smell, and as whole as possible; and the greatest care is to be taken that it have not been exposed to the air to pall and evaporate.

The drink, tea, is made in China, and throughout the greatest part of the East, after the same manner as in Europe; viz. by infusing the leaves in boiling water, and drinking the infusion hot. Indeed, among us, it is usual to temper its bitterness with sugar, but the Orientals use it without the addition of sugar or milk.

However, the Japanese are said to prepare their liquor in a somewhat different way, viz. by pulverizing the leaves, stirring the powder in hot water, and drinking it as we do coffee.

From the account given by Du Halde, this method is not peculiar to the Japanese, but is also used in some provinces of China.

The common people, who have a coarser tea, boil it for some time in water, and make use of the liquor for common drink. Early in the morning, the kettle, filled with water, is regularly hung over the fire for this purpose, and the tea is either put into the kettle enclosed in a bag, or, by means of a basket of proper size, pressed to the bottom of the vessel, that there may be no hinderance in drawing off the water.

The Bantsjaa tea only is used in this manner, whose virtues, being more fixed, would not be so fully extracted by infusion.

The Chinese are always taking tea, especially at meals: it is the chief treat with which they regale their friends. The most moderate take it at least thrice a day; others ten times, or more; and yet it is computed, the consumption of tea among the English and Dutch is as great, in proportion, as among the Orientals.

The distinctions chiefly regarded in Europe are the following:

Green Teas.-1. Bing, imperial or bloom tea, with a large loose leaf, of a light green colour, and a faint delicate smell.

2. Hy-tiann, hikiong, hayssuen or heechun, known to us by the name of hyson tea: the leaves are closely curled, and small, of a green colour verging towards blue. Another hy son tea, with narrow short leaves, is called hyson-utchin. There is also a green tea named globe, with long narrow leaves.

3. Song-lo or singlo, which name it receives, like several others, from the place where it is cultivated.

Bohea Teas.-1. Soo-chuen, sutchong, sou-chong, or su-chong, called by the Chinese saa-tyang, and sactchaon or sy-tyann, is a superior kind of cong-fou tea. It imparts a yellowish-green colour by infusion, and has its name from a place or province in China. Padre sutchong has a finer taste and smell: the leaves are large and yellowish, not rolled up, and packed in papers of half a pound each. It is generally conveyed by caravans into _Russia: without much care, it will be injured at sea. It is rarely to be met with in England.

2. Cam-ho or soum-lo, called after the name of the place where it is gathered: a fragrant tea with a violet smell; it infusion is pale.

3. Cong-fou, congo, or bong-fo: this has a larger leaf than the following, and the infusion is a little deeper coloured. It resembles the common bohea in the colour of the leaf.

There is also a sort called lin-kisam, with narrow rough leaves. It is seldom used alone, but mixed with other kinds. By adding it to congo, the Chinese sometimes make a kind of pekoe tea.

4. Pekao, pecko, or pekoe, by the Chinese called back-ho or pack-ho: it is known by having the appearance of small white flowers intermixed with it.

5. Common bobea or black tea, called moji or mo-ee by the Chinese, consists of leaves of one colour. The best is named Tao-kyonn. An inferior kind is called An-kai, from a place of that name. In the district of Honam, near Canton, the tea is very coarse, the leaves yellow or brownish, and the taste the least agreeable of any. By the Chinese it is named honam-te, or kuli-te.

But besides these, tea, both bohea and green, is sometimes imported in balls, from two ounces to the size of a nutmeg and of peas. The Chinese call it poncul-tcha. The smallest in this form is well known under the name of gunpowder tea.

And sometimes the succulent leaves are twisted like packthread, an inch and a half or two inches long; three of these are usually tied together at the ends by different coloured silk threads. Both green and bohea teas are prepared in this manner.

The manner of gathering and preparing the leaves, as practised in Japan, according to Kæmpfer, as far as our information reaches, is in a great measure conformable to the method used by the Chinese.

(To be concluded in our next.)

POETRY.

(For the Imperial Magazine.)

ON PRAYER.

A Sequel to Mr. MONTGOMERY'S Poem, "What is Prayer?" Affectionately inscribed to that excellent Christian Poet, by his obliged servant,-JOSHUA MARSDEN.

PRAYER its way to God can find,
From earth's deepest centre;
Though a wall of steel confin'd,
Prayer that wall would enter:
Who can trace a beam of light,
From the day-star parted?
Prayer, more rapid in its flight,
From the mind is darted.

Prayer to God ascends with ease
From the Polar ices;
From our isle's antipodes,
From the land of spices;
From an Inquisition's gloom,
Where the wretched languish,
From the margin of the tomb,
And the bed of anguish.

Place the Christian where you will,
Scripture doth aver it;
Heaven's eye is fixed still
On the praying spirit:
Though on dreary wilds alone,
Outcast and distressed,

Prayer's a pathway to the throne;
Find it, and be blessed.

Rocks of granite, gates of brass,
Alps to heaven soaring,
Bow, to let the wishes pass,
Of a soul imploring;

From the belly of the fish,
From the sea's recesses,

From the lion's den-the wish

Up to heaven presses.

grace

Deity, in every place,
On the earth or ocean,
Opens wide the gates of
To sincere devotion;
'Neath the sceptre or the rod,
Or by stream or fountain,
Lift thy spirit up to God,
Who can stop its mounting?
North or south, or pine or palm,
Vale, or mountain hoary,
Breathe a prayer, repeat a psalm,
"Tis the porch of glory;
Frigid, mild, or burning zone,
Distance is not in it;

Prayer from earth to Mercy's throne
Passes in a minute.

Wheresoe'er thy lot command,
Brother, pilgrim, stranger,
God is ever near at band,
Golden shield from danger:
Near the Niger or the Nile,
Or where forests bound thee,
On creation's furthest isle,
Mercy's smiles surround thee!

"YOUR FATHERS, WHERE ARE THEY?" An affectionate Tribute to the Memory of the Twenty-four Preachers, who have died since the Conference, 1825. Or, the first Words of President Watson's Sermon before the Conference, improved by JOSHUA MARSDEN. WHERE are the fathers, men of God, Renown'd in ancient story?Once tenants of an earthly clod, Now stars in skies of glory;

But, as from time they wing their way,
Others imbib'd their graces;

So flowers, that vanish every May,
Have new ones in their places.

Where are the prophets?—They alone
Glanced through future ages,

And left a harp, whose soothing tone
Thrills inspiration's pages;

Skies, that once blush'd and knew no night,
When these bright suns were glowing,
Are dark, save where the crescent's light
A lurid glare is throwing.

Where are th' apostles ?-Muse, reveal,
Those men of giant powers,

Whose glowing love and seraph zeal
Fell on the earth like showers;
They bore the cross to every shore
The ancient world contained;

And wheresoe'er the cross they bore,
Triumphant laurels gained!

Where are the saints, who firmly stood,
On Jesus' love relying,

And wrote their history in blood,
Victorious martyrs dying?-

Ah! they are blest, and she is flown,
That bigot demon cruel,

Who ting'd with blood her lawless throne,
And tested faith by fuel!

Where are the Puritans in deed,

A worthless prince afflicted;

Who, if they did not martyrs bleed,
Were fined and interdicted ?-

A blaze of truth their spotless names

On fame's bright list exhibits;

While bloody Jefferies, Charles, and James,
Hang in historic gibbets.

Where is the firm Wesleyan band,

The fathers of our Zion;

Who rous'd from death a guilty land,
And brav'd hell's roaring lion?—
They acted well, but left the stage
For an impartial andit;

And now the muse shall gild her page,
And give the worthies plaudit.

God may the workmen lay aside,
But still the work proceedeth;

To stain all glory, gifts, and pride,
Jehovah no man needeth;

One only branch to screen thy tender form, Which oft beneath the dark impending storm Has shivering bent;

While growing age and circling years crept on, Till all its verdure, bloom, and beauty, gone; Its foliage wither'd up, and all its vigour spent.

Still may'st thou stand, securely rooted fast,
In truth and virtue-while each adverse blast
Sball but awake

New sensibilities within thy breast;
To taste the sweets of soothing the oppress'd,
And all the sympathies of love and joy partake.

To taste, but not alone, the joys refin'd,
May some blest kindred soul, with thine en-
twin'd,

.

In mutual bliss, Life's pleasures prove-and all its woes beguile,

By daily pledge of love-and cheerful smile Of calm content,-and seek a happier world than this.

There grew the rising, healthy bush,
More gay than all beside,
Its head was cover'd with a blush,
Or thornless buds its pride.

It grew more gay each rolling year,
And wide its roots it spread;
Completely void of painful fear,
It rais'd its tow'ring head.
'Twas ruddy, blushing, sweetly gay,
And beautiful in sight,
When open to receive the ray
Of Sol's effulgent light.

Well planted in a garden, where
The owner used to walk;
He saw the object of his care,
And thus he softly spoke:
"Sweet-scented rose, how gay you seem!
Your leaves are open wide;
On you descends the solar beam,
And gentle dews beside.

"They mingle with the solar fire,

To make you grow and bloom;
And all who see you must admire,
And praise your rich perfame."
The mother-rose upon this bush
Appear'd to know and feel
The speech; and it began to blush,
To widen, and to reel :

As if to make us know she had
A sense of what was great,
She view'd the sun, in glory clad;
And bending toward her feet,

She there beheld a suckling dear,
Proceeding from her root;
'Twas innocent, and void of fear,
A pledge of future fruit.

To this, her offspring, thus she said:
My sweet, my lovely dear,
Abide beneath thy mother's shade,
And roses thou shalt bear.

"None half so lovely in my sight,
As thy new-opening charms;

I will defend, with all my might,
Thy innocence from harms.

"When ruthless hands are lifted up,

To take thee from my side, The ruthless hands I soon shall stop, And still defend my pride.

"In thee, my love, my life is bound, I only live for thee;

More sweet than all the sweets around Thy fragrance is to me.

30

"When I shall wither and decay,
My offspring still shall stand;
Increasing glories to display,
And grace the fertile land,

"Which thy fond mother us'd to grace,
Her owner's daily care;
Supplying well a mother's place,
And blushing roses bear.

"In my beloved I shall live,

And still a fragrance shed,

More sweet than all the flow'rs that give Their fragrance on this bed."

While thus the tree set forth its fame,

And spoke of future fruit,
With spade in hand its owner came,

And sever'd from its root

The sapling he so much admir'd,
And took it quite away.
The rose with falling tears desir'd
The tender shoot might stay.

"What! take my darling from my view, What tongue can tell my grief?

Oh! wretched me! what shall I do?
Will none afford relief?

"My cup of sorrow overflows!
I droop before the wind;
Afflicted is the fragrant rose,

By hands that once were kind!"

"My kindness," said the owner here,
"To thee and thine is still
The same; then yield, without a fear,
Submission to my will.

"Because I still the parent love,
(Beyond the bounds of time,)
The tender sapling I remove
To yonder milder clime;

"To rise, and grow, and bud, and bloom,
Eternal in the skies;
Affording there divine perfume,
Secure in paradise.

"No chilling blast, no ruthless band,
Can e'er afflict it more;
Behold it free from danger stand,
On that eternal shore.

"Thee too I soon intend to take,
And plant thee by its side;
I have collections still to make,
Of thousands more beside.

"My garden in the world above,

The star-bespangled skies,
Is richly stor❜d with plants I love,
With plants I greatly prize."
So spake the owner of the tree,
Oppressed by its grief;
"Cast all thy future care on me;"
So, speaking, gave relief.

Learn hence, my most beloved friend,
In this the time of need,

On God your owner to depend,

His precious promise plead.

His promise you shall prove is true,
None can his word revoke;
Oh! may be sanctify to you
The late afflictive stroke!

To me, may bis abounding grace

The visitation bless; That I may bear in future days

The fruits of righteousness.

Oh! let us both to him devote

Our little all below;

That when we all his will have wrought, To Jesus we may go.

A full surrender make to him,

Of all we have and are;

And we shall see the great Supreme,
And meet our darling there:

Where she for three long rolling years,
With all the hosts above,
Deliver'd from distressing fears,

Has sung the Saviour's love;

Adoring her exalted King,
While angels, on their seat,
Unite, Jehovah's praise to sing,
And worship at his feet.

There pain and parting are no more;
From all affliction free,

The happy throng their King adore,
To all eternity.

WM. STONES.

When he announc'd, with philosophic truth,
The genuine system of the universe,
Ever conceive the most remote idea

Of these grand wonders which the moderns know?

And yet his mind, bright as the star of eve,
Broke through the gloom of superstition dark,
And shed the dawn of science round the world,
Improv'd by Newton and Copernicus,
And farther still by our great Herschel, who,
With tube immense, pierc'd through the shade
of night,

And wondering saw these admirable truths,
That thou, great planet, art a world unknown.
But, to supply the want of solar light,
The bounteous Giver of all good prepar'd
Th' auxiliaries which I admiring see;
And thy concentric rings, which overarch
Thy spacious globe, loudly proclaim, that God,
And God alone, such wonders could ordain.
Old Lane, near Halifax,
March 10, 1826.

T. C.

GORMIRE LAKE, YORKSHIRE.

"Where oft young Poesy Stared wildly eager in my noontide dream." Coleridge.

LAKE! once again I cross thy furzy sides, And glance upon the gleaming of thy face, Whereon the clouds their golden outline

trace,

Thy sable water, which a village hides.*
Sure fabled fairies here their revels keep :

It seems a place where mortals ne'er intrude,

To break the sweet and silent solitude That hovers o'er this calm and dormant deep. Oh! could I sit upon that rural seat, And look for ever on yon kingly rock,

Broke by the earthquake's devastating shock, The fragments scatter'd at his lowly feet! Region, where Poesy her bower has made, My heart sojourns within thy sylvan shade! London, March, 1826.

G. Y. H.

*The credulity of the adjacent villagers leads them to assert, that a group of human dwellings once stood on the site of this lake, and that the tops of houses and chimneys are visible, on a clear day, to the fishermen embarked on its surface. Be this as it may, certain it is that the huge crag which overlooks it, was partly shaken down down at the precise time of the earthquake at Lisbon, when the lake was probably formed which, on a second eruption, will receive

THIS volume has been about twelve months in our hands, and it is only of late that we have found time to examine its contents. For this delay we ought to apologize to the author, but nothing we can urge in our behalf will alter the fact we have thus admitted. He may, however, be pleased to learn, that we think the work carries with it its own recommendation; and, that being able to draw from its own resources, it is the less dependent upon foreign aid.

This biographical compilation contains the lives of ninety persons, flourishing in different periods of the Christian era, beginning with Clement, bishop of Rome, and ending with the Rev. John Caspar Lavater. The individuals thus selected were not less remarkable for their personal piety, and zeal for the cause of God, than for their constancy under suffering, their courage in combating danger, their unremitting perseverance, and extensive usefulness in their day and generation. Several among them held some of the more exalted stations which the church could afford; they were called to endure persecution while living, and to seal the truth with their blood. Those of the earlier ages

wood which interposes betwixt them.

SONNET.-SCAWTON WOOD.

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods."

METHINKS that here, remov'd from all mankind,

I could exist in sweet obscurity;

And, when my day is come, serenely die; My grave within this temple of the mind,This leafy spot, through which the rustic road Seems almost buried by the hills that rise On either hand, aspiring to the skies; And all is still throughout the dim abode.

pagan Rome; and several that lived about the time of the Reformation had to sustain the bigoted vengeance of papal cruelty. In subsequent periods, persecution arising from more local causes, and meeting them in the discharge of their duty, put their faith and sincerity to the severest test. But, whether assailed by sword and fire, or made the victims of injustice under less sanguinary laws, they held fast their integrity, and, nobly riding out the storm, they have bequeathed the influence of their example to posterity. The names and sufferings of