rest. About eleven o'clock I bid him good night, and wished that God might put underneath him the arms of everlasting mercy. He replied, "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him." These, my dear sir, were the last words that I ever heard that beloved brother speak,-the last that I shall hear him, until I hear him speak in the language of immortality. Twice, while I slept, he awoke, and told Antonio, his servant, that he had slept very quietly, and felt easy and well. At half past three, Antonio heard him speak, or groan, and started up. He saw something was the matter, and called me. It was evident that he was dying. I attempted to commend his departing spirit to that Redeemer on whom he had believed. I pressed his hand, and kissed his quivering lips, and spoke to him; but he gave me no answer, not even a look or a motion. He took no notice of me, or of any thing around him. His appointed time had arrived. He continued to breathe till a quarter past four. Then the muscles of his face were knit together as if he was in pain. It was the dying struggle. It was the dissolution of the last ties that united soul and body. It was the soul breaking off its last fetters. His features then became placid again. His breath stopped. His pulse ceased to beat. His soul took its immortal flight. After the first pang of separation, I stood pensive by the corpse, thinking of the scenes which were opening to his view. O what glories! O what glories! I turned my thoughts to myself, and found my heart sick and faint. But I have not room here to describe the emotions that agitated my breast. A little while after, as there was no person with me who understood English, I read a chapter and prayed in Greek with Antonio, and then we dressed the body for the grave. Early in the forenoon, Mr. Lee, the consul, called on me, and kindly offered to see that all necessary arrangements were made for the funeral. He said that in this climate it was necessary to bury soon to prevent putrefaction. On this account, he thought it necessary that the funeral should be to-day. Four o'clock was accordingly appointed. All the English gentlemen resident in the place, six or seven in number, the captains of several English ships, and a great number of merchants, principally Maltese, attended the funeral. The consul walked with me next to the coffin, and the others, sixty or seventy in number, followed in procession to the Greek convent, where the few English who reside here bury their dead. At the grave, I read some verses from Job xiv. Ps. xxxix. 1 Cor. xv. and Rev. xxi. xxii., and then made a short address, and closed with |