as one of "the elect of God, holy and be- But there are not only erroneous notions entertained relative to the nature of charity, but also as to its value. The opinion is very prevalent that there is a certain efficacy in almsgiving to atone for sin; not that the sufficiency of the Saviour's atonement is denied, or the value of the redemption purchased by his blood called in question, but that almsgiving is supposed to procure the favour of God by counterbalancing some sin to which men may be addicted. The church of Rome has magnified the value of alms-deeds to an extent utterly subversive of Scripture truth. She thus has enriched her coffers and extended her in fluence. She has fulminated her maledictions against all who dared to question her authority on this, or on any other points. But the error to which allusion is made, is not confined within the pale of her communion. It has widely spread among Protestant communities, and many members of our own Church cannot be brought wholly to give up the notion, that in some way or other almsdeeds have a claim to the Divine favour. a brother's soul will gain for the benefactor the remission of his own sins, will stand him in account, as it were, on the great day of solemn judgment, and will be a means of delivering his soul from that second death to which the ungodly shall be consigned! There is a declaration of St. Peter, moreover, which is often referred to, as countenancing the unscriptural notion that almsdeeds atone for sin. "Above all things, have fervent charity among yourselves; for charity shall cover the multitude of sins." This text is frequently so interpreted as to lead to the unscriptural notion, that the charitable man will, by his philanthropy and beneficence, conceal or blot out his own transgressions; so that when he stands before the great white throne, his good actions, recorded in the book of remembrance, will avert the punishment due to his offences: while, in fact, the true meaning of the passage is, that he who is imbued with a spirit of charity will carefully conceal, palliate, or forgive the faults of a fellow-creature, which is well described by his hiding these faults. And this, in fact, will be the feeling of every true Christian. He will be exceedingly cautious in pronouncing judgment upon another; in this respect he will keep his mouth as with a bridle, that he offend not with his tongue. He will be very slow to mark or to magnify the mote in the eye of a brother, from a consciousness that there is a beam in his own. Conviction of sin will lead to self-abasement. Clothed with humility, he will be slow to condemn any but himself. He will think no evil of his fellowman. He will rejoice not in iniquity, but in the truth. He will bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things. He will remember that this very principle of love is one grand feature of the Christian character, one distinguishing mark whereby the servants of the Lord Jesus may be known. "In this the children of God are manifest, and the children of the devil; whosoever doth not righteousness is not of God, neither he that loveth not his brother; for this is the message that ye heard from the beginning, that we should love one another." In a word, he will act from Christian motives, and upon Christian principles. He will seek to possess the mind, to be imbued with the spirit, to imitate the example, and to be transformed into the image, of the adorable Saviour; and the nearer he apinproaches to this great object of his aim, the greater will be his anxiety to benefit every child of fallen Adam. Were this spirit of charity more widely diffused throughout the world, what a different scene would present itself to our view! Alas! how often has St. James declares, "if any do err from the truth, and one convert him, let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his ways shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins." The greatest kindness that one man can perform to another is to endeavour to be an instrument in God's hand of furthering his salvation; and therefore the truly charitable man will be far more anxious to benefit his brother's soul, than to minister to his temporal wants, or to add to his bodily comforts. The true meaning of this passage appears to be, that he who by bringing the Gospel, through God's blessing, home to the heart of a sinner, converts him from his evil course, and leads him to become a suppliant for mercy, delivers that man's soul from spiritual death in this world, and eternal death, with all its horrors, in the world to come; and so brings him as a penitent to the foot of the cross, that he obtains the perfect remission of all his transgressions, so that they shall not appear against him for condemnation at the last great day. The benefit spoken of the apostle's declaration is that which he shall experience, who is converted, not he, who is the instrument of converting. And yet this passage of Scripture has been so interpreted, that the good work of benefiting | Christianity been brought into contempt, by torious, nor to be mixed up with faith in the want of this heavenly grace in those the justification of the sinner. He will inwho boast much of the soundness of their sist on their necessity, because such is the belief and the correctness of their principles! inseparable connexion between the two, that How frequently have the hands of the enemies where there are no works, there cannot posof the truth been strengthened, by a lack of sibly be a living, though there may be an charity in those who professed to have their historical, faith. He will take care that their hearts filled with love towards God and their relative position shall not be misunderstood. fellow-creatures! How tremendous their And the more he inquires into the views of guilt, and how just their punishment, who, those around him, the more convinced will by inconsistency in this respect, cast a stum- he be that the error on this point is fearfully bling-block in a brother's way, and lead him | prevalent. He will seek to combat this error ; to reject the salvation of the Gospel! for it has a tendency to induce men to build their hopes of pardon and acceptance on other than the true foundation. He may trace to it much of that lack of spirituality, which he deplores,-much of that indifference, which, without a breach of charity, causes him to regard the spiritual state of those in whose welfare he is much interested, as in the highest degree dangerous. Experience will teach him, that even the delusive notion, that sin may be pardoned for money, will not lead the sinner to part, except grudgingly, even with a small portion of that money; and that man never becomes truly benevolent, and energetic in administering to the relief of the destitute, or the furtherance of any good work, until the love of the Saviour is shed abroad upon the heart, and he is then constrained to do all that lies in his power to promote the temporal, spiritual, and eternal welfare of his brethren. T. It is not difficult to trace the erroneous views of the efficacy of charity, as atoning for sin, to their true source. They not unfrequently spring from the pride of the unrenewed heart. Whatever tends to magnify man, is naturally dear to man; and hence there is a repugnance to receive those doctrines which are set forth in the Gospel, which declare that after man has done all, he is an unprofitable servant, and which make him dependent for salvation on the free, unmerited mercy of God in Christ Jesus. These views also may, in not a few instances, arise from an unwillingness to begin the painful work of mortification and self-denial; to combat unholy desires, to crucify darling lasts, and to root out dearly cherished affections; for, if almsgiving can merit heaven, then heaven can assuredly be more easily won. The strait gate is widened, the narrow way is rendered broader. It is a comparatively slight sacrifice, to part with a portion of our worldly goods, compared with the sacrifice of those lusts, which, though they "war against the soul," and will ultimately, if not eradicated, destroy it, are yet so dear to the natural man, that, to relinquish them, is, according to the Saviour's own declaration, to pluck out the right eye, to cut off the right hand. The pernicious consequences resulting from such an erroneous view of charity as is here set forth, cannot fail to be obvious. It has a tendency to lower the sense of obligation which man ought to feel to the Saviour, for his grace and mercy in opening a fountain. for sin and for uncleanness: and also to lead to lax and unscriptural notions of that holiness of heart and life" without which no man shall see the Lord." The Christian minister requires to be continually on his guard, lest such erroneous opinion should be entertained by any members of his flock. He must be careful to set forth charity as the evidence, and not the primary cause, of a state of grace. He will be anxious to shew that good deeds, whether they consist in almsgiving, or in other acts of kindness or beneficence, are neither of themselves meri Biography. THE LIFE OF ST. AUGUSTINE, BISHOP OF HIPPO, THIS eminent man was born in the year 354, in the Augustine pursued his studies first at Madaura, afterwards at Carthage. Possessing much quickness of parts, he made a great proficiency in literature and eloquence. This pleased his friends. They were anxious only that he should gain credit in the world. And he, unrestrained by any religious principle, ran greedily into almost every kind of vice. His mother's warnings he despised, and would have blushed, he afterwards acknowledged, to be thought less wicked than his companions. And when he prayed to Godas even then he sometimes did-his request was, "Convert me, O Lord; but not yet." He wished first to take his fill of sin, to enjoy all those miserable pleasures which the world affords, before he took on him the hard yoke, as he then deemed it, and heavy burden of the Gospel. * See Augustine's Confessions, his Life by Possidonius, and Milner's Church History, cent. v. CHURCH OF ENGLAND MAGAZINE. At Carthage, a remarkable change took place in Augustine's views. He had hitherto been chiefly desirous of the fame of eloquence; but, by reading a treatise of Cicero's, he was now attracted to the study of philosophy. Like the Greeks of whom the apostle speaks, he anxiously sought "wisdom." But the wisdom of the world he found unsatisfactory. Vicious as was his conduct, he had learned from his mother's milk to pay some reverence to the name of Christ. And that name was no where to be seen in the writings of philosophers. He resolved, therefore, to read the Holy Scriptures, to see what they were. to that volume with a proud mind and self-sufficient But coming spirit, he could not relish it. His pride was disgusted with its manner; his penetration could not enter into its meaning. Those who are content to be as little children, find, in the word, Christ to be the power of God, and Christ the wisdom of God; but Augustine as yet disdained to be a child, and, puffed up with vain conceit, imagined himself possessed of manly wisdom. In this temper he met with some of the Manichees, a sect of heretics, who had in their mouths the mere sound of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; and were always talking of the truth, the truth, yet who entertained most absurd opinions of the works of nature, inferior even to those of heathen philosophers. They supposed the Supreme Being to be material, and to penetrate all nature. that there are two independent principles-a good one But their grand doctrine was, and an evil one. Thus they wandered into the worst blasphemies. Augustine imagined that he had here found the wisdom he was in search of, and eagerly adopted their tenets. Deeply was his mother grieved at her son's delusion. In vain she reasoned with him; he was deaf to her expostulations. But she had at this time a singular dream, which she took to be a presage of Augustine's recovery. She seemed to be standing on a plank, bewailing the danger of his destruction in a bottomless abyss. A person came, and asked her the cause of her sorrow; and, on her answer, charged her to be of good cheer; for that where she was, there also her son should be. On which, she instantly beheld him standing by her on the same plank. When she told this dream to Augustine, he endeavoured to evade its force, and said, "It might intend to exhort her to be what he was." "No," she promptly answered, "it was not said, Where he is, there thou shalt be; but, Where thou art, there he shall be." He acknowledges that this answer made, even then, a strong impression on his mind. And for years did this excellent mother wrestle in prayer with God for her child's conversion. He was in the very filth of sin, sinking deeper and deeper; but still she prayed. She asked a certain bishop to reason with him, who declined, thinking that expostulation, at present, would make him only more obstinate, and that, in a while, he would more easily see the error of the course he had adopted. This reply did not satisfy the anxious parent, who urged again, with floods of tears, her request. "Go, go,” said the bishop; "it cannot be that the child of those tears should perish." These words impressed her, she afterwards told her son, as if it were a voice from heaven. "For nine years," says Augustine of himself, "I lived deceived, and deceiving others; seducing men into various lusts, openly, by what are called the liberal arts, and secretly, by a false religion; in the former, proud, in the latter, superstitious; in all things seeking vain-glory, even to theatrical applauses and contentious disputes; and, to complete the dismal picture, a slave to the lusts of the flesh,--so infatuated was I with the follies of the Manichees; and I drew my friends into them, and with them practised the impieties of the sect. and all who have never felt a salutary work of selfThe arrogant may despise me, humiliation from thee, my God. But I would confess to thee my own disgraces, for thy glory. What am I, town; ing rhetoric. He was first so occupied in his native At this time, Augustine maintained himself by teachbut being afflicted by the death of a young friend whom he had perverted to Manicheism, but who, there is reason to hope, expired in the faith, he have some doubts with respect to the superstition he went and settled in Carthage. Here he began to had embraced. And as none of his acquaintance could satisfy his mind, they advised him to wait till the all-accomplished Faustus came to Carthage. This Faustus was an eloquent man, and, as report said, a liberal and well-informed scholar. Augustine was in his twenty-ninth year when he arrived; and, on freely conversing with him, soon discovered such utter ignorance in this Manichean teacher, that, though he continued a Manichee, it was no longer because he thought their doctrines true, but because he now despaired of discovering truth any where. Soon after, he was persuaded to go to Rome to teach. In the providence of God, he was to find, as we shall see, that truth in Italy, which in Africa he had missed. But his mother, leath to be deprived of his society, and fearing yet worse dangers to his soul, opposed his dehe) was I preserved from the dangers of the sea, parture. He therefore set sail secretly. "Yet (says as I was in all the mire of sin; and a time was coming foul when Thou wouldest wipe away my mother's tears, with which she watered the earth, and even forgive this my base undutifulness. And what did she beg of thee, my God, at that time, but that I might be hindgarding the hinge of her desire, neglectedst the parered from sailing? Thou, in profound wisdom, reticular object of her present prayers, that thou mightest gratify the general object of her devotions.” Augustine did not remain long in Rome. cation had been made to one of the magistrates of An applithat city to send a professor of rhetoric to Milan. By the interest of some friends, Augustine obtained the appointment, and speedily removed to Milan, where the court was at that time resident. The venerable St. Ambrose was then bishop of the place, a man renowned for piety throughout the world. the young African like a father; and the latter conHe received ceived a warm affection for the bishop; not indeed as a teacher of truth, which he had no longer any hope of finding, but as a friend actuated by paternal kindness towards him. He attended his lectures chiefly with a desire of discovering whether fame had done courses, he was gradually brought to listen to the justice to his reputation. But pleased with his disbishop's doctrine. Many of his former objections to the faith were removed, and he became convinced of the falsehood of Manicheism; still, however, without embracing the Gospel. At this time his mother arrived in Milan, and, learning his present situation, expressed her humble confidence in Christ, that, before she left the world, she should see her son a sound believer. She became a diligent attendant on the ministry of Ambrose, whom she honoured and loved as an angel of God, for what Augustine's progress was slow. he had already been the means of effecting. But grees that he was persuaded of the divine authority of It was only by dethe Scriptures. He still was guilty of acts of immorality. And though he began to understand more clearly the character of God, and in some measure to desire acquaintance with him, he read Plato, the heathen philosopher, rather than the Gospel. not yet (says he), in humility, hold the lowly Jesus "I did my Lord, nor know the mysterious power of his weak ness, that he might humble, nourish, and at length exalt heavy-laden souls. Far other thoughts had I conceived of Christ. I had viewed him only as a man of unequalled wisdom. But of the mystery of the Word made flesh, I had not formed the least suspicion. When I began to conceive of the immaterial infinite Supreme, I talked of these things like a person of experience; but was perishing, because, roid of Christ, I desired to appear wise, was puffed up with knowledge, and wept not. Love, on the foundation of humility, which is Christ Jesus, was to me unknown. The books of Plato knew not this." At length, he turned to the inspired volume, and studied particularly the apostle Paul. The cloud, which had once hung over his epistles, seemed now removed; the Gospel truth became, as he read, clear to his mind. Yet, though confirmed in his doctrinal views, Auristine's heart was still uncleansed. He was satisbed that the Saviour was the way; but to tread himself that narrow path, he was still unwilling. Not able, however, to rest, he consulted Simplician, an aged and experienced Christian, who had been the spiritual father of Ambrose, and, by his conversation, he seemed to feel inclined to follow the Saviour. But he had a hard battle to fight. When he would do good, he found a law in his members warring against the law of his mind. He understood by experience what he had read, that "the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh" he had to complain with the apostle, "Wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" He frequented diligently all the means of grace, but found no comfort; when one day, St. Paul's epistles lying on his table, he was conversing with two friends, who spoke of the self-denial of persons they had known, for the Gospel's sake. Augustine's conscience was struck. He felt himself still beneath the burden and bondage of sin: he rose up hastily, and, in an agony of grief, with many tears, threw himself upon the ground, and cried, "How long, Lord, wilt thou be angry? for ever? remember not my old iniquities: how long shall I say, to-morrow? Why should not this hour put an end to my slavery?” Then, suddenly, he thought he heard a voice, saying, "Take, and read; take, and read." Believing this the command of God, he rose, returned hastily to where the book was, and, opening it, read, "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying: but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." Rom. xiii. 13, 14. Immediately the tempest of his soul was calmed he was enabled to give himself up to Christ, and found that peace in believing which passeth understanding. He went to tell his joy to his mother, who now triamphed in the abundant answer given to her petitions. The child of her prayers and tears was saved; he was brought into the fold of Jesus. Augustine describes in animated terms the blessedness he felt. "I bowed my neck to thy easy yoke, and my shoulders to thy light burden, Christ Jesus, my helper and Redeemer. How sweet was it to be free! I conversed familiarly with thec, my light, my riches, my Saviour, and my God." He now signified to Ambrose his desire of receiving baptism; and was Soon after, in the year 387, and the thirty-second of his age, by that venerable bishop admitted into the Church by that rite. Very pleasant were now the ordinances of religion to him. "I could not at that time (he says) be satisfied with contemplating the mystery of redemption. The hymns and songs of thy Church moved my soul intensely; thy truth was distilled by them into my heart; the flame of piety was kindled, and my tears flowed for joy." Resolving to return into Africa, he gave up his employment at Milan; but before he could depart, his excellent mother died in peace. Her eyes had seen the Lord's salvation. Arrived in Africa, Augustine lived for nearly three years upon his own estate, retired from the world; but having then been induced to come to Hippo, a city of which Valerius was bishop, he was there, at the united desire of Valerius and of the people, ordained to the ministerial office. At his ordination, he wept from a deep sense of his own inadequacy to such a station. But God giveth grace to the humble; and his ministry was remarkably blessed in the edification of the brethren, and in the defeat of various heresies. Fortunatus, the great leader of the Manichees, was obliged to leave Hippo in confusion, when he found himself vanquished in a conference with Augustine. Valerius, thanking God for such a helper, and feeling age and infirmities steal on, did not rest till he got Augustine appointed bishop of Hippo, in conjunction with himself. Augustine, with much reluctance, accepted the office, which he continued to fill alone after Valerius's death, his zeal and laboriousness increasing with his authority. The discipline by which the Lord had exercised Augustine in his conversion produced most profitable effects. An instrument was thus raised up by Him who is "wonderful in counsel, and excellent in working," admirably fitted to oppose a heresy which soon after sprung up in the Church. This heresy was Pelagianism; and it has been briefly characterised as a doctrine which "pretended to the height of purity, supported by mere human nature, exclusive of the operations of divine grace altogether." The Pelagians denied the infection of original sin; and, in short, maintained proud self-righteousness in its worst shape. Augustine was at first disinclined to receive an unfavourable impression against Pelagius; but by and by, the opinions of that heretic were too clearly enounced to leave any doubt of their real nature. The bisho of Hippo set himself, therefore, in the strength of the Lord, to refute them. A short extract from one of his letters may serve to shew his sentiments. "Your words oblige us not to be silent concerning those who labour to corrupt what is sound; nor is it a small error for men to think they have in themselves whatever is obtained of righteousness and piety; and that God helps us no further than by the light of revelation; and that nature and doctrine are the only grace of God. To have a good will, and to have love, the queen of virtues, they say our own arbitration suffices. But what says the apostle? The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given to us,' that no man may think he has it from himself." It would obviously be foreign to the purpose of this brief memoir to speak at any length upon this controversy: I shall only add, that Augustine lived to see the fruit of his labours against Pelagianism, in the growth of Christian purity, both in his own church, and in other parts of Africa. Besides his successful opposition to the Manichees and the Pelagians, the bishop of Hippo found himself compelled to contend with the Donatists. This sect differed from the general church chiefly on the question, whether a certain individual had been rightly consecrated bishop. Augustine had in all his controversies been remarkable for his meek and quiet spirit: he was prevailed on, however-such is the infirmity of man at his best estate to concur in certain severe measures against the Donatists, inconsistent with the true principles, not then sufficiently understood, of toleration. But it must be said in his favour, that some of this sect appear to have been little better than a band of ruffians. Augustine himself was an object of their hatred; and once, on a visitation of his diocese a work he discharged frequently and laboriously-by a peculiar providence, his guide mistaking the way, he went a different road from that by which he had purposed to travel: he learned after wards, that by this means he had escaped an ambush laid for him. The writings of Augustine are voluminous, and are, generally speaking, very valuable. It is to be wished that every clergyman of our Church were, in some measure at least, acquainted with them. He appears to have been very successful as a preacher. One or two anecdotes may illustrate this. "We must not imagine (he says in an epistle to a friend) that a man has spoken powerfully when he receives much applause. This is sometimes given to low: urns of wit, and merely ornamental eloquence. . . . . When I endeavoured to persuade the people of Cæsarea to abolish their barbarous sports, in which, at a certain time of the year, they fought publicly for several days, I said what I could; but while I heard only their ac clamations, I thought I had done nothing: when they wept, I entertained a hope that the horrible custom, which they had received from their ancestors, would be abolished. It is now upwards of eight years since that time, and, by the grace of God, they have ever since been restrained from the practice." Again, he one day said at table, "Did you take notice of my sermon to-day, that I did not finish what I proposed?" His friends replied, that it had astonished them at the time. "I believe (said he) the Lord might intend some erroneous person in the congregation, through my forgetfulness, to be taught, and healed; for in his hand are we and our discourses. While I was handling the points of the question proposed, I was led into a digression, and so, without concluding the subject in hand, I terminated the argument rather against Manicheism, on which I had no design to have spoken a word." In a few days came a merchant, who threw himself at Augustine's feet, and, weeping, entreated his prayers, confessing that he had lived many years a Manichee; but that, by the bishop's discourses, he had, through Divine mercy, been lately convinced of his error. Augustine inquired by what sermon in particular he had been convinced; and was told it was by that one in which he was so singularly led from his intended subject. Augustine, besides his labours in preaching, visiting, and writing, was often occupied in hearing causes, which, according to the rule in 1 Cor. vi., the Christians of Hippo were used to bring before their bishop. In attendance upon councils he was frequent. His dress, furniture, and diet, were moderated between extremes. He was 66 given to hospitality;" and, at meals, encouraged reading or argument. An avowed enemy to slander, he had written on his table two Latin verses, which implied, that whoever attacked the character of the absent would be excluded. And once, when some bishops, his friends, broke this rule in conversation, he faithfully warned them, that either these lines must be erased, or that he himself would retire. He was carefully attentive to the relief of the poor, and always evinced in himself a great disinterestedness of cha racter. Such was Augustine. His latter days were full of trial. Genseric, king of the Vandals, had invaded Africa. The city of Hippo was besieged; and, ever anxious for the good of souls, the bishop earnestly laboured to win over the nobleman who commanded the defence of it, to Christ. He himself was taken from the evil to come. He prayed, he said, that God would either free them from the siege, or endue his servants with patience, or take him out of the world to himself. After the city had been besieged about three months, he was seized with a fever, which ended in his death, in the year 430. He was seventy-six years of age. He said frequently that a Christian must never cease to repent, even to his last hour. He had David's penitential Psalms inscribed on the wall in his illness, and read and wept abundantly; and for ten days before he expired he wished to be uninterrupted, that, except at certain intervals, he might give himself wholly to devotion. He made no will; he had neither money nor lands to leave. His library he gave to the Church. Of his relations he had previously taken care. So lived, and so died Augustine. He did not attain the crown of martyrdom; but his name is worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance. He was a true disciple of Jesus; and is now before the throne of God. There, as having turned many to righteousness, S. he shall shine as a star for ever and ever. PASSING THOUGHTS. BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. NO. IV. THE CAPTIVE. DURING a day's visit to the great metropolis, I had occasion to pass through one of the narrow streets of Bloomsbury; and there, suspended from a nail, below a dirty groundfloor window, I saw a cage of very small dimensions, in which was a full-grown lark. Painful as it is at all times, and under any circumstances, to behold any of God's creatures in captivity, there is something peculiarly revolting to every humane feeling when the prisoner is a British bird, formed to rejoice and revel in our own free atmosphere. But in this case, something more touching was superadded. Just on the top of the opposite house fell a ray of brilliant sunshine: while a casual opening between some roofs presented the most inviting track of azure sky and, to complete the picture, several sparrows were fluttering and twittering upon the tiles. The poor lark, with back depressed, beak pointing upwards, and wings half lifted from his sides, stood close to the front of his cage, as in the very act to spring, and rise to the spot on which his eyes were intently fixed. But, alas! the prison-bars were around him; and, taught by sad experience, he forbore the efforts which would but have bruised and lacerated his tender frame. I walked on under feelings of indignant sympathy, almost regretting that the laws of property forbade my opening the cagedoor and setting the captive free. I I could not forget the poor lark: alike in the broad, busy street, in the narrow, cheerless lanc, and in the spacious square, thickly set with trees and flowering shrubs, did the image of the pining prisoner haunt me. believe it was the attitude of the bird, rather than the mere fact of his captivity, that moved me so much. It was that he evidently felt his doom that he saw his way to happier scenes; and yet, from utter hopelessness of success, refrained from trying the wires, of which he but too well knew the unyielding strength. A lark! a creature made to soar, and sing at a height whereto the eye of man cannot follow him, though the ear may catch those powerful tones of free and fearless melody! A lark! to whom the highest tree |