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Full text of "The Wesleyan methodist association magazine"

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THE 



WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 



MAGAZINE, 






1857. 



The right of private judgment in the reading of the Sacred Volume, 



VOLUME THE TWENTIETH. 



LONDON: %^H 

MATTHEW BAXTER, ASSOCIATION BOOK ROOM, 
5, HORSESHOE COURT, LUDQATE HILL; 



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T. C. JOHNS, PBINTEB, 
WINE OFFICB COURT, FLEET STREET. 



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THE 

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

M AG A Z I N E. 



JANUARY, 1857. 

SHADOWS OF THE PAST, DAWNINGS OF THE FUTURE. 

No, I. 

The past year haa been eminently eventful. It da^ed upon one 
of the most bloody struggles in which nation ever was engaged, 
between the Western Powers on the one hand, and the Military 
Despotism of Russia on the other. After desperate efforts on either 
side, in which the sea was crowded with Fleets and the land with 
troops ; after the most bloody havoc in the Crimea, and a fearful drain 
on all the resources of the Empire of the Autocrat, Peace, so much 
desired by all the true friends of humanity was at length restored. 
But the ravages of War were not confined to- one side in this dire con- 
flict. The Victors suffered more in this than the vanquished in other 
struggles. Of Three hundred thousand troops sent out by France 
during the War, the number brought again to their native land, was 
less than Two hundred and thirty thousand ; while out of One hun- 
dred thousand British sdldiers who, performed such prodiges of valour 
at Alma, at Balaclava, at Inkerman — in the Trenches, and on the 
heights of Sebastopol, not more than Seventy thousand were seen 
under arms at the close of the War. And it is melancholy to re- 
flect, that all this horrible sacrifice of life and of property might 
have been averted if that haughty individual, who swayed the destinies 
of Russia, at the origin of the unhappy complication in Eastern 
affairs, had evinced, even the slightest respect for human Rights and 
the Independence of Nations. War, indeed, is a blind business, 
whether considered in the causes in which it originates, or the con-^ 
sequences which it involves. The vanity of a Minister of State— 
the cupidity of a Monarch — the indiscretion of a General in the 
Army — the fiery temper of a Captain in the Navy, or the ridiculous 
officiousness of some impersonation of insignificance in the Consular 
service, often involves the sacrifice of lives by thousands, and of 
treasure by millions — not to rbention the creation of national anti- 
pathies — the interruption of commercial pursuits — ^the destruction of 
property, and the retardation of nations in their march of Improvement* 
And for what beneficial results have such evils been endured in the 
present instance ? Has Hungarian Independence, as some sanguinely 
anticipated, been revived in 1856 under fairer auspices than in 1848 ? 
Has Poland recovered her liberties, and escaped fi'om the talons of th.o 
two great eagles of the North ? Has Italy been relieved of the iron 
hoof of Austrian Despotism, or France reaped the fruits of her last 
great struggle against the absolute sway of her " Citizen King " in 
the enlarged freedom of her people ? Alas ! No. The only objecta 



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2 Shadows of the Past, 

that have been gained, are the establishment of the political supre- 
macy of the West, and the presei^vation of Turkey as a separate 
State in the European family of Nations : objects of great value, it 
is granted, but gained at an immense expense to the cause of Civili- 
zation in the scene of this deadly strife, by the loss of nearly all 
the monuments of human progress reared by the intelligence and 
enterprise of both the State and people, during the last fifty years, 
in one of the fairest provinces of the llussian Empire. 

What a lesson of instruction to the crowned Hcads^ and the 
ministers of State in every country of Europe, and of the World ! 
But recent events, supply too much ground for the belief that this 
i^arfol lesson has, for the most part, been wasted on the individuals on 
whom it might have been expected to make the most salutary impres-- 
rfons. Scarcely had Peace been restored in our Hemisphere before 
Factions at home and abroad, sought to raise the Demon of War in 
the New World. While the great grave of armies was scarcely closed 
in the Crimea ; in the same year in which Cossacks of the Don — 
Frenchmen from the Seine and the Garonne — Britons from the lliames, 
and the Tweed, and Celts from the Shannon, the Boyne, and the Lif- 
fey, were laid as mouldering carcases in Sebastopol and its environs to 
the number of hundreds of thousands ; while the world saw the Tax- 
gatherer pouring into the Coffers of War, sums far exceeding the 
Revenues of mightiest Monarchies, there were found on either side 
of the Atlantic, madmen, who laboured hard to strike the spark 
which should enkindle a fatricidal war between our own country and 
the United States of America. And for what purpose ? Simply to 
determine whether the Bay Islands belong to the Republic of Hon- 
duras, or to Great Britain, — whether Great Britain has a right to pro- 
tect the King of Mosquita, the semi-barbarous chieftain, who rules 
over a few tribes of naked Indians, between the frontiers of Honduras 
and of Costa Rica, and whether in the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty there 
were reserved to this country any territorial rights on the Continent 
of America. Happily, after the exchanging of a few high sounding 
words of vanity, better counsels prevailed, and war was averted. The 
two great branches of the Anglo-Saxon family were saved from a con- 
flict pregnant with the most awful results to themselves and the human 
race in general, for their mercantile connections with foreign nation* 
must have extended the conflict over the larger portion of the civilized 
world. The struggle in the East would have been repeated on a larger 
scale in the far West. The Destroying Angel would have appeared 
with' tenfold power. The consequences to the American Republic had 
been wide-spread desolation along the whole sea-board of the States, 
and to England, commercial distress involving, in the first instance, 
the ruin of merchant princes in Liverpool, and of Cotton lords in 
Manchester, but extending from these great centres in wider circles 
ta the remotest towns and hamlets of the kingdom, and in wider cir- 
cles still, to the remotest provinces of the Empire. It is matter then 
of devout gratitude to Almighty God that Peace has been preserved 
between Great Britain and the United States of America, two 
countries, which in a state of War would effect vastly greater 



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Dawnings of the Future, 3 

desdiaiion than any other. Thank God! our friendly relatldnis inth 
oar brethren on the other side of the Atlantic have iiot b^eti dis- 
tnrbed, their cities have not been burnt, or their Tillages pillaged^ 
or their women yiolated, on anj such peurile ground as the dismissal 
of an incompetent diplomatist, or the questioning of our right to ft 
ridiculous Protectorate. The good sense, if not the fraternal feelings^ 
of the bulk of the people, oh both sides, haye saved ui9 from subh a 
spectacle. 

During the past year, we have witnessed an audacious attempt Oii 
the part of the Slaveholders of America, in the case of Kansas, to stamp 
the image and superscription of Slavery on the Republic for ever j 
to put ruffianism in the place of law, — to Supersede every appeal 
to equity in matters of Government, by setting up the law of might 
against right. It augurs ill for the " Model Republic," that the bbwid 
Knife and the Revolver have been substituted by numbers of desperatei 
men for the voice of Conscience and the Law of God. The philaii* 
thropist while pleased to witness an increased dispositioo on the pturt 
of the North to prevent the extension of Slavery, will regret that the 
Free-State party should have been so ready to adopt the same means, 
and to send forth emigrants armed with the bludgeon and the rifle in 
the filibustering style of these unprincipled marauders. It was to at- 
tempt to cast out Satan by diabolical means : it was to supply ruffian- 
ism with the only pretext it wanted for the exercise of unlimited bru- 
tality. But all consideration of the means apart, there can be no doubt, 
from recent American intelligence, that this question of Siavery-ext^ni 
sion involves the very existence of the Republic, a matter which " ought 
not to be left to the chance results of bloody skirmishes on the ex- 
treme confines of its territory, where victory, as is ever the case in con- 
flicts of brute force, depends greatly upon accident, and is most likely 
\o turn on the side of those distinguished by the most unscrupulous 
ferocity.*' The policy of a nation on matters of such grave impor- 
tance ought to be determined by the deliberate judgment of the great 
body of the people. We have, no doubt, that in the long run, this 
momentous question will be decided by the people. And there is 
enough of intelligence and moral principle in the Free- States to effect 
such a solution as will be in harmony with the rights of manhood and 
the dictates of the Law of God. The North is becoming awake to the 
incouGdstency of three and twenty millions of white men keeping three 
millions of blacks in bonds, as if liberty were the exclusive right 
of a particular complexion ; — awake especially, to the danger to which 
the best interests of the commonwealth are exposed from the organ- 
ized and systematic efforts of the Slaveholders of the South to corrupt 
the integrity of Statesmen at home — and to kindle the fires of discord 
in neighbotfiring States with no other motive than the extension of their 
accursed system, which year by year becomes more corrupt — mOre and 
more intolerable, illustrating in the political relations of the Slave and 
Free States of the New world, before the eye of civilised man every- 
where, that revolting practice of the ancients — the chaining of the 
putrifying remains of the dead to the body of the living. On this point, 
American Statesmen have made some most startling announcements. 
Speakii^ of the South, one of them says ; — " they have no literature, no 

B 2 

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4; , Shadowk of the Past, 

science, little or no commerce, little or no mechanical industry, and even 
their agricultural mduatry is falling off." Nor is there much of deprecia- 
tion in this statement. It is largely borne out by well known facts. 
In the United States, J\vo thousand patents were taken out last 
year ; — Of these, only One hundred and twenty-Jive were invented by 
men living in the Southern States. But their political influence has 
been, out of all proportion, to their numbers, their wealth, and their 
intelligence. The Slave- owners have been variously estimated at from 
thirty thousand to a hundred thousand, and yet they have managed 
by various acts — during the brief period that the Republic has existed, 
to secure the election of 11 Presidents out of 16; 17 out of 28 Judges 
of the Supreme Court j 14 out of 19 Attorney Generals : 61 out of 
77 Presidents of the Senate ; 21 out of 33 Speakers of the House ; 
and 80 out of 134 Ministers to Foreign Courts. After a severe strug-- 
gle between liberty and intolerance, during the present year, they have 
succeeded in the election of Buchanan as the President of the 
Republic* This, was thought at first, by the friends of liberty on 
both sides of the water, to be a severe blow to sound principles. It may 
turn out otherwise. Buchanan is a man of intelligence, and although 
he has been regarded hitherto as being of Pro-slavery sentiments, we 
cannot bring ourselves to think, that such an astute individual will, 
in the present crisis, listen to a mere faction of ruffians and steer the 
vessel of State as they wish, in the face of intelligent and enterprising 
millions, who put in their emphatic protest against the extension of 
slavery, by the addition of a single Slave State to the Union, or the 
acquirement of a single inch of territory to be blasted and withered 
beneath the shade of this dark Upas of social despotism, which has 
been the scandal of the cause of freedom, from the moment of the 
declaration of American Independence to this hour. "VVe are greatly 
mistaken if the event do not show the Pro-slavery Candidate to have 
been ruled by the Anti-slavery extension views of the masses of the 
American public, in the New England States, and on the banks of the 
Ohio and the Illinois. 

While American philanthropists have been girding up their loins 
for a mighty struggle with the supporters of Negro Slavery in the 
States, the friends of liberty in this country have been evincing 
their antipathy to Ecclesiastical Absolutism. The men who carried 
"Reform of the Parliamentary Representation," and "Repeal of 
the- Corn Laws," begin to feel that the overthrow of Ecclesiastical 
Absolutism is the great question on the solution of which, all the 
friends of liberty must concentrate their energies. Men of every 
class begin to feel that the days of this form of Absolutism are num- 
bered. Even on the Continent, philosophers bcigin to note the signs 
of the times, in their aspect towards this question. Chevalier Bunsen, 
in a pamphlet recently published, says, — " Of the two great signs of 
the times, with observing which, we began our inquiry — the spirit of 
free inquiry, and that of priestly hierarchy,— one is rising^ the other 
declining. The spirit of association and its freedom, is the genius of 
dawning day. The hierarchy and its tyranny, is the expiring star of 
departing night. It is not Hesperus which shines in the twilight of 
heaven, but the morning star. Full seven years back, the hierarchy, 

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Dawninffs of the Future. S 

drlveu bj a feeling of approacbing dissolution, connected itself with the 
associative spirit, as long before, it had done with Absolutism. It sought 
confirmation where it saw power. But it was hidden from its self-seek- 
ing eye, that it was decreed that from that power it should meet its 
death. Freedom of course is the vital breath of manhood, and the cradle 
of true individuality; and this freedom of all other freedom, the mother 
of hierarchy, in the main can never tolerate. He who labours for 
oppression of conscience and slavery of soul, — ^yes, he who does not 
with all truth and power, demand freedom of conscience and of spirit 
in matters of faith, labours for Jesuitism, and so far as in him is, 
for the destruction and ruin of his own religious community and 
private home. If he be a Protestant, then he deserves double abhor- 
rence or pity ; but he, who within the sphere allotted him, be it high 
or low, does not truly labour for right and freedom, labours for the over- 
throw of the energy of God's kingdom to the ends of the earth. Surely, 
then, a great war£%re lies before us, a holy war, and none with 
impunity can approach it with unholy hands ; but eternally remains 
the enmity between compulsion and freedom of conscience, and 
victoriously hovers over the battle field, one who waves a banner, on 
which is wiitten in letters of fire, ^ In this sign thou shalt conquer.' 
Yes, the good shall conquer in the world's history, for it has already 
conquered for mankind, eighteen hundred years ago, in Jesus Christ." 
Such is the judgment of the enlightened German, and his words are 
full of comfort to the friends of liberty among the free Churches in 
Christendom, but fraught with terror and confusion to the advocates 
of Absolutism, whether in the Wesleyan Conference, the Anglican 
Establishment, or the Romish Church. Such are the developments 
of the Age, that Ecclesistical Absolutism is now found to be in direct con- 
flict with the very genius of Society. To this aspect of things, the 
words of our Lord admit of striking application. No man putteth 
a piece of new cloth into an old garment, for that which is put in to 
^11 up, tahethfrom the garment and the rent is made worse. Neither 
da men put new wine into old bottles, else the bottles break, and the 
wine runneth out, and the bottles perish. In accordance with these 
views the leading journal of Europe represents all accounts firom our 
colonies as showing that wherever the Anglo-Saxon goes, he carries 
not only Protestantism with him, but the voluntary principle too. 
The Anti-state Church Association has been attacking our Establish- 
ment here for a long time. "However, we have got our Estab- 
lishment, and now that we have got it, we intend to keep it. But 
the Association it must be admitted, has the whole English Empire, 
except these home Islands, for its disciples, and may triumph in 
the spread of its principles. There are exceptions in the shape of 
particular Institutions, which we do intend to keep, but there can 
be' no doubt that Voluntaryism is what we have adopted as a prin* 
ciple. This is the rule which we have adopted as an Empire. 
Wherever our Colonial Empire spreads, the Voluntary principle will 
go with it. It is part and parcel of our imperial policy. ' No State 
aid to Religion is the Watchword everywhere except at Horned " And 
unless we must regard Englishmen from Home as having much more 
sagacity than their brethren at Home ; unless we turn a deaf ear to 

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all elaixn^for justice to man, and honour to the ^reat Head of the 
Ohurch^ the Yoluntarj principle is destined to triumph even more 
signallj at Home, than in the <Ustant Colonies of the Empire. 

The past year has been singularly fruitful in facts, evincing the 
bondage in which a false religion keeps myriads of human beings in 
the Indian peninsula. The Cholera made its appearance anew on 
the spot whence it first went forth to desolate the earth. Many 
English fell victims, and the excited apprehensions of the native 
population carried them to a point yerging on Insanity. They 
declared that a mysterious Horseman was riding over the country, 
and whereyer the horse's hoofs struck, there the pestilence appeared. 
They actually offered up figures of this demon-rider in the Hindoo 
Temples existing on the scene of his devastations. But the incubus 
of superstitioi^ presses universally on humanity in that Eastern clime. 
Accordingly we read in the Correspondence of the British Press 
from India, the following startling statement, which if it were not 
ap fuUy accredited, would at once be pronounced incredible. 

** We have just had a little Santal insurrection of our own, which, though 
not on so great a scale as that in Lower Bengal, has had a good deal 
in common with it. We are not able to discover how the misunderstand^ 
ing first began. As usual, it is said, there have been a woman and priest^ 
in the case. Some of the railway people, working at the foot of the Bhore 
Ghaut had, it is asserted, behaved themselves improperly in the villages, 
and the beUef began to spread abroad, that they were in quest of young 
children^ of whom 300 were said to be required, to propitiate the demons 
of the rock. The workpeople first fled from the part of the line near 
Matheran, after having severely maltreated some Parsee workmen employ- 
ed in constructing houses on the hill-top. Irritation had now proceeded 
to such a pitch, that every stranger, of whatever race, on making his 
appearance in the neighbourhood was almost sure to be attacked. The 
yillagers have nowhere taken the fields in bodies, nor is there any 
apprehenson of a general rising, and with a little quiet management, 
everything will most likely settle down, when the fallaciousness of 
the fears mr their children becomes apparent. There was the same panic 
at the idea of human sacrifices when the cuttings were in progress at 
KowTojee-hill, near the centre of Bombay, in 1852. A fine comment- 
ary it {dfords us certainly on enlightenment descending from above, and on 
l^e relative merits of universities and of village schooS, to find a whole dis- 
trict along the line of the great highway to the Deccan, constructed 40 
years ago, ^nic stricken at the apprehension of the wholesale immolation 
of their, children ! The disturbed villages are within two-hours' railway 
run of the Elphinstone College. Their inhabitants have been in con- 
stant commimication with Europeans since Governor Nepean's time, and 
yet in civilization they seem behind the Soutili Sea Islanders. 

This is a gloomy picture of the most important dependency of the 
British Crown, after an occupation by a Christian power for more 
than a hundred years. But there is a bright side to the picture as 
well as a dark one. It cannot be doubted that the future destiny t>f 
150,000,000 of human beings in India d^ends largely on the con- 
duct of the Christians of this country, in reference to that important 
dependency. And it is pleasing to know that we have been doing 
something more than carrying on the work of subjugation. Lord Dal- 
hoiiue ha& just returned from kis singularly successful administration 
of the Affiors of our Eastern Empire. He has the repute of having 

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Dawnittffs of the Future. ^ 

done sundry things alike questionable in policy and in justice. He 
captured Moultan. He won the bloody and long-contested victory of 
Chillianwallah. He effected the entire overthrow of Sikh forees^p-the 
Dispersion of the A%han tribesr—the Conquest of Rangoon, and the 
Annexation of Oude. Many will be found to question alike the 
equity and the policy of these deeds, but happily there are some deeds 
inscribed on his roll of flime which none will question. He has 
opened up the Inland Navigation of India I He has constructed 
Railways over extensive tracts of the Peninsula ! He has instituted 
district schools I He has sanctioned the Abolition of Sutteeism 1 He 
has introduced the Fenny Postage ! He has stood forth as the enemy 
of Polygamy, and finally, he has inaugurated the Magnetic Telegraph 
amid tiiie time-worn monuments of a semi-civilization which reaches 
back to a period earlier than the dawn of European history, and 
has been stereotyped from time immemorial 1 The electric Telegraph, 
the most beautiful and surprising invention of the age,^ when combined 
as it is with so many evangelizing influences, sent forth from our 
Bible, our Tract, and our Missionary Societies, must ere long, under 
the dispensation of the Spirit, produce the most important revo- 
lutions in the Social condition of India. The subtle and penetrating 
intellect of Hindustan will not long remain the Slave of Hinduism, 
after being familiarized with the habits of thought which prevail 
among Christian nations. Gradually, a new literature containing a 
large infusion of Christian sentiment is being introduced, and the 
£5icilities for intercourse between mind and mind, must stimulate the 
intellect of India in every place, from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas. 
With the Railway and Telegraph, another expedient of modem 
civilization, as already intimated, has been introduced. The system of 
cheap and uniform Postage has been introduced on a far larger scale 
than in England. A letter is now conveyed from the Himalayas to Cape 
Comorin, from Scinde to the borders of the Birman Empire, for the sum 
of three farthings. Ceylon is to be admitted to the benefits of the new 
and cheap means of diffusing intelligence over the Eastern world. 
Not only is it to enjoy the benefits of the new postal arrangements, 
but it is to be united by Magnetic Telegraph with the main-land, and 
^^ the time is already looked upon as near, when the Telegraph will 
cross the Mediterranean, run along the Red Sea, and the coasts of 
the Indian Ocean, and unite London and Calcutta in hourly com- 
piunication." What would the immortal Burke say to all this if he 
were alive ? Certain it is, that he would no longer reproach us with 
having raised no monument to indicate that our ascendancy in India 
was that of stronger over feebler minds, and of a superior over an 
inferior type of Civilization. 

' Nor are the feats of this, the most glorious of man's inventions likely 
long to be confined to any particular country, whether in the East 
or West, North or South. During the past year, Professor Morse, 
the great Telegraphist among our brethren on the other side of the 
Atlantic, visited this country, with the view of uniting the Telegraphic 
systems of England and America, by an iron cable stretched across 
the Atlantic. The Atlantic has, in modem times, performed the same 
part which, in former ages, was performed by the Mediterranean, in 

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:8 Shadows of the Past, Dawnings of the Future. 

the difftision of Civilization over the face of the Globe. It was on the 
bosom of the Atlantic that Columbus floated to the realising of his spe- 
culation concerning the existence of a Western World ; the Atlantic was 
chosen as the scene of the first great experiment on the adaptation of 
steamers for long voyages, and for the navigation of stormy seas and 
oceans, but the events of the past year clearly show that it is destined 
in a few months, to be the theatre of still greater wonders. The iron 
cable of the electrician will soon stretch from America to Great Britain, 
connecting the great centre of the cotton trade in this Country, with 
its great seat on the banks of the Mississippi, and that again, with the 
most distant tributaries of this mighty river in the far West. Nor 
will these triumphs of Genius stop here. They will be extended, in 
every direction, until all parts of the world of commerce shall have been 
brought into contact by these mysterious wires. As our reader 
has already seen, contemporaneously with these efforts to unite 
British and American progress by the Iron cable of civilization, 
other labourers are at work in other fields with kindred objects. They 
are "busily engaged in fixing the train roads for the electric spark 
between the European continent and the northern shores of Africa. 
This limit once obtained; the lightning-thought cian flash freely in 
its course, across the old land of the Egyptian, whether by the Red 
Sea or across the plains of Mesopotamia, to the cities of our 
Eastern Empire, and in due time, no doubt to the great centres of 
Chinese commerce. Nor is this all. The line which had been laid 
down from London in one direction, will soon be carried to the city 
of the Californian gold-digger. The corresponding wire, on which we 
have just marked a few Stations, will then be borne across the 
Chinese Seas and the Northern Pacific — touching, it may be, on its 
way at the mysterious empire of Japan, and will be linked on at San 
Francisco to the western chain. Then it will happen that a man may 
benerate a spark at London which, with one fiery^ leap, will return 
hack under Ids hand and disappear, but in that moment of time, it will 
gave encompassed the planet on which we are whirling through space 
into eternity. That spark will be a human thought." 

What an age of wonders is this ! How facilities rise up as by 
magic for the diffusion of Commerce over the face of the earth ! But 
these things have a more important aspect. These mighty creations of 
genius have a moral as well as a commercial bearing. The Missionary 
will find his way whither mercantile enterprise conducts the trader ; 
every million added to the value of our Commerce with foreign na- 
tions will represent so much newly -acquired power for acting on the 
Nations of Heathendom and of Antichrist ; every new field of Com- 
merce will serve as a new indication of the purpose of the Deity, 
that our race and country should enter more largely into the great enter- 
prize of subduing the world to King Jesus. No opportunity of doing 
good to mankind should be lost ;-— no particle of power, wasted ! The 
intellect, the wealth, the enterprize, the opportunity, the sympathies, 
the prayers of our race should all be laid under tribute ; should con- 
«to/{% be laid under tribute, for the promotion of the spiritual interests 
of the nations. Who that regards the responsibility of Britain from 
this stand -point but will pray in the words of the Psalmist, Let thy 



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The Languages of the Bible^ 9 

work appear unto thy servants^ and thy glory unto their ehildren. 
And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish thou 
the work of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands establish 
thou it f 



THE LANGUAGES OF THE BIBLE. 

In treating of the languages of the Bible it may be necessaiy to premise 
tliat learned men divide the whole number of languages that are, or ever 
have been, spoken, into several chief families. Of these by far the most 
important are — First, the Indo-Germanic family, including Sanscrit, Greek, 
Latin, and German, with nearly all European tongues. And secondly, tho 
Shemitic, including Arabic, Hebrew, and Aramaic or Syriac. 

Of this latter family, the Arabic has been the most cultivated ; and, being 
the language in which the Koran is written, is known to Mussulmen all 
over the. world. 

The Hebrew, called the saered tongue, because in it nearly all the Old 
Testament is written, seems to have been spoken in a comparatively small 
district ; perhaps only in Palestine, Phoenicia, and the immediate neigh- 
bourhood. It is callea Hebrew, because it was the language of the people 
of that name ; and they appear to have been so designated, from Ileber ; 
who being the last patriarch, before the dispersion from Babel, must have 
possessed an authority (as speaking to an undivided people) which no 
succeeding patriarch could have had. 

The term Hebrew language does not, however, occur in the Old Testament. 
There it is called the language of the Jews^ as at 2 Kings xviii. 26, or the lip 
of Canaan, as at Isaiah xix. 8. 

Most probably this was the language of Canaan, before Abraham cam© 
into it. For we observe that his relatives on the other side of the Euphrates 
spoke another tongue (Gen. xxxi. 47,) and in the narrative of the intercourse 
between the Hebrews and the people of the land, there is no allusion to any 
difference of speech. Then again, the names of places in Canaan, from the 
very earliest times, have all a meaning in Hebrew, but not in any other 
language ; and in the few existing records of the dialect of the idolatrous 
part of the land, as in the Phoenician, on coins discovered at Tyre, and 
Malta; and in the daughter of the Phoenician, namely the Punic or Car- 
thaginian, preserved in a Latin comedy of Plautus (Poenulus v. 1, 2), we find 
a form of speech identical with the Hebrew, And lastly, and very con- 
vincingly, as showing that the Hebrew was indigenous to a country placed 
like Palestine, the same word is used both to denote both Sea and West, 

In this language, the whole of the Old Testament is written, with the 
exception of parts of the Books of Ezra and Daniel. And it is remarked 
how little change the language underwent during the thousand years over 
-which the composition of the book extended. This is due to the natural 
inflexibility of the language itself; isolation of the people from the rest of 
the world; the influence of the Pentateuch in fixing it; and the general 
belief in its sacredness. For these reasons, the language of Moses is sub- 
tantially the same as that of Malachi, in spite of some antique phrases in 
the former, and the gradually increasing admixture of Syrian with all the 
writers that succeeded Isaiah. 

The Hebrew died out, as a spoken language, at, or soon after the Baby- 
lonish captivity, and was replaced by the Syrian or Aramaic, which was the 
language of their conquerors, the Assyrians and Babylonians. This was 
tho language in which Eliakim begged Bab-shakeh to speak to the people 
in Jerusalem, because they did not understand it, as the chiefs themselves 
did. It seems clear therefore that the language of Syria began to penetrate 



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OlO The Langmga of ike BiNe. 

Israel after this time ; and, when, the Jews remained for two generaiionci 
in Babylon, they must have lost, nearly, if not entirely, all recollection 
of their former speech. For Ezra seems to have interpreted the words of 
the Law to them, on their return, (Neh. viii. 8.) While yet from the 
fact of Zechariah, Haggai, and Malachi, continuing to write in Hebrew, 
we may conclude it had not quite disappeared ; as we know it had a little 
later at the time of Alexander*s conquests. 

The language that took its place was much more widely spread : it is 
called Syrian in the English translation of the Bible, as at 2 Kings xviii. 
26. Dan. ii. 4. But it is usual now to call it Aramaic, since Aram is the 
real Biblical word for Syria, and seems to have designated the country 
North and East of the Euphrates, from which Abraham had originally 
emigrated, and where afterwards arose that fierce and conquering race 
which founded Nineveh and Babylon. It used to be called Chaldee, but 
erroneously; as the only place, where the tongue of the Chaldeans is 
mentioned, is at Dan. i. 4 : and there it manifestly means a language 
peculiar to a priestly caste at Babylon, not to the whole people. 

At the time of our Lord, this was the native language of Palestine ; and 
occurs in our Testaments, in the words Ephphatha, Talitha Cumi, Eli Eli 
lama Sabacthani, &c. This was also the language of the inscription on the 
cross, and of St. Paul's speech as recorded at Acts xxii. Although in both 
these instances the Hebrew is mentioned, there is no doubt that it is the 
modem, not the ancient, language that is meant. 

In it are also written those parts of the Old Testament, which are not 
in Hebrew : viz, Daniel ii. 4, to vii. 28 ; and Ezra iv. 8, to 6, 18 ; and vii. 
12 — 26. Also the ancient Chaldee paraphrases on the Bible, and the 
Talmud. And to the present day it is the sacred language of the 
Nestorians and Syrian Christians ; even of those on the Malabar coast 
of India. 

The only other lan^uagre that remains to be noticed is the Greek, in 
which, the whole of the New Testament is written : a peculiar dialect of 
which prevailed in Western Asia and Egypt, in consequence of the con- 
quests of Alexander the Great. Its chief locsdity was Alexandria, where 
the first Ptolemies had transplanted most of the arts and sciences which 
used to flourish before in Athens. This dialect is therefore called Alex- 
andrian Greek, and is distinguished from the language of the classics, by 
having engrafted on it, many Hebrew and other Oriental modes of ex- 
pression ; no doubt partly in consequence of the great numbers of Jews, 
who, from an early period, dwelt in Alexandria. 

Even in Palestine, although Hebrew retained its place as the sacred 
language, and Syrian or Aramaic was spoken in the country parts, there 
is every probability that Greek was the ordinary speech of intercourse ; and 
that it stood in the same relation to the native Aramaic^ that English does 
to Welsh in Wales at the present day. 

In this Alexandrian Greek is written the whole of the New Testament ; 
the ancient Septuagint translation of the Old ; and the works of Josephus 
and Philo. As it was the common language of the Eastern part of the 
Boman Empire, it became necessarily the common language of all early 
Christians, who for some years were confined to that part of the worla. 
And even when Christianity had reached Home and the West, there is 
evidence that Greek (and not Latin, as might have been supposed) was, for 
a long time, the ecclesiastical tongue. 

It is a matter of discussion whether our Lord and his Apostles spoke 
Greek or Aramaic ; and it does not seem possible to pronouce a decided 
verdict on the question. It is likely enough that all the people of Palestine, 
except the most retired or the most ignorant, understood and used, both 
forms of speech. Hence the threefold inscription on titie cross. In Aramaic 



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Domestic Associations. 1 1 

and Greek for the pople : just as the public doeumenta in Wales might be 
in Welsh and English : — and in Latin, because that was the official language 
of Pontius Pilate, and the government servants. 

Trom the fact of some few Aramaic words of our Lord being preserved, 
we might conclude that he did not always speak in that ton^e ; and it 
iniist have been observed that when St Paul addresses the peo^e from the 
dastle stairs in Hebrew {i,e, in Aramaic), they were pleased by this mark of 
respect to their native tongue ; and had expected that he would rather 
speak Greek, which they understood equally well. On the other hand the 
question of the chief captain, ** Canst thou speak Greek ? '' would seem to 
nave originated the second question, " Art thou not that Egyptian P " as 
iSreek was certainly the language of Egypt at that time ; and therefore the 
chief captain supposed he was not an inhabitant of Palestine. 

At any rate, tnere was certainly a distinction between Qreek-speaking 
Jews, and others. For we notice in the Acts of the Apostles (chap. vi. &c.,) 
that some are called Hebrews and some Grecians. There is a difference of 
opinion as to whether the distinction consisted in the speech they used, or 
in the version of the Bible that they read. For while the Jews of Palestine, 
and eastward of that country, constantly used the original Hebrew 
Scriptures, only rendered into Aramaic at the very moment they were read ; 
the Jews of Alexandria, and generally in the countries west of the Holy 
liand, seem not to have known the Hebrew, even in the synagogues, and to 
have used only the Greek Septuagint translation. 

As Greek was the tongue of their Syrian oppressors in the time of the 
Maccabees, the Babbis looked upon it with aversion, as being especially a 
profane tongue, fit only for entirely worldly business, but never to be 
intruded into the synagogue. This feeling was aggravated by the fact that 
the Jews of Alexandna — where chiefly Greek-speaking Jews abounded, — 
had not only a translation of the Scriptures, which, they advanced almost 
to the same rank as the original : but even a temple of their ownj which in 
some respects was permitted to rival the holy building in Jerusalem. 

But, anyhow, Greek was the current language of 9ie world at the time 
of the appearance of Christianity : — the language with which a man mi^ht 
travel from end to end of the Koman Empire. And there appears a special 
providence in the circumstance that the Gospel was sent forth at the very 
time when there was thus a universal language, in which to convey it. It 
was necessary to the free circulation of the message, that it should be 
written in the speech of the Empire^ not in some local dialect. And the 
Grecians or Hellenists, though despised by the Palestine Jews, appear 
eert^nly, bj means both of their more common tongue, and also of their 
greater enhghtenment, to have been the part of Israel that most generally 
embraced the Gospel, and carried it into distant lands, away from its 
original cradle in Judea and Galilee. Vf • H. J. 



DOMESTIC ASSOCIATIONS. 

"NOTHIHa BUT A BABY.*' 

The bell of a village steeple tolled heavily, as the sinking sun reflected its 
gorgeous rays on every pane of the tall church windows. Through a street 
beautifully shaded by droopiug elm-trees, moved a humble procession 
towards the hill which rose, dotted with monuments and tombstones, on 
the eastern side of the sanctuary. No hearse with nodding plumes, no 
long array of carriages, drawn by steeds in funeral trappings, heralded the 
the approach of a new dweller in the land of silence. One carriage, 
containing three women, a man and a little coffin, followed by a few toil^ 
worn artizans and wondering boys, constituted the funeral procession. 



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12 Domestic Associations. 

Just as tlie huge iron gate of the cemetery grated on its hinges to admit 
them, a band of merry school-girls, released from study, came towards 
them. There is a magnet in sorrow which draws all hearts, either frodi 
motives of sympathy or curiosity. These children, who had never known 
a care, turned into the yard, and sought the open grave. As the old man 
who rode in the carriage assisted a woman up the gravel walk towards 
them, their ears were arrected by the most heart-rending sobs and groans. 
They looked round for 'the hearse which should bear in it the mother, 
brother, or husband of the humble mourner. But none came. The sexton, 
with the air and gait of a man doing his daily business, passed them 
rapidly, and led the way to the grave, with the tiny coffin under his arm. 
At the sight of it the sobbing mourner broke forth in new tones of anguish : 
" Oh no," she said to the old man against whom she leaned, " I cannot 
have it buried yet — let me keep it here a little longer." He whispered sooth- 
ingly in her ear, and stooped to open the little coffin. Then the young 
mother knelt beside her dead, and covered the sweet marble face with 
tears and kisses. She smoothed down the sunny hair with her hand, and 
laid her own burning cheek upon the cold one of the baby for one moment. 
Then clasping her hands tightly, she gasped out "Bury it now." The man 
of death wanted no urging to the work. He lowered the mother's darling 
into its cold bed, and began to rattle the earth and stones upon itr Few 
hearts are so strong as to bear that cruel sound, and the stricken woman 
turning round to her aged friend, cried out, ** Take me away now, before 
another stone falls on the coffin, or my heart will break." 

Then the school-girls saw the face of the weeper, and wondered at her 
youth. " How strange," whispered a blooming maiden to her companion, 
" that she can make such ado — it is nothing but a baby." 

"Nothing hut a hahy,^^ Wait awhile, child of beauty; wait till a few years 
have deepened the bloom which is just be^nning to tinge the cheek and 
lip ; wait till the gentle heart of thine, which is now more than satisfied 
with quiet home-love, shall beat with a newer passion, in comparison with 
which all others will look dim ; wait till thy heart, now all thine, shall be 
given to another's keeping, and beat only in unison with his ; wait till a 
new claimant comes to share thy love with him, and to make thee a higher 
and a nobler being, as thou ministerest unto " one of these little ones," — 
then wilt thou know, and not till then, the fall depth of a mother s love, 
but not of her anguish. The day of darkness may yet come to thee, child 
of joy. Thou mayest, in days to come, weep beside a little open grave, 
and then turn away with the agony of the childless mother, and seek that 
silent chamber whose light thou hast just lain in the grave. But even 
then, shouldst thou look back to this day, and remember this little grave 
and thine own careless words beside it, thou couldst not fathom the depth 
of this mother's anguish, unless thou shouldst be alone and desolate as she 
is. If thou hast a father's bosom in which to hide thy tear-stained face, or 
a husband's arm to support thee in thy weakness, thou canst never, never 
know the throes of this youthful stranger, now widowed, orphaned, and 
childless. Hear her simple story, and never again let thy bounding heart 
whisper, or thy red lips utter, " Nothing but a baby." 

Little does the cherished daughter of parents able and anxious to make 
her happy, realise when she goes forth to her own home, the full blessing 
which God giants when he gives to her a strong and noble man to be head 
over her. His is but a new love added to the rich store she possessed 
before ; it is not, cannot be, her all of earthly joy. But alas for her— the 
pale young widow beside that tiny grave— she could tell a tale of sorrow 
which would blanch the rose on many a cheek, and raise the tear from 
many an eye. 

Leah Walton was from her cradle the child of poverty. While a school- 



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domestic Associations. IS 

girl, her widowed motlier, worn out by that woman's curse — the needle — 
sank into an untimely grave, leaving her to the pity of a humble neigh^ 
hour. Leah was upright, industrious, and beautifully modest. Her 
personal charms were by no means small as she neared womanhood ; but 
alas for the poor ! the worm of covetousness began to feed upon her 
beauty, and to steal her bloom long before it reached its meridian. The 
unending "stitch, stitch, stitch," beneath the sun*s smile and the mid- 
night's pale lamp, soon told the work it was doing on her frail form. 
Then appeared, as if to snatch her from the certain doom of the ill-paid 
needlewoman, one who offered her a lowly home but a noble heart. 
Theirs was no tale of romance ; he was not titled youth, who came to 
raise her from poverty to plenty and splendour. He was only a poor man, 
earning his bread by the sweat of his brow, asking her to be the wife of a 
poor man, and promising while God granted strength to his right arm, to 
provide for her wants and to shield her from danger. Well did he fulfil 
his promise, and for a few short months the gentle Leah enjoyed more 
of happiness and freedom from care than her brightest dreams had ever 
pictured. And then, not for his own ease or aggrandizement, but that he 
might make her more happy, he began to tSk of the Gold Land, and 
to make plans for spending their two short years. His little effects were 
gathered together, his young wife amply provided for, and with a most 
reluctant assent from her, he, with a young friend, set sail for the American 
Ophir. But he never reached its shining shore. His brave young head 
found a coral pillow, and the strong arm on which so many hopes hung 
fell cold and powerless on a bed of golden sand. 

Hope deferred made the young heart of Leah sick, long, long before the 
companion of his voyage sealed her melancholy fears. And did she, who 
knew what toil and poverty were — who had already drank their cup 
to the dregs in her childhood — did she fold her hands and sink powerless 
beneath this heavy stroke 1 No, no ! She rose in all the strength God 
grants to feeble dependent woman. Then, in His providence, she becomes 
the protector and provider. A new object had already claimed her love 
and care, and she went forth as before, and sued as if she were a beggar. 
— ^not for bread — but for work, Leah sought and found employment, and 
again her little fingers flew over one garment after another, as if the 
helpless little one before her had given them wings. Often in her little 
room would she steal a few moments to study the Sice of her baby-boy — 
to see his father's smile play around his lips and glance from his dark 
eye. Often then in the twilight would she enjoy the luxury— some rich 
mothers call it drudgery— of holding her infant in her arms, and carrying 
it, pressed close to her bosom, around the narrow room. Often would 
the tears of anguish fall upon its innocent £a.ce, while she at the same 
moment blessed God that he had not left her quite desolate — that he had 
given her this child to rear for him. 

A woman who had long known the bitterness of poverty, in trying 
to condole with Leah on her husband's death, said, "Yes, poor thing, it is 
hard for you. If you only hadn't this baby to provide for, you'd get 
along nicely." 

" Oh, don't say so, my kind friend," replied Leah, " While God spares 
him I shall have the heart for any hardship. This gift is the one bright 
spot in all my sorrowful way." 

And so it was. Months rolled by, and the young widow's eye never 
grew dim, nor her heart weary over her midnight task. 

She drew bright pictures of coming days, when little Charley could talk 
and sympathise with her— when she could lean on his arm and trust in his 
love, as she had done on his father's. But not so had Heaven decreed. 
In all, the book of Providence there was no thorny path marked out for his 



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14 Domestic AssoektHansm 

tender foot— there was no hnnger, no tbitst, no sin to stain the reoord of 
Charley's foture heritage. The orphan's God had prepared for this babe 
of poverty a mansion in his own house, where there Ib bread enongh 
andt to sparer-water of life to slake his thirst— a white robe, and a resting- 
place in Jesus' bosom. Was that a sad doom I Surely not for Charley. ^ 

But how did the young heart, thus doubly bereaved, bear up beneath this 
last stroke which death had the power to make on her spirit ? 8he mourned, 
and would not be comforted, because her child was not. She did not 
rebel against her Father's rod, but bowed before him, even while her soal 
was in bitterness. There was no heart in all the wide selfish world she 
could now call her own— had she not cause lor anguish ? The compassion- 
ate Saviour did not rebuke her for those tears, but with his own sweet 
accents whispered into her heart, ^* What thou knowest not notr, thou shalt 
know hereafter." 

The promise fell not without power on her heart, and she wondered, 
as she laid her head on her lonely pillow that night — Charley's first night 
in the grave— when that " hereafter" would come, which was to reveal 
unto her the " needs-be" for this sore chastisement* That day came and 
did not tarry. It proved that all was done in compassion. Her own last 
day was at hand, and then with what joyful confidence did she cry to the 
humble pitying neighbours who surrounded her bed, " Oh, what mercy, 
what lovmg-kindness in God, that he took Charley first ! Who could have 
loved him as I have done in health ? Who could have soothed him in 
death 1 I knew not then what the Lord was doing. Now the clouds and 
darkness are all removed, and I see that my Father is only tender and 
pitiful, even when we are in affliction under his hand." And the hearts of 
the poor who stood around Leah's bed were strengthened, and they felt 
that behind their dark cloud, as well as here, the sun was shining, and 
would one day be revealed. 

And did little Charley accomplish nothing by his brief life ? True, he 
was " nothing but a baby ;" but he did cheer for months a lonely aching 
heart, and in death God niade it his mission to justify before men his ways, 
and to brighten the mother's pathway down to his own silent bed. 

Jesus, when in the flesh, esteemed " these little ones" very highly — ^he 
now carries them in his arms, and bears them in his bosom. Let not then 
the gay and the happy set lightly by them, or wonder that they occupy so 
deep a place in the hearts of those to whom God has given them. Let 
them never say, when they see a bereaved 'mother overwhelmed with an- 
guish, '* Why make such an ado) It is nothing but a baby " — N^to York 



A MOTHEB'S FAITS. 

Late in the Autumn of last year, a pale, quiet little girl, came to my 
school, requesting to be admitted, saying that she had recently come from 
the country, and now lived in the district where the school was situated. 
Her dress indicated poverty, but there was a delicate cleanliness in her 
person and garments that, to an experienced eye, betokened intelligent 
parents. Several months passed, and by her sweetness of disposition, her 

punctuality, and good scholarship, Ellen jB ^had become very dear to me. 

I had often wished to learn something more of her circumstances, but 
the press of duties had postponed the fulfilment of my wishes from time 
to time. 

She was absent from school on a Monday morning. During the afternoon 
session I sent a little girl to her house to inquire if she was iU. The 

messenger reported that Ellen was weU, but that Mrs. B was sick in 

bed, and that Ellen could not come to school at present j and then, with 



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Domestic Aaociations, iS 

tears in her eyed and sudden grasp of my hand, the little girl said, ^ If yon 
will only go and see them, I shall be so glad, for I know they are very 
poor. There was no fire in the room, and it made me shiver tp stand 
there." I promised to go, while my heart smote me for my past 
negligence. 

The early shades of a December night were settling upon the crowded 
streets, as I wended my way to this suffering family. The street was in a 
miserable locality, and the house was crowded with rough and vicious 
people. Upon reaching the door my light rap was answered by Ellen, who 
seized my hand, and almost ran with me to the opposite corner of the 
room, saying softly, when she reached the bed, " Mother wake up and see 
my teacher, who has come to see us." 

A slender woman, apparently about thirty years of age, lay before me, 
but thin and pale. At the sound of her daughter's voice, a slight twitching 
of the eyelids was observable, and then the languid eyes opened, — those 
eyes that would so soon close for the last time upon all earthly things. 

She gazed in my face a moment, and then faintly said, " God is good. 
He never utterly forsakes those who put their trust in him." The effort 
of uttering these words brought on a violent coughing fit, which, however, 
lasted but a few moments. After it was passed, I looked about the room. 
Besides the bed upon which the invalid lay, there was only a table and one 
chair in the room, and over the fire an empty candlestick. I asked Ellen if 
they had a candle. She replied that there was a little piece which she had 
saved, so that she could strike a light if her mother should be very bad in 
the night. I bade her light it, and keep up courage a little while, till 
I returned. 

It was the work of half an hour to order a small supply of fuel and food, 
leave word for a physician to call, obtain a little wine, and return. But soon 
a flame was dancing in the grate ; Ellen was making a supper, and the 
invalid was somewhat refreshed. When the physician arrived, he con- 
firmed my worst fears. Mrs. B saw it as well as T, 

" Then you think, sir, that I can last but a little longer ?" 

** I fear it is so," he replied. 

•*It is well," were her softly tittered words, and the closed eyes, the 
clasped hands, the sweet expression, told us that she was conversing with ' 
God, and almost face to face* The veil of fiesh was nearly rent in twain. 

Dr. M left only a cordial, and bade me watch carefully through the 

night. It was a happy privilege* Mrs. B 's energies seemed to have 

revived. She did not sleep, and before morning she had told me her sad 
history. Not one complaint did she utter, not once did she betray any 
impatience ; and when I inquired, as she finished her tale, if her courage 
had never faltered, if she could always put faith in God, her reply was, 
" Does he not provide for the ravens ? Are not the hairs of our head 
numbered?" and then she continued, ^* 1 bless God that he has enabled me, 
through all my trials, to see his hand ever before me. Yes, ever with 
regard to Ellen, I trust in him. He will temper the wind to the shorn 
lamb, though my poor wisdom cannot see the way he will take." 

Her husband, who had been a mechanic, had died, leaving only the 
household furniture. They had no friends to whom they could apply, and in 

their secluded home there was no work to be had, which Mrs. B was 

-strong enough to do. She sold her furniture, except what would furnish 
one httle room, and came to the city, hoping to earn a living by doing fine 
sewing, at which she was very expert. But unacquainted with the city and 
with city customs, she had tried in vain to procure work of the kind she 
needed, and was obliged to take the very coarsest from one of the wholesale 
establishments. She could not earn enough for support without working 
almost all night, and her health failed at once. Piece by piece her fumi- 



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16 Heformatory Schools. 

lure had been pawned, and till this very night no friendly face had crossed 
her threshold. She had kept Ellen at school as long as she dared, for the 
sake of the warmth of the school-room, and when I entered, she was 
praying that some one mi^ht be raised np to befriend her child. 

Toward morning she &11 into a short slumber, and on awakening rose 
in bed, and called m a clear tone to Ellen. The child sprang up, and in 
a moment was folded in her mother's arms. In a clear yoice, the mother 
said, ''Trust in God, my child, always: he will never forsake you;*' and 
fell back upon the pillow a corpse. 

After the funeral was over, I took Ellen to stay with me a few days, 

till Dr. M and I could find a home for her ; but she clung to me, and 

was so sweet and gentle in her grief, that I could not part with her. She 
has been my child since that sad night. 



REFORMATORY SCHOOLS. 

. From the whirl of politics, and the resultless labours of the Legislature, 
it is, indeed, a relief to turn to practical and social objects, and to the 
successful labours of voluntary benevolence. The meeting of the National 
Reformatory Union recently held at Bristol, must be regarded as inaugura- 
ting an era in the progress of that important movement. Since the first 
meetings at Birmingham, in 1851 and 1853, so much has been done, as 
well as said, in this country, that the public is now better informed on the 
subject of Juvenile Criminal Reformation ; and, though the movement is 
yet in its infancy, we have also a satisfactory accumulation of home facts. 
These were .presented by Lord Stanley in his opening speech at the Bristol 
meeting, with all the logical force, and measured freedom from exagger* 
ation, which mark his Lordship*s speeches generally, and which give them 
such deserved weight, and we shall make free use in this article of the 
information he has so admirably epitomized. Our colonies have done us 
more indirect service than could have been imagined, if their rejection 
of our criminals should direct our attention more earnestly than ever to 
the fountain of crime. This seems to have been the case. Reformatory 
efibrts are not, it is true, quite of to-day : the subject has engaged the 
attention of philanthrophists, and schools have been in existence for half 
a century or more : but it is since the time when the colonies compelled 
us to keep our own criminals, that statesmen of all political creeds have 
felt that the proper mode of dealing with juvenile criminals is, in fact, the 
most important part of our criminal jurisprudence. 

We do not undervalue Lord Brougham's representations on the 
importance of making the goal a Reformatory school for the adult, but 
we think it also demonstrated that the youthful criminals are, firstly, 
by far the most hopeful class to deal with, and, secondly, the most 
prolific cause of adult criminals. All is in favour of the age which has not 
acquired the rigidity of fixed habits, and which is, unquestionably, the 
age of comparative flexibility ; nor is it less important that youthful crime 
has not affixed on the lad the stigma which the same act would inflict on 
the adult — hence it is much easier to find employment for lads from a 
Reformatory School than for ticket-of-leave convicts. When to this we 
add the startling fact, that one-fourth of the crime of the kingdom is 
committed by one-tenth of its population, and that that tenth part is the 
one which is under twenty years of age, it is apparent enough that our 
young criminals are the class demanding our first attention. Indeed, a 
very large proportion of our adult criminals began their course at the 
very age with which the Reformatory Schools propose to deal. 



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Reformatory Schoolsw 17 

• Some facts will be interesting by way of illustration. It appears that 
out of, in round numbers, one hundred thousand committals, not less than 
eleven thousand four hundred were seventeen years of age— this is about 
eleven and a-half per cent, of the whole ; a very large proportion at that 
early age, not less it is thought than half, being recommittals — about four 
thousand of them were known to be so ; conclusive evidence this, that, 
unless a Beformatory course be substituted, in the case of the young, 
for the present practice of short imprisonments, they alone will furnish us 
with adult criminals at the rate of at least five or siji thousand a year. 
Another fact which appeals most strongly to our sense of justice as well 
as to our pity, is, that the great majority of these lads had, as Mr. Clay 
of Preston observes, no chance of becoming anything but what they were. 
He found, that in seventy per cent, of the cases he investigated, the blame of 
their misconduct lay, unquestionably, at the door of their parents. In 
fifty-seven per cent, there had been habitual drunkenness, often accom* 
panied by brutality, on the part of the father— a feet, we may observe 
in passing, which, taken in connection with the repeatedly ana strongly 
expressed opinion of our judges^ should mitigate the censures of those who 
denounce the Maine Liquor Law. If half the youthful criminals, and so 
larffe a proportion of the adult ones, are created by strong drink, those may, 
at least, be borne with, who, perhaps mistakenly, wish to expel it, even 
by force, from the country. Another eighteen per cent, of the cases Mr. 
Clay traced to habitual indifference and neglect. The same result was 
obtained by Mr. Adshead of Manchester ; out of one hundred criminal 
children he found that sixty were born of dishonest and profligate parents 
— thirty of parents, profligate, though not of the criminal claSs— and ten 
only of parents both honest and industrious ; how far, we may ask, might 
not the crimes of even these ten have been traced indirectly to the others, 
through association with the children of bad parents? Revolting as 
youthful vice and crime frequently appear, we can hardly conceive a 
stronger claim than that which these facts present. We are bound to 
treat such lads as moral but recoverable lunatics. Their moral faculties 
were repressed by parental wickedness, till they had no reasonable appre- 
hension of even social duties ; but the faculty is still there, and it may be 
awakened till the lad feels himself another being, respects himself, and 
rejoices in his own emancipation. 

Not less conclusive is the evidence on the inutility of the general practice 
of short imprisonments. It has indeed been lung shown by Lord 
Brougham, and othei's, to be rather a provocation, than a hindrance, to 
crime. The lad is in gaol just long enough to learn increased dexterity in 
the practices which have brought him there, and fresh arts for evading 
detection ; he leaves with a character which deprives him of all hope of 
obtaining employment, since no one can guarantee his reformation under a 
process which rather guarantees the opposite — he is, therefore, driven to 
his old practices, almost for bread, and in the coui-se of a short time is 
most freouently in the same place again, or, if not, it may be due to his 
greater skill in avoiding his enemies, the police. Baron Alderson, theie- 
fore, has justly observed, in a recent charge, that *'to punish young 
ofienders with short terms of imprisonment is a proceeding neither wise 
nor humane." He quoted, in proof of his observation, a table of figures, 
prepared by the Governor of Glasgow Bridewell thirty years ago, by 
which it appears, that of prisoners sentenced for the first time to fourteen 
days' continement, there returned to goal for new offences seventy-tive 
per cent. ; of those sentenced to thirty days, sixty per cent. ; forty days, 
fifty ; sixty days, forty ; three months, twenty-five ; six months, ten ; nine 
months, seven and a-half ; twelve months, four ; eighteen mouths, one ; 
twenty- four months none;, although in the ten years over which ihi^ 

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18 jR^ormatary Schools. 

calculation extends, the number of those senteuoed for twenty-four months 
was ninety-three, It is added that prisoners who came back two or three 
times went on returning at intervals for years, and that many of those 
committed for short periods on their first offence were afterwards trans- 
ported or hanged. We may add another numerical statement almost as 
strong. In Heading Goal, October, 1852, it was found that out of two hun- 
dred and nine prisoners recommitted to separate confinement, eighty-nine 
were under seventeen ^ears of age when first committed, and those eighty- 
iciine had been in prison altogether four hundred and three times, or 
nearer five times than four times arpiece. Few of us, however, can have 
doubted the hopelessness of Reformation, or of deterring from crime, by 
the ordinary practice. Even if lads be kept in solitary confinement 
during their imprisonment, the difficulty would remain of providing them, 
on leaving, with honest employment. Probably no one will wonder at the 
well established result, that about one-half of the convicts in our prisons 
have belonged to the class of juvenile criminals. 

With such facts before us, the object of chief interest is the prospect 
opened by the Beformatory system. No one will expect, in dealmg with 
any class of human beings, to meet with uniform success, and least of all 
with the class in question. To us the schools appear, as hitherto worked, 
to have attained their end far beyond what could have been hoped for. 
From the celebrated institution at Mettray, under the care of M. oe Metz, 
nearly ninety per cent, have turned out well, and of the eleven or twelve 
per cent, which have relapsed, about one quarter have been again 
reclaimed. Every one will remember the steady and admirable conduct 
of these lads during the late inundations of France. At Redhill, from 
which seven hundred and twenty boys have been discharged since its 
institution in 1849, seventy per cent, have been reclaimed ; the emigrants 
having done best, the proporticxi of relapses having been smaller than 
among those at home. In the Glasgow House of Refuge, out of four 
hundred lads, eighty-five per cent, have been reclaimed. When we remem- 
ber that the majority of these youths, bat for the benevolent intervention 
of the school, would assuredly have taken the customary course — would 
have left the gaol with blighted character but increased cunning, have 
repeated their offences and been again imprisoned, and have gone forth 
again to commit yet more daring crimes, till sentenced to transportrtion 
for life, or to the gallows, it is impossible not to feel grateful for the result 
which has thus far been secured, and to desire the energetic extension of 
the Reformatory system. 

It is of the happiest omen that there are no factions on this question. 
There are considerable differences of opinion, and differences decidedly and 
frankly expressed, but there is no party or sectarian alienation. AU feel 
united by their common object, and by their sense of its vast importance. 
Each seems willing and even pleased that the other should make full trial 
of his own plan, and appears ready to profit by the varied experience. 
Oh, that it could yet be so in a yet higher province ! On the relation of 
Government and legislation to the Reformatory effort, there is also a 
thoroughly good understanding. The Government feels that its interfe- 
rence or meddlesome control would ruin all, yet even voluntaries do not 
deny that schools for criminals are a legitimate object of Government 
support. Hence Government most wisely leaves the managers of each 
school to their own wisdom and benevolence, while it contributes five 
shillings each towards the support of the lads. The total cost is estimated 
at fifteen shillings per head. One very important object is, however, to 
make the parents themselves pay part of the expense of the lad's support^ 
while he is detained in the school ; this is requisite, not only as in the 
fn^ority of cases a well-deserved penalty for parental neglect, or perhaps 



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Biography of Mr. William Wilson, 19 

dishonesty, but also to prevent parents inducing the children to commit 
crimes as a means of placmw thorn in a good school. With the same view, 
it seems essential that the Keformatory achool should not be made use of 
to train lads to high intellectual or industrial acquirements ; the effect of 
80 doing must ineviUibly be to render the schools a desirable resort for all 
classes. The criminal children of criminal parents must not be placed in 
a better position than the children of the honest and industrious. All 
these ends would appear to be best attained by leaving these institutions, 
as at present, to the management of the voluntary associations which 
originate them, which must feel a personal and benevolent interest in their 
success, and which are guided by tne mutual communication of opinion and 
experience in the manner recently illustrated by the Brifltol con&rence. 



BIOGRAPHY. 

MR WILLIAM WILSON. 

Mr. William Wilson was born at Wakefield, on the 30th April, 1784. 
His parents kept the Royal Oak inn. King-street^ in that town, of which 
they were also the proprietors. They were moral and religious, to the 
extent of regular attendance at the Wakefield parish church. As might 
be expected, however, from the nature of their avocation, the training of 
their children received but a moderate attention. William, who was the 
eldest son, was duly sent to the day-school, but as far as the Sabbath 
was concerned, he was left to himself, as may be inferred from the 
following incident. When not more than seven or eight years of age, 
he had been one day playing on the kitchen dresser, when suddenly 
taming round, he jumped off, most unfortunately, into a large pan of hoiling 
water, which one of the servants had inadvertently placed there just before, 
he was seriously scalded, and laid up in consequence for some time. But 
the following Sunday, a gentleman called to see the little boy. and intro- 
duced himself to his astonished parents as William's teacher at the Sunday- 
school, He had been attending the Sabbath-school for some time, unknown 
to his parents, and this was the first occasion of his absence. Already had 
he commenced the formation of those habits which were to form the man, 
and fit him for future usefulness. It was shortly after this, at the age of 
nine years, that he was presented with a Bible in the same Sabbath-school^ 
as a reward for committmg to memory and reciting the Catechism of the 
Church of England. The Bible still bears this inscription : — " The gift of 
Lord Wharton's Trustees to William Wilson, aged 9 years. M. Bacon, 
Vicar. Wakefield, 1793." This Bible became his companion for many years^ 
and from its use he largely derived his knowledge of the inspired volume* 

At this time he regularly attended the parish church, ^mpted alone by 
his love of Pivine worship, and reverence of the Sabbath. With the latter he 
would never allow secular duties to interfere. Its sanctity was kept inviolate. 
On one occasion, after he had cleaned his shoes on the Saturday evening, he 
went out to look at the progress of some new buildings his father was erect- 
ing immediately adjoining. To preserve his shoes clean for the Sabbath, he 
put on instead his sister's pattens. Shod in this uncertain manner, he 
walked over the joists of the new building ; his foot slipped, and he was 
precipitated into the cellar below. Late in the evening he was discovered 
by his anxious father in a mass of stones, and taken up for dead. But 
a kind Providence had watched his fall, and he was preserved from 
death. His tknU was fractured, and he lay insensible for two days, and 
when, at the end of that time, consciousness returned, memory had for the 
time lost its eeat; For some time his life was despaired of, but he slowly 

2 



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20 Biography of Mr. William Wihon, 

recovered ; and a slight additional stiflfiiess in the left knee, which he felt ' 
through life, was the only permanent injury inflicted. This interposition of ' 
Providence always excited his lively gratitude. 

He had an inquiring mind, and his aptitude for instruction, and diligent 
application, enabled him to make much more rapid advances than the 
meagre tuition of that day was calculated to produce. When he left school, 
he did not bid farewell to learning, but only commenced a more diligent' . 
course of self-improvement. He became a clever arithmetician and mathe- 
matician, and by his own application and perseverance, fitted himself for ' 
the situation which he subsequently filled. Like all other boys he formed ' 
companionships : but he had one rule, which he since frequently impressed ' 
on the minds of the young; he selected them from those whom he regarded' 
as better than himself. Such companionships became mutual helps, exciting 
a cordial sympathy in all that was good, and stimulating to a lofty purpose 
and a noble effort The closest of these friends was a youth of the name of 
Bell. With him he commenced attending the ministry of the Rev. Benjamin 
Rayson, Independent minister of Wakefield; and along with him and 
another companion, formed a class for mutual improvement, which met 
periodically at Mr. Rayson's house. When circumstances led to the sepa- 
ration of the friends, they still for some years kept up an annual meeting at 
Wakefield ; and when that failed, carried on an mteresting correspondence, 
till the death of one, and then another, closed its earthly character. 

William's parents had intended him for the woollen trade, and in due 
time he was sent to a person who had four looms and as many apprentices, 
to learn the trade. After being with him some time, thinking that a mer- 
cantile life would afford him more scope, he determined to leave his native 
Elace, and with his father's consent set out for Manchester, to start life on 
is own account. 

It was the year 1802 ; a year memorable by the peace of Amiens, which 
hushed the stormy passions of Europe to a brief repose. With one or two 
letters of introduction from gentlemen in his native town, he walked to 
Manchester, and the next morning was engaged by the firm of Parker, 
Stocks, and Co., of Heaton Mersey, bleachers, dyers, calico-printers, spinners, 
manufacturers, and farmers. He entered the counting4iouse, where his 
character immediately won for him his position. His employers soon per- 
ceived that they had got no eye-servant, but one who made their interests 
his own, and when, a very short time after, the cashier left the establish- 
ment, to his great astonishment he was at once elevated to that position. 
His first act spoke the man. Over his desk, in large characters, he wrote 
and suspended that motto, which was to be his rule of action through life.. 
^ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.*' He applied 
himself to his duties with an energy that defied fatigue, and a perseverance 
that triumphed over every difficulty. As an illustration, we may mention 
that it had been customary to pay the men's wages between eight and. tea 
on the Saturday evetiing ; and this was done in links, that is, the wages of 
two or three were paid in one sum, which necessitated a resort to the 

Eublic-house for a division of claims. As may be imagined, it frequently 
appened that but a small portion of the wages reached the home of the 
operative, to be laid out in the Stockport market, distant two or three miles,^ 
at that late hour on the Saturday night. Against this practice he remon- 
strated ; but no, neither time nor mode of payment could be improved. 
Mr. Wilson had not occupied his new post a fortnight, when every man had 
received his own wages before four o'clock on the Saturday afternoon. It 
was a boon for which he received, as he deserved, the grateful acknowledg- 
ments of many a family. His position and duties iuvolved the closest con- 
finement to business. There was no Ten Hours' Bill then, and often he was 
at work till midnight, and on market-days till four in the morning. He 



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Biography of Mr, WUUam Wilson^ 2 1 

jicvertheless contrived opportunities for self-improvement, • He commenced 
& di&ry, continued for a number of years, and maintained a considerable 
.correspondence with relatives and old associates, a complete ledger account 
for some years being still preserved. He was fond of readinff, and many an 
.hour which bixsiness denied, he snatched from reposC; and employed in 
.acquainting himself, not with novelists, but the best authors within his 
reach, — poets and prose writers — history — philosophy — moral science — and 
religion. All this was done without any intrenchment'on secular duties. His 
business, he made his business, and pleasure, physical or mental, was never 
suffered to ii^terfere. " Duty" was nispole-star, and, "duty,*' he frequently 
said, " never calls two ways at once." Tliis high sense of duty, and this con- 
scientiousness in its discharge, were his leading characteristics. It was 
their manifestation in every thing that led his employers to repose the most 
unbounded confidence in him. If any mission of trust was to be executed he 
was certain to be employed. At a time when police establishments were 
yery different in their character from the present, he was frequently made a 
special constable. On one occasion he was despatched into Staffordshire 
with a warrant for the apprehension of four colliers, with power to engage 
such assistance as might be required from the local police. "Without any 
assistance, he succeeded by his moral influence alone, in bringing the whole 
of the men along with him, and placed them in custody at Stockport. At 
another time he had to apprehend a man, whom after some search, he found 
mowing in a field. On producing his warrant the man attacked him with 
his scythe, and swore he would murder him. The constable fled, but 
the moment his pursuer stopped, he stopped also, and commenced rea- 
soning with him on the folly and the danger of his conduct. The appeal 
was met by another attack, but Mr. HVilson persevered, and finally induced 
the man to lay down his weapon, and quietly allow himself to be taken into 
custody. Any resort to violence was foreign to his disposition ; he would 
treat every man as a reasonable being. 

His vi^lance and promptitude of action were on one occasion eminently 
useful. He received information from^ the landlord of a public-house -at 
Cheadle, that a box had been received there directed for him, " to be left till 
called for." On examining it he found it to contain a complete set of the 
most formidable burglary instruments. He saw at once how matters stood, 
made his arrangements, and the next day arrested two of the most notorious 
burglars of that time, one of whom (Hufton White) was afterwards ex- 
ecuted for murder. 

Such incidents not only illustrate the application of his sense of duty, but 
also indicate that both his moral and physical courage were of no mean 
order. 

A branch of the Stockport Sunday-school was established in the village, 
and was chiefly supported by Mr. Wilson's employers — with this he con- 
nected himself first as a teacher, and soon after as superintendent. He 
formed a very close attachment to it, and though not converted at this time, 
made himself exceedingly active and useful. So much were his services 
here appreciated, by the late Mr. Robert Parker, his senior employer, that 
on one occasion, when Mr. Wilson considering himself aggrieved, had given 
notice, that he should at the conclusion of his existing engagement leave 
their service, Mr. Parker sent for him to his house, and said, *• Wilson, we 
might perhaps manage to do without you here, but we cannot spare you 
yonder," pointing to the Sunday-school, and immediately re-engaged him at 
an advanced sauiry. 

As may be iofeiTcd, his character was solid, serious, earnest. There was 
nothing frivolous, or unbecomingly light. 

The death of his old friend ^lr, Bell from consumption, aged 25 years, in 
the spring of 1810, led to the entire consecration of his heart to God. He 



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22 Shgraphy of Mr. William Wilson, 

received from his friend, a last, long, affectionate epistle, wbicli ttiade a rerf 
deep impression on his mind. An extract from its concluding portion 
may be interesting. — " I must beg of you," said he, •• to remember me 
to Dixon and Claye (two of his old friends), tell them, 1 wish them 
every happiness this world can aflford ; but tell them also, that to serve the 
liora while in health and vigour will give more true pleasure than all the 
World can produce .... Farewell, my dear friend, if we are to part, do 
not lament. I hope we shall be united in a better world. Until then adieu 
— may Goa protect you and bless you — may He endow you with every 
blessing — ^may He grant you long to live, and bless yon with a family that 
flhall spring up like olive plants around your table ; may you live to see 
them happy in this world, and when old age warns you that you must quit 
this world, may your decline be easy, may your children smooth your bed 
of sickness by their kindness ; may the partner of your life depart with you 
at the same time, that you may neither of you have the sorrow of parting 
from each other, and may you resign your souls into the hands of your 
Kedeemer ; this I pray for the sake of Jesus Christ, our blessed Lord and 
Saviour. Amen, Adieu, and believe me while I continue to breathe, 

" Yours sincerely, 

« Wm. Bell.*' 

This letter is transcribed in full in his diary. Mr, Wilson was at this 
time attending the ministry of the Independents. It is evident that for 
Bome time he nad been deeply influenced by religious principles. A copy 
of a letter dated September 13th, 1810, addressed Kev. Benjamin Xtayson^ 
Independent Minister, Wakefield, exhibits the state of his mind at this 
period. He says, '* I trust I see the necessity and importance of living 
nearer to God, convinced 1 am that it is the one thing needful, and that 
only which can give real pleasure.'' In this letter he requests suggestions 
as to his government in life, and advise as to joining himself exclusively to 
the Wesleyans or Independents. He says, '* Since I first understood any- 
thing of religion, I have been attached to the Calvinists. I have in some 
measure united myself to them here, by frequenting a Calvinist chapel, and 
attending at times a weekly prayer-meeting. I have also lately formed 
Bome connections with the Methodists, and have been twice to a class- 
meeting. I have considered both, in their religious and domestic capacities^ 
and find so far as my observations go, that the latter people walk closer to 
€k)d." He received a very kind letter of advice in reply, and after maturely 
weighing the subject, made his selection. 

In his diary, October 23rd, 1810, is the entry :— " Entered myself a 
member of the Methodist Society in James Kigby's class ;" and a day or 
two later, this, — " Wrote Mr. Taylor a few hasty lines, saying, I had set 
out for heaven." Few records of his early religious experience remain, but 
in a letter written at this period urging a dear friend to follow his example, 
and commence meeting in class, he says, — '^ In my opinion, this is the most 
valuable of the means of grace— I have I trust put my hand to the Gospel 
plough, and I cannot think of turning back. The little I know of religion 
IS, that the pure enjoyment of it is the happiest state I have ever expe- 
rienced." He had already, thou^^h in lodgings and unmarried, established 
family prayer ; but the change m his heart gave to this a new vitality. 
One of his oldest friends and co-workers in the Sabbath-school, Mr. Abel 
Wilson of Edgley, thus writes on this subject. — " He now betook himself to 
a more vigorous and decided pursuit of religious knowledge. His devotional 
exercises particularly in due and regular family form became at once fixed, 
and for life, and in their tone showed most clearly, that the steps he had 
now taken, and was taking, were not the mere change of religious senti- 
ment, but the production oi the grace that had renewed his heart." 

" His Sabbath-school engagements (where for many years at that of 

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Biography of Mr, William Wilson. 23 

Heaton Mersey, he was superintendent), he became more valuable in every 
sense; and received an impulse and stamp of quality and usefulness whicU 
is reviewed by. a few survivors who retain a high Christian regard for his 
memory and real worth, with the happiest recoUections. 

** Energetic, — ^possessing much sett^-control— of unflinching integrity — 
staunch adherent of rule, with a warm heart and kind and easy manners, 
he was beloved by all who were associated with him, and for whom he was 
ever ready to do any act dictated by the principles of Christianity, or gentle- 
manly kindness. And though during the last forty-six years I have seen 
and visited a considerable number of Sunday-schools, I am not aware that I 
have met with any, that have given to me clearer evidences of delight^ 
fill progress in the best direction, than did the one under his superintend* 
ence for many years at Heaton Mersey." 

Though the Sabbath-school was the principal, it was by no means his 
onl^ sphere of usefulness. He was Society steward, treasurer to the Tract 
Society, and secretary and treasurer to the Bible Society. And many an 
act of kLndness, and many a deed of unrecorded generosity, that thenmarked 
his daily life, will only be known at the Great day. His heart and his 
hand were alike open, and the helping hand was never wanting to assist 
his friends, or relieve the unfortunate. His position enabled him to obtain 
situations for relatives and friends ; and not a few he assisted with the 
means of commencing business. His own opinion at this time was, that 
" he was one of the happiest of men.** 

For twenty-one years he was in the service of the firm before alluded to, 
and he then became a partner, but about two years after, some disagreement 
arose with a new partner, and Mr. TVilson withdrew from the concern in 
the year 1825. He then came to Manchester and commenced business here 
as a spinner and manufacturer. He joined the Wesleyan Society in Gros« 
venor-street Circuit, and was almost immediately appointed a leader. On 
the erection of Oxford-road Sunday-school about this time, he became a 
conductor there, which office with that oi leader he held till he changed his 
residence, and distance led him to resign. He now joined the late Mr. 
John Hull's class in the Oldham-street Circuit, 1830, and commenced a 
close friendship which afterwards led to his union with the Grosvenor-street 
Sunday-school. 

He took no active part in the occurrences of 1835, but shortly after, in 
1836, united with Mr. Hull and Mr. Kent in the Grosvenor-street Sunday- 
schooL What has been the character of his labours here, his punctuality, 
his perseverance, his earnest effort, is known and appreciated by those 
who were his feUow-labourers. The same principle which was the main- 
spring of his early action, continued to animate to untiring exertions for the 
good of those around him. Those with whom he was associated, found in 
him an able and zealous coadjator ; with no stereotyped views, but ready to 
co-operate in any improved plans of usefulness which might be submitted to 
him. " He well knew human nature ; and therefore clearly recognised the 
necessity of teaching young people, the too much overlooked principles of 
obedience and subordination." And many who heard his addresses, will 
remember with what force he would urge these principles ; how he would 
descant on the pleasures which religion afforded ; with what earnestness he 
would warn against evil communications and bad companions j and with a 
^race and a beauty peculiarly his own, how he would dwell on the satis- 
faction and the blessedness of looking back on a life, spent in the service of 
God. 

When Mr. Hull withdrew, he was appointed to the charge of his class, 
which he met for a number of years, tijil his own removal to Strangeways 
led him to resign that duty. But neither distance nor advancing years 
could weaken his attachment to the Sunday-school, and who else was 



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S4 Biography of Mr: tVtUiam Wilsoiu 

absent, he was certain to be present. In the Whitstintide of 1846, he wad 
presented along with his colleague Mr. Ash ton, with a very large and 
beautiful Bible by the scholara, a circumstance peculiarly grateful to his 
mindy and of which he ever cherished a lively remembrance. After his 
removal into Strangeways, he continued to attend the Sunday-school with 
the same regularity and punctuality as heretofore, and for seven years^ 
winter and summer, until nis last illness, was in the habit of taking a cold 
dinner in the vestry of the school, to enable him to attend the whole of the 
day. He was beloved and esteemed by both teachers and scholars. Hi9 
gentlemanly and Christian bearing, and his cordial and kindly feeling' 
endeared him to them. He always evidenced a sacred regard for the feel- 
ings of others, and would make any sacrifice short of that of principle, in 
promoting harmony and peace among his fellow-labourers. Even were he 
unwittingly to cause pain to the mind of another, he would go out of his 
way to set himself right with that individual, and convince him that he 
had acted right, and was grieved to have been the cause of pain ; and if 
he found that he had been in the fault, he was not wanting in candour, 
manliness, and the true spirit of Christianity, to acknowledge that fault. 
Such a man was sure to be respected and esteemed , 

During his long illness, he was frequently visited by both teachers and 
scholars. This illness commenced with a cold taken at the tea-meetings 
held near three years ago when the Rev. John Peters bade farewell to the 
Grosvenor-street Circuit, Gradually^ but surely, it took hold of him. For 
a long time it was not fully understood, but it finally developed itself in a 
slight curvature of the spine. In the earlier stage of his complaint he suf- 
fered most acutely; the slightest motion of the body causing intense pain ; 
but for a considerable period prior to death this had abated, and in his 
usual recumbent position he was tolerably comfortable. Our own minister 
the Rev. Wm. Patterson, and others of his old friends formerly in this 
Circuit, frequently visited him. When his friends called (and he was 
always glad to see them) they found him uniformly cheerful ; not a murmur 
was ever known even by his family, to escape his lips ; but resignation in 
the highest sense, a cheerfal submission to the will of his heavenly Father 
was always evidenced. Mr. George Taylor who took charge of the class 
formerly led by Mr. Wilson, was one of his most assiduous visitors. 
" Never," says he, "in the couree of my experience have I visited the sick 
with so much pleasure and profit as in the case of Mr. Wilson. I never left 
him without feeling that 1 had profited by the interview, and the hours 
that L have spent with him have been some of the happiest of my life." 

When visited by the Sunday scholars he would ^ve them a short address 
on the importance of preparing for a future life, while in health and strength, 
never failing to enforce on their attention in the most impressive manner, 
that nothing but a life spent in the service of God, could afford satisfaction 
in a dying hour. That retrospect was eminently his, yet his only hope for 
salvation was in the finished work of Jesus Chnst. Then they would sing 
several of Ms favourite hymns, and after prayer as they retired, he would 
give to those whom he could recollect, an individual word of advice. Some 
of these interviews would leave impressions never to be forgotten. Eternity 
will reveal their results, and he worked for eternity. 

The last of these visits was paid on Sunday, April 27th. The teachers of 
the two first classes and about forty of the elder scholars were present. 
They sang at hb request that beautiful hymn — 

On Jordan*8 stormy banks I stand, 

And cast a wishful eye ; 
To Canaan's fair and happy land, 

Where my possessions lieu 

And also several others. His last appeal to them was to do tbeir duty and 

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Biography of -Mr. WUUam WUstm. 26 

live to '663. 'Hq had been getting weaker for seyeral weekff preTions, and 
during that time was carried up and down stairs. On the scholars leaving, 
feeling much worse, he was immediately carried to bed, and never rose 
again ! He continued to get weaker day after day. Tlie Tuesday follow- 
ing was his birth-day. Beceiving the congratulations of his family oa 
attaining his 72nd year, — " Thank you," said he, /* but I have no desure to 
fiee another." His hold on earth was loosening, that on heaven was 
strengthening. His fond attachment to his family seetaied still to mag- 
netise his heart to earth, while his strong confidence in the good providence 
of God which for so many years mercifully preserved both him and them, 
led him to consign them to the care of his heavenly Father. On a member 
of .the. family reminding him of that promise, ''I will never leave thee, I 
will never forsake thee," with considerable emphasis, he replied, <*That 
blessed promise! that blessed promise!" On Sunday May 4th, his last 
Sabbath on earth, he made an effort at the evening devotion to join in 
singing the words : — 

¥1x*d on this grouoA will 1 remain, 

Though my heart fail and flesh decay c 
This anchor shall my soul sustain, 

Though earth's foundations melt away. 
Mercy's full power I then shall prove, 
LoTed with an everlasting love. 

He failed, — his strength was insufficient, he followed only with his heart j 
the tones of his musical voice were hushed, while the melody of his heart 
rose as sweet incense. His bodily strength diminished day by day, yet 
three days only prior to his death he led the family devotions, only resign- 
ing his position when it no longer was possible to speak with clearness. 
But as his outward man decayed, the inner was renewed day by day, and 
the temptations which had appeared to trouble him in the earner part of 
his affliction, especially with regard to the vanities of early life, and the 
fihortcomings of the later, vanished away. He felt his faith and hope fixed 
on the rock of ages, and looked forward with calmness and joy to the ever* 
lasting rest prepared for the people of God. On the Saturday he was 
thought to be a little easier, and recognised an old scholar who called in 
from eleven to twelve. She was his last visitor. He was takinga little 
refreshment about half-past one, when a change was perceived. Me was 
rapidly sinking to rest. As dies^^the rippling wave upon the shore, or sinks 
expiring day to rest) so calmly, so peacefully did his spirit fall in sleep. 
jNot a struggle, not a sigh disturbed his last moments. He was spared the 
pain of dying ; the change was to him, '* no gloomy pass, but a soft transi- 
tion ; " the spirit obeyed the whispered summons, " Come away ; " and his 
emancipated soul ascended to be for ever with the Lord ! 

Thus died Mr. William Wilson on the 10th of May, 1856, aged 72 years 
and ten days. ** He rests from his toils, his trials, his anxieties. His earthly 
life, chequered by commercial vicissitudes and many trials has ended, and 
he has entered on that life of bliss, where son*ow and sighing are unkno\vn. 
His course of duty is run, he has reached the goal and received the prize, 
and has joined those happ^ spirits with whom he had held such sweet 
communion on earth, to unite with them in the raptured song, " To him 
that hath loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath 
made us kings and priests unto God, and his Father ; to Him be glory and 
dominion for ever and ever." " He rests from his labours, and his works 
do follow him." , . 

His remains were borne to their long home on the following Friday, fol- 
lowed by a large number of friends, and the teachers and elder scholars of 
the Sunday-schools. The Rev. T. A. Bayley of Burslem, conducted the 
funeral service, assisted by the Rev. Henry Breeden and the Rev. William 



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26 • Biography of Mr, George RippofU 

Patterson, and many will long remember the impressive and affeeting ad- 
dress on that mournful occasion. 

His death was afterwards improved in the Snnday-school by the Rev. 
Henry Breeden, and in the chapel on the 2(Hh of July by the Bev. John 
Peters of Bury, who forcibly pointed out the lesson which a review of the 
life and character of Mr. Wilson presented, and urged on his large oongre* 
gation the necessity of living the life of the righteous, that their last end 
inay be like his. 

Any attempt at a digest of the character of Mr. Wilson would be super- 
fluous. The attentive reader is left to draw his own conclusions ; to picture 
the life from the incidents related, and to make that life his own, as far as 
it is worthy of imitation. W. N, W. 



MR. GEORGE RIPPON, 

Thk subject of the following short record, was a member of the Wes- 
ley an Association Society at South Shields, in which town he was bom in 
the year 1796. He served his apprenticeship to the trade of a ship- 
carpenter, and at an early age connected himseLf with the choir at the 
parish church. Soon after, he commenced an attendance on public worship 
ne became seriously concerned about the welfare of his soul, but as his 
spiritual knowledge increased, and his religious feelings became more 
intense, he grew dissatisfied with the provisions of the parish church ; and 
T>elieving that his religious welfare would be better promoted by an 
attendance on the Methodist ministry, he united himself with the congre- 
gation and society at Chapter-row chapel. Here his spiritual wants were 
supplied, and his gracious yearnings resjwnded to, — ana here he continued 
to meet in class with Mr. John Reay, with regularity and profit for nine- 
teen years— a period of his spiritual history to which he always referred 
with gratitude and pleasure. 

After this long and happy union with the church, some unpleasant cir- 
cumstances connected with a strike among the carpenters led to his separ- 
ration from the Society, and resulted in his leaving the way of piety and 
of peace. He believed himself unkindly and unjustly treated, — and allow- 
ing the irritation of his mind to gain the mastery over his better feelings, 
he gradually lost his spiritual strength, and became the victim of tempta- 
tions he ought to have resisted and overcome. Drifting farther an-i 
farther from the sure and steadfast anchorage of a firm faith, he at last 
became associated with unbelieving and scoffing men ; and imbibing their 
sceptical notions he at length denied the very truths that had so long 
been his safeguard and consolation, and despised those blessed dutiez& 
which had been so long his chief delight. 

In this period of his history we find him out of the church, and far from 
' God ; ana his case may well serve as a solemn warning to all who have to 
encounter the dangers of a spiritual crisis, arising from wounded or 
offended feeling. That painful things should occur ought not to cause us 
any surprise. We may be slandered and injured — we may be deceived 
and defamed — where we ought to have sympathy, we may be misunder- 
stood and misrepresented, and even a familiar friend may become an un- 
scrupulous enemy ; — but all this is no reason why we should abandon our 
profession or fail in our faith. The evil doing of others may try oup 
tempers, wound our feelings, and almost break our own hearts, — but it 
ought not to exhaust our patience or even break our peace. 

In the spring of 1832 circumstances took a happy change. He again 
obtained a permanent engagement under parties by whom he was re- 



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Siography of Mr. George Rippon. 27 

Bpected, and from tbat time to the period of his death, he continued to 
fulfil the duties of his situation to the satisfaction of his employers, and with 
the general respect and esteem of all who knew him. About this time, 
he appears to have regained his spiritual standing, and found his way back 
again to the Sairiour and the church. At the formation of the Wesleyan 
Association in 1835, he strongly sympathised with those who felt it their 
duty to resist the assumptions o^ Conference domination : and finding 
remonstrance and resistance of no avail in securing concession and reform, 
a Separate society was formed in South Shields as in many other places, 
and with that separated society Mr. Bippon identified himself. He became 
a trustee of their chapel, and to the end of his days, he was a cordial sup- 
porter of the cause on all occasions and in all respects. As a diligent, 
regular attendant on the services of the sanctuary he was a pattern 
worthy of universal imitation. He took an earnest interest in everything 
he thought likely to promote the permanence and success of the society ; 
and in proportion to his means, his pecuniary support was cheerful and 
liberal. As a frequent guest at his house, the writer has every reason to 
remember him with siucerest respect. It is not every one who is willing 
to bear the cost and charge themselves with the iaconvenience of enter- 
taining in their houses the men who preach among them the words of 
etemju life. Many think it a burden — a tax, an intrusion, and will make 
any apology and try any means to transfer the obnoxious duty to others ; 
but it was not so with Brother Eippon. He received us not grudgingly, 
but willingly ; and the concord and kindliness that prevailed in the family 
circle could not fail to inspire respect for him who stood at its head. 

Brother Bippon finished his earthly course under circumstances of a 
very painful description. He departed this life almost as suddenly as if 
he had fallen by the well-aimed shot of a musket, or by the subtle omni*> 
potence of lightning. His employment as a coal-waggon-wright, fre- 
quently rendered it necessary that he should pass to and fro on those lines 
of railway which are used for the conveyance of coals from the pits, to the 
port where they are shipped for transit to the various markets. He left 
his home on the 18th of December 1855, in his usual robust health, with 
every appearance of returning in safety as heretofore, but instead of 
re-appearing safe and sound, to receive and respond to the welcome of his 
family circle, he was brought back to his dwelling silent, unconscious, 
motionless, dead ! The last enemy had met him in the way, and without 
warning or pity had laid him low. After spending a night from home in the 
neighbourhood of Shotley-bridge, he was on his return, and availing him- 
self of the coal waggons, a kind of conveyance with which he was quite fami- 
liar, by some unaccountable inadvertency, he got into a position in which 
there was no escape either from a fatal blow on the head, or an equally 
fatal crush between two waggons. In trying to avoid the former he fell a 
victim to the latter, and without uttering a word " he ceased at ouce to work 
and live." To surviving relatives such an end was extremely distressing ; 
' — cutting off as it did all possibility of manifesting those tender attentions 
we are so desirous of bestowing on those who are about to leave us, never 
to return. No farewell prayers responded to by farewell blessings — no 
solemn interchange of final recognitions were allowed to mark his final 
hour ; — and grace alone can enable those who are called to bear the bitter- 
ness of so painful a providence, to say with painful acquiescence, " Even 
80, Father, for so it seemeth gool in thy aght." 

In concluding this brief sketch, it may be freely admitted that Brother 
Rippon's character was sometimes in danger of being misunderstood; 
There was a certain roughness of manner, and occasionally an explosive- 
ness of feeling and a freeness of speech, which to a stranger might seem 
scarcely compatible with courtesy or the meekness of wisdom ; but not- 



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2s Review nnd ■ Criticism, 

withstanding these defects, a long acquaintance has left in the -mind- of th^ 
writer a conviction that " the root of the matter was in him ; " and in this 
persuasion he is joined most cordially by those to whom the departed was 
most intimately known. The writer endeavoured to improve the sad event 
by a sermon on the insecurity of human life, in Brother Bippon's accua-r 
tomed place of worship, and to the reader he would propound for solemn 
reflection the question contained in the text used for the occasion, — ; 
" What is your life ? It is even a vapour that appeareth for a little time, 
and then vanisheth away V* Aquila Keenb. . 



WILLIAM FIELDEN, TOBMORDEN. 

Died in the faith, May 80, 1854, William Fielden, of Todmorden. Oar 
departed brother was characterized in early youth, by a quiet obedience to his 
parents, and by strong affection for his mother, who after much sufferings died 
in peace, when her son was in his eighteenth year. William was brought to a 
saving knowledge of Christ, a little before her death. For several years he 
pursued the noiseless tenor of his way, giving evidence to those about him, by 
a blameless walk and conversation, that he had passed from death unto life. 
But an enemy waylaid him, and well nigh effected his ruin. The writings of 
Joseph Barker attracted his attention ; like hundreds besides him, he was 
charmed with their apparent excellence ; the subtle poison that kills the soul, 
was stealthily and slily mixed up with the weekly potations of that minister of 
Satan, and before William was fully aware of the mischief, he was shorn of 
his strength, and robbed of his best jewels. Man's conduct Is mightily influ- 
enced by his belief. Nothing tends so powerfully to promote a pure morality 
as the religion of Christ, there's nothing like it for makiog good husbands and 
fathers, and worthy citizens. This sad change in his views brought sorrow and 
confusion into his peaceful abode, and he narrowly escaped being carried down 
the whirlpool of dissipation and death ; but he who had been the guide of his 
Youth, pitied his erring child, and by means of a severe attack of mental and 
bodily affliction, plucked him as a brand from the burning. He was restored 
to the joy of 6od*s salvation, and for the last three years of his mortal life^ 
laboured to make reparation both to his fellow creatures, and the injured inter- 
ests of religion, for the wrong he had done ; his Lord forgave him, but he 
could never, even to his dying day, forgive himself. This slip caused him to 
walk in comparative heaviness, the remainder of the way that lay between him 
and his Father's house. But the conflict was destined to be but brief, he 
was again suddenly laid on the bed of suffering, and in ten days, brain 
fever had executed its commission, and the pilgrim was at rest. 
This languishing head is at rest, 

Its thinking and aching are o'er; 
This quiet immovable breast 
Is heaved by affliction no more. 

Todmordetif Nov, 3, 1856. 



REVIEW AND CRITICISM. 

Voices of Many Wate%s, By Rev. T. W. Aveling* Second 
Edition. Revised and Corrected. London : John Snow, Pater- 
noster-row. 

This is the title of a very agreeable and instructive book of 
Travels from the pen of the Rev. T. W. Aveling, a minister of cou- 



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Review and Criticism. 29 

siderable rank in the Nonconformist Body. Sickness, it appears, 
obliged the excellent Author to desist for some months from the 
labonrs of the Pulpit, and to go in quest of health through the lands 
watered hj the Tiber, the Jordan, and the Nile. The present pub- 
lication is the result of observations made bj this gifled individual, 
while sojourning amid the ruins of ancient empires, on the banks of 
tbese rivers. He supplies us with Shadows of the Past, Sketches of 
the Present, and Dawnings of the Future, in relation to some of the 
most charming countries on the face of the earth. His accurate 
pencil has sketched Switzerland, Italy, Naples, and Sicily ; Malta, 
Egypt, and the Holy Land. At one time, our Author conducts us 
along the Plains of Lombardy. whose dead level for miles and miles 
is only broken by the capaniles of its beautiful churches. At an- 
other, he leads us through the streets of Rome, suggesting to us, as 
we pass along, the amazing contrast that obtains between their pre- 
sent lifelessness with the bustle and activity which prevailed when 
ancient Rome 

" Kept the world awake with lustre and with noise." 

We are not long in the imperial city before he conducts as over the 
dust of Empire up the ascent to the Vatican. Here we are taken at 
one time to the Cortile di Belvidere, with its chambers filled with the 
chief gems of the Vatican. At another, to the Laocoon, so wonderful 
in expression, that some regarding it in a merely artistic view, have 
preferred it to the Apollo Belvidere. Next, he introduces us to the 
Etruscan Room, with its sarcophagi — its fac similes of Etruscan 
tombs, its suspended Vases and other vessels once used as receptacles 
of the dead, and its bracelets, armlets, necklaces, broaches and ear- 
ings of gold, — the treasured vestiges of Etruscan splendour. He 
introduces us to the Pantheon, the Castle of St. Angelo, and St. 
Peter's ; he takes us to the Capitol, whence we behold the Modern 
City — ^whence objects already viewed are seen with increased interest 
in the distance : '^ the long line of the Corso dividing it into two 
parts, with the Antoniac column mid-way between us and the Porta 
del Popolo, which terminates the street. From hence, we gaze on 
the Appen nines. After the eye has swept along the chain of moun- 
tains southward, in the direction of Albano, passing Tivoli, Palnes- 
trina and Frascati, it takes in the wide expanse of the Campagna, 
crossed and re crossed by long lines of aqueducts, running from the 
mountains up to the walls of the city, and marked here and there 
by tombs in the Appian way. Inside the Porta San Giovanna are 
seen the turrets of St. John Lateran ; nearer still the magnificent 
Coliseum and the arches of Constantino and Titus, while at our feet 
on the South-east lies the whole space of the Forum, with its few 
but glorious remains. The eye then passes in succession to the 
Baths of Caracalla, and the Palace of the CaBsars, and glancing 
along the brow of the Janiculum, finally rests on the dome of St. 
Peter's and the Castle of St. Angelo." From the Capitol he takes 
us to the Tarpeian rock, and thence descending towards the Fo- 
rum to a group of ruins below the Capitol. Here we behold 



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30 Review and Criticism. 

the Arch of Severus — ^the Church of St. Joseph, and the Mamertine , 
Prisons — two chambers hewn out of the solid rock, lined with un- 
cemented stones, and evidently of great antiquity. Mr. A. says 
in respect of these prisons : — " Of course, a place like this is devoutly 
believed to have been honoured by the imprisonment of St. Peter, 
and the pillar to which he was chained is shown ; as also the plaee 
where a fountain sprung out miraculously to enable him to baptize hia 
jailor. Unfortunately for this legend, there is not the slightest 
reliable evidence that Peter ever was at Borne, Paul was there, we 
know, and probably in this very prison ; but he would not sufficiently 
suit Roman Catholic exigencies." His description of Rome is lively 
and charming in a very high degree. The life-like character of the inci- 
dents and the rapid march of the narrative, combined with the historic 
interest associated with all the descriptions of Italy and the other lands 
named, throw a peculiar charm over this book of Travels, no matter 
whether the incidents occur in the Desert, or the scenes are laid on the 
banks of the Tiber, the Jordan, and the Nile. We have only space for 
two or three selections, and we proceed at once to bring them under 
the notice of our readers. The first is from a chapter entitled — 

PAUL ON MAKS' HILL. 

If a scholar had been asked in Paurs days, where, among ancient people, 
learning had enthroned itself in the highest places, and men most cele- 
brated for their intellectual prowess were to be found, he would have 
pointed to Athens ; — a city that was supposed to be under the special 
tutelage of Minerva, the Goddess of Wisdom. There the halls of science, 
and the schools of philosophy, were thronged with the youth of many 
countries, who, drawn by the fame of their teachers, had traversed seas and 
lands, to sit at their feet, and catch from their lips the priceless instructions 
of profound knowledge and rich experience. Sages, historians, orators, 
poets, congregated there, as to the metropolis of thought, and poured forth 
the dazzling effusion of genius ; bringing up from the mines of wisdom, 
precious ores, wherewith to enrich the world, and flin^ng over all the 
subjects they touched, the glowing hues that radiate from imperial imagina^ 
tions ; kindling in the souls of their auditors, rapture and awe ; awakening 
the highest conception of the powers of the mind ; and proving how in* 
finitely the spiritual in man excels the physical, and that while the latter 
is bounded by invisible chains, and moves within prescribed and impassable 
limits, the soul spurns them all ; leaping over the barriers of time and 
space ; careering with unfettered wing through the universe j scanning 
with inquisitive eye, all objects ; and only pausing in its bold and rapid 
flight, when it attempts to find out God. - 

They were surrounded by a thousand objects that were calculated to 
awaken the loftiest emotions. The infinite depths of the blue, cloudless 
heavens, that overshadowed them ; their own glorious land that stretched 
around them, in mingled magnificence and beauty, kissed bjr the ever-em- 
bracing sea ; a thousand spots baptizing with thrilling associations ; not a 
stream that had not been immortalized in poetry, nor a grove, whose name 
was not redolent with some enchanting remembrances ; here a place where 
liberty had successfully contended wiSi despotism ; there a hill, a rock, a 
mountain, supposed to be the chosen haunts of the gods, who were esteemed 
the friends and watchful guardians of Athens or of Greece ; all these 
breathed inspiration into the soul of the bard, the warrior, and the sage. 

Yet here, where mind had so wonderfully displayed its power, and 
achieved such splendid triumphs; within sight of the- Academia, where 



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Review and Criticism, 31 

Plato had tanght his divine lore ; and of the Agora, where Socrates had 
uttered words of wondrous wisdom to the listening and idolising youth o^ 
his heloved city; close to the Lyceum, where Aristotle had lectured to 
admiring disciples; and the Bema, whence Demosthenes had harangued 
the multitude, in burning words that quicken men's souls even at this 
far-distant time ; an obscure stranger, whose name had never been heard 
in that polite and learned city — alone, and unbefriended, boldly charges 
the ascendants of these illustrious men with ignorance, profound and affect* 
ing, upon a subject of all others the most vitally important. They knew 
not God ; and without a knowledge of Him, however profound their wis- 
dom, all was of little value. Learning, without this divine lore, may be 
beautiful as the moonlight radiance ; but, like that, it is destitute of warmth 
and vitality. It may illuminate the intellect, but it cannot act and react 
upon the priceless soul within. Led by the Divine hand, the great Apostle 
of the Gentiles had left Berea, a city of Macedonia, and come to Athens. 
There, waiting for Silas and Timotheus, his two companions in travel and 
labour, he wandered through the streets of this renowned city ; a place, 
which, to a man of his acquirements and habitudes of thought, could not 
fail to be attractive. Though the teacher of a nobler wisdom than Athens 
had yet kno^n, he could not be unmindful of the fact, that some of the 
glorious master-spirits, which had hitherto ruled the world of mind, had 
taught there ; and made memorable the garden, the portico, and the banks 
of the stream along which he walked. '' But his spirit was stirred in him^ 
when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry." 

Temples to the deities they delighted most to honour, were found on all 
sides ; the glittering marble columns of some, rising in lofty magnificence 
upon and around uie Acropolis, crowned — as hill never before nor since 
has been crowned — with buildings, which were the very perfection of art, 
and worthy of the admiration of all ages ; and some gleaming within 
olive groves, that waved white in the sunbeams, and echoing the low 
music of the ripplings of the Ilissus. Altars sprung up at almost every 
step, dedicated to some of their thirty thousand deities; while for the 
living and true God, neither temple rose, nor altar flamed, nor priest 
appeared, to demand men's homage, and solicit their love. Of Him they 
livid in profound ignorance. He was not in all their thoughts. ''The 
world by wisdom knew not God." Though heaven and earth spake of 
Him, they understood not their language ; the Divine voice was lost in 
the Babel sounds that were floating around them. 

No wonder the heart of Paul beat with the tenderest compassion for those 
he met. Intellectual dignity was stamped upon their brow ; they trod the 
earth with the step of men who understood liberty, and knew its priceless 
worth ; men who had a history of which they might be proud ; men who had 
done all that mortal unassisted mind can do, to free the soul from fetters, 
and teach it to use its godlike faculties aright, and on fitting themes ; and 
yet they were the bond-slaves of a degrading superstition; they were 
terribly, torturingly ignorant of the highest truth : they knew not GoD. 
Around them, and above them, were signs and wonders. Order, beauty, 
adaptation, and harmony, were visible to the material universe. They 
gazed, awed, and delighted ; but no voice told them of Him, who formed 
and regulated all things for His own glory. The spell of ignorance was 
upon them ; and as yet no one had appeared to dissolve it, and bless the 
struegling spirit with freedom. Life was a mystery ; they were a mystery 
to themselves; and the key to both had not yet been discovered. They 
knew not whence they were, nor whither they were going. Dim, deepening 
shadows hung around the past ; and a darker, deeper gloom covered the 
future. 

Among any men, the existence of such a state of things was to be de« 



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32 'Review and Criticism. 

plored; among the Athenians, especially so. The Barbarians sat en- 
sconced in sensualism, that deprecated disturbance; but the Greeks had 
risen to a realization of the higher enjoyment that springs from mental 
activity. They had striven to emancipate themselves from spiritual dark- 
ness, but their chains were too iirmly riveted ; they struggled after light, 
but were still enveloped in gloom ; they had groped after Truth, if haply 
they might find her ; but although often near her temple, they failed to find 
the door of entrance ; and the echoes of her voice, that from time to time 
reached their ears, only added to their perplexity. The Apostle's soul 
yearned over them. He had, probably, known the thirstings after know- 
ledge, which had not been satisfied ; the eager intense longings after some 
clue to the explanation of mysteries, which yet remained involved in 
obscurity ; and he could thus sympathize with them in tJieir ignorance 
of the most solemn and necessary truths. 

With what a thrill of joy, therefore, must he have embraced the occasion 
presented to him by the invitation of some of the Athenian philosophers 
for expounding the great, yet simple truths of revealed religion. Now 
would a voice be heard, that should arouse men from the slumber of ages ; 
now declarations be made that should revolutionize tbeir modes of thought ; 
rays of light be flung upon the objects of external nature, which should 
invest them with additional interest and beautv ; while the world within 
their hearts should be revealed in all its wondrous features; and heights 
and depths be unveiled, of the existence of which they had never before 
conceived ; all tending to lead men from the deification of self to f6el the 
lowest humility and self-abasement, and to turn them from " Gods many, 
and Lords many," to bow with the profoundest adoration, before the ** King^ 
eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God.** 

The other is a passage on the interest associated with those cele- 
brated rivers of the ancient world — 

THE KILE; TBB JORDAN; AKD THE TIBER. 

The lands of the Tiber, the Jordan, and the Nile, are invested with a 
deep and undying interest, as the ^enes of the most striking events that 
have ever occurred in the history of the world. The very names of these 
rivers, as they float around us in sacred or classic song, or greet the ear 
in the less impassioned tones of the historian, have a charm to which the 
soul of the scholar, the antic^narian, or the Christian, yields with delight ; 
and call up a host of such mingled and startling associations as belong to 
no other streams within the eastern or western hemisphere. The reflec- 
tive traveller, as he wanders along their banks, hears, in the murmurs of 
their glancing waters, living voices that seem to proclaim incessantly to 
the world the mighty and imperishable deeds of which they have been 
witnesses, and that have attracted to the countries through which they 
flow, the attention of every student of history. A rapid glance at these 
three rivers— not in the geographical order in which they are found, with 
respect to this country, but according to the antiquity of their recorded 
history, may not be an unfitting prelude to the details that follow. 

In ascending the Nile, we advance towards the primeval course of 
civilization and government ; light upon the first schools of science and 
art, and discover one of the chief birthplaces of the religions of men. 
There we reach the most ancient seats of JPolytheism, and enter the very 
aditum of the temple, whence issued most of the gods that Greece and 
Rome in after ages adored. Standing before the pyramids of the desert 
and the temples of Upper Egypt, a shadowy procession of priests and 
"^kings— the cunning and the strong — passes before us ; with an iunumier- 



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Sitiew and Criiietsm, 33 

able mulUtttde of people chained to the chariots of their rulers, and by 
force or fraud made to minister to their lust of power. 

Those gigantic structures— which form such prominent objects in the 
landscape, as the voyager sails along the river, and which seem to bid 
defiance to the hand of time, and to that of a still ^eater spoiler— man, — 
while they proclaim, with trumpet-tongue, the bold and grand conceptions 
of their founders, speak also of the utter disregard of princes for their 
people ; and are but mighty monuments of a lofty ambition, that, vaulting 
into high places, cared not how many were overthrown by its movements, 
how many homes were made desolate, or living hearts crushed. While in 
musing amid the ruins of some of the most magDificent temples the world 
ever saw, and tracing the sculptured similitudes of other days, one is irre- 
sistibly compelled to recognize the appalling truth of the sacred writer, 
that " the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty ; " 
and that when men " change the glory of the incorruptible Qod into an 
image like to corruptible men, and to birds, and to four-footed beasts, and 
creeping things, God will give them up to uncleanness, through the lusts of 
their own hearts." The records of ancient Egyptian life, as they come 
before us in temple and tomb, are among the most painful and instructive 
confirmations of the scrupulous verity of the Holy Scriptures. The 
different phases of social existence, that presented tnemselves from the 
times of the Pharoahs to the Ptolemy s, and from these to the more modem 
Turk, have left their traces, not merely in the sculptured and painted me- 
morials of the past, but in the seemingly inefi&ceable chaoracteristics, 
mental and physical, which are reflected in the appearance, the habits, 
and thoughts of the present generation. The same remark applies to other 
lands of the £ast as well as to Egypt ; the stereotjrped character of the 
people and their customs being one of the most marked peculiarities of 
oriental countries, which thus present living commentaries upon that 
grandest record of Eastern persons and manners— the Bible. 

We pass from the Nile, and after crossing the arid desert, over which 
once moved the mystic pUlar of cloud and fire, and along whose bosom 
flowed the miraculous rock-bom stream, and traversing the ragged 
mountain-path of Judea, find ourselves on the banks of the Jordan, among 
a different race of people, and amid other and more agreeable aspects of 
the physical creation. There every spot has its tale of wonder ; every 
valley or hill claims to be the scene of some miracle of mercy or judgment ; 
and all speak of a land that has been the abode of a wonderful nation, and 
that has witnessed a more extraordinary state of things than Egypt ever 
knew. There existed a true theocracy, God becoming to men Ruler, Guide, 
and Guard; the people dwelling under a government based upon the 
highest principle; every law emanating direct from Jehovah himselfl 
"Thy land, O Immanitbl!" — Angels' feet have trodden its soil : over its 
plains the audible harmonies of heaven have rolled ; while on its winds, 
for many generations, have been borne the voices of inspired prophets, 
announcing their message from God to man. Above all, there dwelt and 
taught the Incarnate One — ''God manifest in the flesh;" breathing 
around him the influences of heaven, rebuking guilt by his purity, irre- 
liglon by his piety, selfishness by his self-denial, and hypocrisy by his 
transparent honesty ; lightening the burdens of humanity by words of 
flfympathy and deeds of goodness ; kindling in the souls of men a new and 
glorious life, and waking up their slumbering powers to an imitation of 
himself— a display of the godlike in spirit, temper, heart, and life. Here, 
too, yet again, are wondrous events to transpire. The soberest inter- 
preters of prophecy are constrained to lay their finger on the place which 
Syria occupies in the map of the world as the spot where occurrences of a 
most extraordinary character are yet to be seen, and thus the prophetic 



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34 Rmew £Md Criiieiim* 

future^ as well as the wondrotur past) iavesta that land with an intercBt 
that does not attach iteelf to any other country nnder heaven. 

Again, we pass onward, and crossing that "great and wide sea,** of which 
David sang, and whose historical importance distinguishes it above all 
others on the face of the globe, we reach the European shores, and light on 
a people whose name is a synonyme for valour and strength ; who, on the 
banks of the Tiber, reared so mighty a system of government^ and so 
widelv extended their empire that never until the days in which we now 
live, did the world witness aught that was paralleL There was nurtured 
a patriotism so stem, that even the gentlest and holiest emotions of our 
common nature were made to bow to its dictates, and Homan honour and 
justice became a proverb^ as well and widely understood as Roman valour 
had made itself Miown. Here, too, were kindled many of the most glo- 
rious lights of the intellectual world, that shone with a full and brilliant 
lustre, at a time when our British forefathers were rearing their rude huts 
in the shadow of mighty forests, and oflfering human victims on Druidical 
altars. Poetry, philosophy, oratory, found a home within the circle of the 
seven hills on the banks of the Tiber, and— so widely had their influence 
spread — were honoured as much in the house of the plebeian as in the 
palace of the patrician. As Athens fell. Home arose ; the sun that was 
partly set on the Acropolis^ continued to shine in full splendour on the 
Capitol ; and Cicero in the lorum, Yirgil at Oaosar's board, and Seneca in 
the household of Nero, were to Home what Demosthenes, pouring forth his 
burning words and electrifying an Athenian audience; Homer, singmg his 
wild and wondrous lays to Grecian leaders and princes ; and Plato, dis- 
coursing in the shadow of the temples, or wandering in the groves of 
Academus, on the banks of the Ilyssus, — had been to its more ancient 
rival. ** Italia I too, Italia I looking on thee. 

Full flashes on the soul the light of ages. 

Since the fierce C&rthaginian almost won theb. 

To the last halo of the chiefs and sages. 

Who glorify thy consecrated pages ; 

Thou wert the throne and grave of ei^pii«s ; still 

The fount at which the panting mind assuages 

The thirst of knowledge, quaffing there her fill. 

Flows from the eternal source of Rome*s imperial hill." 

What student of history has not cherished the desire to walk and muse 
by these mighty streams ? to stand upon the spots which have been dis- 
tinguished by heroic deeds, or consecrated to religious worship ? to gaze 
upon the stupendous ruins of palaces, temples, and pyramids, that are even 
now regarded as the marvels of human skill,-- and which) almost coeval 
with the birth of nations, have witnessed the march of thirty centuries ? to 
become familiar with the scenes that have been immortalized by the pen 
of the historian or the poet 1 and most of all to tread in the footprints of 
the Divine Kedeemer, who, when veiling his essential glory, walked among 
men in the land which he hallowed by his presence and baptized by hia 
tears? 

Such desires I had often cherished, and circumstances unexpectedly 
led to their realization. The reeord of what was seen and felt during a 
sojourn of nine months in Italy, Egypt, and the Holy Land, is given in the 
following pages, and the reader is Invited to wander along with me and 
listen to the echoes of the past, and the utterances of the present, as they 
greet the contemplative traveller in the " Voices of Han't Waters." 

We take leave of our Author with sincere regret. His volume is 
one of the most refreshing Books of Travel it was our fortune ever 
to fall in with. " The Voices of Many Waters " that will long sur- 
vive to kindle new interest in inquiring minds. 



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Beview <mi CrUteum. 46 

TkB Bards tf EpworA. Londoii : HbtXiIN, 2^^^ Patemostor^ow. 

This is the title of a volume of poetic gems from the Weiley 
Cabinet. The Authors are the Revds. S. Weslej, semr., M.A., S. 
Wesley, jun., M.A., Charles Wesley, M.A„ John Wesley, M.A., and 
IVliss Mehetabel Wesley. These compositions comprehend great vaiietj 
of subject, and many of them are of more than ordinary merit. Take 
as an example that from the pen of Charles Wesley^ on 

THE SOCJL. 

If for a world a soul be lost, 

Who can the loss supply? 
More than a thousand worlds it cost, 

One single soul to buy. 

Take also the following from the pen of Mehetabel Wesley (Mrs. 
Wright), entitled 

A mother's address to a dying infant. 

Tender softness t infiEmtmild! 
Perfect, purest, brightest child ! 
Transient lustre ! Mauteous clay ! 
Smiling wonder of a day ! 
Ere the last conyulsive start, 
Rends thy unresisting heart ; 
Ere the lon^ enduring swoon 
Weighs thy precious eyelids down. 
Oh, regard a mother's moan, 
Anguish deeper than thine own. 

Fairest eyes whose dawning light, 
Late with rapture blest my sight, 
Ere your orbs extinguished be, 
Bend their trembling beams on me ! 
Drooping sweetness ! verdant flower I 
Blooming, withering, in an hour ! 
Ere thy gentle breast sustains. 
Latest, fiercest, mortal pains, 
Hear a suppliant ! let me be 
Partner in thy destiny ! 
That whene'er the fatal cloud 
Must thy radiant temples shroud ; 
When deadly damps impending now. 
Shall hover round thy destined brow, 
DiflFusive may their influence be, 
And with the blossmn blast the ti'ee / 

The reader will be interested in the perusal of this Book of Grems. 

7%e Unity of the Faith. London : Johnt Snow, Patemoster-row. 

A very excellent work which finds, the Unity of the Faith in Christ, as 
tbe mam^tation of God in all ages. Seldom has an author compressed 
into smaller space a larger amount of essential truth than this volume 
contains. 

The Piotis Hawker. London : Hetlin, 28, Paternoster-row. 

This little work contains a Bio^phical Sketch of John Horsely, late of 
Nottingham. The history of this devoted man is singularly illustrative of 

J> 2 



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36 Review and Criticism, 

the power of Blyine grace in the hnmblest walks of life. To the spiritnal- 
minded reader it wiU be found to be an interesting and truly yaluable pro- 
duction. 

Christian Union. London: Wertheim and Macintosh, 24, 
Paternoster-row. 

A Tract on Christ's last prayer, as recorded in the 17th chapter of John 
and the contrast between the present aspect of the Church, and the state 
of things therein desired. This is a yery seasonable publication, but the 
author wiU be thought by most persons to inyeigh too much against the 
present condition of the Church. 

The Brother Born for Adversity, London : John Snow, Pater- 
noster-row. 

This excellent book attempts to trace out the similarity of the Saviour's 
sorrows and sufferings to those of his followers, and the adaptation of the 
truth and grace of Christ to all the circumstances of God*s people. The 
greater part of this little work appeared originally in the columns of the 
" Witness," and excited so much interest among its readers as to induce the 
republication with additions in the present form. Seldom have we seen a 
publication more adapted to minister consolation to the distressed believer 
than " the Brother Born for Adversity." 

Notes on Original Words, London: D. F. Oaket, 10, Pater- 
noster-row. 

The above is the title of a publication of Philological Arguments, ad- 
dressed to Bible students especially. The work appears anonymously, 
but it is obviously the production of a person of some attainments. It 
will be read by the Bible student with interest. 

Suggestions for Christian Union, London : D. F, Oaket, 10, 
Paternoster- row. 

Such is the designation of a work from the Minister of the Church of Eng- 
land, which is devoted to the promotion of union among the various sects 
of professing Christians in this country. The object of the amiable Author 
will command the approval of Christians generally, though they may have 
small hopes of his success. 

Jesus Revealing the Heart of God. Edinburgh : Thos. C. Jack. 
London : James Nisbet and Co. 

This is a Reprint from the " Quiet Hours " by the Rev. John Pulsford. 
It is an eminently pious and useful little volume. 

The Image of the Invisible God, London : D. A. Oaket, Pater- 
noster-row. 

A work in which the life of Christ is viewed in relation to the promise, 
that the saints shall be partakers of the Divine nature. 

The Electro-Chemical Bath. By J. J. Caplin, M.D. London : 
Freeman, Fleet-street. 

This is a brief treatise on what is believed by its author to be a great 
discovery in the healing art Two things have engaged the special atten- 



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Short Sermon upon Diotrephes. 87 

tion of its learned author. First, the nature of the Electro-Chemical Bath, 
and its operation on the human organism, and secondly, the practical test 
of his means as demonstrated on Uie patients who have had treatment in 
the Bath. The work deserves the attention of the public. 

The Controversy, What results f London : Fjieemax, Fleet-street. 

This is a Tract written with considerable ability by John Little, B.A., on 
the subject of " the Controversy,*' now prevailing in the Independent Body. 
In common with most persons we deplore the necessity for such a publica- 
tion. 

PUBLICATIONS KECEIVED. 

The Burning Spirit. London: Cooke, Warwick Lane. 
Memoir of Hutton. London : Hamilton, Adams, and Co. 
Grammar, by W. ^iug' London : Houlston and Stoneman. 
One Hundred Psalm Tunes, by W. S. Young. London : Sunday-school 
Union. 



SHORT SERMON UPON DIOTREPHES. 

" I wrote unto the church ; but Diotrephes, who loved to have the pre- 
eminence among them, received us not." — (3 John 9.) 

Macknight's translation reads, '^ I should have written," &c. Either 
translation sufficiently shows us the mischievous influence of this ambitious 
spirit in the church. 

In one case, he prevented an inspired apostle from sending the church 
a letter. In the other he nullified the letter actually sent. 

DocTRiiTB. — Many a minister's labours are nullified by a Diotrephes in 
his church. 

L I will first show you who is not a Diotrephes. 

1. Not he whose godly walk and conversation secures for him the 
entire confidence of the brethren, and thus gives him great influence. 

2. Nor he whose talents and education necessarily make him a man of 
influence. 

3. Nor he whose well-known and oft proved wisdom and prudence make 
him much sought unto in counsel 

These men generally do not seek influence. It is unavoidable. It 
follows them as their shadow. 

II. I proceed, in the second place, to show who Diotrephes is. 

1. Sometimes he is a man who never had his will broken. As a child, 
he expected the whole household to give way to him^ As a church 
member he expects the household of Christ to give way to him. He is 
wUfnl and heaastrong ; often as unreasonable as a mere animal. 

2. Sometimes he is a man of wealth. His riches give him authority in 
the world, and he takes it for granted they ought to do so in the church. 
He cannot at all comprehend the idea that the vote and opinion of his poor 
brother are worth as much as his own. He is verily persuaded that 
because he had^been a great worldling, and scraped together much wealth, 
the household of Christ ought to defer to him. 

3. Sometimes he is a man of some learning and much volubility, who 
fancies that his capacity ought to cive his 'opinion authority. 

III. In the third place, I proceed to seti forth Diotrephes in action. If 
the minister do not take him for counsellor, he is his enemy. His 
preaching is not right. His measures are not right. '<His usefulness 
IS at an end." In questions of policy in the church, he never suspects that . 
there are others whose opinions should carry as much weight as his own. 



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S8 Ambition. 

The will of the majority is no rule for him. With every movement 
does he find fault, unless he originated it. 
IV. In the next place, I remark on Diotrephes' character. 

1. He is very unlike Christ, who was meek and lowly, 

2. He is very forgetful of the word, " Let each esteem others better than 
himself." 

3. He is against that equality which Christ established in his church. 

FBACnCAIi OBSSRVATIONS. 

1. Diotrephes is most of the time in trouble ; always looking for deference, 
he is seldom likely to get it. 

2. The church can take no surer road to trouble than to give way to 
Diotrephes. 

3. Diotrephes will scarce be the friend of the minister. The natural 
influence of the religious teacher disturbs him. 

4. It is best for the hearer to look for Diotrephes in his own pew. 
Perhaps he may find him in his own seat. 



AMBITION. 

The various faculties, and feelings of man, are beautifhlly adapted to 
each other. His vast intellect enables him to discover in, and obtam from 
Nature's bounteous store, the food upon which he may ^row, and the deli- 
cacies upon which he may luxuriate. But their qualities could not be 
appreciated by man, if he possessed moral and intellectual faculties only. 
Had he no appetite, he would never desire to taste the fruits which cluster 
so profusely around him. And even if he did, he could not enjoy them, 
unless he had a palate to relish their sweetness. But in man's intellect and 
heart, faculties, and feelings, co-exist, and may, and naturally do co-operate. 
When his eye rests upon beauty — his enamoured heart beats high with admi- 
ration. When a labyrinth is presented, — he is impatient to explore its intri- 
cate windings. When he perceives aught superior to or beyond himself — ^he 
aspires, he is ambitious, to reach, to obtain it. 

There is a general prejudice against ambition. Many great evils are 
described, as its natural and necessarv developements. Some assert that 
it is incompatible with the first essential to happiness— contentment ; some 
contend that, leading its victim to grasp at objects too high, too mighty, to 
be obtained, it urges nim up to the fatal ascent, till, blinded by his Utopian 
fancy, he falls headlong into the gulf of ruin and despair ; while others 
point out as its natural results, international encroachments, wars, slavery, 
and human degradation. Ambition is not the cause of the evils, thus in- 
stanced ; for it is not a guiding^ but an impelling power. It exerts the same 
force, whether pursuing a good or an evil object. Judgment, — enlightened 
by revelation, and quickened by conscience — is the pilot which should deter- 
mine the course. When the proper pilot is supplanted, a wrong course is 
pursued, and disastrous effects ensue. And thus, although the mind may 
sometimes be fearfully engulphed, in the whirlpool of error and crime, yet it is 
not, strictly speaking, caused by ambition, — for the same mind would have 
been impelled with an equal impetus, into the haven of virtue and truth. 

Ambition depends upon imagmation. From the experience of the past — 
its successive stages to the present,— its gradual transitions from utter igno- 
rance to various degrees of knowledge, — are collected those inferences, by 
which the imagination is equipped for its journey into the future, to dis- 
cover better and brighter regions. To this it is prompted by ambition, 
which is never satisfied Vfith what is already possessed. It contmudly ini« 

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Ambition* 89 

pelis to something new. It seems as if lured onward by some invisible 
attraction, — some perfect beauhr in some ethereal region, — ^immeasurably 
distant in the future. Let tne thoughts be concentrated upon things 
present— endeavour but to enlist imagination in some affair of time- 
serving expediency — and ambition will cause throbbings, feeble at 
first, as though it were longing to approach some celestial choir, by whose 
thrilling melody it is enraptured ; the impatience will increase as its wak- 
ening ear rings more and more with the exciting music, until, break- 
ing through all resistance, it drives forward its necessary companion, 
imagination, to prosecute its natural exploration. So great is the mutual 
affinity, and love of these two powers, that they become moulded into one 
—inseparable in operation and success. With these in a healthy condition, 
man cannot stand still. They are the originators, and the pioneers of pro- 
gress. They continually force him onward and upward. When unrestrain- 
ed and uncorrupted, they soon pass from the dull swamps of mortal 
corporealities, to those genial and fruitful regions, where knowledge is sought 
for its own sake, and good pursued because it is right. The sensual de- 
lights, the vanities, and expediences of this grovelling world, are things, 
too confined, too mean, too fleeting, for an healthy ambition. It longs to 
rove through the universe ; it would pine away, were it limited to one point 
of existence. It attaches itself to that which is noblest and brightest. It 
passes with disdain the highest eminences attained by the greatest heroes 
of tMs lower world ; and aspires to stand upon the highest summit of the 
heavenly mountains. It passed the bounds of time, in the first stage of its 
existence, and is now drinking from eternal fountains. The knowledge 
it seeks out and imbibes, the principles it embraces, the holiness it attains, 
serve only to give keenness to its appetite, and enlargement to its capacity. 
Its visionary landscape not only lengthens but widens. It not only becomes 
more intense, but more diverse. Its progressive capacity can be satisfac- 
torily supplied only from infinite plenitude, and boundless variety. In each 
succeeding stage of life, the loftiest apex, the brightest spot, the loveliest 
demesne, appear to be perfection itself; but ere they can be reached, the 
veil which obstructed its extended prospect is removed, disclosing summits 
so transcendent, centres radiating such effulgent glory, that the former 
gradually dwindle into complete insignificance. Ambition, then, is essen- 
tially prospective, naturally exalted, infinitely diverse, insatiable, and 
progressive. It developes every other glory j and b itself the crowning 
glory of the mind. 

To what objects, then, should it be directed ? What will most promote 
its pure, and free action ? We answer, Wisdom and Holiness ; for they alone 
require the full operation, and procure the utmost and progressive develop- 
ment of man's noblest and most enduring — his moral and intellectual— 
powers. All other objects are unworthy its natural dignity, degrading to 
its aspiring character. When confined to the sterile soil of earth it be- 
comes weak, shrivelled, and noxious, but in its native soil, it thrives in im- 
mortal vigour ; and nourished by the ** dew of Paradise," grows in majesty 
and beauty, a plant mystic, and immortal. i 

Ambition, rightly directed, is perfectly compatible with contentment' 
Not with that false contentment, which leads one to indulge in sloth, but 
that which proceeds from self-approval, satisfying realization, and confident 
anticipation — that which results from calm security, and conscious 
power. 

The great mistake of mankind has been, and still is, the directing of am-* 
bition to secondary objects, pursuing what is but a means or an instrument* 
as though it were the end. Hence many have become prejudiced against it. 
I^ng has it been smothered beneath the depae and accumulated masses of 
sensuality and selfishness ; but, like a hidden fire, it has been spreading 



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40 Tke Casket 

nlentlj and rarely ; its penetrating flames are sei^n in that gradual elevation 
of the puhlic mind, and amelioration of the human heart, which prognosti- 
cate some mighty outburst, some renewing conflagration, which shall con- 
sume every evil and error in the world, and purify it, till it becomes the 
abode of freedom and love.* 



THE CA.SKET. 

THE ELWATION OT WOHAK. 

There are some parts of Siberia where a traveller ia as likely to lose his 
way as if he were upon the sea, but a guide has been provided for man, 
when one is required, even amid those pathless wilds. There is a little 
plant which grows upon the stems and .branches of trees ; and as it is 
always found on the north side, where moisture is most abundant, those 
who are acquainted with that fact can use it as a chart. The traveller can 
thus find his way amid diflicuties which might baffle the instincts even of 
an American savage ; and He whose goodness and wisdom are alike illimit- 
able, is found to have provided for our safety where our own strength, 
would be only weakness, and our own wisdom folly. 

And in the same way has the great Creator planted a guide in the heart 
of society, such as might largely influence it for good, and prove a 
preservative against many perils, were it properly employed. We refer to 
the influence of woman,— man's original help and second self. Trained as 
she was at first for present monotony and loneliness even in Eden, she has 
continued, from the dawn of creation till now, largely to influence the 
destinies of man. In her proper sphere, she has proved heaven's richest 
blessing : out of it, she has been man*s heaviest woe. 

We accordingly find that her position may be viewed as the barometer 
of society ; we can thereby measure its elevation or depression. Is woman 
degraded below her proper position, and made only the slave or menial 
of man ? Do we see her, as in the domains of paganism, a mere hewer 
of wood and drawer of water ; or the favourite of an hour, to be speedily 
discarded and despised ? Is she the murderer of her little ones, as once 
in the South Sea Islands ; or obliged by a horrid custom, to expire amid 
the flames of her husband's funeral pile, as sometimes still in India ? Is 
she in short treated like a soulless slave in the harem, or a beast of the 
forest ? Then man is there found to be degenerate and corrupt, possessing 
in some respects, perhaps, certain of the properties which prevail among 
the lower animals, such as courage, cunning, and strength ; but devoid of 
all that is exalting to an immortal being— at once depraved and depraving. 
By this perverting his choicest blessing, man turns it into a curse, and 
that re-acts upom him with a terrible force. In Eussia, for instance, 
where woman has been for centuries degraded to the rank of a chattel, 
some have arisen to take ample revenge upon man. Monsters of ferocity 
have there appeared in female form, while the morals of not a few, even 
among the titled and the courtly, are described by men who are neither 
iprinces nor puritans, as exhibiting "such crimes, such excesses, and so 
great turpitude, that a reader should shudder at the bare recital." 

But on the other hand, is woman placed where the Father of all designed 
her to be 1 Has she a position neither of degrading bondage, nor of 
usurped supremacy, but just where God has placed her ; that is side by 
side with man, as his helpmeet ? Then society is sound, for influences 
which both sweeten and hallow it are there at work. 

* We know the Author of this Paper to be a young man of considerable merit, but 
his style displays vastly too much of the principle of which he writes. His sentences 
require to be much more condensed.-^J^enVor, 



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The. Casket. 41 

Nor is this wonderful. God has placed the highest influence that is known 
upon earth in the hands of. woman. No monarch's sceptre — no human 
laws — ^no course of discipline ; though stern and severe as that of La 
Trappe, can accomplish what she can achieve, ^mong the savage and the 
civilized alike, she wields a plastic power ov er man's heart, and therefore 
over man's destiny, — a power which is appalling when exerted on the side 
of evil, but beneficent as the very dew of heaven when put forth on the 
side of good. It is not too much to say, that as evil entered the world by 
woman, she will be found intimately connected with its continuance, in its 
worst forms and its infinite diversity ; but neither is it too much to say, 
as has been said, that as the Saviour was born of a woman, so that she 
hecame the occasion of ten thousand blessings through him, her influence 
for good whenever it is exerted aright, is not less than her influence 
form. 

The history, of the world contains proofs enough of this. The sleepless 
vigils, the self sacrifices and devotion of woman at the bidding of affection, 
are such as to elevate our conceptions of the grandeur of our race, she lives 
mainly to comfort, and feels her mission only half accomplished unless she 
he so employed. My mother's kiss made me a painter," said Benjamin 
West, wnen referring to an incident in his early youth, and the remark 
manifested his fine appreciation of the truthful, while it also illustrates 
the ascendancy of woman. It proves how true it is that — 

" Mightier far 
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or sway 
Of magic, potent over sun and star, 
As love, though oft in agony distrest. 
And though his feeble feet be feeble woman's breast," 

Dr. Twbbdib. 

not to be envied, after all. 

A while ago we fell in with a person, whose condition would probably be 
regarded by most people as peculiarly enviable ; and yet we had not a whit of 
any such feeling toward him. He held a public office in one of our large 
cities— a quiet and cozy situation for a government official — and said he, **I 
have no wish for the least possible change in my circumstances. I have a 
pleasant family — they are all that heart could wish ; thay are all in 
perfect health, and pleasantly situated ; my own health is equally perfect; my 
income is ample, all my surroundings are agreeable ; and the best wish I 
could utter to the Almighty himself is, that he would let me live for ever just 
as I am ! " 

Think of that. Here was a man so well to do in the world that by his own 
showing, he had not one aspiration beyond it; so well satisfied with his share 
of the comforts and pleasures of this narrow earth, and this present life, that 
he had not a wish for any thing higher and purer and better ; and we may add, 
as indeed would necessarily follow, he had no good hope of anything better. 
The world would call him a happy man ; in a certain sense he was so. Few, 
very few, could say as much as he did, concerning their worldly condition and 
circumstances. And yet, from our heart of hearts we pitied him. We 
were sorry for his very happiness ; for we could not help thinking what the 
word of God says of ** men of the world, who have their portion in this life ;" 
we could not help thinking of such a declaration as "The prosperity of fools 
shall destroy them ; " we could not help thinking of the Saviour's story of the 
rich man and the beggar that was laid at his gate; and as we thought of all 
this, we say again, as we said at the time, we were sorry, deeply sorry, for 
the very happiness of our comfortable and contented worldly friend. We were 
sadly afraid of the probable issue. 

Por, after ail, as be himself understood, his wish could not be granted. 



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42 Th4 Casket. 

Whatever elements of satisfaetion this world can afford, carUinuaMe is not 
one of them. Satisfying though it may seem for the present, it is only for the 
present. " The fashion of the world passeth away,*' and the prayer for an 
abiding portion here is one that God will never answer. Well will it be for 
the prospered man of the world, if he shall seasonably experience enough of 
earth's changes and disappointments, to lead him to seek successfully <* a better 
and an enduring substance." — Christian Secretary, 

ADTICB TO TOCNQ PREACHERS. 

Always remember that a few good sermons, well studied and well delivered, 
will do much more good than many sermons badly conceived and poorly 
delivered. Be deliberate and distinct in your pronunciation; at the same time 
be natural and easy. Communion with God is the mainspring of all 
religious duties, particularly those of the pulpit. 

Neither preach nor pray very loud, remembering that bodily exercise 
profiteth littie. Take care of your health. To do great good, try to live a 
great while. Knowledge makes the preacher; therefore improve every 
opportunity to obtain it. — J)aniel Smith, 

Give me an impressivepess and an excitement that will not allo^v a hearer to 
perceive a fault, or if he does, leaves him in no mind to regard it. And is 
there nothing, if not to applaud, yet to extenuate, in even a mistake, in 
endeavouring to do good to those who are destitute of a thousand advantages, 
and whose condition is such that they must be sought after? We do not 
admire their low and grovelling taste, yea, we wish to raise and improve it ; 
but how is this to be done, if we never approach them ? Can you take up a 
child from the ground without bending? And when kindness makes you 
stoop, honour crowns the condescension. — William Jay, 

HOW TO REMOVE A MINISTER. 

The following exposure of the devices of certain discontented characters 
to be found in most Churches, is taken from the " America^ Presbyterian 
of the West":— 

1. Tell everybody that no minister should stay if any one is opposed to 
him, as he cannot do any good. This is not a Republican, or Presbyterian 
doctrine ; but keep it before the people. 

2. Threaten not to support him if ne stays, and guess that a good many 
others will do more for some other man. True, this is covenant-making, 
but the end sanctifies the means. 

3. Don't be intimidated because your number is small. A very few can 
raise up Satan in any Church by perseverance. Let it be known that you 
never intend to give up until the minister is gone. Wear out the saints 
who are his friends. 

4. Tell lies of him, and repeat the lies of others. Perhaps he will have 
enough of human nature about him to show a little temper and zeal for his 
reputation. If so, then tell how badly such a spirit seems in a minister. 
If by lying and worrying a man, you can drive him away and get a better 
man, will not good come of the evil you have done 1 

5. If you know any neighbouring preacher who is popular* in your church, 
announce that for his labours, you will double your subscription, and get 
as many others as you can to promise the same advance, and give it out that 
there is no doubt but if the people would only speak their minds, such a 
feeling is general in the congregation. 

6. Talk loudly the praises of those who sympathize vrith you ; speak of 
their good judgment, and their liberality ; treat every recruit wiUi con- 
tinued "horns" of flattery, and they will be valiant to the end of the 
war. 



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ITie Casket. 4$ 

7. When you report the census of malcontents, always multiply by two 
or three ; or if not too glaringly false^ by a higher number. 

8. Get some one who has the confidence of the minister, and whom you 
have induced to look at the opposition through your magnifying glass, and 
have a friendly talk with him about the state of things, and advise him for 
his own sake to give up. 

9. Send him a letter, signed by a few, telling him that his usefulness has 
terminated, that he might do good somewhere else, and that you hope he 
may ; that you could have had many more lines on your paper, if you had 
asked them. 

10. Ask for a letter of dismission to join some neighbouring church. 
Hold on to it, and propose to come back, if things can only go to suit you. 

11. Stay away from the prayer-meeting, and take it as your reason of 
absence that the minister utterly fails in giving proper interest to the 
exercises. 

12. Try to destroy all interest in the Sabbath-school j keep your children 
at home, and stay away youraelf; and constantly complain that the 
minister is not doing his duty to the young. 

13. Seldom go to church, except when a stranger is to preach ; and if 
you are at any time obliged to hear the old preacher, show that you can- 
not listen, and try to exhibit such faces and grimaces, as Nathaniel did when 
he said, *^ Oan any good thing come out of Nazareth 1 " 

What a deplorable condition must a Church be in when such methods 
oan be coolly resorted to, and, it is said, such cases abound in American 
Churches. 

ORAOE AKD PEACE. 

God has bequeathed peace to the souls of his people, as be has procured 
for them and made over to them, the spirit of grace and holiness ; which 
has a natural tendency to the peace and quietness of the soul. It has such 
a tendency, as it implies a dJBcovery and relish of a suitable and all-sufficient 
good. It brings a person into a view of divine beauty, and to relish of 
that good which is a man's proper happiness ; and so it brings the soul to 
its true centre. The soul by this means is brought to rest, and ceases from 
restlessly inquiring, as others do, who will show us any good ? and wander- 
ing to and fro, like lost sheep, seeking rest and finding none. The soul 
that hath found Him who is as the apple-tree among the trees of the wood, 
sits down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit is sweet unto 
his taste. And thus is that saying of Christ fulfilled, " Whosoever drinketh 
of the water that I shall give him, shall never thirst." And besides, true 
grace naturally tends to peace and quietness, as it settles things in the 
soul in their due order, sets reason on the throne, and subjects the senses 
and affections to its government — which before were uppermost, and put all 
things into confusion and uproar in the soul, Grace tends to tranquillity — 
as it mortifies tumultuous desires and passions, subdues the eager and 
insatiable appetites of the sensual nature, and greediness after the vanities 
of the world. It mortifies such principles as hatred, variance, emulation, 
wrath, envyings, and the like, which are a continual source of inward un- 
easiness and perturbation ; and supplies those sweet, calming, and quieting 
principles of humility, meekness and resignation, patience, gentleness, 
forgiveness, and sweet reliance on God. It also tends to peace— as it fixes 
the aim of the soul to a certain end, so that the soul is no longer distracted 
and drawn contrariwise by opposite ends to be sought, and opposite portions 
to be obtained, and many masters and contrary wuls and commands to be 
served — but the heart is fixed in the choice of one certain, sufiicient and 
unfailing good ; and the soul's aim at this, and hope of it, is like an anchor 
to it, that keeps it steadfast, that it should be no more driven to and fro by 
eTMy wind. — Edwards. 



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44 The Casket. 

DO TOUR BBST. 

An exchange, pleading against unreasonable exactions on the pulpit, 
says that a minister cannot always do his best, and that congregations are 
unjust in requiring a constant strain of their pastor's energies to effect 
this. There is some truth here. No man can always do his. best abso- 
lutely. There is a certain combination of circumstances, physical and. 
mental, a certain adaptation of place and time, of subject, speaker and 
audience, a combination occurring but a few times in any man's life, 
without which one cannot achieve his best success. And besides tlie 
impossibility in the case, a minister who preaches with a view to that 
sort of appreciation by his people, is not labouring in the line of his truest 
eificiency. 

But while no 'man should feel constrained to overtax his strength for 
the object indicated, neither should he allow himself to feel that his work 
admits of any divided energy. " Whenever you preach," said a pastor to 
a licentiate, " do the best you can " — ^that is, under the circumstances. The 
advice was sound. It is not to aim ever at one ideal standard, without 
regard to the conditions of the case, but to do the best that present 
strength and opportunity admit. This is imperative duty. It is 
demanded by the solemn nature of the work, by the urgency of the need 
the preacher comes to supply, by the awful consequences involved, and by: 
the account to which the preacher and hearer are alike hastening. It is 
the impulse of the true spirit of the ministry, without the possession of 
which no one should attempt the sacred function. It is impossible that 
one should enter on such a service with a heart rightly affected, and not 
feel impelled to concentrate upon it all his available strength of mind and 
feeling. The consciousness of having slighted any duty whatever, should 
awaken the conscience. But to go from the sanctuary with the inward 
reproach of having slighted so great and affecting a charge, is more than 
human conscience should be able to bear. 

The difference between the two apparently opposite recommendations is 
widened by a difference of motive. The effort to do one's best, by an 
intellectual or oratorical standard, or by a standard of opinion, is 
exhausting. The effort to do the most that is possible at the time, for 
the attainment of the object of the ministry, may make large drafts upon 
the strength, but there are compensations. That is an effort, in malang 
which, one may warrantably look for the impartation of spiritual 
energy, for the presence of spiritual supports, and it has a promise of 
success which is sustaining, and when realized is reviving to the soul. 
The one is toiling after an object that is never certainly gained : for he 
who is self-satisfied has no very ethereal standard, and to attain it is a small 
success ; oh for the opinion of other men, that is too variable and capricious 
to satisfy one who looks before as well as after. The other is a self-for- 
getting exertion for one whose burden is light and whose rewards are sure. 

The beat— not for self, for reputation, for present admiration or perma- 
nent influence — but for God and souls ; the best— not absolutely, with 
reference to the standard of mental capacity ; but relatively, strength, 
materials, opportunity, scope, being taken into account ;— this is the true 
aim and the true spirit of ministerial exertion. And if striven for with 
the feeling that— at best— his strength is weakness, and that his ability to 
achieve anything is of God, who has chosen " earthen vessels " to the very 
end that the excellency of the power may be not of man, the true servant 
of Christ will find that in his work prudence and zeal are reconciled. 

CONFESSION AND BLESSING. 

The intimate connection between the confession of sin and the experience 
of the Divine blessing, has been observed by every true believer. The 
connection was taught and illustrated in numberless instances in the Old. 



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The Casket. 45 

Testament ; and, in this respect, the New differs from the Old only as it 
more clearly exhibits the ground of the divine forgiveness in the atonement 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. The recorded experiences of Bible saints have 
their echo in the life of every Christian, JEach first found the Saviour 
in the hearty and penitent confession of his sins, and each finds new 
measiires of grace and strength just in proportion as a sense of sin drives 
him, with a subdued, self-renouncing heart, to the great Physician of 
souls. The whole have no need of a physician, but only the sick, and the 
sick always find the one only Healer, when, renouncing mountebank cures, 
they cast themselves on Him. This is the law of spiritual healing. 

What we wish to urge in the present case, however, is the application of 
this truth beyond the sphere of individual life, to the condition of our 
churches. There are churches which seem to stand stationary from year 
to year ; they do not seem to advance or decline. There may be about 
them an air of respectability, but social respectability is not spiritual life. 
The material structure in which they worship may be of fair proportions 
and finish, but it is a poor substitute for the living temple of Christ. The 
poor may receive at their hands the bread of a generous charity, but they 
receive only the meat that perisheth, and not that which endures unto 
life eternal. Such churches have a name to live, but they are dead. They 
maintain their existence, such as it is, from the adventitious circumstances 
of wealth and refinement ; they may be an embellishment of our civiliza- 
tion, but they are not the salt of the earth. Then there is another class of 
churches, maintaining, it may be with difficult}-, the ordinances of religion, 
and wondering that the cause of Christ does not more prosper in their hands. 
They see around them a great work to be done, but the work is not done. 
If their condition is analyzed, it will be found, perhaps, that the members 
do not work together — perhaps that alienations, latent or apparent, are 
permitted to exist for years— or perhaps, that when they do labour for the 
cause of Christ, they labour not by the simple and uniform methods of the 
New Testament, but by temporary and shifting human devices, relying 
more on these than on the power of the Holy Ghost. At any rate, no 
progress is made, and the slumber of spiritual death is on the community 
around them. 

In these cases, in all cases where the influence of churches is not direct, 
positive and salutary, there is fault in the churches themselves, and the 
only remedy is to be found in seeking it out, confessing and abandoning it • 
Churches are but aggregates of individuals, and as there is no remedy for 
individual decline and inefficiency, but in the confession and abandonment 
of sin, BO is there no remedy for lapsed and useless churches but in a 
similar process. As this process never fails in the one case, so will it never 
fail in tne other. As the individual Christian, smitten by a sense of his 
un worthiness, has come forth from his closet, radiant with the blessings of 
pardon and peace, and exulting hope, so revivals of religion, powerful and 
blessed, have burst forth from the deepest spiritual gloom, when churches 
have united in the confession of their sins. Every Christian who has had 
experience of revivals, will recall such cases, establishing by their number 
and invariableness this law of the Divine blessing. 

We remember a case strikingly illustrative — that of a church declined in 
spiritual life, and disturbed by unfratemal alienations. They determined 
to hold a "Four Days' Meeting," (it was in 1831,) but the restlessness and 
dissatisfaction with their condition which prompted the determination to 
hold that meeting, was the chief sign of lingering life. It was like putting 
to sea in a dead calm, in the hope of wind, of which there were no signs. 
The meeting was to be opened on the coming day, and the members of the 
church, large numbers ot them, met in the school-house in the evening, to 
seek some preparation for the event. It pleased God to direct thither the 



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46 TkeCoMhft 

stops of a venerable miiuster of anotiier denaminttion, known and bolovod in 
allthatregion, and he was inyitod topreaeh. The bnrdenof his preac^ungwas 
the daty of confession. As he proceeded, his countenance glowed with the 
intenseness of his emotion ; he seemed like a man fresh &om communion 
with God. And bearing a divine message, and more and more his preadiiing 
took effect on those to whom it was addressed, until they were swayed by 
it as the winds sways the fields of yellow gram. It was the highest elo* 
quence, made potent by the Holy Ghost. He called on the memwrs of the 
cnurch to make confession then and there, and they did it. They fell on 
their knees, and mourned their alienations and deunqoencie^ and before 
that evening meeting closed, the evidences of the divine blesdng were saost 
apparent and significant. The ^^Four Days^ Meeting" which followed 
proved to be of most signal power, and the results of that revival can never 
perish. Throngs crowded the gates of the neclected Zion, and large 
numbers were converted to Christ. It was a sudden, glorious shower in 
the midst of seeming hopeless drought. It was perhaps, a remarkable 
experience, but it serves as only a stronger illustration of that universal 
law, that confession is the appointed condition of .blessings — a law which 
applies to churches just as truly as to individual Christians. When Israel 
turns unto the Loro, and takes with him the words of confession — vrhen 
he abandons all his fiilse reliances, and seeks the favour of God, then it is 
that God heals his backslidings, and becomes to him as the dew, causing 
hun te grow as the lily, and cast forth his roots as Lebanon. " Go ye, and 
do likewise." 

ARTiriOlAt RSUOtOK. 

When Archdeacon Hare first visited Home, some of his Protestant 
friends, it is said, who knew his love of art, and the personal s^pathy 
which he had with the Eternal City, trembled for tiie effect it might 
produce upon his mind. These fears were ^oundless. Bome was all, and 
more than all he had imagined. But the splendid vision left him a 
stronger P!rotestent than it found him. " / saw the Pope" he used to say, 
" ajpparenfly kneeling in prayer for mankind ; hU the legs tokich kneeled were 
artificial; he was in his chair." Was not that sight enough to counteract 
all the sBsthetical impressions of the worship, if they had been a hundred 
times stronger than mey were ! 

' Thus it is with Romanism, with all mere ritualism and other formalism — 
the legs which kneel are artificial. In that^haracteristic symbol^ the moral 
and mystery of the whole system come out." 

HUMBLB BEASEIL 

A torch may be lighted by a candle, and a knife be sharpened by an 
unpolished stene ; so Mr. Bildersham used to say, *^ that he never heard 
any futhful minister in his life, that was so mean but he could discover 
some cleft in him that was wanting in himself, and could receive some 
profit by him." 

THE BULUrO FASSlOir. 

It is related of Bowland Hill, celebrated as an eccentric London 
preacher, that in a sermon once preached by him, he attempted to illus- 
trate the superficial and unavailing character of all goodness that does BOt 
proceed from a pure heart ^ My brethren," so the preacher is stdd to 
have discoursed, '' you can imagine a cat, which of course, is snscep^ble of 
no influence from die grace of God, to take it into her head to set up for a 
fine lady. So Puss goes to a mantuamaker, and the linen-drapers, and the 
mercers, and purchases a portion of silks, and ribbons, and laces, and by 
the assistance of her maid and her mirror, she is arrayed to tiie deh^t 
of her Tanity, and the satiB&ction of her self-complao^cy. With a neat 



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The Casket 47 

cap on her head, her feline ladyship 4S seated at the tea-table, and with a 
winning simper, places her little velvet hand on the silver tea-urn, when all of 
a sudden, a mouse pops in and attracts the attention of her ladyship. Like 
sleeping gunpowder when a spark falls into it, her blood is instantly on 
fire, she £aps over the china, which rattles on the floor, darts towards her 
little vi(rtim, pounces on it, and the velvet smoothness of those pretty paws 
proves to be only a shield for sharp instruments of torture. And thus it 
is, my brethren, with the external goodness of an unrenewed sinner. Let 
temptation appear, and the old Adam immediately shows his true nature." 

WORTHY or ALL LOVB. 

Nature is never prodigal of her gifts. Birds of gay plumage have no song, 
strength is denied creatures endowed with swiftness. Thus it is often said, and 
with justice, that as one man is generally distinguished by the predominance 
of one virtue, or one class of virtues, and another one by the ascendancy of a 
different kind of excellences, so the union of both might realize perfection. 
Had the peculiar gifts «f John and Paul been blended, the result might have 
been a perfect Apostle. Were the intrepidity of Luther, the tenderness of 
Melancthon, and the calm intellect of Calvin, combined in one person, you 
would have the model of a faultless reformer. Had Whitefield possessed 
Wesley's tact and power of management, or Wesley, Whitefield's restless vigour, 
and burning influence, would there not be the type of a complete evangelist r 
Out of the distinctive talents and acquirements of Burke, Bacon, and Hale, 
mighf be evolved the trial of a finished judge. And would he not be a para- 
gon of statesmanship, who had the tongue of Chatham, the soul of Fox, and 
the shrewd and practical energy of Peel ? But Jesus was distinguished by the 
rarest union of integrity and good wishes. £very grace that adorns humanity 
was in Him, and in Him in fullness and symmetry. No virtue jostled another 
out of its place. None rose into extravagances — none pined in feeble restric- 
tion. There was room for love to a mother, in a heart filled with love to the 
world. He felt that He was dying as a Son, while He was making atonement 
as a Saviour. His patriotism was not absorbed in the wide sweep of His phi- 
lanthropy. What amiability in His character — what meekness and patience in 
the midst of unparalleled persecution ! No frown was ever upon his face, 
and no scorn was ever upon His tongue ; but His eyes were often filled with 
tears, and His bosom overflowed with sympathy, and His lips with consolation. 
His one pursuit was the good of men. For that by night He prayed, and by 
day He laboured. Opposition did not deter Him, and ingratitude did not sour 
Him. With what pains and patience He taught I With what dignity and 
heroism He sufl^red I To attain the noblest of ends, He died the most awful 
of deaths. He lived in the luxury of doing good, and expired in the triumphs 
of a perfected enterprise. There was no step for self. No unworthy taint 
soiled His purity, or alloyed His merit. He realized the end of humanity— 
the glory and the enjoyment of God. The multitude hungered, and He fed 
them ; they erred, and He rebuked them. The disciples trembled at the 
storm. He arose and rebuked it. He summoned out of His bier the young 
man of Nain, and when he might have claimed him as a follower and an 
Apostle, He gave her only son back to his mother. Wine was exhausted at 
the marriage feast, and not to expose the poverty of the newly- wedded pair. 
He created a farther supply. He took the little children in His arms, and 
blessed them. He could not keep the weeping mourner in suspense, but said 
unto her — *' Mary.** The listers of Lazarus sobbed in sorrow, and He raised 
their brother. Peter denied Him thrice, and thrice He comforted and com- 
missioned the penitent. Judas saluted him with a kiss, and in the blandness 
of His sorrow for the traitor, He called him, " Friend.** So perfect in every 
relation of life — so wise in speech, and to pure in conduct — so large in com- 
pasdooi and intense in beneficence— so replete with everything that charms 



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48 



Poetry. 



into attachment and love ; He was tbe incarnation of universal loveliness. 
We repeat ir, were He but a man, who would not love Him, and caress His 
memory, as an honour to His species — a man standing out from all other men 
in spiritual fascination and in duty. " As the apple-tree among the trees of 
the wood, so is my beloved among the sons" — of richer verdure than the 
greenest of them, and of sweeter and more fragrant blossom than any of its 
blooming companions. — Reo. Dr. JEadie, 

RESPIRATORY SURFACE IN HUMAN LUNOS. 

The number of air-cells in the human lungs amount to no less than six 
hundred millions. According to Dr. Hales, the diameter of each of these 
may be reckoned at the 100th of an inch ; while according to the more 
recent researches of professor Weber, the diameters vary between the 
70th and 200th of an inch. Now estimating the internal surface of a single 
cell as about equal to that of a hollow globule of equal internal diameter, 
then, by adopting the measurement of Hales, we find that 600 millions 
of such cells would possess collectively a surface of no less than 145 square 
yards ; but by basmg our calculations on the opinions of Weber — opinions, 
remember, which the scientific world receive as facts— we arrive at the 
still more astounding conclusion, that the human lungs possess upwards of 
one hundred and sixty-six square yards of respiratory surface, every single 
point of which is in constant and immediate contact with the atmosphere 
mspired. It will be useful, then, to imprint on the memory, that whether 
we breathe pure or putrid air, the air inspired is ever in immediate contact 
with an extent of vital surface ample enough for the erection of two or three 
large houses. 



POETRY. 



REVIEW OF THE LAST YEAR. 



Swift as the winged arrow flies, 
Our time is hastening on ; 

Quick as the lightning from the skies, 
Our wasting moments moye ; 

Our follies past, O God forgive, 

May every sin subdue ; 
And teach us how henceforth to live, 

With glory in our view. 

'Twere better we had not been bom, 
Than live without Thy fear ; 

For they are wretched, and forlorn 
Who have their portion here. 



But thanks to thine unbounded grace. 

That in our early youth, 
We have been taught to seek thy face. 

And know the way of truth. 

Oh I let thy Spirit lead us stUl 

Along the happy road ; 
Conform us to Thy holy will. 

Our Father and our God. 

Another year of life is past, 
Our hearts to Thee incline. 

That if the present prove the last, 
It may be wholly Thine. 



A CHILD'S WISH. 



O ! moth»r dear to heaven let's go. 
For there is neither grief nor woe j 
Is it beyond the sea far away, 
Mother, really why don't you say ? 
Or is it up in the sky so high 1 
Whither the birds do soar and fly, 
W^here the Sun with his golden rays 
Sheds forth light and heat on our days % 



But mother ! why do you linger and stay. 
Cannot we possibly find the way ; 
Is there no guide to direct us there ! 
Mother, let's venture, I think we might dare. 
Do let us go where the Angels dwell« 
About them I've often heard you t#ll ; 
There we shall sit at the Saviour's feet t 
And wear our crowns, and never weep. 



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WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

d^uarterlp iHisfiionarp Notices. 

JANUARY, 1857. 



During the last few weeks several items of Intelligence have been 
received &om our Missionaries and others in Ireland, Hamburgh^ and 
Australia. We have taken the earliest opportunity of making them 
public for the gratification of the friends and supporters of our Mis- 
sions. 

The following relates to the state of the— 

HAMBUEGH MISSION. 

Bethel, SU PauTs, October 27th, 1856. 
Dear and respected Sir,* 

Doubtless you are aware, that the labours of the missionary in Hamburgh 
are almost exclusively confined to the spiritual welfare of seamen. And it is 
worthy of remark, that the cause here is as unsectarian as it is possible for a 
cause to be. 

Nominally we are Wesleyans, the services are conducted in the Wesleyan 
form, and the doctrines of Wesley are preached, but the object aim'ed at by the 
minister is, not to bring into prominence the little sectarian squabbles, which 
divide Christendom, but to proclaim the great truths of the Gospel of Christ, 
with a view to the salvation of all, who come under the influence of the Word 
preached. And this, dear sir, you will see is the more necessary, because our 
congje;;ations ashore are made up of men of various denominations. Often 
have we had in the same service, Presbyterians, Baptists, Independents, Con- 
ference Wesleyans, Primitive Wesleyans, Association Wesleyans, and Reform 
Wesleyans. The unsectarian and disinterested aspect of the Hamburgh Mis- 
sion will enable you to stand on the missionary platform with a very good 
pace, and claim the sympathies and support, not only of your own people, 
but also that of all Christian denominations, and especially that of the friends 
of Missions. We have just held our annual tea-meeting here, said by the 
people to have been the best that has been held, in connexion with our cause, 
ever since its establishment. With it, closed our secretary's year. The annual 
report, read at the meeting, gave encouraging evidence that the past year has 
been one of the most successful years of the Mission's existence, so far as 
regards the conversion of sinners. It cited several instances of the Gospel 
taking immediate effect on the hearts of sailors, while being preached. One 
instance occurred on board a ship from your own port. 

It is now several weeks ago, that we held service on board the V , Capt 

G^— , of South Shields. The cabin was full ; the sailors listened in breath- 
less silence while I preached to them Jesus. It was evident that a powerful 
and impressive influence was at work. When the service had closed, the 
mate, a fine intelligent looking young man, came ashore with me, and without 
any hesitancy or ec^uivocation whatever, said, •* Well, my dear sir, this has 
been one of the happiest evenings I have spent in my life." " Indeed," was the 
reply, ** I am happy to hear you say so ; I nope it will be the beginning of good 
days with you/' He said, ** I hope it will. I feel it is much better to spend an 
evening thus than to go ashore and spend a lot of money in drink." Another 
interesting circumstance took place, not long ago, on board another ship from 

* This eommuiiiflaiioa was addressed to Mr. John Armstrong of South Shields, who 
kn kindly consented to its puhlication in this form. 



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60 HAMBUBGH. 1857. 

South Shields. We were holding service on hoard the P— — . At the com- 
mencement we were much annoyed by two drunken sailors, who had come 
to the meeting. One of them belonged to the ship. This man, for a while, 
amused himself and annoyed us, by making all kinds of noises, and groans, 
peculiar to dnmken men. The other, who was from a ship close by, was 
adding ludicrousness to the service, by giving a sanctimonious nod of the 
head, as if assenting to all that was said. You may easily conceive, how diffi- 
cult it would be to preach with such a congregation. It seemed as if all hell 
had been stirred up to oppose us that night 1 could scarcely plod on, and 
more than once had almost stuck fast in the discourse. But I persevered, and 
Jesus triumphed. I selected for my text these words, — ** Thou fool, this night 
thy soul shall be required of thee." When the sermon liad proceeded a little, 
the drunken men became quieter, and when it was concluded, one of them 
fame and shook me by the nand, and said, evidently with considerable feel- 
ing, that he had come to the meeting, solelv for the purpose of opposing me, 
but could^ not do so, and further, that he had felt deeply the nower of the 
truths which had been spoken, and by the help of God, he would be a diffe- 
rent man henceforth. 1 have not seen the man since. I may just refer to 
one more circumstance, which took place on board a Hull steamer. We have 
had meetings in this ship freouently. For several meetings successively, one 
of the men declared he would never go to another, for the minister preached 
to nobody but him all the time, and ne could not bear it. He was however 
prevailea on to attend again, and at last he became soundly converted to 
God. 

A great deal of the good that is done by this Mission, never comes to our 
knowledge. Now and then we hear of one who has been benefited by our 
labours, but these are only as solitary roses on an illimitable desert, and wq 
may well exclaim, " What are these among so many!" 

Our labours are much enfeebled, and our success greatlj^ limited by the 
temptations of which Hamburgh is prolific. Sir, if our Mission had not been 
instrumental in the conversion of a single soul, it would still have accom- 
plished a great p;ood, for it offers a place of refuge, on the Sabbath-day, from 
the blasting, withering influence of ungodliness, and infidelity, with which 
this place is infested. Alas ! many have awfulljr fallen in this theatre of 
iniquity. Hamburgh literally teems with dissipation, and i» rank with pros- 
titution. Many, very many are the victims who fall prostrate under the 
Jiotency of these diabolical influences. The Sabbath-day is most awfully pro- 
aned, they seem to have no other idea of it, than to regard it as a day of 
pleasure. Sorry I am to say, that our poor countrymen who come out here, 
do not show them a better example. Far from doing so, many of them abet 
and encourage every species of vice. My heart is wrung with sorrow, while I 
candidly confess, that I am often ashamed of my fellow-countrymen, to see 
them staggering with drunkenness, a disgusting spectacle for the gaze of the 
more cautious, and more sober Germans. It is a sight with which we have 
become familiar, to see English sailors returning to their ships, on the Sabbath 
afternoon, one staggering with intoxication, assisted to keep his erect position, 
assisted by two others, scarcely less drunk than himself, a second bearing in 
his hands a new pair of boots, a third with a long brush, and a fourth with a 
couple of bottles of grog. English sailors do here, what they would not for 
shame do at home. 

It must be plain to you, sir, from these statements, that a Mission such as 
ours, contemplating the evangelization of seamen, is a matter of stern necessitp^ 
and one which lays claim to the support of the religious public. In labouring 
for the spiritual welfare of seamen, we are encouraged by the example of our 
blessed Lord, and assured that our labours shall not be in vain. For the 
abundance of the sea shall be converted unto Thee, 
Praying that you may have a good meeting, 

.1 am, dear sir, yours truly, 

John Baron. 

The next communication is from Brother Alsop, and relates to,-^ 



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1857. AtrsTBAiiA. hi 

COLLINGWOOD, AUSTRALIA, 

Rev. and Dear Sir, 

Notwithstanding the distance which intervenes hetween us and yourself, and 
our apparent isolation from our friends in England, it is under a conviction 
that the providential dealings of Almighty God, with us, as an integral section 
of his militant church, will not only prove interesting, but tend to strengthen 
that bond of sympath;^ by which we are knit together, in one body, one spirit* 
even as we are called in one hope of our calling, one hope, one faith, one bap- 
tism, one God and Father of us all, that I am induced to furnish for insertion 
in our Magazine, a brief account of the erection and opening of our New 
Chapel. 

The discomfort of our Old Chapel placed us under great disadvantages ; we 
were debarred from expenditure in completing its interior form. The daily 
liability we were under, (bv act of Council, passed immediately after its erec- 
tion,) to receive notice of the requirement of the site for street improvements. 
In March, 1855, we received the long expected notice, and on the 2nd. of 
December last, we worshipped for the last time in the old building ; on the 
following day, Monday the 3rd Dec, we formally commenced the erection of 
our present elegant chapel, by laying the foundation stone. According to pre- 
vious arrangements, we proceeded from the old chapel, in procession to the 
new site. The Rev. M. Bradney gave out the 747th Hymn, and engaged in 
prayer ; J. P. Fawlkner, Esq., M.L.C., (the oldest Victorian colonist, a vener- 
able and tried friend of civil and religious liberty,) after a suitable address, 
read the following, engrossed on parchment : — 

''Wesleyan Methodist Association Chapel, George Street, Collingwood. 

This Stone was Laid by John Pason Fawlkner, Esq., M.L.C., on Monday, the 

third day of December, One thousand, eight hundred, and fifty- five, in the 

eighteenth year of the reign of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria. 

Rev. Jos. Townsend, Minister. 

J. R. Burns, Esq., Architect. 

Sir Charles Hotham, K.C.B., Governor of Victoria." 
" This Society purchase their land, erect their chapels, and support their 
ministry by the free-will offerings of the people." 

*'May the temple, thereon to be erected, long stand as a landmark to in- 
spire the Christian pilgrim, with renewed vigour, in the prosecution of his 
journey to his Father's house ; a swift witness against sin, and a refuge for 
the poor wandering outcast sinner." 
This document, with a coin of the realm, and a copy of that day's ** Argus' 
aper, was deposited in the stone, which was lowered to its resting-place, 
lie Rev. J. Townsend closed the impressive ceremony, by an appropriate 
address, setting forth our origin, church polity,^ and doctrinal views. We then 
adjourned to partake of the good things bountifully and gpratuitously furnish- 
ed by the ladies, in the old chapel, where about three hundred sat down to tea. 
a public meeting followed, ana a collection was made, which with the amount 
realized on the Sunday, proved the hearty co-operation of our friends, m 
the great work we had undertaken. 

We have witnessed the demolition of the temple wherein we have worshipped 
for upwards of two years, and where many received the word of God, not as 
the word of man, but as it is in truth the word of God ; also under the divine 
blessing, without accident of any description, the erection of the new 
temple, and it was with feelings of deep gratitude to the Great Head of the 
Church, that on Sunday the 6th of April last, we opened it. Our beloved 
pastor occupied the pulpit on the conspicuous occasion, and preached in the 
morning from the first seven verses of the 6th chapter of Isaiah •, in the 
evening the Rev, John Reid, Presbyterian, preached from the 34th to aSth 
verses of 22nd chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel. On the following Sunday 
the Rev, Mr. Toore, Independent, late of Salford, preached in the morning, 
from the 4th verse of the 84th psalm ; in the evening the Rev. James 
Ballantyne preached from the 56th verse of the 6th chapter of St. Mark's Gos- 
pel. The weather was most propitious, and the congregations excellent On 
the evening following we were enabled, by the liberality of our ladies, to 



The 



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: 92 AVS'SRAUA. ldS7. 

crown tbe whole witb a social tea meeting, and notwithstanclingf the attraetion 
of a similar meeting at the Wesleyan Chapel, in the immediate neighhouroood, 
we had an overflowing attendance ; from 400 to 500 partook of Tea } after the 
fragments had been removed, Henry Langlands, Esq., answered an unanimous 
call to the chair, and opened the public meeting, wnich was addressed by tbe 
Rev. M. Bradney, Rev. W. B. Landell's, Independent, Rev. H. Townsend, 
Rev. Mr. Hall, Primitive Methodist, Dr. Embling, M. L. C., and other friends. 

The result of the various appeals have placed the Trustees in a gratifyiagp 
and highly encouraging financial position. 

The dimensions of our New Cnapel are thirty-three feet by seventy feet 
inside measurement, and twenty feet from the floor to the ceiling s it is of tbe 
light Italian style of architecture, the ceiling is divided into sixteen panels, 
surrounded with mouldings, with an ornamental ventilator in the centre of 
each. At the top end is erected a gall -ry, with a polished cedar front, under- 
neath this are two vestries. The pulpit stands in front of tbe gallery, and 
is also of polished cedar, it is supported by eight turned columns, and enclosed 
in a neat communion. The building stands unrivalled in the neighbourhood 
of Melbourne, as a chapel for elegance and comfort. 

Ti-uly God hath been good to us his people, he hath brought us by a way we 
knew not through obstacles which at times appeared ready to overwhelm us, 
be hath gently cleared our way, and our path hath opened out clearly befbre 
us. May his lovingkindness be continued to us as a church, and his glory 
be manifested in our midst. 

I am. Rev. and dear Sir, Your's faithfully, in Christ, 

W. H. Alsof. 

Our readers will be gladdened by the perusal of tbe followiBg 
account of Brother Bradney's third Trip to Ballarat. 

GEELONG CIKCUIT, AUSTRALIA. 

Third Trip to Ballarat. 

Saturday, Feb. 16th, 1856. — I set out on my third visit to Ballarat Diggings 
and its neighbourhood. On this occasion I accomplished tbe journey on one 
- of the public conveyances, a journey in which is always a frifffatful experi- 
ment, but in this instance particularly so, besides a mo^ fearful shaking, the 
eflects of which 1 did not recover for more than a week. We met with 
several mishaps ; the first of the series happened after the second change 
ofhorses ; the horses did not answer to the reins, and began to plunge among 
some large stones. With difficulty they were arrested, when it was fouad 
that the reins were fastened to the haims. Happily no serious damage was 
done. The second mishap occurred about halfway between Geelong end 
Ballarat, while making our way through the thick bush, the leaders encom- 
passed a tree, but, through mercy, were backed without damage. The third 
mishap was most serious in its consequences, and took place about fifty miles 
from Geelong. Our conveyance (through the carelessness of the driver) 
came in contact with a loaded dray, started the horse, knocked down the 
man who had the charge of it, and one of the wheels of the dray parsed over 
his body. Upon alighting, found the man was not iniured so badly as was 
expected. I was much shocked to have m^ ears saluted with oaths and 
curses pouring forth from the mouth of the injured man, whose evenr breath 
should nave been prayer and praise. At the close of this memorable day, I 
reached *' Madman's Flat,'' a digging locality in the vicinity of Ballarat, and 
sojourned for the night in a tent belonging to one of our friends, thankM for 
God's preserving mercies. 

Lord's-day, the 17th. In the forenoon attended Divine Service at the 
Primitive Methodist Chapel, Ballarat Rev. Mr. Gates preached. In the 
afternoon I conducted the worship of God in the Temnerance Hall, Bakery 
Hill, Ballarat, and in the evening, at Burringary : the latter service was 
specially profitable. Passed the night at Mr. Biddle's, on Burringary Mount; 
toe heat was too oppressive to permit me to sleep. 

Tuesday, the 19th. Accompanied by my indefatigable friend, Gillingham, 



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4857. AiJfiTiULiA. 53 

I TOited llie Hard Hills Diggings, and preached to a large and atUlitiv^ don- 
gregation in the open air. 

Wednesday, the 20tfa. Took a pedestrian tour to several digging localities, 
the last of which was ^ Madman's Flat ; ** at which place 1 preached the 
word of life to the diggers in the open air, after they had done work. 

Thursday, 21st. Extended my perambulations on the diggings ; fell in 
with many friends. To many, digging life proves awfully detrimental to their 

• spiritual state ; in some such cases the Lord makes me useful. O how soon 
gold allures the soul from God ! Coming to this land will result cursedly to 

• nany ** who did run well." This evening f took part in a Temperance 
Meeting at Ballarat : this good cause seems to have been sadly neglected in 
this locality; that it may revive is mv sincere wish. In this colony the 
ravAg^es of str-ong drink are most melancnoly, 

Friday, 22nd. I took my stand in the evening near the main road, Bal- 
larat, and preached to a large congregation. At the close, a poor prodigal 
Bought an interview with me ; spoke in terms of deep regret of the follies and 
sins of his past life, and appeared inclined to amend his ways. I suitably 
advised him. This visit to Ballarat and its vicinitv extended over four 
Sabbaths, on each of which ray labours were divided between Ballarat and 
Ballinyarry, and the interveninpr days were devoted to labours calculated to 
promote the object of my Mission, sisch as preaching in the open air, visiting 
our members and sick persons, searching out individuals iriendly to our 
cause, making inquiries and arrangements with the view of securing a per- 
manent footing for the Wesleyan Association ; and at the end of the month 
I found the result of my efforts to be highly encouraging. 

By preaching to the diggers in the open air, many were induced to reflect 
•eriously, who nad, since coming to this country, forsaken the paths of virtue. 
The visits paid to professors of religion were instrumental in some instances, 
^ checking them in a retrograde course, and inducing renewed purpose with 
reference to a lifig of earnest piety, while those who had maintained their in- 
tegrity were cheered by the presence of one who sought to promote their 
spiritual interests. Arrangements were made for erecting a small chapel at 
Btmingory. Brother GUliogliam and I applied to the storekeepers and 
diggers, for contributions towards the purchase of a large tent for preaching, 
and a school en the Hard Hill diggings, and in this we were favoured wim 
encouraging success. A site of I-and was secured on Ballarat township, in a 
locality well suited for a chapel and minister's residence. Formed several 
new acquaintances, like to prove advantageous to our cause, and had several 
stnkine evidences of the preached Word naving profited those who heard it. 

While on this visit I witnessed the novel scene of a digger's wedding, and 
in fact took a prominent part in the affair, for I performed the marriage cere- 
mony. Being requested to officiate as minister, or as all ministers here are 
styled clergymen, all the preliminaries by law required were attended to, and 
on Thursday morning, March Idth, at nine o'clock, I repaired to the tent of 
the bridegroom, situated near SaiTnr's Gully, Ballarat Shortly after my ar- 
rival a procession composed of diggers, was seen moving through the diggings 
towards the tent, accompanied by music and dancing, headed by a digger 
carrying a flag. On the flag was drawn the figure of a man dressed in digger's 
costume, holoing in his hand a large pot of beer, and in large characters the 
following very inappropriate inscription— 

"Live, and let live." 
When the procession arrived the tent was soon crowded. During the interest- 
ing ceremony decorum was observed ; but as soon as it was ended the j ent- 
up feelings of iollity burst forth, and the locality at once became a scene of 
excitement such as I have rarely witnessed. My dutv being ended I retired 
and made my way to Geelong, which I safely reached on the following day, 
much to the mutual gratification of myself and family, and with gratitude to 
God, who had graciously been with me in my endeavours to do good. 

In April, the chapel at Buningory and the tent on the Hard Hill, were for- 
mally opened for Divine service, to be held regularly on the Lord*s-day. Time 
will show the utility of our efforts in those localities. When I am at home 
the preaching services have to be suspended at Ballarat for want of preachers. 
The opening for a minister at Ballarat is good. Mark W. Bradnet. 

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54 BOVTB emxLDS^ 185T^ 

The following oommimication from Brotlier CoHingi^ will slio'W 
that the Assemblj exercised a sound discretion in holding to tko 
Irish Mission amid most untoward circumstances. 

CARRICKFERGUS- 

To the Editor,— Dear Sir, 

After spending two happy years in Bolton we hade them an 8ffectionai& 
farewell, and on Thursday August 21st, started for Ireland. 

The voyage from Fleetwood to Belfast was much more pleasant than we 
could have expected. We reached our destination at two o clock on the Fri- 
day afternoon, and received a most affectionate welcome from Miss Hay and 
Miss Gunning ; they immediately prepared tea, and we felt much refreshed 
after partaking of a rich repast. May God reward them for their kindness. 
In the evening, James Simms, Thomas McGowan, Mrs. McDowell, Mrs. 
Mogey, and Miss Mogey, came to hid us welcome to Ireland. After singing 
and reading a short psaJm, we devoutly offered up our praises to *' Him who 
holds the winds iijhis fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand," for hring- 
ing us in safety to our desired haven. And we earnestly invoked his hlessing 
upon our future lahours. 

On the Sahhath we opened our Mission, it was a day of small things ^--a de- 
serted sanctuary and a broken down society looked us in the face, our hearts 
were ready to sink i in the morning we had only thirty of a congregation and 
forty in the evening ; hut thank God, we had a good prayer-meetinff at the 
close and our hearts got cheered a little. After the first Sabbath I lelt fuUy 
convinced that to raise our Irish Mission, 1 must not be discouraged and give 
up on account of difficulties, but must pray fervently, labour sealously, preach 
eamesthr, and visit the people from aoor to door. And feeling the impof* 
tance of^my work I gave myself afresh to God, and day after day on risings 
from my knees, I have taken a pocket BiUe with me and gone from house to 
house, to read the word of God and pray with the people, and invite them to 
attend our chapel, and bless the Lord, my labours have not been in vain. He 
has given me favour in the eyes of the people, and opened before me a door of 
usefulness. Wherever I go the people are saying, *^ You are welcome to Ire- 
land, sir ;" and some of them promise to begin and attend the Back Quarter 
Chapel, and thank God they do not forget to fulfil their promise, for our con- 
gregation is improving every Sabbath, and a spirit of deep seriousness seems 
to pervade the minds of the people ; fifty or sixty generallv remain at the 
prayer-meeting, after preaching. We are expecting a general outbreak, and a 
loud crying out for mercy before long. O for the moving influences of the 
Holy Spirit! 

Mrs. CoUinge is trying to make herself useful ; she has commenced a 
new class which bids fair for prospering. The cottages at Clipperstown, 
Scotch- quarter, and Bonnabefore, where I preach on week nights, are exceed- 
ingly well attended. Our prospect as a circuit is very^ cheering, God baa 
come to our help, and that right early. We have met with a good house and 
have a fine view of the sea. Mr. Mog^ey, a gentleman who takes a deep inte- 
rest in our Mission, and whose heart is kindness, has taken a very active part 
in helping us to furnish the house. May God bless him and his dear family. 

We need and we now call for, an increased interest in the prayers of our 
friends on the other side of the water. 

Yours affectionately, 

October IStk, 1856. John Collxngb. 

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION HOME AND 
FOREIGN MISSIONS. 

The Annual Sermons on behalf of the above Missions were preached in 
Queen- street Chapel, South Shields, on Sunday, the 14th December, in the 
morning and evening, bjr the Rev. M. Baxter, of London, President of the 
Annual Assembly, and Editor of the Association Magazines, On the follow- 
ing day the Annual Missionary Meeting was held in the same place. 

Mr. Councillor Armstrong was called to the chair. 



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18«57. SOUTH SHIBIJ>8. 55 

He obsenred tbat they bad every encouragement to go forward in the mis- 
sionary work. He believed that at no previous period of the world's history 
were there so many providential openings for doing good, nor was there ever 
such an efficiency, agency, and instrumentality, at work as at the present. It 
was somewhat surprising when they looked at the different parts oi the world, 
and observed how God, in the order of His providence, had opened out a way 
for His work being done. They had missionaries planted here, there, and 
yonder, in fact in almost every part of the habitable globe. He believed that 
God intended them as Englishmen, as Protestants, and as Metho^sts, to take 
a prominent position in the evangelization of the world. Under these circum- 
stances he urged them to go forward with renewed zeal in support of the 
mission work. 

The Rev. R. Chew read extracts from the Annual Report With respect to 
the Missions^ both at home and abroad, during the past year they had been 
supported vnth increased liberality and success. New mission stations had 
been opened, and new chapels had been erected at the antipodes. The number 
of stations at home also had been increased. The mission fund had added 
upwards of 400/. to its income, and the churches more than 800 members to 
their fellowship. Loud calls for ministerial aid were still, however, heard from 
Australia and in the West Indies. The missionaries at present occupying the 
missionary stations in the south and in the west have, during the past vear, 
laboured with considerable success, but they feel their numbers to oe wholly 
inadequate to occupy all the various openings which present themselves. In 
Australia, great things are being done. During the last year, feeling deeply 
for the moral destitution in Australia, and the surrounding islands, the mem- 
bers of the churches there, founded an Australian Missionary Society to co- 
operate with the Parent Society in the fatherland, for the diffusion of truth in 
that part of the world. The amount collected in South Shields Circuit last 
year was 15/. IZs. 6d. 

The Chairman having read extracts from a letter in reference to the Ham- 
burgh Mission, the meeting was afterwards addressed by the Rev. Mr. Row- 
land of Newcastle, Rev. Mr. Rutherford of Sunderland, and the 

Rev. M. Baxter, President of the Annual Assembly, who dwelt on the im- 
portance of the Missionary work, and of the elevating tendency of Chris- 
tianity. In the same proportion he observed, as evangelizing principles had 
been diffused, in the same proportion had the people advanced in civilization, 
in wealth, and in the enjoyment of liberty. During the last hundred years, 
great things had been accomplished. England had more than doubled her 
population^ and had acquired for herself a position, both commercially and 
poutically, of the highest importance among the nations of the earth. It 
might be asked what the Wesley an Methodist Association were doing in this 
great enterprise, that was so eminently adapted to elevate other countries as 
It had elevated our country? They might answer that they as yet had 
scarcely had time to show themselves on the great theatre of missionary 
enterprise* so few years had they been in existence. But they would not plead 
any such thing. ^ They had established missions at Hamburgh, in Ireland, in 
the West Indies, in North and South Wales, and in Australia, and lie believed, 
if they had a cnart of the world before them, there could not be found an 
equal number of places of more importance than those which had been selected 
by the Societv as the scene of its missionary operations. With reference to 
Hamburgh, there was not, among the various portions of the earth, a place of 
greater interest for the carrying on of missionary operations than it Jt was 
true that they did very little for the benefit of the individuals who were the 
permanent citizens of Hamburgh, but there was a population of a floating 
character there, to whom attention was directed. It was indeed a fact worth 
noting, the great number of British and American seamen annually visiting 
the port of Hamburgh. These seamen while there were in a state of mor^ 
destitution. They had no individuals to care for their souls, and they were 
exposed to peculiar temptations, and supplied with peculiar incentives to vice. 
The Societv had sent out a Missionary to Hamburgh to look after the spiritual 
interests of those seamen. ^ It was a mission that never could show any con- 
siderable results in a statistical point of view, in consequence of the character 
and profession of the parties laooured amongst. Still great good was done. 



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56 CHELTENHAM CIKCUIT. 1857. 

numbers of seamen haying been brought to a knowledge of the truth. The 
seaman had a snecial claim upon them to have his interests attended to 
There was not a class of men to whom we owed more than to the seaman. To 
him were^ we indebted for many luxuries, and the products of many other 
zones besides our own. He enabled us to export our manufactures, bringing 
back in return that which was necessary in order to sustain and maintain the 

S!ople of this country. To him we owed nearly every luxury of the' table, 
e also brought furs to comfort and protect us against the inclemency of the 
winter season. In time of war, too, our seamen occupied the wooden walls of 
old En^landi and defended it against the world. In the face of these things 
they could not do less than care for the sailor, and promote his spiritual 
and moral welfare. The reyerend gentleman then referred to the West Indies* 
and passed on to notice Australia, another station of missionary enterprize. 
Australia occupied a lai^e share of attention from the people of this country 
on account of its being the land of gold. But abundant as gold was in Aus- 
tralia, it was not the most precious and delightful thing that was there. There 
were souls in Australia who had been bdu^ht by the blood of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and to those the attention of the missionaries of this Society were di- 
rected. As Christians they were bound to employ their resources, whatever 
they may be, for the promotion of what they conscientiously regarded as the 
highest interests of society, both at home and abroad, and which he sincerely 
trusted they would do. The reverend gentleman cof/cluded his eloquent ad- 
dress by an earnest appeal in behalf of Missions, both at home and abroad. 

The Itev. Mr. Kirsop moved, and tlie Rev. Mr. Chew seconded, a vote of 
thanks to the various speakers, and the chairman, which was agreed to most 
enthusiastically. 

The Doxology having been sung, and the benediction pronounced, thfe 
meeting seperated, a collection having previously been taken on behalf of the 
funds of the Society. The collection was in advance of last year's. 

North akd South Shield's G^zbttb, 

CHELTENHAM CIRCUIT. 

To the Editor— Dear Sir, 

Our Circuit is getting on nicely, and our chapel is nearly filled every Sun- 
day evening with attentive listeners. Within the last two months we have let 
from thirty to forty sittings. Several have joined our society, besides some 
ten or twenty Reformers. I am, yours respectfully, 

S. Newton. 

In another letter to the Corresponding Secretary, Brother Newton 



In addition to 15 or 20 Reformers, several of which are men of sterline 
worth, talent, and respectability, we have received 10 or 15 members for trial 
the last quarter, and let from 30 to 40 sittings in the chapel, opened two new 
preaching places, and from the inclosed bill you see that we are about to open 
a beautiful little chapel in a flourishing village about a mile and a half from 
the town, which was built by the Re^rmers at the commencement of the 
movement, but which has been occupied for two or three years by the 
Baptists. A most delightful feeling pervades all our meetings, several of our 
friends appear to be getting in a good state of mind and growing in grace. 
Several are inquiring after salvation. 

On a Sunday evening our chapel has for weeks been nearly ^Ued ; we have 
put in a few additional seats, if my health which is very good at present, 
only keep so, we are likely to do well. But it is killing work. I attend the 
seven o'clock prayer-meeting, lead an important class at ten, preach at eleven 
o'clock, three, and half-past six ; prayer-meeting afterwards, and frequently 
visited a German lady, who died a few days ago. On Monday I have a class, 
Tuesday, preaching ; Wednesday, a class ; Thursday, prayer-meeting. Thus, 
you see I preach tnree times a week to the same congregation with few excep- 
tions, lead three classes, and attend three prayer-meetings, in the week* 



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1E.1EV?W1I1LILIIM1II BAWSOM, 

.^2 



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THE 

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

MAGAZINE. 



FEBRUARY, 1857. 

SHADOWS OF THE PAST, DAWNINGS OP THE FUTURE. 

No. IL 

The year, which has so recently passed away, was in many respects 
an auspicious year to England. It brought Peacb after two years of 
fierce conflict between some of the mightiest monarchies of the 
world ! It brought increased prosperity to our trade and manufac- 
tures, the value^ of which, it is believed, will be found at the end of 
the official year to exceed one hundred and forty millions of pounds 
sterling, against sixty millions, which was the aggregate value of our 
commerce only eight years ago I It has shown to Europe and tlie 
world, the wonderful elasticity of our Resources, — the Public Income 
of the country having exceeded by some millions sterling the most san- 
guine hopes of that craving functionary, the Chancellor of the Exche- 
quer ! It has brought us the settlement of some vexed questions of 
long standing between us and our Cousins in the other Hemisphere. 
These are all matters for congratulation. But its revelations have not 
all been in the colours of the rainbow. It has made disclosures with 
respect to the moral state of the Community, anything but flattering 
to the national vanity. We had long mourned over a vagrant popula- 
tion of some hundreds of thousands, more closely scattered over this 
Island than population of all classes over some extensive tracts of the 
Russian and the Turkish Empires. We had began to regard vagrancy 
as an almost inseparable feature of the Commonwealth ; a kind of ne- 
cessary evil, resulting from the density of population within our very 
limited territory. But the last year has shown that whatever may 
be the fact, in respect of the increase or decrease of Vagrancy, we 
have intermingled with it, vastly more of the criminal element than 
for a long time past. An eloquent writer, three years ago, in 
dilating on the Crime of the Metropolis, observed ; — ** We cannot 
walk round Clapham Common, or Hampstead Heath, or go even a 
short circuit in Belgravia, or Tyburnia, without being accosted by 
half-a-dozen fellows, equally prepared to sell your trash, to pick your 
pocket, or cut your throat, as circumstances may direct ! " This 
observation, might, with some qualification, have been extended 
to most of our large cities, and to some of our rural districts during 
the last year. The Expenditure of the country on account of crime, 
threatens, ere long, to exceed the sums expended in the relief of 
Destitution. The apparent deterioration of the national character, is 

p 



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58 Shadows of the Pasty 

adapted to fill one with shame and confusion. On one hand, we have 
been startled with disclosures, made under Parliamentary authority, 
of the adulteration of articles of Trade and Manufacture. On the 
other, with frauds, — monstrous frauds, practised on the credulity of 
the people in monetary transactions. Now, it is a medical man who has 
abused the confidence of an unsuspecting friend, and wilfully admi- 
nistered poison instead of the remedy for his recovery. Then, it is a 
husband who has stealthily mixed the element of death with the 
medicine which medical skill haa prepared for the restoration of bis 
wife. Or, it is the open murderer who stabs in broad daylight, and 
swells the awful calendar of crime oy the perpetration of the deed un- 
der circumstances of unmitigated barbarity. There is scarcely an 
honest man in the country, who will not admit the year 1856 to have 
been a period of great crimes, and of monstrous frauds, — a year of 
shams and impostures. The Public Press, charged with the guar- 
dianship of the interests of tne Nation, has, as in duty bound, sounded 
the alarm. Journalists, in every department, have taken up the ques- 
tion of the Public Safety, — ^not endangered by foreign arms, but by 
our own Vices. Statesmen and Philanthropists are prosecuting in- 
quiries into the causes, or ofiering suggestions as to the means of pre- 
vention and cure. 

But the detection of Crime is less difficult than the discovery of 
its Causes.* The inquiries made by well-disposed citizens into the 
causes of Crime, have not been so successful as might be desii-ed. 
The Ticket-of- Leave system has been seized upon by many, as the 
probable cause of the fearful increase of the attacks on life and 
property during the past year. The most zealous of the Metropo- 
litan magistrates (Sir P. Laurie) has procured the statistics 
of Crime in connection with the Old Bailey, during this period, 
from which it appears that forty-three criminals of this class were 
tried at the Central Criminal Court ; of whom, one was sentenced to 
death, — one transported for life, — two for twenty years, — two for 
fifteen years, — four for fourteen years,— one for eight years penal 
servitude, — seven for six years, — sixteen for four years, — and three 
were sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. Only six of the 
whole number were acquitted. Now, it is granted, these are start- 
ling facts, but it were ridiculous to charge the atrocities of the whole 
Calendar upop our Ticket-of-Leave system. Were Palmer and Dove, 
Ticket-of-Leave men ? — or must Sadlier, Robson, Paul and Redpath, 
be reckoned as of this class? The causes of Crime, whatever 
they may be, lie deeper than the Ticket-of-Leave system. They 
mingle more fully with the ramifications of society. On^ great cause 
may be, the utter neglect in early life to which a large number of 
the youth of this country are exposed, — another, the prevalence of 
intemperate habits among so large a portion of the population 
— a third reason may be, the introduction of a considerable num- 
ber of foreigners of reckless habits into this country at the close 
of the war, and the return home of that portion of the militia which 

* Of course, we speak here of the proximate, not the original causes of 
crime. Editor. 



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Dawnings of the Future. 59 

bad been called upoa to do the work of regular troops, tip to that 
period. But these causes do not by any means account for all the 
facts. Sadlier and Palmer were not cast on the world to make their 
waj as best they could. Paul and Redpath had not served in the 
Foreign Legion, nor had they formed part of the militia and been 
exposed to all the demoralizing influences of ^ soldier's life. Then 
Kobson was not a person whom drunkenness had brought to destitu- 
tion. And it is precisely this class of criminals that has given to the 
Calendar of Crime its darkest hue. It is indeed matter of alarm to 
men, who are not of the Alarmist class, that individuals in the upper 
classes of society and even of the highest, should enter into league 
with one other, to swindle thousands of honest men out of their 
hard-earned savings, and that while the villany is passing through the 
process of concoction, it should be seen and winked at by numbers of 
individuals engaged in mercantile pursuits, who must have been privy 
to one or another of those multifarious shifts by which public detec- 
tion was staved off to the last possible hour. We have long been 
accustomed to cry down Chartist lecturers as the most Utopian, and 
at the same time, most dangerous of Charlatans, but- the frequent 
occurrence of cases like these, would do more to dis-socialize the com- 
munity than all the declamation which these demagogues have 
uttered since the five points were first mooted, or which men of their 
Creed might utter during half a dozen generations, each measured by 
the length of Methuselah's lifetime I And we believe, the secret cause 
of this class of villanies, in nine cases out of ten, has been the passion 
for display : the morbid disposition to enact the part of individuals 
with unlimited resources. A coatemporary has well observed, that 
while " these things are so, we must be prepared to find some ' re- 
spectahle* men forging certificates, embezzling trusts, and lending 
other people's money to each other. We must not be astonished that 
the lower classes should in knavishness imitate some of their * betters ' ' 
who sell us sand with our sugar, and red -lead with our cayenne." The 
year which has been so foully stained with crime, has been memorable 
for the numerous suggestions of ingenious men as to the means of pre- 
vention and of cure. The remedies have been almost as various as the 
disease. We wish there had been as much of adaptation as of variety 
in these suggestions. A writer in " the Leader " observes, One person 
recommends revolvers ! another advises the bowie-knife ! A collar 
of iron to defeat the garrotter ! A collar of iron with poisoned needle- 
spikes, to poison and kill the garrotter! A life-preserver! A doubling 
of the Police force. A special police attendant on private persons or 
private carriages. A sword-stick. A dagger-stick. A blue-light to 
bum and flabbergast the footpad. A boot-bayonet, set on like a spur, 
to kick withal. A door-chain, to keep out the sturdy beggar. A 
little barking spaniel, to give warning to burglars. A small wicket 
peep-hole, to scan the visitor. A general raid^ to kidnap all suspici- 
ous characters. A general transportation for attacks on property. A 
vigorous resort to the gallows for dangerous attacks on the person. 

Now, we are free to admit that there is somewhat of exaggeration in 
the above summary of the expedients, to which, certain wise men among 

F 2 

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60 Shadows of the Pasty 

us would have recourse to save Britons from their domestic foes, but it 
serves excellently well to show how closely men cling to physical means 
of protection, and how blind they are, for the most part, to the maraL 
This, we regard, as the radical error of many men who are amazingly 
zealous for the Public Safety. With respect to Vagrancy, what we 
want is something that shall so curb the appetite and subdue the pas- 
sions, as to make the ordinary motives to crime, in the case of the un- 
fortunate, powerless. We want to have juvenile destitution so watched 
over, and so guarded against, that the wretched youth of our large 
towns shall not become vagrant by necessity. As to such as have 
erred from the path of honesty, we require moral instrumentalities 
that shall, under the blessing of God, so act on their hearts as 
to bring them back to honesty and fair-dealing. Some, no doubt, 
will prove incorrigible, and expatriation from their native land may 
be the best course to be pursued in their case, if we only knew where 
to send them. But our Colonists abroad will not permit us to cast off 
the spawn of British society upon them, and the experiment of a 
purely penal settlement was tried some years ago in Norfolk Island, 
and discontinued, because its inhabitants reproduced there, the abo- 
minations of the Cities of the Plain. It is the confirmed criminal 
whose case it is most difficult to meet, and we have arrived at such a 
point that the best talents of statesmen must soon be devoted to the 
solution of this problem. As to the rest, we are inclined to think that 
philanthropists have got the true key to their case. There can be no 
doubt that criminals, for the most part, are supplied from the vagrant 
portion of the community. Now it strikes us that Dr. Guthrie's plan 
for dealing with juvenile vagrancy, is the wisest that has yet been 
adopted. But let him tell his own tale. He says ; — 

When I began the work of Ragged Schools in Edinburgh, I found some 
2,000 or 3,000 children playing about the streets. These children were 
the seedlings and the young plants that afterwards grew into hardened 
criminals. They were begging by thousands : they were up every morn- 
ing like a cloud of locusts, and spread themselves over the city. What I 
Said was this, — " You can't expect the parents to send these children to 
school, because they have no money to pay for them ; you can't expect the 
parents to send them to school, because the children have to support 
themselves, and more than that to support a drunken father or mother, 
and feed the parents with the fruit of their mendicancy." I thought that 
if I could set up a school, and in that school not only educate the children, 
but clothe and feed them, and where the home is very bad, house them, — 
for we never like to separate parent and child in Scotland if we can pre- 
vent it~we will cure the evil. We opened our Ragged School, we gave 
the children food— you are near enough Scotland to know what porridge 
is — we give them porridge in the morning, soup for dinner, and porridge 
in the evening, and it would do any man's heart good to see the potent 
powers of porridge. When we began our Ragged Schools they were 
swarming with juvenile beggars. You will walk the streets of Edinburgh 
now for miles and hours, and you will not see a juvenile beggar at all. 
The Government is now to give us 60s. a-year for every child of the 
abandoned and criminal class that we feed and educate; and you may 
depend upon it this is the true cure for our present evil. Education on 
the one hand, and Temperance on the other ; and I am not ashamed to say 



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Dawnings of the Future. 61 

that I believe I could use intoxicating stimulants with as muoli safety as 
any man. I am not a total abstainer in this sense of the word, that I think 
it a sin to use these liquors ; but I have seen such misery from it, and I 
have seen from it so much crime— and I know that four-fifths of the 
poverty, four-fifths of the crime, and four-fifths of the ignorance of the 
country, is owing to the intemperate habits of the people, that before God, 
and according to my conscience, I have resolved, and I hope to keep my 
resolve, that I would abandon the use of all those stimulants ; and if our 
ooontry would do the same, it would be the noblest, the brightest^ the best 
spot beneath the sun of heaven. 

Earl Grey, an eminently enlightened statesman, enunciated similar 
views only the other day, at a meeting of the Bagged Schools of New- 
castle-on-Tyne, recommending most justly, the training of the chil- 
dren to habits of Industry in addition to the communication of Know- 
ledge. His speech was so pertinent to the question that we cannot 
do better than quote a sentence or two, in which he conveys his views 
on the subject. After having adduced various moral motives to in- 
duce his auditors to watch over the interests of the juvenile vagrant, 
he said ; — ' 

And even if the higher motives of a sense of duty and charity were 
wanting, we ought to be induced to do so by the lowest consideration — 
that of our own interest. Need I tell you how great and how just an 
alarm has lately been created in the public mind by the unusual preva- 
lence of crimes of great atrocity — need 1 tell you how much all classes of 
society suffer from the multiplication of crimes of that description, and 
need I further observe to you that, while the attempt to repress these 
crimes by any punishment hitherto devised has as yet met with very 
partial success, there is every reason to believe that some considerable 
check, at all events, will be opposed to this increasing evil if some means 
can be found by which it shall be prevented that the criminals who now 
crowd our gaols should obtain annually fresh supplies from neglected 
children who are educated in the profession of crime. With respect to 
the local schools, the Chairman said : — There is no arrangement of which I 
more heartily approve than that by which the children are trained to 
industry as well as to have their intellectual education provided for. I 
believe that this is really almost the foundation stone of the whole system, 
and that its future success depends upon the course into which that prin- 
ciple is carried out ; because what you want is not merely to enlighten 
the minds of these children, but you want, when they shall leave the 
school, to rescue them from those temptations to which they might other- 
wise be exposed, by preparing them for the difficulties and trials they may 
encounter in maintaining themselves in the world by habits of industry 
acquired in the school. 

If there be any defect in this system, so far as expounded by Earl 
Grey, it is that while much stress is laid on intellectual education 
and business-training, moral training is almost entirely overlooked, 
unless he includes it under the term '^ intellectual education,'' which 
is not very probable. The importance of moral truth when brought 
to bear on the conscience, and to operate in the formation of cha- 
racter, cannot well be over estimated ; and every system, however 
excellent in other points, is radically defective if this be neglected. 
So much for the treatment of vagrants. 

With respect to the treatment of Juvenile criminals, it appears to 



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S2 Shadows of the Pasty 

MB that Lord Stanley and the Criminal Reformers of that school, bave 
adopted judicious methods, which, if extended to the country at large, 
-will do a great deal towards diminishing the number of the worst class 
of Criminals, and increasing the number of good citizens. Certainly, 
they appear to us to be the most enlightened of all who have under- 
taken the arduous task of Criminal Reformers. They devote their 
attention to juvenile criminals principally, if not exclusively ; and 
painful as may be the admission, they are the only class of whom much 
hope can be indulged. With respect to the others, there is no denying 
that a long course of vice has such an indurating influence on the 
character, that their soul becomes at length almost as unimpressible as 
marble to the most delicate touch ; and as strong in its resistance as 
the solid rock to the gentlest breeze of Heaven I 

But what shall be said of the Robson, the Sadlier, the Redpatb, and 
the Palmer class ? — the most aggravated in guilt as they are the 
deepest in baseness. To prevent the multiplication of criminals of 
this class, it may be necessary, in addition to the ordinary moral 
motives, that society should be thoroughly indoctrinated into the folly 
of dressing, and dining, and jaunting, at a rate wholly beyond their 
means ; that something should be done to bring us nearer to the sim- 
plicity of manners and life* adopted by our fathers. We require to 
have men of all classes, so taught, that they shall feel with Quallon ; — 

'Tis not glittering gold that makes 
A great and princely name ; 
'Twill never help a creature on 
The Royal path to fame ; — 
'Twill never wreath ethereal fires 
^Around the patriot's head; — 
That light that cheers him while he lives, 
And hallows him when dead ! 

The passion for display combined vrith the love of money as the 
means of its gratification, is, we believe, one of the most crying evils of 
the age. This, we have no doubt, led to the ruin of five out of six of 
the unhappy individuals last named. And the vagrant class, does not 
more require to be kept from destitution, in order to prevent violent 
attacks on life and property, than this other, requires to be taught to 
live within their income, unless we would have fraud flourish with 
rank luxuriance, and crime taint the yery core of Society. 

Having dwelt at some length on one or two aspects in which 
the past year has presented Society in Great Britain, we may now 
take a rapid glance at the condition of some of the other races in that 
great family of nations, with which we are so closely identified. The 
aspect of the world viewed from the Christian stand»point must ever 
be matter of deep interest. Wherever we look throughout the 
larger part of Christendom, we perceive elements at work which, 
sooner or later, must eventuate in revolutions, — social and religious. 
The mighty Despotism of Russia is no exception to the statement. 
Risk from War may seem to have ceased, but the risk of change 
from other causes has probably increased, with the apparent quiet 
which prevails from one end of that gigantic Empire to the other. A 



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Dawnings of the Future, 63 

writer wlio seems to be well informed, and who has collected his fSsu^ts 
on the spot, affirms that a Voltairean Infidelity is at work among the 
more intelligent of the Russian people, threatening the Greek Churchy 
as such with subversion, and Society, as at present constituted, with 
overthrow. It will be well, if the Despotism of the Czars be not 
overwhelmed in the same way as was that of the Bourbons, sixty 
years ago, in a neighbouring country ;— it will be well if Society there 
be not involved in universal Anarchy. Power that is built up with- 
out the cement of principle, as all history shows, is peculiarly liable to 
a violent overthrow. A far-seeing Journalist has hazarded the opinion 
that the magnificent Coronation of Alexander 11. was probably the 
last of the class, which, Russia or Europe, is destined to witness. 
From the Baltic we turn to the Mediterranean, and there we behold 
TdRKET in a state of Collapse after its death struggle with its north- 
em foe. Its Independence, as a European Power, has been secured 
by the War, but it is clearly doomed to undergo rapid and extensive 
changes, both as to its social and religious condition. The Armenian 
Church, undisturbed for ages, except by the Moslem, has now, with 
its dogmas of the intercession of the Virgin and of the Saints, with 
its pictures, and idols, its purgatory and prayers for the Dead, to 
defend itself against a new element of* power in the teachings of 
Protestant Missionaries from the United States of America, poured 
forth by the living voice of the Missionary in the pulpit, and by 
the teacher in the Mission School, and both aided by native Teachers, 
native Translators, native Colporteurs for the circulation of the Scrip- 
tures, and all protected against the bigotry of the Armenian clergy, 
by volunteer guards of Mussulman soldiers. As to the religion of 
the Prophet, persons recently returned from that singular country 
believe that it is in a state of rapid decline, — that in " a hundred 
years hence the population of Turkey will be composed wholly of 
Greeks, Catholics and Protestants," and that the Crescent will soon 
vanish before the Cross. The present then is an important crisis 
in the history of Turkey. Now that the Physical force conflict ig 
over in the East, we must renew the moral struggle with increased 
energy. The rulers of the West, in the late War, set themselves only 
to resist the encroachment of the great Autocrat of the North, but 
Jehovah had a nobler purpose. He has made the wrath of man 
subordinate to his design of renewing his own work, amid those 
scenes of sacred interest, where once flourished the Churches of the 
Apocalypse; of rolling back the tide of Mahomedan error towards those 
dreary wastes — fit symbols of its character — whence it came forth to 
desolate the Earth ; and of incorporating the down trodden nations of 
the East into the kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

In France, Society dwells among the unextinguished embers of 
Revolution, however they may be concealed. Its religious state is 
as gloomy as its political. While the Archbishop of Paris falls a 
victim to his belief in the absurd dogma of the Immaculate Conception, 
their dramatic literature is so filthy that no author could be found 
worthy of the prize, recently offered by the Emperor, for the most 
trwrid dramatic production. Meanwhile, infidelity is striking its roots 



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64 Shadows of the Past, 

again into tHe public mind. Catholicism has been placed on tHfd 
a second time in that country, and a second time, it has brought 
forth the same deadly fruits, of corruption in morals, and scepticism 
in matters of Faith. There may now be no "Holy Philosophical 
Church" as in the days of Voltaire — there may now be no Patriarch of 
Scepticism to crack jokes about " David's wives," and " Saul's Asses," 
but the literature of France, — that of the periodical press espe- 
cially, — ^is largely tainted with infidel principles. As of old, Sceptics 
take one of their premises from the Protestants, the other from the 
Catholics, and arrive at the same result aS before. They hear the 
Catholic state that Catholicism and Christianity are one ; they listen 
to the Protestant statement that the faith of the Catholic involves the 
belief of contradictions, and they arrive, as of old, at a state of Scep- 
ticism with respect to Religion in general. Nor is there, anything 
very astonishing in all this. It is but the repetition of an old error 
to regard Catholicism and Christianity as the same thing under dif- 
ferent names. But having done this, the rest of their reasoning is sound 
enough,— for contradictions being impossible of belief, faith cannot 
be expected in such a case, from any rational being. A French corres- 
pondent of the " Evangelical Christendom " represents the Si^cle, the 
Presse, the Journal Dfebats, and the Revue des Deux Mondes as being 
devoted systematically to the diffusion of Infidelity. Proprieties, he 
intimates, are more observed in (he latter two of those Journals than 
in the former, but <* at bottom, to reflective readers, there is the same 
denial of revealed doctrines, and these attacks are the more dangerous 
as the writers of the Journal Debats, and the Revue des Deux 
Mondes take more cure to observe the rules of decorum. This then 
is where the priests have conducted us to by their rash demands, by 
their immoral maxims, by their return to superannuated superstitions." 
Thus we see how the abuses of a corrupt form of religion are cited by 
the enemies of Truth against the true Religion. The morals of the Ca- 
tholic Church are turned against the credibility of the principles of re- 
vealed Religion. To counteract this inundation of error there are only a 
few congregations of the French Protestant Church — of the Lutheran 
— the Methodist— the Independent — the Baptist — the Methodistic 
Calvinists, and the Episcopalian Church of England, with some 
supplementary machinery for Evangelical purposes, in the form of 
Sunday Schools : — Three hundred and seventy in all. These Sunday 
Schools, we regard, as the best hope of F^rance. May God use them 
to the advancement, in an especial manner, of the interests of 
Evangelical truth ! 

If we turn from France to Spain, we behold, on a smaller scale the 
scenes that we have mourned over in the neighbouring country. 
Nor are things better in Itaxy. In Lomhardy^ uader the Austrian 
domination, the conscription is as grievously enforced as when the 
Corsican had planted his despotic heel on that fair territory. Martial 
law is proclaimed, but, alas I there remains little security for life or 
property. In Tuscany ^ the Grand Duke has been Veak enough to 
lend his ears to a Cabal of priests, wishing to favour Tuscany with a 
Concordat a^r the model of the Austrian instrument of that kind. 



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Dawnings of the Future. 65 

But here^ thank God^ there are some faint glimmerings of mental 
freedom. Ruggieri was prosecuted for heresy. Only one man at the 
Tuscan Bar had the courage to undertake his defence. That man was 
Signer Salvagnoli. He performed his duty manfully. The Judges did 
what men could do to secure a conviction, but the pleadings of Salva- 
gnoli " were so powerful, the code of Leopold as yet unrepealed, was 
proved to be so conclusive of the rights of conscience, and the moral 
influence of public opinion was so great — the court being thronged 
with auditors — that a judgment was given in favour of Ruggieri." 
At Naples the state of things is, at once, a standing libel on the civili- 
zation of the age, and an impressive commentaiy on the powers of 
mortal endurance. King Bomba will scarcely find his own parallel in 
history, except indeed in the despotic cruelty of one of the worst Cae- 
sars, that ever disgraced the imperial purple, in the days of Ancient 
Rome. It is said that facts speak louder than words. Take then the 
following facts as illustrative of what has been going on, during the 
year, in the Neapolitan territories. 

I must call your attention to the condition of the prisoners in Monte 
Sarchio. Of Baron Poerio I have spoken fully, but not of others, who are 
labouring under different forma of disease, as Schiavone, who has lost the 
aae of one eye and nearly that of the other ; Dono who has been in the 
place set aside as the hospital for five months ; Pironti, labouring under 
paralysis^ unable to move and in chains ; and, not to mention more, a young 
man of thirty-four years, called Alfonso Zueli, who is dying of consumption 
from the dampness of his prison^ reduced to a skeleton, scarcely able to 
breathe or to speak ; he has had the last sacrament administered unto him, 
and yet he is in chains J Closer than a brother his fetters cling to his 
withered limbs, and no civilized age or country will ever perhaps have 
witnessed such a proof of the tenacity of cruelty and vindictiveness. 

Just take one other example : — 

Agesilao Milano, being asked upon his trial whether he had anything to 
add to what had been said for nim by his advocate, replied : — " I will 
only ask you this one thing, Mr. President, let the humble petition of a 
man who will scarcely see the sun of another day be presented at the 
King's feet. My petition is, that the King will visit once the provinces of 
his kingdom, and see the misery in which they are pining, and how his 
subjects are governed there." As he mounted the scaflfold on the day of 
his execution, he cried aloud, " Long live liberty ! long live our country ! " 

These facts require no commentary. They show that beautiful coun- 
try to be groaning beneath an intolerable pressure of social and reli- 
gious Despotism. Let us now turn to the Chief States in Christendom 
— ^those under the special management of the vaunted Representative 
of St, Peter. In the Papal States we have witnessed an order of things, 
during the past year, which has its counterpart only in Spain, and in the 
Romish States of the New World. The land is going out of cultivation. 
The people are the prey of bigotry and intolerance. " A spell is laid over 
the moral as well as physical development of the country." Men are 
dumb except with respect to the routine of ordinary life. They dare not 
speak their minds to their nearest friends. Morally^ it is the case of 
Abbeville, with a gag in his mouth, enacted over again in the person 
of each. Roman ; but there is no voice now to awaken in favour of the 



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66 Shadows of the Past^ Dawnings of the Future. 

oppressed, the sympathies of all civilized men, ^' from Cadiz to Mos- 
cow." In some places political arrests are the order of the daj ; io 
every place '* the trail of a Police Agent taints the air." The natural 
result is a deeply-rooted abhorrence of the accursed domiDioo of the 
Pope among nearly all classes of his subjects, and a wide-spread 
Scepticism with respect to that Religion whose precepts and doctrines 
the Church has so grossly corrupted. Howsoever the authority of the 
Pope may be respected in the Sister Kingdom^ it is an inconvertible 
fact that in the head-quarters of the Popedom reverence of the Su- 
preme Pontiff has become *' a tradition of the past." What a change, 
since Hildebrand thundered forth his decrees from the Vatican, osten- 
sibly 2i% "the servant of servants," realty as the universal Sovereign of 
Christendom I — since his successors bestowed kingdoms on their tools 
and cited monarchs before their tribunal ! Let foreign protection 
be withdrawn from the Pope, and his Power would not be worth 
seven days' purchase. The Roman people would soon settle the 
question of his Kingly Rights. That he is a Sovereign Ruler, at 
all, is wholly due to foreign intervention. As in the Albigensian, 
the Wickliffian, and the Lutheran assaults on the Church of Borne, 
it owed, in many countries, its preservation to the unscrupulous exer- 
cise of the Power possessed by Popish rulers, so now the Pope owes 
his political position, almost entirely to the bayonet of the Gaul and 
the sword of the Swiss. But of what use is this mockery of Power ? — 
when general scepticism has taken the place of implicit belief, and the 
clergy are looked upon with merited contempt. The old adage, ** Vile 
as a priest," has acquired a free currency in the States of the Church. 
The Pope on last Easter Sunday, ascended to the Balcony of St« 
Peter's according to usage, to go through the farce of blessing the 
City I Never was blessing more needed. 

'^ All, all is desolate ; lo ! all around 
Death, and the funeral mound : 
And all beneath throughout the Sacred Way 
A dreary waste and wrecks on either side, 
That solitude from solitude divide." 

But surely no such mockery is anywhere else practised in the face 
of day I He, bless the City ! What, he ? — whose misrule perpetuates 
hot-beds of fever, and of every form of disease I What, he ? — whose 
spies dog the steps of the citizen at every turn, and whose tribunal of 
the Inquisition is set up to teach Orthodoxy by torture I He, bless the 
City ! As soon might we expect the "Evil One" to teach us to "Bless 
and Curse not," as a blessing on Rome from the living representative of 
an An ti- Christian Power which has filled the city with the accumu- 
lated abominations of the Papacy for the last thousand years. Alas ! for 
Rome and her citizens, no blessing can they receive from the hands of 
•this pretender to the succession of the Apostles. Curses they have 
had in plenty ! Curses they still have, and curses they must have, so 
long as his dominion lasts. Eighteen centuries ago, a citizen of 
Rome in a distant country could boast, that he was " a Homan^^ but 
now that name is a term of reproach throughout every nation of Eu- 



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** The Hour is comeJ' 67 

rope, and within the precincts of St. Peter's itself. Meanwhile 
the Papacy is blind as ever. It is the boast of the Church that it 
needs to learn nothing. It is true that Pius the Ninth does not learn 
anything. He has performed a feat in the middle of the nineteenth 
century, that might have provoked the ridicule of an Indian of the 
^wilderness, in the middle of the sixteenth. On the memorable 8th of 
X>ecember, One thousand eight hundred and fifty-four, he distin- 
guished his Pontificate by declaring the Immaculate Conception of the 
Virgin to be one of the dogmas of the Church. This was wonderful 
enough, but it was eclipsed by a more signal act, if possible, during 
the past year. His Holiness, towards the close of the year, edified 
Europe and the World by the erection of a grand Pillar, to comme- 
morate the promulgation of the dogma of " the Immaculate Concep* 
tion !" Men may well inquire, What next ? — and What next ? 



"THE HOUR IS COME." 

John xvii. 1. 

WoUDS uttered by remarkable men are frequently remembered with 
interest after their decease. More especially is this true regarding words 
which they have uttered at the close of "their earthly career. The words 
of the text are worthy of everlasting remembrance from the dignity of the 
speaker, and the solemnity of the circumstances under which he uttered 
them. When our Redeemer addressed his eternal Father in the language 
of the text, he was just entering on the performance of that glorious work 
of redemption to efl'ect which he had come into the world. His life of toil 
and travail was about to end in a death of ignominy and anguish. The 
hour had come when he was to pass out of the world, and go to his Father. 
The season was that of the Passover — one of peculiar interest and solemnity 
— and as Jesus sat a,t supper with his chosen disciples, he began to give 
them his parting counsel and his parting blessing. He addressed to them 
many a comfortiuff and instructive word, and consoled them in reference to 
his approaching departure, by giving them promises, spoken in tones of 
tenderness, and prompted by pity, and mercy, and love. And when he 
had concluded this farewell address to his friends and followers, he felt as 
if his house was set in order, and his work was but to die. " These' words 
spake Jesus, and lifted up his eyes to heaven, and said, Father, the hour 
is come ; glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee.'* 

What hour was this of which our Saviour so solemnly spoke. What 
were its characteristics ; what were its bearings ; what was the import of 
its events. The very indefiniteness of the phrase, shows that this hour 
was one of no common moment — of no ordinary character. The Saviour 
does not say, the awful hour, the important hour, the decisive hour, the 
hour of death, has come, but uses a form of speech more impressive by its 
elliptical character than any could have been which formally pointed out 
the nature of the hour. The phrase is rendered comprehensive by its 
vagueness, and emphatic by its very indefiniteness. It evidently points to 
some characteristics standing out in broad relief, from those of ordinary 
periods. It clearly refers to some occurrences reaching an altitude of im- 
portance far transcending that of the most remarkable events of every-day 



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68 " The Hour is come." 

Undentanding the hour referred to in the text, as extending from the 
moment -when Christ uttered these 'words to the moment when he howed 
his head in death, we will endeavour to show what were some of its cha- 
racteristics. 

It was the most remarkable hour in the world's history. The world had 
witnessed many a strange spectacle since first the morning stars sang to- 
gether, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. Since creation's dawn, the 
prolific womb of time had given birth to many an extraordinary and un- 
expected event ; but the occurrences of this hour stand unparalleled and 
alone for their greatness, importance, and sublimity. Its events were 
unique. Similar occurrences never had taken place ; similar occiirrences 
never shall take place again, while time runs on, or even eternity endures. 
Nature in convulsions — splitting rocks — darkening heavens — opening 
graves — rising saints — rending vail — all gave evidence that events of a 
most striking character, were transpiring during this hour. Daring this 
hour the Judge of all the earth, stood like a culprit before an earthly bar : 
the world's Creator was bufieted and set at naught by the work of his own 
hands : a sinless, spotless being, was nailed to the cross like the vilest 
malefactor : the Prince of Life was taken by wicked hands, was cmcified, 
was slain. One, the very embodiment of compassion, was treated with 
fiendlike cruelty : the most fierce and angry passions were stirred up 
against the meekest of men : love was met with scowling hatred, and envy, 
wrath, and malice, glared w^ith furious eyes on him, whose mission was 
peace on earth, and good-will to men. Incarnate Deity voluntarily sub- 
mitted to shame and anguish to redeem a world of sinners. Immanuel 
bled and died in the room of guilty man. 

It was the most momentous hour in the world's history. There have 
been times when a man's comfort, reputation, and life, depended on the 
transactions of an hour. The temporal condition of a family has often been 
materially affected by the occurrences of a very brief period of time. 
Interests of greater moment than any of these, than all of these, depend- 
ed on the hour spoken of in the text. Kot the temporal condition of a 
man, a family, a nation, but the eternal destinies of mankind depended 
on the transactions of this hour. Now the cup of vicarious suffering was 
to be presented to the lips of incarnate God. If he shrank back from it, 
refused to drink it, man would be left without help, refuge or shelter, 
exposed to the thunderbolts of Jehovah's wrath. But if he drank the 
bitter draught, then the world would be redeemed, a way of return opened 
to the favour of an offended God, mercy and truth would meet together, 
righteousness and peace embrace each other ; never had such awfully 
important interests been dependent on the events of an hour. 

It was an hour for the fulfilment of ancient types and prophecies. Of 
this hour Moses in the law and the prophets did write. The events of 
this hour types forshadowed and prophecies foretold. This hour was 
pointed at in the primeval promise, and reference was made to it in clearer 
or more ambiguous terms down to the delivery. of the last Messianic 
prophecy. The bleeding sacrifices of the ancient dispensations typified the 
{Saviour's atoning sufferings. Seers whose tongues were touched with the 
fire of inspiration spoke of his agony and death, — predicting different 
circumstances attendant on his decease, and their prophecies converged to 
this hour as to a centre point. This hour was a focus which collected the 
scattered rays of prophetic light. Now the law and the prophets were to 
be fulfilled, type was to give way to antitype, substance to replace shadow, 
and the utterances of the sacred oracle in all their multitudinous minuteness 
and variety receive incontrovertible accomplishment, in the sufferings, 
death, and subsequent resurrection of the incarnate God. 

It was the hour appointed hy the Father for tlie death of His Illustrious 



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" The Hour is corned 69 

Son, ^ For every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose 
under heaven.*' ^' A time to be born and a time to die." There was an 
appointed time for Christ to be born and for Christ to die. We may not 
be able to discover the peculiar fitness of the period when Jesus became 
incarnate, and when he died for our sins. Partially we may discern it, yet 
I imagine not completely ; yet, evidently there was something peculiarly 
fitting in that period for the accomplishment of Jehovah's purposes — 
Christ came in the fullness of time and died at the appointed season. In 
your scripture reading you cannot have failed to observe, that any circum- 
stances which might have hastened the Redeemer's death, were controlled 
and overruled by the providence of God.- Men's designs were frustrated, 
man's wrath was impotent, hia arm was powerless against Christ, until 
Jehovah removed His restraints when the appointed hour had come. The 
Nazarenes sought to thrust him over the brow of the hill on which their 
ciiy was built, but he passed through them unharmed, — "His hour Vas not 
yet come." When he taught in the temple and the chief priests and 
scribes were mad against Him, still they could not lay hands upon Him, 
'' for his hour was not yet come." It is worthy of remark, that when Jesus 
was arrested by his enemies, they had a traitor to deliver him into their 
hands ; they went out at the hour of night, they sought in a private retreat 
where long ere that they might have taken him as he was teaching in the 
temple ; where they could have apprehended him without paying a traitor, 
going any distance, or travelling through the night. That they did not do 
so is explicable only by the fact, that GoA interposed between his Son, and 
fais Son's enemies, until the hour in which he had predetermined to permit 
the foes of Jesus to pour out their wrath and fury on his devoted head. 
Now that hour — the appointed hour — had come. 

It was an hour expected hy Je9u» himself. In eternity the Second person 
of the Trinity undertook to become man, for man to die ; and as all things 
are ever present to his omniscient mind, the events of this hour were the 
subject of his contemplations, ere he became incarnate. And when he 
covered hia primeval glory by the veil of humanity — when he was found in 
fashion as a man, he lived in continual anticipation of the advent and 
occurrences of this solemn and mysterious hour. To pass through this 
hour was indeed the design of his incarnation. He assumed life that he 
might taste death. And during the course of his earthly pilgVimage he 
never forgot that this hour lay before him. In solitude and in the crowd — 
in the desert and in the city — in rest and in labour — in active benevolence, 
or passive sufTering— Gethsemane's garden and Calvary's cross, were pre- 
sent to his thoughts and feelings. As the high mountain is beheld by the 
traveller, long ere he reaches its base, or attempts its ascent, and as it casts 
its shadow upon him, whether he reclines on the flowery meadow, rests by 
the cooling spring, or wearily toils on his way through the morass, or over 
the heath, so Christ beheld afar off his last sufferings and sorrows, and 
they cast their mysterious shade over every step of his earthly journey. 
Not that they were beheld with fearful forebodings, not that their contem- 
plation filled him with alarm and anguish. Jesus, it is true, possessed the 
same innocent susceptibilities which we do, and there may therefore have 
heen a feeling of apprehension at the thought of his approaching agony ; 
but there were present to his mind considerations which counterbalanced, 
and fistr outweighed those innocent apprehensions, and even made him 
vehemently desire the approach of that period when he was to bleed, 
suffer, and die» As ia the hour of twilight the shades of approaching 
night are tempered — gilded by the rays of the setting sun— so the Re- 
deemer's anticipations of the agony of the garden and the cross, were 
mingled with the thoughts of the stupendous results that would follow its 
endurance, the glory that would redound to God, the redemption that 



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70 « The H<mr is come:* 

would be wrongbt for man. And these considerations appear to have 

Erompted in the mind of the Redeemer an earnest longing for the arrival of 
is appointed hour to die. *' I have a baptism to be baptized with, and 
how am I straitened till it be accomplished." Now that hour had come 
to which Jesus had looked forward -" Father," said he, " the hour is 
come "—the hour which I have contemplated, expected, desired. 

It teas the hour of our Saviour's deepest humiliation. Our Saviour's 
earthly life was a life of humiliation. He humbled himself in aasnming 
our frail, mortal nature. What a tremendous stoop was it, from a throne 
of glory to a manger cradle ! Many a trembling event had Jesas to pass 
through ; many a humiliating circumstance had he to endure. Bat this 
hour, the hour of which our Saviour speaks, was the hour of his deepest 
humiliation. During this hour he was mocked, reviled, buffeted, spat 
upon — basely betrayed, and sold — tried and treated as an offender — with 
scarcely the form of law condemned to a shameful death ! He was deeply 
humbled in hU person. How every feeling of manhood recoils not only at 
the injustice, but at the ignominy with which Christ was treated. To have 
saliva roided on one*s cheek ; to have oue*s tenderest feelings trampled 
upon ; to be classed with base and abandoned criminals — what hnnuliation 
were this ! Such was the humiliation Jesus endured ! He was deeply 
humbled in his offices. He was humbled as a prophet. Infamous han<k 
smote him — infamous voices cried prophecy who smote thee ! Oh ! if no 
deep repentance followed those daring and impious acts, how those hands 
shall be wrung in hell ! — how those voices shall shriek and wail through a 
long and a lost eternity ! He was humbled as a priest. He was the 
Divine victim who died for the sins of mankind ! but when making pro- 
pitiation for the world's iniquity, the beholders cried, *' He saved others, 
himself he cannot save ! " — his companions in suffering cast the same in 
his teeth. He was humbled in his kingly office, for in his pre-existent state, 
angels and archangels gladly bowed to his sovereign will ; but now the King 
of Glory had none so poor as to do him reverence ! Pilate said, "• Behold 
your King ! " — but tne multitude exclaimed, ^ We have no king but 
Caesar ! " True, they crowned him, but it was with thorns ; — they decked 
him with a gorgeous royal robe, but they did it in mockery and derision ! 
Pilate wrote, " This is Jesus of Nazereth, King of the Jews !" — but this 
was over the cross where his mangled body hung exposed and bare. What 
humiliation was this ! Yes, this— this was the hour of his deepest humi- 
liatioD. 

It was the hour of our Saviour's greatest sufferings. The life of Jesus 
was a suffering life— 

'' Inured to poverty and pain, 
A suffering life my Master led.*' 

He was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief Many an honr of 
poignant suffering transpired during the short life of the Redeemer. But 
this was the hour of his greatest sufferings. Now agonies had to be 
endured compared with which all his former sufferings were but as the 
small dust of the balance. During this hour he endured suffering inten- 
sified, concentrated, accumulated. He suffered every way in which it was 
possible fur a sinless being to suffer. He suffered in his body. Death by 
crucifixion was extremely painful — Jesus endured it — 

'' His sacred limbs, they stretch, they tear, 
With nails they fasten to the wood ; 
His sacred limbs,— exposed and bare» 
Or only covered with his blood 1 " 

Although Jesus did not linger on the cross so long as sufferers usually did, 
vet during the time he hung upon the cross his bodily suffering must have 
been extreme. 



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" The Hour is come.*' 71 

He suffered in his mind. We could form no adequate conception of the 
Saviour's last sufferings, if we only considered his physical anguish. He 
bad mental sufferings to undergo much more severe than his physical 
pangs. " My soul," he said in the garden, " my soul is exceeding sorrowful 
even unto death" — there his indescribable mental sufferings made the 
sweat to fall like great drops of blood to the ground ! Who can tell what 
mental agony he endured on the cross ere he cried, '^ It is finished," and 
gave up the Ghost ? 

He suffered /rom his foes. Much had Jesus to bear from his enemies 
prior to this hour. They had pursued him through every lane of life ; 
but now their rage was to be fully glutted on that innocent and spotless 
being, who sought only their eternal good. They were plotting against 
Jesus when he uttered the words of our text ; and soon they arrested him, 
— led him as a sheep to the slaughter - suborned him— condemned him — 
crucified him ! " Vox populi, vox Dei," says the Roman adage, but during 
this hour the people's voice was a voice from Hell, and cried, ** Away with 
him — away with him !'* — " Crucify him — crucify him !" Was there ever 
such a display of the blackest passions of the human heart, as here by the 
enemies of Jesus 1 Ingratitude, hatred, hypocrisy, envy, malice, falsehood, 
unwarrantable suspicion, pride, cruelty, self-will, are all here rank and 
rampant.! horrible catalogue ! O monstrous combination ! It seemed 
BrS if the spirits of the old murderers had returned, as if Cain and Lamech, 
bad come back to take part in a deed congenial to their nature — as if 
-woman had given birth to a generation of fiends, or as if devils damned 
bad come up from the vaults and caverns of hell, to animate human bodies 
and reek their rancorous enmity to God, on the person of his well-beloved 
Son. It was in fact as one has observed, the culminating point of the 
-world's enmity. Since the fall the tide of depravity swelled higher and 
bigher, till it reached the summit of Mount Calvary ; it could go no higher 
than that— it has receded since, and shall continue to recede under the 
power of Truth, till the earth is overflowed and the universe filled with 
the glory of God. 

He suffered from his friends. A wound is doubly sharp when a friend 
deals the blow. " It was not an enemy that reproached me," says David, 
" then I might have borne it ;" — and the sentiment finds a response in 
every breast. The Redeemer bad to experience what it is to be deserted 
by friends. When the shepherd was smitten, all the sheep were scattered 
abroad. One disciple betrayed him, another denied him ; all forsook him 
and fled. " What are these wounds in thy hands, Jesus, thou friend of 
sinners 1" " These are they with which I was wounded in the house of 
my friends." 

He suffered from Satan. When man fell, the promise of a deliverer was 
given ; but it was said that while the promised Saviour would bruise the 
serpent's head, the serpent would bruise his heel. During this hour the 
prediction was accomplished. This was Satan's hour and the power of 
darkness. 

And thus, assaulted by foes, and forsaken by friends— enduring the com- 
bined attacks of earth and hell— is it possible to make his fire of torture 
burn yet fiercer, or mix his cup with a yet more bitter ingredient. 
Wondrous to tell« he had to endure anguish much more extreme and 
awful, than that to which we have already adverted. 

He suffered from God. He seemed not only to be forsaken by earth, 
but to be cast off by heaven. It pleased the Lord to bruise him — He put 
bim to grief. The Lord afflicted him in the day of his fierce anger. This 
was his greatest, heaviest load. This was the burden hardest to bear, 
from by past eternity the uncreated Son had received the full stream of 
bis Father's infinite love^ never had its flow been interrupted for a mo- 



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72 " The Hour is come:' 

ment ; lie began his earthly ministry with his Father's testimony of his 
approval ; during all his course he had been cheered and supported by it ; 
amid every disquietude this was a source of abiding peace. But now he 
was deprived of this sense of his Father s affection, and he felt an awful 
pressure aud an awful blank. He had endured all his other sufferings in 
silence ; when men reviled, he reviled not again : he was led as a lamb to 
the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened 
not his mouth ; he meekly endured all his other agonies without uttering 
a word. But when God forsook him, when he who had the most exquisite 
appreciation of God's favour, felt as if God had cast him ofif, felt like a 
man who has no God — then it seemed as if he who had silently suffered un- 
utterable anguish could not endure the mysterious desertion, and he cried, 
** My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me !" 

Here let us pause. The line of human penetration does not extend to 
this incomprehensible boundary of the Bredeemer's sufferings. We can 
form some conjecture of those sufferings which ordinary humanity might 
have undergone. We may ideally grasp those pains Jesus endured from 
the cruel nature of his death, the defection of his disciples, the enmity of 
his foes ; but when we attempt to fathom or explore those sufferings he 
endured as a sin-atoning victim, our efforts are altogether vain; these 
sufferings are an ocean without a bottom and without a shore. We may 
travel along the way of suffering our Saviour trod, and with the mental 
eye survey each scene of suffering and sorrow, but soon we come to a place 
impenetrable and impassable by human foot, and where even angels abnost 
fear to tread. Let us therefore cease our researches — let us sit down in 
wonder and in love, exclaiming — 

" 'Tis mystery all— let us adore — 
Let angel minds inquire no more.'* 

" Behold, and see if there was any sorrow like unto his sorrow !" 

" O Lamb of God, was ever pain, 
Was ever love like thine ?" 

It was the hour of our Saviour^s triumph and glory, — What could that 
be to our Eedeemer, an hour of triumph, during which he was delivered 
into the hands of those who hated him, bore their heaviest malediction 
and their fiercest wrath ? Could that be to him an hour of glory, in which 
he suffered deep abasement, and died a death of ignominy and shame 1— 
strange that He who was cast off by men, and seemed to be forsaken by 
God, should be advancing to new exaltation and gaining a victory over 
every foe. It is not more strange than true. The hour when Christ hung 
upon the cross, the hour of his deepest humiliation, the hour of his greatest 
sufferings, was yet the hour of his triumph and glory. When the night is 
darkest the dawn is nearest, so in the midnight of the Saviour's sufferings, 
a splendour, lustre, dazzling brightness, was gathering round his honoured 
name. As in the midst of storm and tempest, a ray of light will break 
through the dark clouds, a harbinger of approaching serenity and sunshine, 
80 in the midst of that storm of trouble which burst on the head of the 
Man of sorrows, there was a presage of eternal glory, and a promise of 
unclouded day. In that solemn and mysterious hour Satan bruised 
Messiah's heel, but he crushed and broke for ever the serpent Satan's 
head. At the very moment when Christ's friends were filled with terror 
and amazement, when his enemies were rejoicing and saying " Aha ! so 
would we have it," when the hosts of hell were indulging in fiendish 
exultation at their imagined success, at that very moment Christ was 
accomplishing the glorious purpose to effect which he had come into the 
world, he was triumphing over principalities and powers, soon to make a 
show of them openly. When the kingdom of darkness was seemingly 



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Reminiscences. 73 

prevailing, its foundations were shaking, and its pillars crumbling into 
dust. In the hour of his sufferings and sorrow Jesus was deserted by his 
fishermen-followers, but through the efficacy of those very sufferings he 
shall yet see a seed, a multitude which no man can number, redeemed 
from every nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue. In that hour, 
enduring the cross, despising the shame, he effected a work glorifying God 
and saving to man, and not only so but a work which makes His name 
tower high over every name, procures for Him glory and honour, and a seat 
in His twofold nature at the right hand of the Majesty on High ! O 
surely then, though this was the hour of Christ's deepest humiliation and 
intensest sufferings, it was also the hour of his triumph and the hour of his 
glory. 

We have seen what this hour was Christward, what was it usward 1 
On this we cannot dwell, but simply remark, it was the hour of our own 
redemption, the hour when reconciliation was made for our iniquitous 
nature, full atonement was offered for our sins. Christ bore our sins in his 
own body on the tree. Our sins brought the waters over the soul of Jesus, 
our sins made that hour to Christ an hour of pain and grief, our sins pointed 
the nail and fixed the thorn, and on the broad and firm foundation of 
Christ's atoning mark, God offers to all men, a fiill, free, and present 
salvation. He is in Christ reconciling the world unto himself. Let us 
beware of incurring the awful guilt of rejecting this gift, blood^bought and 
heaven-sent. Let us avoid the condenmation of them that believe not, 
let us seek the eternal life which God has given, which life is in his Son. 
" He that hath the Son hath life, but he that hath not the Son shall not 
see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him." 



REMINISCENCES. 
THE LATE DE. CHALMERS. 

1. THE doctor's firstborn. 

On entering Elilmany one Sabbath morning, I was informed that Mrs. 
Chalmers had, during the preceding night, presented the Doctor with his 
first child. On meeting with him I adverted to the circumstance, and 
inquired how Mrs. Chalmers and the child were getting on. He replied, 
*Tney are as well as could be expected, but I could not have conceived 
that an event of this kind would have occasioned such a stir ; that so 
niany persons would have been employed about it ; that there would have 
been such a running up and down stairs, and from one apartment to 
another ; and all this bustle about bringing into the world a creature not 
three feet long.' I observed that no bustle would be more cheerfully 
submitted to than that which takes place at the birth of a child, whose 
utter helplessness makes so irresistible an appeal to our sympathy and 
tenderness. And as to the child not being three feet long, we must 
estimate its value as we do that of a young tree, not by the smallness of 
its dimensions, but bv the size that we expect it to attain. ' There may be 
some truth in that,' said the Doctor smiling, ' but really such a bustle 
as the house was thrown into by this affair I was quite unprepared to 
expect.' 

2. THE doctor's absence OF UTND. 

Of the bewilderment to which contemplative persons are liable, the 
Doctor exhibited a ludicrous instance, by coming on one occasion from 
Kilmaoy to Cupar, with a pair of stockings, of which the one was of 

G 



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74 Reminiscences. 

a quite different pattern from that of the other.* The person on whom he 
had called, and from whom I had the anecdote, pointed out to the 
astonished Doctor the mistake he had committed. Dr. Chalmer's toilet 
was soon despatched. 

3. THE doctor's indifference to dress. 

To the adyantage which dress gives to the external appearance he was 
remarkably indifferent. He might have been seen walking about Kilmany 
in such faded habiliments as would have made a person who did not know 
him, suppose that his condition was a large remove beneath that of a 
clergy man. On one occasion, when walking to Cupar, accompanied by my 
broUier, I encountered the Doctor on the Kilmany road, and stopped a few 
minutes to converse with him. When I overtook my brother, who had 
gone forward, he said that he wondered how I had become acquainted with 
the beadle of the parish. 'The beadle ! ' I exclaimed. ' Don't judge by 
the outward appearance. Ho is the minister of the parish, the celebrated 
Dr. Chalmers, with whom any one, however exalted his rank, might be 
pi*oad to be acquainted.' 

4. THE D0CT0R*S CALIOBAPHT. 

A specimen of caligrapby so diflScult to decipher as that of Dr. Chalmers 
I believe it would not be easy to find. His letters were so shapeless, so 
unlike those they were designed to represent, that you would have been 
almost tempted to think that he intended to mystify his meaning and 
perplex his correspondent. 1 once received a letter from him, which 
nobodv to whom I showed it could read, and which I believe would have 
baffled all my attempts to do so, had I not been previously acquainted with 
the subject to which it referred. 

5. THE doctor's IGNORANCE IN SIMPLE MATTERS. 

Studious persons are sometimes surprisingly ignorant how to act on 
ordinary occasions. Dr. Chalmers came home one evening on horseback, 
and as neither the man who had the charge of his horse nor the key of tbe 
stable could be found, he was for some time not a little puzzled where to 
find a temporary residence for the animal. At last be fixed on the garden, 
as the fittest place he could think of for the purpose ; and having led the 
horse thither, he placed it on the garden walk. When his sister, who had 
also been from home, returned, and was told that the key Of the stable 
could not ];>e found, she inquired what had been done with the horse. 'I 
took it into the garden,' said the Doctor. ' To the garden ! ' she exclaimed ; 
' then all our flower and vegetable beds will be destroyed.' ' Don't be 
afraid of that,' said the Doctor, * for I took particular care to place the 
horse on the garden walk.' ' And did you really imagine,* rejoined the 
sister, * that he would remain there 1 ' '1 have no doubt of it,' said the 
Doctor ; 'for so sagacious an animal as the horse could not but be aware of 
the propriety of refraining from injuring the products of the garden.' 
* I am afraid,' said Miss Chalmers, * that you will think less favourably of 
the discretion of the horse when you have seen the garden.' To decide 
the controversy by an appeal to facts, they went to the garden, and found, 
from the ruthless devastation which the trampling and rolling of the 
animal had spread over every part of it, that the natural philosophy of 
the horse was a subject with which the lady was far more accurately 
acquainted than her learned brother. ' I never could have imagined,' said 
the Doctor, ' that horses were such senseless animals.' " 



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Reminiscences, 75 



THE LATE DR. HARRIS. 



Am to Dr. Harris's genius, a posterity judging more wisely than his 
contemporaries, from his later and more mature works rather than from 
those which created such & furore amongst ourselves, will probably rate it 
more highly than we do. Time, we are persuaded, will only serve to 
mellow his £une, especially as a theologian. It was on his " Pre-Adamite 
Earth,'' ^ Man Primeval," '^ Patriarchy," with the other unfinished treatises 
of the series, ^ The State," and " The Church," that he had lavished the 
stores of his very original thinking and of his ample erudition. When the 
plastic hand of some competent editor shall have moulded into shape the 
posthumous materials for the two latter productions, so as to complete the 
colossus, and to enable us to judge of the grand design as a whole, it will 
be seen more clearly than is now possible, that it is not merely a popular 
preacher and religious writer, but one entitled to be styled in the best and 
highest sense, "a master in Israel," who has passed from our midst. 

An impression has been long and pretty widely prevalent that the dis- 
covery of his talents only dates from the publication of his «" Mammon," 
and eui captandum appeals to the modest aspirations of '*mute inglorious** 
Harrises still lying perdus in '* the dark unfathomed caves " of other Epsoms, 
have been now and then founded on the assumed fact. It is to be hoped 
that these <* gems " and " flowers " in petto have something better wherewith 
to console their hidden blushing and fining than this fiction ; for a fiction 
it will turn out to be. No doubt Dr. Conquest's prize was the means of 
bringing the humble Dissenting pastor before the eyes of the great public, 
whidi from that time never lost sight of him again. But, not to spedk of 
die immediate recognition of the high merits of his ^ Great Teacher " by 
the Eclectic and other reviewers, we are able to affirm, on the authority of a 
ministerial friend of ours who was two years a fellow-student with Dr. 
Harris at Hoxton Academy, that something extraordinary was discerned in 
him by many from his very first entrance upon college life. Through the 
kindness of the gentleman referred to, we have it in our power, without 
unduly trenching upon the province of the professed biographer, to 
communicate a few facts belonging to this early period of the brilliant 
career so recently brought to a happy and triumphant close. These 
scattered reminiscences will not be without their interest to our readers at 
the present time. 

Several years back, we remember to have heard that so distinctly was Dn 
Harris's preaching talent acknowledged, even whilst " only a student," that 
he was wont to be paid a compliment on this score which was never accorded 
to any other alumnus of Hoxton either before or since. It is usual, in the 
Dissenting Colleges, for the members of the Divinity class in turn to com- 
pose, and then to read, in the presence of the professor and of the class, a 
sermon, which is afterwards subjected to pretty searching criticism on all 
sides. Now it has been said that, whenever it was young Harris's turn to 
prepare such a homiletical exercise, not only his classmates, but the whole 
college, ordinarily claimed the privilege of hearing it. Our present infor- 
mant left Hoxton before the subject of this anecdote rose to the Divinity 
class, and he confesses that he never heard of the fact, which, since he was ' 
in the habit of corresponding with several of his fellow-students after his 
leaving, he thinks he should have done, had there been any truth in the 
account He distinctly recollects, however, that a college sermon of Harris's 
on the text (Acts xxiv. 16), made a very great sensation both within and 
without the walls of the institution. He states, moreover, of his own 
knowledge, that, having occasion for the services of a student for his own 
pulpit during his first vacation after his settlement, he accordingly applied 

G 2 



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76 Reminiscences, 

to the late Thomas Wilson, Esq^ the treasurer of the academy, ^ho asked 
him whom he would deem an aoceptahle snpply. The name of Harris was 
instantly mentioned, upon which Mr. Wilson, stroking his chin as usual, 
-remarked, ** Well, Sir, yon must have him then, hut you are of course aware 
that Mr. Harris is the best preacher in the house." 

But how, then, it may be asked, if such were his reputation already, 
came he to be banished to such a penal settlement as Epsom ? The answer 
is very simple. From the first he was of a very debilitated frame, and 
this precluded his acceptance of a more exacting sphere of labour. But 
for this it is probable that he would have been the first pastor of the 
Kusholme-road Chapel, Manchester, which was just ready for him as he 
lefb Hoxton, and for which post his name was actually discussed. The 
circumstances were these. At the ordination of the Rev. Luke Foster, as 
successor to Dr. (then Mr.) Joseph Fletcher, in the pastorate of the 
church at Blackburn, in Lancashire, there were present, besides the offici- 
ating ministers, several of Mr. Foster*s fellow-students at Hoxton, amongst 
them Messrs. Harris, Hague, and our informant. After the ceremony, 
these, with the Rev. Walter Scott, who had given the charge, made an 
excursion to Manchester. Mr. Scott, now Professor Emeritus of Airedale 
College, had prepared young Harris for college, at his seminary at Kowell, 
in Northamptonshire, and always entertained the highest opinion of his 
abilities. It was during this Manchester visit, that the conversation rela- 
tive to Mr. Harris's settlement at Busholme-road took place, but, owing 
to his weak state of health, nothing further came of it ; and he ultimately 
retired to the easier, if more obscure, position which Epsom presented, 
where the Wranghams, into whose family he subsequently married, under- 
took that their house should be his home, and that nothing should be 
wanting on their part to secure his comfort and the speedy recovery, if 
possible, of his shattered bodily tone. We should not omit to mention, 
that during the same trip to Lancashire, Mr. Hague, in talking with oar 
friend about their talented fellow-student, took occasion to compare him to 
South. Mr. Hague was first settled over an English Independent congre- 
gation at Rotterdam, and afterwards at Lower Darwen, in Lancashire, 
where he died at an early age. Indeed, there was but one opinion of 
Harris's miud and heart amongst his college companions. His genial 
humour and wit were particularly conspicuous from the beginning, which 
accounts for the parallel so soon recognised between him and South. 

As early as 1827, and it is believed even before that date, he began to 
contribute to the periodical literature of the day. It is surmised that the 
'* Congregational Magazine *' contains his first printed essay. However 
that may be, it is known that at the period mentioned he was wont pretty 
frequently to appear before the reading public under the signature *' Aspi- 
rate," in the pages of a weekly (afterwards monthly) magazine, published 
by Westley and Davis, and entitled the " Spirit and Manners of the Age." 
The publication was eventually merged in the " British Magazine." The 
volumes for 1827 contain many papers by *< Aspirate." There is one in 
particular on " Egotism " (" Spirit and Manners,'' vol. iiL, p. 225), which is 
noticeable from its cdhtaining the portraiture of one of the author's fiellow- 
students, who seems to have been almost a perfect exemplification of that 
vice. His name (which, of course, is not given in the original, but need 
not now be withheld) was Jones, and the passage, which is very character- 
istic, is as follows :— " I once knew a thorough-paced egotist, and I would 
not willingly part with the idea which I retain of him. It was the fulness, 
the perfection of his egotism alone, which rendered I's supportable. Had 
he been less egotistical, he would have been intolerable, simply because he 
would not have appeared incurable. Had he occasionally descended from 
his stiltS) his friends might have cherished a hope that he might gradually 



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Jieminiscences, 77 

be tanght to walk upon the earth. But he never disappointed their hopes, 
for he never excited any. Had he occasionally enjoyed a lucid interval^ 
an attempt might have been made at exorcism. But the demon of egot- 
ism never left him, so that no one could hesitate to pronounce him incu- 
rable. It was scarcely possible to ofifend him by any of the ordinary means 
of giving offence. Convict him of ignorance, his self-confidence remained 
unshaken. He felt assured, in his own miud^ that he had read or heard to 
the effect of what he had stated ; or, he was not in the habit of forming an 
opinion hastily, nor should he be hasty in relinquishing it. Politely requer t 
him to withdraw, he evidently pitied you for defrauding yourself of the 
pleasure of his company. Tax him with egotism, he professed himself to 
hate nothing so cordially. But if it was difficult to displease him, it was a 
proverbial impossibility to put him on indifferent terms with hioiself. If 
he ever admitted, for a moment, that he could, in any single point, be more 
perfect than he -was, it was done so blandly— with so many alleviating ex- 
pressions, and assurances of self-esteem, that he could not possibly be 
offended with himself ; and, moreover, it was always the certain forerunner 
of invidious comparisons with those around him, and ended in torrents of 
self-gratulation. He was a happy instance of the prineiple of gravitation 
—for he was his own centre, and to that he tended with a constancy and 
force of determination which nothing external could ever disturb — 

And J 8, self-balanced, on his centre hung." 

Of this fly in amber, the illustrious Jones, many traits are recorded which 
fully bear out the above description. He seems to have been an incor- 
rigible dandy. On one occasion, when Harris was supplying at Leather- 
head, in Surrey, during a college vacation, Jones came to see him there, 
but more so, it turned out, for the purpose of displaying a new pair of 
pantaloons of which he had possessed himself, than n*om motives of friend- 
ship. "Harris," he said, as soon as they. were alone, "don't you admire 
my pantaloons 1" ** Well, I don't know," said his companion, " what is 
there special about them 1" " Why, my boy," said the triumphant cox- 
comb, " they're number eJevensJ*^ And on being taken to Box-hdl, instead 
of becoming absorbed in the glorious scenery, his head was still full of the 
snbject, so that instead of the expected ejaculation, " splendid view !" he 
broke forth, at the very summit of the ascent, with the astounding contrc' 
temps, "Ah, my boy, you should get a pair of number elevens/** On one 
occasion, however, the egotist's self-complacency seems to have been actu- 
ally shaken by a practical joke played upon him at college, in which affair 
" Aspirate " was no doubt a principal actor. The bonassus was, at that 
time, the great novelty at Exeter Change ; and a burlesque letter in Black- 
iDoodf describing the London sights, and alluding to this animal in the rapt 
exclamation of ignorant bewilderment, " Who could make a bonassus, Mrs. 
Price ?" had made the phrase current at Hoxton, as a sort of cant saying, 
of which Harris was somewhat fond. This, however, is by the way, apro' 
pos of the animal in question ; and now to our anecdote. Jones, whose 
loyalty to himself was manifested in acts of physical as well as metaphy- 
sical homage to his sovereign, was in the haoit of treating himself once a 
week (on Friday) to a lobster, or some other delicacy, of which he had 
never been known to ask any fellow-student to partake. This selfishness 
it was decreed to punish. One evening, accordingly, an immense placard 
was suspended at the extremity of the supper-room, inscribed with the 
announcement, " That wonderful animal, the bonassus ; feeding time at 
half-past nine." Punctually at that time, in stalked Jones with his crus- 
tacean to the tune of a charivari of fiddles, fire-irons, &c., which had been 
prepared for his special entertainment, amid the shouts of the showman, 
*^ Walk in, ladies and gentlemen ) feeding time is just begun !" The fM)or 



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78 The Destruction of Jerusalem, 

yictim tried to eat, but it was of no use, and he ruslied out of the hornetd* 
nest which his selfishness had raised about his ears. The last time he was 
seen was at New York, where, on being accosted by an old chnm with, 
" Ah, Jones, how do you do r he bridled up with ineffable dignity, sim|]* 
deigning to reply, in the most measured accents, " I'm — in — the — Chti 
and at once turned upon his heel. 



THE JEWS AFTER THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM 

BY TITUS. 

"The stars twinkled just as they had done in happier days over the 
burning walls of Masada. Beneath rolled the Dead Sea— the monument 
of foreign wrath and war ; in the distance, as far as the eye could reach, 
the desolate landscape bore the marks of the oppressor. Before them was 
the camp of the Roman, who watched with anxiety for his nrey and the 
morrow. All was silence in Masada. Defence now seemed impossible, 
and certain death stared the devoted garrison in the face. Despair settled 
on the stoutest heart, deepened by the presence and the well-known fate of 
the women and children. Nought was heard but the crackling of burning 
timbers, and the ill-suppressea moans of the wives and children of the 
garrison. Then for the last time Eleazar summoned his warriors. In 
language such as fierce despair alone could have inspired on his, or brooked 
on their part, he reminded them of their solemn oath— to gain freedom or 
to die. One of these alternatives alone remained for them — to die. The 
men of war around him had not quailed before any enemy, yet they shrank 
from the proposal of their leader. A low murmur betokened their disap- 
probation. Then flashed EIeazar*s eye. Pointing over the burning 
rampart to the enemy, and in the distance towards Jerusalem, he related 
with fearful truthfulness, the fate which awaited them on the morrow : — 
to be slain by the enemy, or to be reserved for the arena ; to have their 
wives devoted in their sight to shame, and their children to torture 
and slavery. Were they to choose this alternative, or a glorious death, 
and with it liberty — a death in obedience to their oath, in devotedness 
to their God and to their country ? The appeal had its effect. It was 
not sudden madness, nor a momentary frenzy, which seized these men 
when they brought forth, to immolate them on the altar of their liberty, 
their wives, and their children, their chattels, and ranged themselves 
each by the side of all that had been dear to him in the world. The 
last glimmer of hope had died out, and with the determination of despair, 
the last defenders of Judea prepared to perish in the flames which en- 
veloped its last fortress. First, each heaped together his household gear, 
associated with the pleasures of other days, and set fire to it. Again they 
pressed to their hearts their wives and children. Bitter were the tears 
wrung from these iron men; yet the sacrifice was made unshrinkingly, 
and each plunged his sword into the hearts of his wife and children. Now 
they laid themselves down beside them, and locked them in tender emhrace 
— now the embrace of death. Cheerfully they presented their breasts 
to ten of their number, chosen by lot to put the rest of their brethren 
to death. Of these ten, one had again been fixed upon to slay the remain- 
ing nine. Having finished his bloody work, he looked around to see 
whether any of the band yet required his service. But all was silent. 
The last survivor then approached as closely as possible to his own family 
and fell upon his sword. Nine hundred bodies covered the ground. 

'* Morning dawned upon Masada, and the Romans eagerly approached 
its walls — but within was the silence of death. A feint was apprehended, 
and the soldiers advanced cautiously, raising a shout, as if the defenders on 

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The Destruction of Jerusalem, 79 

tlie wall implored the help of their brethren. Then two women, who, with 
five children, had concealed thems^ves in vaults during the murderous 
scene of the preceding evening, came forth from their retreat to tell the 
Romans the sad story. So fearfully strange did it sound, that their 
statement was scarcely credited. Slowly the Romans advanced; then 
rushing through the flames, they penetrated into the court of the palace. 
There lay the lifeless bodies of tne garrison and their families. It was not 
a day of triumph even to the enemy, but one of awe and admiration. They 
buried the dead and withdrew, leaving a garrison. ' O Jerusalem, Jerusa- 
lem, that killest the prophets,' &c. * Therefore, behold, your house is left 
unto you desolate.' 

"Thus terminated the war of Jewish nationality. Various causes 
conspired to make this contest one of the most obstinate ever witnessed. 
The Roman legions were led by the ablest generals of the empire, and 
instigated by the recollection of the shameful defeat which they had sus- 
tained at the commencement of the war, and by the obstinate resistance 
now made by a small and un warlike race whom they had long affected to 
despise. Nor was the issue of the struggle unimportant to the Roman 
state. Defeat under any circumstances would have been the first step in 
the decadence of an empire whose provinces bore so disproportionate 
a relation to the dominant country. Besides, Roman rule had never been 
firmly established eastward of Judea, and on that account the latter 
country presented an important military position. Finally the triumph of 
the Jews would have been fatal to the prestige of Rome in the East, and 
probably become the signal for a general rising in the neighbouring 
provinces. On the other hand, the Jews fought for national existence, for 
political and religious liberty, for their lives, for their hearths and homes. 
Flushed at first by victory, relying on the zeal and enthusiasm of the 
whole nation, and defending themselves in their own country and among its 
fastnesses against the foreign invaders, the Jews fought with the despair of 
men who knew what awaited them in case of defeat. Besides they relied 
on promised succours from their brethren in the East, or at least on a 
diversion in their favour. Nor was this contest merely one for national 
independence ; it was essentially also a religious war. Jerusalem was not 
only a political but also a religious capital. In fighting for their country, 
the Jews fought also for their religion, which, indeed, was almost inse- 
parable from the soil of Palestine, and hence, as they thought, for the name 
and cause of their God. Were it requisite, proofs could readily be adduced 
of this. Even after they had been defeated, it was stated by the theolo- 
gical expositors of popular sentiment, that since the day of the destruction 
of the temple, God had mourned for the fate of His people, and that joy 
had hecome a stranger in the celestial mansions. Hence they constantly 
reckoned all along on the Divine assistance. The Maccabees had in 
former times, with a mere handful of men, defied the Syrian hosts, and 
why should not similar success be vouchsafed to them under more advan- 
tageous circumstances ] And even if it turned out otherwise, surely it 
could only happen in judgment, and for a season, that their God had left 
His covenant people. His special favourites, for whose sakes even heaven 
and earth had been created, and who alone fulfilled the end of their being 
by glorifying their Maker. Whatever, then, might be their divinely 
appointed fate, to conquer or to die, the Zealots were ready to meet in such 
a cause. These views were indeed intimately connected with the whole of 
the carnal tendency in their religion. To belong outwardly to the chosen 
race, constituted a peison a member of the kingdom of God. The place 
and the rites of the temple were identical with acceptable worship ; 
outward observances and a mere logical development, became substitutes 
for spiritual apprehension of the truth for love and devotedness. Thus 



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80 The Destruction of Jerusalem. 



BOOKS AND AUTHORS. 

DB. BLAIR. 

The Lectures on Bhetoric and Belles Lettres, are the most distinguished of 
Blair's productions, and, as a compilation from the writings of various cele- 
brated authors on the subjects therein treated, do no doubt merit considerable 
praise. We are not indeed to expect much of novelty or originality. The ai> 
rangement of the different subjects is regular and proper ; the remarks con- 
tained are detailed with some measure of accuracy and judgment, but the 
sentiments of the distinguished authors, from whom Dr. Blair has so freely 
transcribed, are, we think, to be read with greater advantage in their own 
words and works, than in the diffuse and sometimes inaccurate style of 
Dr. Blair. The opinions of the doctor appear not unfrequently to be weak 
and frivolous, and sometimes to violate truth. He appears to be inimical 
to the literature of his own country, and has praised th^ French, it is thought, 
far above what their works will justify ; to them he unequivocally assigns 
the palm of oratory, over every other modem nation, but without any 
satisfactory reasons for such a preference. He mentions the pleadings of 



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as the form was being more and more cultivated, to the neglect of the 
spirit, it appeared also more and more precious, and its final destruction, 
by an overtnrow of the Jewish commonwealth, seemed almost impossible. 
Nor were the expectations entertained about that time of the sudden 
appearance of a Messiah, who, long hid, would suddenly come forth to 
deliver his people from the enemies which threatened them, without their 
effect on the minds of the people. Though the life and iieath of the 
blessed Savi6ur had too lately taken place for the leaders of the people 
lightly to risk the safety of the Synagogue, by bringing Messianic views 
prominently forward, as they did* at an after period in the war under 
Bar-Cochba, in order to inflame the zeal of their followers, such considera- 
tions must no doubt have had some influence. At times these hopes 
seemed about to be realized. More than once did the balance tremble 
in favour of the Jews— the Roman generals were in imminent danger — the 
Roman engines destroyed — the Jews successful — the legions panic struck 
or dispirited. Yet the sceptre passed finally and irrevocably from Judah, 
by the same hand which had first placed it there. Calculating merely the 
probabilities of the case, we would say that the war was begun at a most 
favourable time; and that notwithstanding the various mistakes and 
disadvantages of the Jews, had there not been treason in the Jewish camp, 
or had there not been factions and bloody revenge amongst themselves, 
or had their eastern allies made a diversion in their favour, they woula 
have obtained the object of their desires, or at least have had a greater 
measure of success in their defence. But true it is that * the history of the 

world is the judgment of the world.' 

^ About the same time that the Jewish war terminated, Rome attained 
the climax of her grandeur. Hostile movements had taken place in other 
provinces, hut these had now been suppressed, and Vespasian opened once 
again the Temple of Peace. But this prosperity was of short duration. 
We do not mean to connect the destruction of Jerusalem and the decline 
of Rome's Empire as cause and effect ; but it is certain that the former 
immediately preceded the latter event. The insurrections in the northern i 

parts of the empire were only quelled for a time, the fire still smouldered 
under the ashes—it speedily burst forth anew, and destroyed that mighty 
engine with which the Lord had, in fulfilment of prophecy, punished his 
people. So it has ever been : the rod of his vengeance, after having served 
its purpose, has always been speedily broken in pieces." i 



Books and Authors, 81 

Patrie, Cochin, and D'Agnisseau, which no donbt have their merit ; but if 
he had taken the trouble to examine the historical collections of England, 
during the reign of Charles I., he would there have found preserved the 
speeches of many eminent statesmen, which for animation, energy, argu- 
ment, and masculine eloquence, far surpass the diffuse and declamatory 
orations of the French orators. Upon the eloquence of the Pulpit, Dr. 
£lair is perhaps too long and to general readers somewhat tedious. The 
space allotted to this subject occasioned the neglect of other matters of 
very great importance : here, also, he talks of Bossuet, Masillon, Bour- 
daloue, and Flechier, as having attained to a higher species of eloquence 
than any of the pulpit orators of our own country. He quotes a specimen 
of the incomparable excellence of Masillon, which in substance has been 
excelled by many an English divine, and in even style has been equalled by 
some. In the matter of discourse, Masillon was certainly inferior to 
Barrow, and in polished eloquence and power to Bobert Hall. The French 
preachers are pleasing, pretty, and agreeable ; the English, powerful and 
persuasive. On the comparative merits of the Ancients and Moderns, he 
has tamely followed the opinions of Boileau, Madame Dacier, Perrautt, 
La Motte, Sir W. Temple, &c., and it may even be questioned if he has 
made the best use of their sentiments. 

Upon historical writing the doctor is rather superficial, than deep; to say, 
that '*Livy is by no means distinguished for profoundness and penetration," 
is the very reverse of truth ;— witness the speeches of Livy, which display 
great sagacity and uncommon penetration. Of Plutarch, he says, ** his matter 
is better than his manner." Now the manner of Plutarch has always been 
considered as his greatest excellence, and though his matter is good, yet 
without the animating touch of his masterly hand it would have appeared 
comparatively weak and trifling. Doctor Blair is also equally defective in 
characterising modern historians ; Voltaire, he affectedly calls a great his- 
torian, when it is well known that in this part of literature, Voltaire has made 
the worst figure. His histories are epigrammatic and affected, patient inves- 
tigation and diligent instruction, are everywhere sacrificed to flippancy, wit 
and satire. He is inattentive to facts, and not free from absurdities, both 
as to the manners and the customs of the middle ages. Dr. Blair's know- 
ledge of the middle ages also is very slender. Of Buchanan he says, 
" that the feudal system seems never to have entered into his thoughts." 
The doctor ought to have known that Buchanan lived at a period when 
the feudal system was in full force all over Scotland, and many passages 
of his history have fully displayed the genius of that system ; the coldness 
of his praise to this very great genius is remarkable, and not to be forgotten. 
He has also condemned the earlier English historians as mere relators of facts, 
and represented the British character in this mode of writing as being indebted 
itnmeasurably to Hume, Eobertson, and Gibbon. Much is due to those great 
names, but had the doctor neverheardof the History of Henry VII. by Bacon ; 
of Henry VIII. by Lord Herbert; or the History of the World, by Sir 
Walter Kaleigh ? These are works, which for penetration, elegance, and 
dignity, will ever rank high in the literature of this country. Of the great 
merits of Clarendon, of Lyttleton and Dr. Middleton, he is silent; his 
unqualified praise of Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon, claims not much 
regard. Upon philosophic writing, dialogue, epistolary writing, and ficti- 
tious history, he is equally careless and unsatisfactory. He is greatly 
inferior to Doctor Campbell. 

With respect to the Origin and Progress of Poetry, the doctor has exerted 
all his powers, and here he has delivered much agreeable knowledge and in- 
struction; his observations on pastoral, lyric, didactic, and descriptive poetry, 
are extremely good. On the poetry of the Hebrews he has amply detailed 
the opinions of the ingenious Dr. Louth. Upon epic and dramatic poetry, he 



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82 Books and Authors. 

has also bestowed considerable care, and his remarks on these subjects are 
judicious and appropriate ; the common rules of criticism, applicable to 
the different kinds of poetry and the characters of some of the most eminent 
poets are developed with fidelity, and exactaiess ; yet, even here, he does not 
soar much above mediocrity. The curious enquirer into the nice discrimina- 
tion of passions and manners, and the accurate delineations of human life, will 
meet with little to arrest his attention, or to satisfy his judgment. To the 
immortal genius of Milton, Dr. Blair, afraid of the frown of Johnson, 
seems unwilling to bestow the just meed of praise. Dr. Blair has intro- 
duced the names of several modems, of distinguished eminence, apparently 
with the sole purpose of censuring them, — men, in attainments ana genius 
infinitely superior to Dr. Blair, and who, had they been alive, such censure 
would never have been expressed. The doctor's style of writing, is 
wanting both in conciseness and accuracy. 

JEAK JACQtTES KOUSSEAU. 

Jean Jacques Bousseau may be justly considered as an ingenious, 
eccentric, agreeable, but sometimes most dangerous writer. Endowed by 
nature with great sensibility of temper, and ardour of imagination, his 
mind was peculiarly adapted to the conception of the tenderest sentiments ; 
and he Invariably conveys with energv what he felt with enthusiasm. 
Accustomed in the search of moral truth, to explore the recesses of the 
heart more frequently than those of the understanding, he seems some- 
times to have confounded the suggestions of passion with the dictates of 
reason ; and to have mistaken at one time the decision of the will, and at 
another a phantom of the imagination, for the light of philosophy. Amidst 
all his errors, however, he pursues his investigations with something of 
consistency. In the knowledge of human nature he is sagacious and 
penetrating ; and even while we disapprove of his peculiar opinions, 
we admire the ingenuity that suggested them. 

Born in a republic, with a som of exquisite sensibility, and leading a 
life of youthful indolence, he indulged in these delicious hours, the irre- 
sistible propensities of an elevated imagination in all its enthusiasm. He 
did not apply himself at first to scientific works, but attached himself to 
the productions of the imagination. And to what productions ? To the 
romances of Scudery and the Essays of the moral Plutarch. It was the 
delight of his father to listen to the young Jean Jacques as he read. He 
was one of those virtuous citizens of Geneva who felt a pride in the literary 
acquisitions of their children. What a stimulus to the genius of our philo- 
sopher, whose soul turned away from the puerile amusements of his age. 
He read of heroes, and of sages, and he became whatever he read. It was 
now that the fire of his peculiar genius was kindled in his heart, and it dis- 
appeared only with the dissolution of his frame. Ignorant of the life of the 
moderns, and incapable of little pursuits, he precipitated into the world. 
There he was hourly a martyr to inclinations, which he could never gi'atify. 
He felt another inconvenience from his natural timidity which he could 
never vanquish. Before he was known as a literary man, it concealed his 
talents; and afterwards it rendered conversation always unfavourable to 
him. Such was the effect of his romantic seclusion from the world, that 
he could never address even a child with confidence. 

At Paris, he considered his literary abilities onlv as being advantageous 
to his daily occupations as a copyist of music. His taste for solitude, for 
meditation, and for composition, began now to be animated with the activity 
of genius. He appeared a misanthrope in the eyes of the gay Parisians. 
He was gloomy from misfortune. He warred with the manners and cha- 
racters of the age. It is to this circumstance we may trace all those 
persecutions which some have imagined to be the mere phantoms of his 



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Books and Authors, 83 

hnagination. Bonsgeau was not a man to be admired by bis brother wits. 
They regarded him as an object of pity; but more frequently they beheld 
in him a dangerous rival, and dreaded him as an inflexible censor. Bousseau 
tells us, and we are certain of its truth, that he was resolved not to make the 
•ublimest art the most contemptible trade. With all his foibles, there was 
somewhat of diBinterestedness in his character. He refused even a certain 
salary from the Journal des Savans^ and which was offered by a minister of 
state, for a literary occupation, which only required him to make two extracts 
a month, merely because he would not constrain himself to write, but when he 
felt a certain impulse, without which he said, all his writings were cold and 
feeble. When he was cash-keeper to a rich financier, ana entrusted with 
30,000 livres at a time, and in a fair way himself of becoming rich, he could 
not suffer the constraint, but resolved to give up this valuable place, sold his 
watch, and lived on tbe daily pittance of a copier of music. Would such 
a man join the intrigues of a Grimm, a Diderot, and a Voltaire ? 

At the Baron Holbach's there was frequently held a levee of men of 
letters. Bousseau found himself more than once ridiculed by the party. 
The Baron had a humorous vein which he repeatedly indulged. It was 
from this party the persecutions of Bousseau probably arose : he distin- 
guishes his enemies by the name of Holbachians. It was but natural that 
the Holbachian Assembly should be his enemies ; the elevation of Rousseau 
scorned the artifices of their intrigues, and the baseness of their flatteries. 
He quitted them for ever ! His persecutions could not be fancifuL At 
Metiers his life was frequently endangered ; the councils of Geneva under 
the influence of the French Government burnt his books ; and at length 
he was chased out of France, and placed in the hands of Hume, who was 
certainly strongly connected with the persecutors of our unhappy and 
eloquent philosopher. 

His '^ Discourses on the Causes of Inequality among Mankind, and on the 
Origin of Social Compacts," a work full of almost unintelligible maxims 
and wild ideas, was written with a view to prove that mankind were equal : 
that they were born to live apart from each other ; and that they have per- 
verted the order of nature in forming societies. He bestows the highest 
praise on the scale of nature, and depreciates the idea of every social com- 
pact. His ideas about politics were almost as eccentric as his paradoxes 
about religion. Some reckon his '* Social Compact," what Voltaire calls the 
*' Unsocial Compact," the greatest effort of his genius. Others find a pile 
of contradictory errors, and cynical passages, obscure, ill-arranged, and 
by no means worthy of his shining pen. — JEnci/, Brit 

In writing Eloisa he has given to the world a moral work in the form of 
a novel. He has there delineated a fine young woman guilty through 
Tveakness, married against her inclinations, yet rising superior to her 
passion, encouraged to repentance, and regaining the narrow path of virtue. 
It has been objected to this singular work, most justly, that it gives a 
licence to crimes, and may do more injury to innocent persons, than good 
to such as are not. Bousseau's unlucky talent of rendering everything 
problematical, appears very conspicuous, as his arguments in favour of and 
against duelling, which afford at once an apology for suicide, and a just con- 
demnation of it ; in his facility in palliating the crime of adultery, and his 
very strong reasons to make it abhorred ; on the one hand in declamation 
against social happiness ; on the other, in transports in favour of humanity : 
here in violent rhapsodies againet philosophers, there by a rage for adopting 
their opinions: the existence of God attacked by sophistry, and atheists 
confuted by the most irrefragable arguments : the Christian religion com- 
bated by the most specious objections, and celebrated in all the most sub- 
lime eulogies. 

Though JEmilius cannot be regarded as a complete system of education, 



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84 Books and Authors. 

for it has no regular plan, and wants correctness, order, and metibod, yet 16 
contains much valuable desultory knowledge, eloquence, and persuasive 
reasoning. The great error of Bousseau was that of genius, attempting to 
describe a favourite system ; and whilst its airy fabric was every moment 
in danger of destruction, vet everything, worlds as well as minds, must be 
moulded and directed by his glowing and creative fancy. 

^ Emilius is a moral romance treating chiefly of Education. Rousseau 
wished to follow nature in everything ; and though his system in several 
places differs from received ideas, it deserves in many respects to be pat 
m practice, and with some necessary modifications it has been so. His 
precepts are expressed with the force and dignity of a mind full of the 
leading truths of morality. If he was not virtuous, whatever was his pur- 
pose, &w persons have made it appear to more advantage. Everything 
which he says against luxury, shows the vices and concealed opinions of his 
age, and is worthy at once of Plato and of Tacitus. His style is pecu- 
liar to himself. He sometimes however appears by a kind of affected rudeness 
and asperity to ape the mode of Montaigne, of whom he is a great admirer, 
and whose sentiments and expressions he often clothes in a new dress. 
What is most to be lamented is, that in wishing to educate a young man 
as a Christian, he has filled his third volume with objections against Chris- 
tianity. He has, it must be confessed, given a ver^ sublime eulogium on 
the Gospel, and an affecting portrait of its Divine Author ; biit the 
miracles, and the prophecies, which seem to establish his mission, he attacks 
without the least reserve. Admitting only natural religion, he weighs every 
thing in the balance of reason ; and this reason being false, leads him 
into dilemmas very unfavourable to his own repose and happiness."— 
Ency, Brit 

But the Confessions is a most singular and extraordinary work. It has 
been designated '* the record of his shame." Senebier says, '' His < Con- 
fessions ' appear to me to be a very dangerous book, and paint Bousseau in 
such colours as we would never have ventured to apply to him. The ex- 
cellent analysis which we meet with of some sentiments, and the delicate 
anatomy which he makes of some actions, are not sufficient to counter- 
balance the detestable matter which is found in them." " His * Confessions' 
ought not to have been published at all ; for in them he has injured the 
public manners, both by the baseness of the vices he disclosed, and by the 
manner in which he united them with apparent virtues." — £ncy, Brit 

Bousseau has there given us a faithful picture of himself, and solemnly 
appeals to the Divine Being for the truth of his assertions. He has deve- 
loped without reserve all the disguises which surround the human heart ; 
his adventures from childhood to old age, his crimes and his follies, his 
regret and his repentance, are alike exhibited ; but his vanity and pride, 
his prejudices and melancholy, seem perpetually to have embittered his 
enjoyments, and to have cast a gloom over his very existence. He has shovrn 
himself in various situations and employments : at times he was a traveller, 
an engraver, a footman, a fiddler, a debauchee, a thief, a religious convert, 
a philosopher, and an author. The circumstance of his lite which seems 
most to have engaged his attention, was his amoura. His style of writing 
is animated, lively, pathetic, and interesting ; his heart full of tenderness 
and passion, gave a vivid colouring to his narratives. It is certain that if 
Bousseau has given a faithfnl delineation of some persons, he has viewed 
others through a cloud, which formed in his mind perpetual suspicions. 
Perhaps he imagined he thought justly and spoke truly, but the simplest thing 
in nature, says M. Sarvant, if distilled through his violent and suspicious 
head, might become poison. Bousseau, in what he says of himself, makes 
such acknowledgments as certainly prove that there were few worse men than 
he, at least if we may j udge him from the first six books of his Memoirs^ where 



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Books and Authors. 85 

nothing appears but his vices. They ought not perhaps to be separated 
from the six last books, where he speaks of some better qualities intended to 
make reparation for them : or rather the work ought not to have been pub- 
lished at all. " The Reveries of a Solitary Wanderer" is a journal of tho 
latter part of his life. In this he confesses that he liked better to send his 
children into hospitals destined for orphans, than to take upon himself the 
charge of their maintenance and education : and endeavours to palliate tliis 
error, which nothing can exculpate. — Ency, Brit. 

In his Reveries he appears to think that all the world had entered into a 
league to destroy him. Every little occurrence that came under his inspec- 
tion, agitated and destroyed his ease. He was not naturally very suspicious, 
bat when the foUy of perpetually railing at the injustice and ingratitude of 
the world had taken hold of his mind, he became the most irritable, sus- 
picious, and wretched of human beings : his heart, feelingly alive to the 
slightest external impression, was not proof against the least injuiy. He 
was timid and reserved, the natural consequence of a life of solitude. He 
was more suited to the simple periods of society, than to those of a refined age. 
His sensuous soul dwelt on nothing but love and romance. 

The inducements which determined him to write his ** Confessions," were 
several crimes which he had committed, and, as he says, were insupportable 
loads on his conscience. The principal of these were, 1. Falsely accusing 
Marion, the cook, of giving him a rose-coloured silver ribband, which he 
had stolen from one of the chambermaids, and was found upon him. He 
hopes '< that this crime has been expiated by his subsequent misfortunes, 
and by forty years of rectitude and honour in the most difficult situations." 
Another of his grand confessions, was accompanying his friend Le Maitre, 
organist of the Cathedral at Annecy, in a flight as far as Lyons, who being 
subject to fits was attacked by one of these in the street, and in this dis- 
tressed situation he was deserted by his faithless friend, who turned the 
comer of the street, and left him to his fate. His connection with Madame 
de Warrens was singularly unfortunate as well as vicious. This connection 
embittered his delights with sadness and sorrow. 

He finishes this very remarkable performance, which required all his vir- 
tue and enthusiasm to complete, while anatomising the living heart, in 
these words : — " Such have been the errors and faults of my youth ; I have 
related the history of them with a fidelity which my heart approves ; if my 
riper years were dignified with some virtues I should have related them 
with the same frankness. It was my intention to have done this ; but I 
most forgo that pleasing task and stop here. Time, which renders justice 
to the characters of most men, may withdraw the veil ; and should my 
memory reach posterity, they may one day discover what I had to say — 
they will then understand why I am now^silent." Again, **I have written 
the truth ; if any person has heard of thinffs contrary to those I have just 
stated, were they a thousand times proved, he has heard calumny and false- 
hood ; and if he i*efuses thoroughly to examine and compare them with me 
whilst I am alive, he is not a friend to either justice or truth. For my 
part, I openly and without the least fear, declare, that whoever, even with- 
out having read my works, shall have examined with his own eyes, my 
disposition, character, manners, inclinations, pleasures, and habits, and pro- 
nounce me a dishonest man, is himself one who deserves a gibbet." 

Sach, to the best of our knowledge, was the character, and such the 
works of Jean Jacques Rousseau, whom infidels boast of as the most eloquent 
—if not the most original and profound — of all the writers on the side of 
scepticism. His moral character, rightly estimated, should do something to- 
wards supplying an antidote to the principles so eloquently inculcated in 
his works. The man, in this instance, might be played ofi* against the 
outKor, with marvellous efiect. 



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86 

BIOGRAPHY. 
MR. W. D. HARRISON, OF ECKINGTON. 

An affectionate regard for the memory of departed friends, and the 
desire to preserve and perpetuate the remembrance of their name and 
actions, appears to be natural to the human heart. Hence biography, or 
life-writing, is one of the most ancient forms of literary composition, and 
when the subject is well chosen, and truthfully delineated, it presents one 
of the most pleasing and instructive studies. That which the pencil of the 
artist, or the chisel of the sculptor, does for the outward and mortal, bio- 
graphy is intended to do for the inward and spiritual man. The former 
preserves to us the bodily form and features, the latter is designed to pre- 
serve to us the mental and moral characteristics of the man. 

And it is not necessary that the subject should have been either a hero, 
or a philosopher, in order that we may derive pleasure and advantage from 
the record of his life and fortunes. Many whose sphere of action has 
been confined within very narrow bounds — whose names have hardly been 
known beyond the circle of their own families, and whose virtues have 
never attracted the observations of. the great world, are yet worthy to be 
** had in everlasting remembrance." 

It is not always those who fill the largest space in the public eye, or who 
make the greatest figure in the world, that are the most desei'ving; but 
often the quiet and unobtrusive, the humble and lowly, present the brightr 
est examples of real worth, and are most deserving of our admiration. 
" Modest glow-worms, that shine only when they thmk the gazing world 
is asleep, and fancy themselves invisible to all eyes but those of love.*' 

Such a man was the subject of the following memoir. He was princi- 
pally distinguished for the cultivation of those domestic affections, and 
private and social virtues, which tend to make home happy, and which 
render those who possess them, a real blessing to their friends and neigh- 
bours, and, — 

" When the pomp 

Of earthly glory fades, then one good deed. 

Unseen, unheard, unnoted by mankind. 

Lives in the eternal register of heaven.*' 

William D. Harrison was bom on the 4th of September, 1786, at 
Sheffield. Of his childhood and youth little is known, that could at all 
interest the readers of this sketch. It was probably not distinguished in 
any important respects from the childhood and youth of other human 
beings, born in the same sphere of life, and to the same fortunes,— the 
season of innocent joy and light-heartedness, and teeming — 
" With golden visions and romantic dreams.*' 

His pai'ents were in comfortable temporal circumstances, and appear to 
have been truly pious, and devoted to the service of God. Hence he 
enjoyed the unspeakable advantages of a sound religious education, en- 
forced by good examples, and an honest conversation. He was early taught 
to read and love the Bible, trained to habits of prayer, and a regular 
attendance upon the worship of Almighty God. To his mother he was 
especially indebted for those lessons of wisdom and virtue, which, under 
the blessing of God, resulted in his early conversion, and which exercised 
a powei*ful influence over his whole subsequent life and conduct, and hence 
of his mother he always spoke with much reverence and affection, as 
having, by her instructions, and holy life, and conversation, laid the foun- 
dation of piety in his mind and heart. Thus adding another to the multi- 
plied examples of good resulting from a godly mother*8 influence and 
prayers, and another encouragement to such mothers to " sow in hope." 



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Biography of Mr. W. D. Harrison^ of Eckington. 87 

"Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it after many days." 
"In the morning sow thy seed." 

In consequence of this early religious training, our departed friend was 
preserved from many of those evils and dangers to which youth is exposed, 
and though naturally gay and fond of amusement, he remained strictly 
moral and sober in his habits ; and in the year 1804, when he was about 
eighteen years of age, he was led seriously to consecrate himself to the 
Ber?ice of Grod ; " Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemp- 
tion that is in Christ Jesus." Of the circums^nces of his conversion we 
have no record, but of its reality and genuineness, his subsequent life 
affords abundant and satisfactory evidences, and this is undoubtedly one of 
the best proofs of a renewed heart. " hy their fruits ye shall know them.'.' 
And tested by this rule, our departed brother, though compassed about 
with infirmities, gave undeniable proofs that he had '* passed from death 
unto life." This will be fully evinced as we proceed. Having been made 
a partaker of the grace of God, he connected himself with the Wesleyau 
Methodist Society, and continued in communion with that body, until \he 
year 1826, when owing to circumstances which it would be uninteresting 
here to recapitulate, further than to remark, that they involved no breach of 
Christian morality on his part, he withdrew from the Society, and from that 
time to the year 1834, he was not strictly speaking, a member of any church, 
there was in fact no church in the village with which he could without 
violating his conscience unite. It must not therefore be inferred that 
during those eight years he departed from God, on the contrary, he was 
perhaps at no period of his life more ^ diligent to make his calling and his 
election sure." Attending regularly the public means of grace, devoting 
much of his time and influence to the instruction of the young in the 
Sabbath-school, and maintaining constant communion with God in the 
closet, in the family, and in his Word. But objecting to certain disciplinary 
arrangements of the Wesleyan Connexion, he felt that he could not con- 
Bcientiously continue identified with that body, and, as we have said, no 
other door was open to him at that time. 

In the year 1834 originated the Wesleyan Methodist Association, when 
he, with others who held similar views on the subject of Church govern- 
ment, heartily united with that body, rejoicing that he had at last 
found a quiet resting place, where in conjunction with Methodist doctrines 
and forms of worship, he could enjoy the blessing of a liberal polity, and 
exercise those rights to which as a member of the Christian brotherhood, 
he felt himself to be entitled. And, from the day of his union with the 
Association to the day of his death, he continued a warm admirer of its 
great principles, and interested himself in everything connected with its 
welfare and prosperity. All its friends were his friends, and were sure of 
a cordial welcome, and hospitable entertainment in his house. For a short 
time the Society worshipped in a small school- room, and suffered much 
inconvenience, out in 1 836 a neat and commodious chapel, with an excel- 
lent school-room below it, was erected for their accommodation. Mr. 
Harrison, zealously promoted the building of this place of worship, and 
freely and liberally contributed of his substance towards the cost of its 
erection, and laboured diligently to promote the prosperity of the Society. 
He felt an especial regard for the young, and hence the Sabbath-school 
was the sphere of his most active and successful labours. 

This was a department of Christian labour on which he appears to have 
entered soon after his conversion to God, for which he possessed great 
qualifications, and in which he continued to toil with exemplary patience 
and diligence to the close of his life. Only those who have witnessed it, 
can fully understand the depth and intensity of his love for the Sunday- 
school. In everything calculated to promote its efficiency, he engaged 



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88 Biography of Mr, IV. D. Harrison^ of Eckingfon. 

with all his^ heart. The deep interest which he felt in these institntions, 
will be best shown by an extract or two from writings which he has left 
behind. In 1821, a society was formed in connexion with the school, for 
supplying the scholars, on leaving the institution, with a copy of the Holy 
Scriptures, — and how deeply he felt the importance of this measure, the 
following extract from a speech which he delivered at the meeting which 
was held to inaugurate the society, will evince. He said, — ** In rising to 
propose the establishment of a fund for the purpose stated, I lament that 
it has not fallen into abler hands. But since it is my lot to take it up, I 
crave your indulgence while I feebly attempt to prove the necessity for the 
establishment of such a fund, which has for its object, nothing less than to 
furnish to each youth, on leaving the school, a gift of the Word of Life, — 
a gift with which all the treasures of the universe, when compared, are as 
nothing — a gift^ the greatest we can bestow, or a child receive at our hands. 
Shall we, my dear brethren and sisters, assemble these dear children 
together Sabbath after Sabbath, to teach them to read and write, and 
what is of far greater importance, to teach them the way of salvation, and 
on their leaving the school, abandon them to the world, the flesh, and the 
devil, without a guide to direct their inexperienced feet ? God forbid ! 
And I appeal to you, whether anything is so well calculated to preserve 
them from evil, as furnishing them with the unerring Word of God, 
accompanied with our fervent prayers for the divine blessing to attend it." 

On the first Anniversary of this society, he expressed himself as 
follows. — "We are now assembled to hold the first anniversary of onr 
little Bible Society, and I must say, it is the proudest day for Eckington, 
in my opinion, that it has ever known. I feel thankful to God that this 
society has been set on foot in my day, that I may be a participator in the 
blessings that will most assuredly accrue from a steady perseverance in 
this best of causes, both in time and throughout eternity. We have every 
reason to believe that this small beginning shall be like the 'grain of 
mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the 
least of all seeds, but when it is grown, becometh a tree, so that the birds 
of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof.*" 

In reading the above extracts, it should be borne in mind that thirty-four 
years ago Bibles were neither so abundant nor so cheap as in 1855. And 
therefore the gift of the ** precious Book " was to a poor boy or girl, on 
leaving the Sabbath-school, no unimportant or trifling boon. And this fact 
also may serve to show that the estimate which Mr. Harrison formed of 
the " little Bible Society," was not exaggerated. And the extracts we have 
given demonstrate how highly he valued the Word of the Lord, and how 
intensely he loved the lambs of Christ's flock. 

The following speculation, while it serves to show how enthusiastic and 
sanguine our departed friend was in the cause of Sabbath-schools, and 
what high hopes he indulged, as to the good which they were likely to 
eflPect, may also be regarded as a literary curiosity. It occurs in a speech 
delivered on the occasion of the third anniversary of the society, in 1824. 
** There are now," he says, " upwards of 150 children under tuition in our 
Sunday-school, and supposing this world yet to continue for 1177 years, 
which is nearly the time calculated by some of our most eminent divines, 
at the end of which period the millenium is to commence. I say, suppose 
this to be correct. There are at present 150 children in our school who 
are taught every Sabbath to love and serve God : now suppose upon an 
average they remain seven years each in the school, and a regular succes- 
sion to be kept up, there will be admitted before the expiration of the 1177 
years, upwards of 10,090* children admitted into this blessed institution, 
who will be taught to fear the Lord." 

* Twenty-five thonsand^^ould have been nearer the mark.— Editor. 



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Biography of Mr* W. D. Hiarrisonj of Eckington, 89 

'^ Again, sapposing that there are only five* sixths of that number who 
shall hare a claim to the benefits of this fund, there will be 8409 young 
immortals, who will have had put into their hands that Book widch is able 
to make them and theirs blessed for ever. ■ Here then is a theme for 
exultation, and on which my soul delights to dwell. O, my dear brethren 
and sisters, whatever others do, let us be found laboaring in the vineyard 
of our God, pruning, and trimming, and training, by every means which 
Divine Providence has put within our power, those young plants. And 
'what tongue can describe the glory which will await us in the kiugdnm of 
our Father, for we are told, *They that turn many to righteousness, shall 
shine as the stars for ever and ever.' " 

At a later period in the history of this excellent society, he said, " You 
have heard from the report that has been read, the present state of our 
little Bible Society. I confess that when I look at its commencement, and 
follow it through the several years it has been established, I may say it 
has greatly exceeded my expectations. I rejoice when I consider the many 
friends whom God has raised up to support it ; their zt al has been truly 
commendable, for hitherto we can justly say it has lacked nothing. How 
many examples we have had since the formation of this society, to convince 
us of the mutability of all earthly things. Who amongst us are marked as 
speedy victims of death God only knows, it may be he who is now address- 
ing you, or it may be some of my dear friends ; let us be careful to be found 
doing the will of our heavenly Father, for blessed will that servant be who 
VI hen his Lord cometh, shall be found so doing ; upon such our ever- 
adorable Redeemer shall pronounce the sentence, * Come, ye blessed of my 
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the 
world,' For my own part, I would sincerely pray, * Let thy law, Almighty 
Parent, be the rule, and thy glory the constant end of all I do.' 

* My time, advice, and wealth, be freely given, * 

To bless them here, and lead to bliss in heaven.* '* . 

These extracts exhibit the man in some of his best and happiest mo- 
ments, and convey a much better idea of his Christian character than any 
mere description could do. And his acts of love and zeal were not 
momentary or occasional impulse, expending their force in fine speeches at 
anniversary meetings, but like steady, active fiame, which continued to 
bum brightly to the end. 

For many years he prepared the report for the annual meetings of the 
school, and one or two extracts from some of these reports will serve to 
show that he was not weary in well doing. Thus, in 1845, he says, " The 
return of an anniversary meeting of this kind, is calculated to excite a feel- 
ing of solemnity and serious consideration in the minds of all. Our time 
is short, and we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, to 
give an account of the deeds done in the body. This ought to lead all the 
teachers of this school, and I hope will, to make the inquiry— with what, 
degree of diligence and with what success have we been labouring ] We 
have great cause to be humbled before God. Yet our heavenly Father 
gives us some encouragement to persevere, for during the year we have 
Had two more teachers savingly converted to God, wlio have become 
members of our church, and are now walking in the comforts of the Holy 
Ghost." 

In 1849, he writes, " Not a single teacher or scholar has been cut off by^ 
death during this year. It is with much pleasure we state that a closer 
connection between the school and the church has been established ; and 
during the year it has pleased God, in answer to prayer, to save seven more 
teachers, making a total of fifty, since the commencement of the school in 
1834. Sereral of theM have died happy in God. Two of the scholars havci 

H 



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90 Biography of Mr. W. D. Harrison^ of EcJdngtan. 

also been brought to a saving knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. I 
close with the words of the poet — 

* Each following minute as it flows^ 
Increase Thy praise, improve our joys, 
Till we are raised to sing Thy name 
At the great supper of the Lamb.* " 

The last extract I shall give is from the last report which he was per- 
mitted to draw up, and which he read on the 26th of December, 1854. j\iter 
giving the Statistics of Sunday-school Education, recently published, he 
says, " These facts, attesting as they do the wonderful growth and exten- 
sion of the Sunday-schools in England, cannot fail to give a thrill of delight 
to every pious breast They have sent a sanctifying influence to multitudes 
of cottages, workshops, and fields. They have smoothed and blessed thou- 
sands of death-beds. They have diffused hymn-books and tracts. They 
have prevented Sabbath-breaking to a great extent. And to attain these 
blessed results was this Chapel erected. Tes, to fit immortal souls for the 
friendship of God, and prepare them for a blissful immortality in the world 
to come. This was the sole object we had in view when they were built, 
and I pray Gk)d of his infinite mercy that they may still be consecrated by 
Him to such purposes, to generations yet unborn." After praising God for 
the mercies of the year, he adds, '^ And we intend, if longer spared, still to 
employ our feeble talents in doing our utmost for the present and everlasting 
welfare of the children committed to our care, and may God make us the 
happy instruments of their eternal salvation.'* When he penned these last 
words, he little thought that in about a month his labour of love would be 
suddenly brought to a close. *^ In the midst of life we are in death." On 
the day of the meeting, while seated in his house, and musing probably on 
the rapid flight of years, he first repeated aloud, and then wrote on a scn^ 
of paper, these almost prophetic words — 

** Another wave will land me on that blissful shore, 
. Where those I loved are gone before." 

In addition to his laboui*s in the Sabbath-school, Mr. Harrison sustained 
for many years the office of a class-leader, and in the discharge of the 
important duties of that office he was always punctual, affectionate, and 
faithful, and enjoyed the esteem and confidence of his members. And he 
was well qualified both from his knowledge of the word of God, and his 
personal experience, to instruct, direct, and comfort others. He was also 
very attentive to the sick and infirm, and many a suffering and dying 
individual has he pointed to the " Father of mercies and God of aU 
comfort," or pourea into their listening ear the "great and precious 
promises " of the Gospel. Of not a few of the departed members of the 
church, and of the teachers and scholars of the school, he was the affec- 
tionate and fiedthful biographer. It is a pleasing thought that those whose 
death-bed he endeavoured to smooth — and whose happy and triumphant 
end he recorded for the encouragement and edification of others, are now 
together inhabiting that happy land — 

" Where pain> and sin, and want, and care. 
And sighing are no more." 

It will not be necessary to dwell on the closing scene of the life which 
we have thus briefly sketched. The simple statement, as forwarded to the 
writer in a letter inviting him to preach the funeral sermon, embodies all 
that need be said, and is deeply affecting and solemnly admonitory. The 
writer of that letter says—** He left home on Monday, February the 6th, 
got to Elirton Lindsey, in Lincolnshire, that night, got up in good health on 
Tuesday morning, and about eight o'clock, while in the street, dropped down 



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Biography of Mr. Charles Byme^ of Liverpool, 9i 

and died in a moment." All the comment which we shall offer on this 
extract is in the words of the Saviour. " Therefore be ye also ready ; for 
in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh." " Watch ye 
therefore, for ye know not when the Master of the house cometh, at even, 
or at midnight, or at the cock-crowing, or in the morning. Lest suddenly 
he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you, I say unto all, watch.'* 

In summing up the character of our deceased friend, I believe that I 
shall be best fulfilling his wishes— could he have been consulted on the 
subject — ^by avoiding all empty eulogy. If I could have received his dying 
inj auction, I believe he would have said, If you speak of me at all, let it 
be to the praise of redeeming mercy. By the grace of God I am what 
lam." 

There were however some traits in his character which merit particular 
notice, and which may be presented as worthy of imitation, and 

First. He was a man of exemplary industry, and diligence in his calling. 
He believed it to be his duty to be "diligent in business," as well as 
"fervent in spirit." He was emulous to excel others in the quality of the 
articles which ne produced, and to a great extent he was successful, and few 
men have in this respect enjoyed a juster fame. In the prosecution of his 
basinesB he travelled, mostly on foot, thousands of miles, and by his industry 
and attention succeeded in raising himself from comparative obscurity to 
honour, and moderate wealth. 

Secondly. He was strictly trtie and jtMt in all his dealings : his word 
might be relied upon, and there was nothing which so strongly excited his 
displeasure as the appearance of duplicity and falsehood in others. 

Thirdly. He was remarkably kind and hospitable. His house was open, 
and his board spread, for the entertainment of the preachers and others, 
and they were always welcomed with a smile. 

Fourthly. Mr. Harrison was a regular and punctual man. With 
him, "to every thing there was a season)" I have often thought that 
if the latter could he carried to an extreme length, that it was so by 
our departed firiend. Instead of doing as too many of the members of our 
congregations do, viz. entering the house of God after, and sometimes 
long after the commencement of the service, he was almost invariably in 
his place some minutes before the time, and so prepared to join in all 
purts of the worship of Almighty God. I have often thought, and often 
said, "How pleasing it would be if all our hearers were in their places like 
Brother H., when we enter the pulpit." 

I add only. He was an affectionate husband, a kind and indulgent 
father, a warm-hearted and steady friend. That he had failings and in- 
firmities onlv proves that he was a partaker of our common humanity. I 
have no doubt he was a man of God, and entertain a firm hope that we 
shall meet again to renew our friendehips. Amen. 

Edw. Weight. 



ME. CHAHLES BYKNE, OF LIVEEPOOL. 

It is often difficult to give, even of a good man, an interesting biographi- 
cal account. Frequently such persons leave no memoranda which can 
a£ford any aid in preparing a memoir, and surviving relatives know their 
history only in a fragmentary and imperfect way. It is only an imperfect 
sketch which can be given of our late Brother Byrne. 

Charles Byrne was a native of Ireland, having been born at Geashill, 
King's County, in the month of March, in the year 1798. Of his early 
history we possess no details, but he was a child of wrath, even as others ; 
nor does it appear that he was the subject of any serious concern about 

H 2 

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92 Biography of Mr, Charles Byme^ of Liverpool. 

his salvation until abont the age of twenty-four or twenty-five years. At 
that period he listened for the first time to the Gospel preached by a 
Methodist, hearing a Mr. Gundy, a Local preacher, preach from ** Fear not 
little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasare to give you the kingdom." 
He asked himself " Who are they who compose this little flock ? Am I 
one 1 " The word was made a blessing to his soul— the savour of life unto life. 

He in consequence connected himself yrith the Methodist Society, and 
endeavoured to walk worthy of his high calling. About two years after 
he became a member he removed to Liverpool, being aflectiooately com- 
mended by the preacher of the circuit to which he belonged to the kind 
care and regard of the Liverpool friends. 

In Liverpool, he diligently endeavoured not only to provide honest 
things in the sight of all men, but also to serve and glorify God. His zeal 
and consistency secured the favourable notice of the officers of the Society, 
80 that in two or three years he was called to sustain the honourable and 
responsible office of a leader. This office he filled until his death, a period 
of twenty-six or twenty-seven years, and during many years he had a 
numerous and prosperous class. 

About the time of his appointment as a leader, Brother Byrne had a 
narrow escape from death. A man had gone into a loft over the shop (a 
smith's) in which brother Byrne wrought, and by accident threw down a 
heavy piece of iron on his head, bringing him to the ground with fearful 
violence. The injury he received was severe, his recovery doubtful, but 
by Divine mercy, though bearing the mark of the fracture to the day of 
his death, he happily recovered. He always (and very naturally) regai-ded 
this escape from death as most extraordinary. 

At the time of the separation of the Wesleyan Association from the 
Wesleyan Society, Brother Byrne manifested his attachment to liberal 
principles of Church government, by identifying himself with the Associa- 
tion, of which he remained a faithful member and officer to the end of his 
life. Of this he gave proof. About seven years since he went to reside at 
Tranmere, on the western side of the Mersey ; there he made himself very 
useful in a small society belonging to the Liverpool Circuit, leading a class, 
&c. During his residence at Tranmere, the preaching-room occupied by 
the Association was unjustly and surreptitiously taken away by a person 
holding the office of a Local preacher, the greater part of the Society and 
congregation continuing to worship there. Brother Byrne however adhered 
faithfully to the Association. 

Shortly after Brother Eyrne returned to reside in Liverpool. Here his at- 
tachment to the body was further tried, when in 1852, the Rev. J. Carveth, 
disregarding his obligations to the Connexion, in whose ministry he was 
engaged, joined with some others, in an attempt to alienate the Liverpool 
Circuit from the Wesleyan Association, he was again found faithful, and 
it may be added, continued stedfastly attached to the end of his life.. 

For some years before his death, Brother Byrne suflfered much from 
ill-health, and was incapable of tliose labours in which he had previously 
exerted himself. This, together with pain and weakness, induced frequent 
depression of spirit, and made his views both of himself and the church 
often gloomy and discouraging. He however continued to urge the impor- 
tance of personal religion upon those to whom he wrote or spoke. Of this 
one evidence may be given, in an extract from a letter written to a sister 
on the death of a near relative : 

" My dear sister, — The long spared family is broken into at last, and now 
there is one missing, there will soon be another, and I am almost persuaded 
it will be me. I am suffering very much at present. I have not known a 
day's good health for many months. To work I cannot, and to walk 
aJmost kills me ; but there is one great source of consolation, the fear of 



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Biography of Mr, Samuel Edwards^ of Chirk. 93 

death has long since been taken away, and I have a sweet hope of entering 
into the rest that remains for the children of God." 

During his last illness, the calmness and confidence which he manifested 
were exceedingly comforting to his friends. There was a striking contrast 
between the doubting and discouraged tone in which he had frequently 
spoken during the preceding year or two, and the cheerful courage of his 
death-bed. The clouds which had sometimes hung so heavily in the skies 
seemed all dissipated, and he was peacefully confident, and blessedly hope- 
ful. It was always gratifying to visit him. 

His eldest daughter, in giving some account of the closing scene of his 
life, speaking of the night before his death, says, " About two o'clock it 
appeared that death was fast approaching, and the family were called into 
his room. He said * I am going to heaven ! to my Father's house ! Oii ! that 
we may all meet there ! a whole family in heaven ! Oh ! how it pains me 
to think of one of my family being wanting in the great day.' Then 
clasping his hands, he said * God forbid that one of my dear family should 
be lost ! ' lie entreated each one, as he had often done on other occasions, 
to seek the salvation of our souls, and meet him in heaven. To me he 
said, while holding my hand in his, * I am not afraid to die, the struggle 
will soon be over. It is but passing away! Glory ! Glory be to God I 
' I shall pass the watery flood, 
Hanging on the arm of God.' " 

Mother said to him, ' Do you feel that Jesus is precious to you.' He said 
* Yes ! He is here ! * Then fixing his eyes steadfastly on her, he said * Don't 
you see Him ! ' She said, * No.* * Oh,' said he, * He is close beside you. 
My precious Saviour.' 

* About an hour before he died, he said that he had no desire to recover 
but to glorify God. He said little afterwards. At twenty minutes to one 
o'clock, on Saturday, February 17th, 1865, without a struggle or a groan, 
his spirit took its flight Brother Byrne was fifty- six years of age when 
he died. T. A. B, 



MR SAMUEL EDWARDS, OF CHIRK. 

Mr. Samuel Edwards was born near Chirk, Denbighshire, in the year 
1785. His religious training was such as might be expected from the cir- 
cumstances in which he w^as placed. His parents were decent, moral 
persons, but, like their neighbours, strangers to evangelical truth. He 
worshipped regularly at the parish church until his twenty-fifth year. He 
had been from an early age the subject of serious impressions. He often 
heard what was calculated to excite his fear, but never any words of com- 
fort. His sins were frequently presented to his viewj but there was no 
exhibition of the Saviour. He continued in the spirit of bondage till the 
year 1810, when several Methodist preachers visited Chirk, amongst whom 
were John Elias, Edward Amwell, and Owen Davies. These men of Gad 
took their stand in the open air, and preached to the half-enlightened 
villagers " the unsearchable riches of Christ.'* Brother Edwards was pre- 
pared for such a ministry. He heard with delight the doctrines of the 
cross ; he accepted the grace so freely offered — " being justified by faith, he 
had peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ." I have often heard 
him allude with pleasure to those happy days. As the enemies of vital piety 
were numerous at that time in the village, he had much opposition to con- 
tend with, but he was " bold to take up, and firm to sustain, the consecrated 
cross." 
My acquaintance with him commenced in the year 1832 j he was then in 



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94 TVhat this Year may bring, 

the prime of life, and very zealons in his Master's canse. He at his own 
expense opened a place for preaching near the Tillage. There was always 
a hearty welcome for the preachers at his house. Being often appointed at 
Chirk, I had frequent intercourse with him, and had therefore many 
favourable opportunities of studying his character. He was a man of great 
consistency. Many were the efforts employed to draw him away from the 
Wesleyan Association, hut none were successful; he stuck firm to the 
cause, through good and through evil report. As a man, his talents were 
above mediocrity; he was dignified, decided, frank, and generous; 
he utterly abhorred everything mean and crouching: his judgment was 
discriminative, and his penetration sharp ; he had a rich fund of genuine 
humour, which was as far removed from frivolity as it was from morose- 
ness. Such a mind was in perfect harmony with his noble frame. Men- 
tally and morally, our deceased brother was a great man. As a Christian, 
he was sound in the faith, and sincerely devoted to God ; as a class-leader, 
he was affectionate and faithful; in prayer he was very powerfnl,--he 
appeared to throw his whole heart into every petition ; on such occasions 
the windows of heaven were opened, and a copious blessing poured out on 
the people. 

In April, 1854, 1 removed to Liverpool ; in the month following I visited 
the Overton Circuit, accompanied by Brother Cartwright. We left Brother 
Edwards in tolerable healtn. A few weeks afterwards he went out to meet 
his brother, whom he had not seen for many years ; but had only walked 
a few yards from his own gate, when he suddenly expired. He was thus 
permitted to enter the heavenly Canaan without contending vnth the swel- 
unffs of Jordan. 

His death was greatly lamented by a large circle of friends, and espe- 
cially so by his relatives, and the members of the church with which he 
was connected. At the earnest request of his relatives, 1 preached his 
funeral sermon, from Rev. xiv. 13, to a large and deeply affected congrega- 
tion. It is pleasing to add, that his youngest son is a Local preacher 
amongst us, and his widow continues generously to receive the preachers 
at her house. 

Liverpool, J. Ktjssell. 

WHAT THIS YEAR MAY BRING. 

A RECORD FOR THOSE WHO THINK. 

Another Year had come. 

They knew it at the palace, and the thoughtful ones stept lightly, while 
they dwelt on the past which returns not, and the fature wluch holds so fast 
its mysteries. 

They knew it in the poor man's home, for the voice of the old church 
clock had told the tale, and many a heart beat louder as it met the stranger 
guest, and wondered what he brought to them and theirs. 

Far away in Southern Devonshire, there lived a woman, upon whose thin 
features you could read of Death ; whose very voice was an echo from the 
tomb, and the sound of whose deep cough crept shuddering to your heart. 
The New Year had come, and she, too, knew it well. 

She knew still more : there was a writing ever before her eyes, and its 
words were burnt into her very soul — the words of the New Year — " Ihring 
thee Death r' 

Oh, terrible I Death ; what is that P She knows not ; all she knows is, 
that she dreads to meet the mighty foe. Ah, well may a wasted life stand 
up and say. " Tremble, when Death shall come !" 

In days long gone she had heard much talk of prayer ; she had been told 
that He who made her. He whom she has till now forgotten, hears and 



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What this Year may bring. 95 

answers prayer; bat, alas, she cannot praj* ! It is, as slie herself would tell 
you, as if, when she longs to pray, something were whispering, " You pray!** 
and looking back upon the long jears spent in health and prayerlessness, 
she listens to the tempter and is silent. 

And the Toice of the New Year sounds, " I bring thee Death !*' 

The year was not a week old yet, and in her humble home the death- 
appointed one sat gloomily : " I cannot pray," the burden of her lamen- 
tation. Over her there bends a friend of earlier days, whose heart bleeds 
for poor Mary j yet she knows not how to help. Presently she bethinks her 
of a bearer or the little ** whisperers " which come so silently into the house, 
and speak so loudly to the heart ; and she asks leave to direct her to the 
anxious one. Hesitating, shrinking back, dreading to be addressed as ** a. 
great sinner," the poor, miserable woman gives consent ; and her kind Mend 
is gone. 

Who would not hasten with cold water to the desert- wanderer ? or with 
a sure relief to the bodily-diseased ? or with a pardon to the scaffold-treading 
malefactor P More than all, who would not hasten to preach Christ, and 
him crucified, to the soul asking, ''How shall I flee from the wrath to 
come ? " 

So it is ; with quick step and an uplifted heart the tract-distributor wends 

her way to the home of Mary R . There is no cordial welcome j for 

like many of her class, poor Mary shrinks from conversation on religious 
subjects with those who have more of this world's wealth than she ; and 
she perhaps holds fast the foolish notion, that because a Pharisaic pride is 
manifest in some of them, it must be so with all. However, it will not be 
long before she learns to give a welcome, bright as any sunbeam, to her 
visitor. 

The new friend brings a book with her — what book ? One which has 
been no euest of Mary's hitherto. Ah, in how many households is this 
•* lamp " despised ! 

They talk a while of ordinary things, until the invalid begins to imder- 
stand the sympathy her new fnend feels in her bodily suffermgs, and then 
the Word is read : •* For God so loved the world, that he gave his only- 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." (Johia iii. 16.) 

Then foUow other messages from heaven ; and then the ox)ening of the 
poor, almost despairing heart, — no longer shrinking from acknowledgment 
of guilt ; and the answering sympathy of the listener, who could herseif 
recall a time of just such deep anxiety and terrible distress. They kneel ;-^ 
she whose complaint it is that " Satan will not let her pray," expecting but 
to listen, feeling it almost a mockery to bend the knee ; she who had come 
there prajdng silently, still asking for direction in the awful, the sublime 
work she is, as she trusts, called of God, as an instrument, to do. 

At first the burdened heart feels nothing ; but as gradually the speaker, 
striving to give expression to the doubts, and fears, and desires, of the sin- 
stricken soul, becomes more earnest, an emotion overwhelming masters it, 
and it becomes impossible not to join in prayer. Then, in the earnest cry for 
Ood-given faith in Him who died to save, a humble yet continued pleading 
for full pardon for the sake of the blood shed on Calvary, the soul is melted 
utterly. 

And from that hour Mary — rich Mary now — dates her acquaintance with 
the Saviour ; and though her friend, in her weak faith, almost inclines to 
doubt if God has bo soon answered prayer, yet frequent repetition in after 
interviews of the same earnest statement forbids her long to hesitate, and 
she with joy exclaims, "What hath God wrought!" 

On the night of that brief visit there was another New Year's message 
read to Mary E , ** I bring thee Peace ! " 



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96 Review and Criticism, 

Again we stand within that little room, whence, since our Tisit some few 
weeks ago, many more prayers have mounted to the skies, — prayers froni 
the lips of the pastor, in w hose study Mary's new friend told the story of 
her visit ; the prayers of other Christians who have heard from various 
sources something of the history ; as well as those of her who was the happy 
instrument of leading the tempted one /or the first time to prayer. 

And now the clouds grow darker, hut it is only near the ground ; above, 
in the region where the spirit dwells, the sun shines more brightly than 
ever yet. Prayer becomes more the atmosphere of the soul, a deeper anxi- 
ety for the salvation of others manifests itself, " the i^orld recedes, — heaven 
Opens." Solemn hour ! . 

Gradually the house is taken down, — the body becomes fearfully emaci- 
ated, — the large eves lose expression ; and she who has been so privileged 
as to visit that sick-room to bring and take away rich blessings, bends over 
that lowly bed, and as she presses those thin lips, which nave scarcely 
strength to ask, " Will you not kiss me?*' she can almost hear the step of 
the last enemy. 

It is over ! Th% husband is wifeless, — the clay dwelling tenantles8,-—the 
lids are closed over the once speaking eyes, — the lips, which moved in the 
moan of illness, or the sweet music of prayer, are pale and still, — the hands 
so often busied in her household duties rest as they could never rest before, 
^-the grave shall soon receive its dead. 

A gam the New Year's friend stands there, but it is beside a corpse. The 
morning sun shines brightly, and from many a house of prayer come forth 
the worshippers, real and pretended, for it is the day of rest ; while Sabbath 
revellers are planning how to waste the evening ; and, midst it all, here 
lies a written sermon Which 'twere well for every heart to read, — a sermoa 
on The End, Truly the New Year has fulfilled its promise, ** I will bring 
thee Death;" yet its voice is heard again, "Not only Death, but Everlasting 
Life!" 

Man, to whom God gives another Year, what does his gift bring to thee? 
Who can tell? Perchance the writing is of madness or of death ; of over- 
whelming sorrow or fearful temptation ! What hast thou as an anchor in 
the storm ? Think thou not that thy strong, sinewy arm, thy proudly- 
r ishing blood, thy vigorous health, can help thee ! Nothing but faith in 
Him who died to rescue such as thou, can keep thee safe this year in life or 
^eath. 

' List the year's message—" Let me bring thee peace with God, and ever- 
more it shall be well with thee." — The Appeal, 



REVIEW AND CRITICISM. 

The Three Crosses of Calvary, By the Rev. Morgan Lloyd. 
London r John Snow, Paternoster-row. 

The character of this work may be inferred from a sentence or two 
in its Preface. The author says, — " In studying the scenes of Cal- 
vary an almost exclusive attention is commonly given to the cross on 
which Christ died. But there were two other crosses there. These, 
though widely different from that on which He suffered, in the senti- 
ments which they awaken, are eminently significant and suggestive.'' 
These words supply the key to the excellent author's design in the 
work before us. His plan is singularly clear. He first treats of 



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Review and Criticism. 97 

Calraiy : tben of the Redeemer's cross, next of the croiss of the Peni" 
tent; after that, of the cross of the Unbeliever ; and, finally, of the 
union of the Three Crosses. This work, though not much distin- 
guished by depth of thought or brilliancy of style, is in a high degree 
evangelical, and eminently adapted to the development of pious 
feeling. 

Grammar at Sight. By Walter King. London : Houlston and 
Stoneman, Paternoster-row. 

This is a new edition of a Grammar, with a Chart and Key to the 
English Language, including rules for the Composition of Verse and 
Prose, and some useful Hints on Oratory. It is on an entirely new 
and original plan, it presents the whole subject of Grammar much 
more palpably to the minds of Youth than, so far as we know, it has 
ever^been presented before. The method is catechetical. The Ques- 
tions and Answers very fully bring out the elements of Grammar, and 
we conceive it impossible for any one to study this excellent work 
attentively, without making rapid progress in acquiring a knowledge 
of the English Language. Mr. King's work deserves, and, we doubt 
notj will have a very wide circulation. 

Memoirs of James Hutton, By Daniel Benham. London : Hamil- 
ton, Adams, and Co., Paternoster-row. 

This work comprises the annals of Mr. Hutton's life, and an account 
of his connection with the United Brethren. The materials of which 
it is composed have been drawn from a large variety of sources, 
among the principal, of which, may be named a Manuscript History, 
drawn up by the Rev. John Phtt, the late Keeper of the Archives at 
Hermhut — the Correspondence of the Geneva Society for the Fur- 
therance of the Gospel — Diaries of the Brethren in London, and an 
extensive collection of Diaries and Correspondence in the Archives 
of Hermhut. 

The subject of these Memoirs was awakened under the ministry of 
the Rev. John Wesley, and is afterwards found corresponding and 
co-operating with the Wesleys and Mr. Whitfield in that extraordinary 
Revival of Religion by which the labours of those eminent men were 
signalised. Afterwards he became acquainted with Bohler, and for 
some time acted as the Interpreter of his discourses, and gradually 
fraternized more and more with the United Brethren, until his sepa- 
ration from the Methodists became complete. He was one of those 
devoted men who originated " the Society for the Furtherance 
of the Gospel." He was a most striking example of the connec- 
tion between Business and Religion. He converted his shop, as his 
biographer says, into a Pulpit, from which " his customers never re- 
tired, when he was present, without some discourse for the good of 
their souls." Soon after his separation from " the Wesleys," we find 
that he acted as Interpreter to Count Zinzendorf. After many evi- 
dences of deep devotion and fervent zeal at home, we find Mr. Hutton 
and his wifcj in a few years, labouring in Switzerland — then he returns 



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98 The Casket. 

home and is off to Germany— by-and-bye he is in Switzerland again, 
which he ultimately leaves on account of a misunderstandiDg with 
the Board of Direction. He returns home, whereupon he labours to 
infuse increased energy into the operations of "the Society for the 
Furtherance of the Gospel." He was instrumental in promoting a 
Mission to Labrador, and became first Vice-President, and afterwards 
President of " the Society for the Furtherance of the Gospel," from 
which period his time was devoted principally to the perfecting of the 
new organizations for extending Missions Abroad, and for the Diffiision 
of the Missionary spirit at Home. After an eminently useful and 
somewhat eventful life, this good man died in triumph, in the 80th 
year of his pilgrimage. Benevolence and devotion seem to have been 
leading traits of his character. 

These Memoirs are full of interesting incidents illustrative of the 
character and manners of the United Brethren. We recommend this 
work to the notice of our readers, as eminently adapted to promote a 
spirit of zealous devotedness to the service of the Divine Master. 



THE CASKET. 

THE MEDALS OF GEOLOGY. 

The historian may have pnrsued the line of march of triumphant oon* 
qiierors, whose armies trampled down the most mighty kingdoms of the world. 
The winds and storms have utterly obliterated the ephemeral impressions of 
their course. Not a track remains of a single foot, or a single noof, of tdl 
the countless millions of men and beasts whose progress once spread desolation 
over the earth. Bnt the reptiles that crawled upon the half-finished surface 
of our infant planet, have left memorials of their passage enduring and 
indelible. — Dr, Buckland. 

TEXT SPARRING. 

The diversity of Christian sects has been greatly multiplied by diflferent 
religionists framing some exclusive creed on unconnected sentences and 
isolated texts. The mysteries which these spiritual lynxes detect in the 
simplest passages, which they twist and torture, remind one of the five 
hundred nondescripts, each as large as his own black cat, which Dr. 
Katerfelto, by aid of his solar microscope, discovered in a drop of trans- 
parent water. Let those who are in danger of this polemical infection, 
attend to the following golden aphorism of one of our oldest and most 
orthodox divines. " Sentences in Scripture," says Dr. Donne, " like hairs 
in horsetails, concur in one root of beauty and strength ; being plucked out, 
one hy one^ serve only for springs and snares." 

PUBLIC INSTRUCTION. 

Our statesmen, who survey with jealous dread all plans for the education 
of the poor, may be thought to proceed on the system of antagonist muscles^ 
in a belief, that the closer a nation shuts its eyes, the wider it will open its 
hands. Or do they act on the principle that the status belli is the natural 
relation between the people and the Government, and that it is prudent to 
secure the result of^ the contest by gotiging the adversary in the first 
instance ? ^as \ the policy of the maxim is on a par with its honesty. 
The Philistines had put out the eyes of Samson, and thus, as they thought, 
fitted him to drudge and grind ; but his darkness added to his fury, without 
diminishing his strength. 



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The Casket. 99 

EUBOFEAlf DIPLOMATISTS CHARACTEBISED, AS THET AFFEABED AT 
THE czar's coronation. 

We were presented at the coronation by Count Momy, the French 
Ambassador, a spick and span man of considerable aplomb, and who, by 
the way, is one of the greatest speculators in the world. He speculates in 
everything, and bought a lot of pictures to sell again and make a profit 
of. Next to Count Momy stood the representative of a country which 
deserves the sympathies of all civilized people, Sardinia, — General Dabor- 
mida. Then came the ambassador of the smallest kingdom in Europe, 
Belgium, the Prince de Ligne, the very picture of swelling insignificance, so 
swelling, indeed, that he could not tor the life of him look down from the 
contemplation of his own importance. Then there was that fine specimen 
of a man. Prince Esterhazy, the representative of Austria. Then the 
representative of Naples, of whom, in charity, I will say nothing. Then 
the Turkish representative, a clever Turk. Of course he was not admitted 
into the church. At the same time, you could not look at him without 
feeling that he was the representative oi an effete and worn-out nation. It 
was impossible for Turkey long to resist the aggression of Russia without 
assistance. Then came the Papal representative, and finally, that of this 
country, Lord Granville, than whom no one could more thoroughly repre- 
sent a true Englishman. He was the representative of the most powerful 
nation in the world, yet plainly dressed. When I saw him standing amid 
the decorated group aroimd him, I was reminded of the lines of Burns-— 

^ A king can make a belted knight, 

A marquiss, duke, and a' that; 
But an honest man's abune his might-— 

A man*s a man for a' that." 

FOTEMEIN AND THE TATJRIDA. 

There is another great palace, the Taurida. It was given by Catherine 
to the remarkable character called Potemkin — remarkable for the power he . 
acquired over that most powerful Empress. Potemkin secured to Russia 
that very spot, the Crimea, in which so much precious blood and treasure 
have been lately expended by the Allies. Potemkin caused the Khan of the 
Crimea to be assassinated, and then attached the border of the Black Sea to 
Kussia. It was he, who, first raised the post with the well-known inscrip- 
tion, ** La route de Constantinople^^ — an inscription which it has ever been 
the anxious desire of the Northern Czars to carry out, and which remains 
for Europe to prevent 

THE CROWN JEWELS OF RU88IA. 

In the Winter Palace are deposited the Crown Jewels. I have travelled 
a good deal, and seen many fine sights, but I never saw anything like the 
splendid jewels belonging to the Sovereign and people of that Court and 
country. They are something beyond belief. The crown exhibits a ruby 
such as was never seen before ; the sceptre has the largest emerald in the 
world ; the ball of state has an enormous sapphire ; the Empress's beautiful 
crown of pearls contains the largest pearl I ever saw ; and the effect 
produced by this congregation of brilliants is something quite magnificent. 
DVit these alas ! only serve to symbolise a dominion over myriads of Serfs. 

UNAFPRECIATED BENEFACTORS. 

Kumerous are the instances, both in Europe and America, of the sufferings, 
the privations, the scorn, the scoflSngs, and the contumely which many 
pioneers in a good cause have had to endure. In the latter country may be 
specially mentioned the celebrated Robert Morris, the financier of the 
American revolution, who died a bankrupt. Christopher Colles, the earliest. 



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100 Religious Intelligence. 

most enterprising, and most efficient advocate of inland navigation of the 
huge waters of the western world, was interred, by private charity, in the 
Strangers' burying-ground. The splendid essays of Jesse Hawley, which 
convinced the American people of the feasibility and importance of a con- 
tinuous canal from lake Erie to the Hudson Biver and the Atlantic Ocean, 
were sent forth from a debtors' prison. De Witt Clinton, who perfected 
that glorious enterprise, and whose name is written upon the capital of every 
column of the social edifice in America, was indebted to private hospitality 
for a resting-place ; but the crowning ingratitude remains yet to be told. 
Fulton, the immortal Fulton, whilst building, at New York, the first steam- 
boat, the <* Clermont," we are told, was treated as an idle projector, whose 
schemes would be useless to the world and ruinous to himself. ** Never 
(says that martyr of ingratitude) did a single encouraging remark, a bright 
hope, a warm wish, cross my path. Silence itself was but politeness, veilug 
its doubts and hiding its reproaches." 

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 

** To-day is thine, to-morrow mine ! " 

So warns the solemn burial toll, 
Oft as we back to earth return. 

The tent of a departed soul; 
And every grove repeats the line, 
** To-day is thine, to-morrow mine ! " 

Ah ! who can tell how near the hour! 

Then let me die ere death has come ! 
So shall the summons not surprise. 

Which calls me to my endless home ; 
Strengthen me, Jesus, by thy power. 
For who can tell how near the hour ! 

Thrice blessed those who die in Christ, 

Death is to them the gate of life ; 
Where faith is merged in glorious sight, 

And victory crowns the earthly strife. 
Life is but death, till Christ we see, 
And death is life if His we be. 



RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENCE. 
STALEYBRIDGE AND GLOSSOP CIRCUIT. 

Mr. Editor— Dear Sir, 

Upon the whole as a Circuit, we have been favoured by the great Head of 
the Church, with peace within our wails and prosperity within our palaces. 

At Glossop especially there has been a blessed work going on for many 
months. God has indeed, in the plenitude of his grace and mercy, signally 
prospered the work of our hands in the conversion of sinnens turning them 
from darkness to light, and the power of Satan to God, an infinitely greater 
work than mere turning men from one set of notions in reference to eccle- 
siastical polity to another. The reform going on in that locality has gone 
deeper, having broken up the fountains of the great deep, the depths of the 
human heart, and penetrated and explored the cavern or the soul. We trust 
many have been added to our ranks such as shall he eternally saved. 

Since the last Annual Assembly our increase is twenty full members, 

and upwards of thirty on triaL And although in another place of the 

.Circmt, some untoward circumstances of a painful character, wholly 

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Religious Intelligence. 101 

beyond; our control, because of their complicated nature, threatened 
to render to some extent nugatory our increase both numerically and 
financially in other parts of the Circuit ; yet, notwithstanding, there was 
found at the December quarter-day, an advance also in the income of the 
quarter of three pounds and upwards on the preceding one. 

1 should take this opportunity to say, that at H oiling worth, the centre of 
our Circuit, the friends have bestowed a great amount of labour, and spared 
no expense in cleaning, painting, beautifying, and repairing, their chapel, 
insomuch that the house of the Lord is now the admiration of all, and our 
sincere and ardent desire and prayer to Almighty God the Master of Assem- 
blies (who makes the place of His feet glorious, and will fflorify the house of 
His glory) is, that it may be one mean among others of drawing those that 
are without nearer unto the holy of holies, to behold the beauty of the Lord, 
and enquire in his temple. We trust that as it has already proved the birthplace 
of many souls in bygone days, that it will be said of many more that they 
-were born there. O that the time may soon arrive when nothing shall be 
done or practised in any of our places of worship, exclusively set apart 
for religious adoration and service, but what strictly becomes the holiness 
of his house. As light advances, and pure and undefiled religion increases, 
this will be the case. 

It is when Christians arrive at the stature of perfect men in Christ, that 
tliey put away childish things.^ The amount expended in giving a 
finishing stroke both to the interior and exterior of our place of worship 
is, (inclusive of the great amount of labour done bv some parties without 
charge) equal to seventy pounds, nearly the whole of which was realized by 
re-opening services, subscriptions, and tea-meetings. 

The Reformers have not as yet united with us, but appear to be approxi- 
mating a little nearer, and will, we trust, ere long, make common cause with 
us. Wm. Mackenmy. 

STOCKTON CIRCUIT. 

My Dear Sir, 

When I came here in August, the aspect of our cause in this town was 
really discouraging. On the evening of our arrival, I attended by request, 
the regular week-night prayer-meeting in our chapel, where literallv ** two or 
three *' were gathered together in the name of the Saviour. The findings of 
the first Sabbath were anything but encouraging to me, just come from the 
Sunderland Circuit. 

A few Sundays after my arrival, I had to preach the Sunday-school ser- 
mons. The children sung and said suitable hymns and pieces, much to the 
credit of our persevering and sanguine friend, Mr. Greenwood. The company 
in the morning was good, in the afternoon crowded, and in the evening 
literally crammed. The collections were much in advance of their gatherings 
for many ^ears. It was to our friends here a token for good, and had con-* 
siderable influence on those that were without. That day may be noted as 
the beginning of good days. 

At our September Quarterly Meeting the subjects of union with the Re- 
formers, and a series of revival services, were agreed upon as both desirable and 
necessary. Immediately after, a committee of our own friends met a similar 
number of our brethren of the Reformers, when it was agreed upon to close 
our chapel in Stockton for repairs and cleaning, and to worship together with 
the Reformers in theirs. They agreed to return with us at the re-opening, 
and thus form one church and congregation. This auspicious event came 
off October 26th, 1856, when three sermons were preached : in the morning, 
by G. Blumer, Esq. of Hartlepool ; in the afternoon b;^ the Rev. T. Davison, 
Independent (the writer being unable through domestic bereavement to take 
the pulpit) ; and in the evening, by Mr. W. Hunter, of Hartlepool. The 
day was fine, the congregations very good, and the influence most gracious. 
On the following evening, the services were continued by a very well-attended 
and well-conducted tea-meeting; and as the trays were furnished gratuitously 



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102 Religiout Intelligence. 

by the ladies of the united congregation, the re-opening services realized 
upwards of 20/. toward the expense incurred bv the repairs. After tea, a 
public-meeting was held, presided over by Mr. Blumer, and addressed by the 
Key. J. M. Saul, of Darhngton, T. Davison, J. Stewart, and £. Hey wood, of 
Stockton, and Messrs. Hunter and R. Bell, of Hartlepool, Mr. Sedgwick, of 
Leeds, offering up at its opening a prayer, the remembrance of which is still 
refreshing to many who were then present. The meeting was pervaded by 
a solemnity, enthusiasm, and earnest religiousness. The interest was well- 
sustained until a late hour, when the meeting broke up — all feeling that they 
had seldom passed a more profitable and pleasant evening. The oneness of 
spirit that pervaded the meeting betokened the future happiness to result from 
the union. 

The Revival services agreed upon, were held at East and West Hartlepool, 
Stockton, and Middlesborough. The local brethren, the officers, and members 
of the churches, heartily united with Mr. R. Bell, the Reform preacher, and 
myself, and God was pleased to bless the united effort with considerable suc- 
cess in each place, 'fhe churches were stirred up, some backsliders were re- 
claimed, and a number of sinners were brought to Jesus. The aspect of 
affairs in each place has much to encourage us, and we are sowing in hope. 
During the last few weeks, twelve or fourteen souls have been brought to God 
amongst our own people, those at Hartlepool, and Middlesborough, and the 
dear, kind, earnest souls are looking for still greater things than these. The 
income for the last quarter is just five per cent, more than the preceding one. 
During the last few weeks I have delivered a series of three lectures both in 
West and East Hartlepool, in the Reform school in the former, and chapel 
in the latter place, on the Wesley Family. The subiect of the first was, 
** John Wesley's Nonconformist Ancestors, with Sketches of their Times." 
The second, " The Rev. Samuel Wesley, or the Parish Priest in Earnest, with 
notices of the Genius and Moral Worth of his Sons and Daughters." The 
third, " The Mother of John Wesley, or the Model Woman." The attendance 
in each place was very good on each occasion ; and it is to be hoped that the 
exhibition of so much embodied worth would not be lost upon the people. 
The meetings were ably presided over by Messrs. G. Blumer, J. C. Brewis, 
£. Londen, and W. Hunter, all Wesleyan Reformers. 

The valuable remarks of the respective Chairmen save weight and influence 
to the meetings. I am not without hope of seeing this Circuit, at a time not 
distant, assume a ver^ important position in the body. Each of the portions 
included in it, are rising in maritime and commercial importance, and I think 
we have the nucleus of a good church in each place. Our friends at Hartlepool 
are prepared to follow the example of Stockton, and form one church and 
congregation as soon as arrangements can be made for chapel accommodation. 
Our united prayer is, ** Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory 
unto their cnildren *, and let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us, and 
establish thou the work of our hands upon us : yea, the work of our hands 
establish thou it" 

Edmund Hetwood. 

NORTH AND SOUTH SHIELDS CIRCUIT. 

The Quarterly Meeting of this Circuit was held at North Shields, on the 
24th ult The Rev. Richard Chew occupied the chair. There was a conside- 
able attendance from the towns, and a few brethren were present from the 
country. There was a balance on the ordinary accounts of upwards of 3/L 
A preacher's house had been furnished during the quarter ; and towards this 
60/. had been contributed, leaving a balance, on the wrong side, of about 40/. 
The Circuit stewards were instructed to communicate with the Leaders' meetings 
in North and South Shields, and with the country societies, and urge them 
to take measures to raise this 40/. as soon as possible. Mr. James Gray, who 
has long served the Circuit as one of the Circuit stewards, respectfully re- 
quested not to be re-elected. Councillor Green was elected in his place ; and 
Councillor Armstrong was re-elected as the. other Circuit steward. Mr. 
Richard Reay was elected Circuit secretary, in the room of Councillor Green, 



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ReUgums Intelligence. 103 

who has acted in that capacity for several years. A vote of thanks was given 
to Messrs. Gray and Green for their past services. A Circuit Committee and 
a Plan Committee were also appointed, to hold office for a year. A verbal 
report was given of the business which had been done at the Preachers' 
meeting. The preachers had unfortunately to deal with a brother who had 
deviated from the holy paths of the Gospel. One place had been removed 
from the Plan, and a new place been put on. All that the Preachers' meeting 
had done was confirmed by the Quarterly meeting. A letter was read from 
Mr. Gaudv, stating the salaries, &c., of Connexional ministers. A resolution 
was passed expressing cordial approval of the regulations referred to. This 
Circuit is at perfect rest on the subject of amalgamation. The step taken 
recently by the friends at Leeds, was taken here more than fifteen months ago, 
and it answers admirably. There are two Circuit ministers, one belonging to 
the Association, the other is a Reformer. The Circuit Plan is headed, '* Plan 
of the Wesleyan Methodist Reform and Association Preachers." In Sunder- 
land, also, a similiar course was adopted, a considerable time ago ; so that, if 
any credit is due to the originators of such a mode of action, it must be given 
to societies in this neighbourhood. 

CHELTENHAM CIRCUIT. 

To the Editor— Rev. and Dear Sir, 

On the last Sabbath in the year that has just passed, we held special prayer- 
meetings. We were favoured with the valuable services of Mr. Moses Hirst, 
of the Forest of Dean, and Mr. CuUiss, of Worcester. In the evening, Mr. 
Hirst preached, after wnich we continued our prayer-meeting. Several souls 
professed to find peace with God, and several others were in deep sorrow for 
sin, and determined not to leave the place until they had obtained mercy* 
Consequently, we were constrained to continue the meeting to a most 
unseasonable hour. It was after twelve o'clock before we could get all the 
people to leave the chapel. 

On the following evening, we held our usual Christmas tea-meeting. Mr. 
CuUiss presided. The meeting was addressed by Enoch Beasley, Esq., of 
Worcester; Messrs. Newton, Humphrevs and Lane. The speeches were of a 
practical character, delivered with much feeling and energy, and the meeting 
on the whole was one of the right stamp, free from that spirit of levity which 
is so unbecoming in a meeting profe8seal3r of a religious character. 

On New Years day we held a tea-meeting at Charlton, in connection with 
the opening of the chapel there. Fifty persons sat down to tea. Mr. Newton 
took the chair, and after a short address, called on Messrs. Humphreys, Lane, 
and M. Lane to speak. Our dear brethren were earnest and pointed, and their 
speeches were most enthusiastically applauded by the people. We have com- 
menced a Sabbath-school at Charlton, and although we have met with a little 
opposition, I am happy to say, that we have succeeded well, and already have 
between thirty and forty scholars. Charlton is a populous but scattered 
village, containing some 4000 or 5000 inhabitants, many of whom are living 
in darkness, and in the shadow of death. Our friends are determined, by 
God's help, to be instrumental in saving some of them ; and, already, whUe 
preaching Jesus to them, we have seen the tear of penitence, and have no 
doubt that in a short time, we shall succeed, in est^ablishing a Society in this 
place. Our good Brother Humphreys, who some time since laboured as an 
Association preacher in York, manifests a deep interest in this place, and is 
likely to be very useful. 

Our friends have adopted Wesley's motto, which they have placed at th^ 
head of their Preachers' and Prayer-leaders' Plan, " All at it, and always at 
it," and are coming up to the help of the Lord against the mighty. The 

Ereacbers are trying to extend their spheres of labour, and endeavouring to 
e more useful. The leaders are earnestly entreating the people to join their 
happy numbers by meeting in class; and here, allow me to remark, that we 
find the old Methodistic custom to work well. Amongst our good Brethren, 
the Reformers, previous to their amalgamating with us, there were a few who 
did not appear to appreciate the class-meeting ; but we discussed the matter 



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104 



Eeligious Intelligence, 



in the spirit of brotherly love, and foand that with one or two exceptions their 
opinions coincided with ours, that class-meetings to a great extent are the life 
and soul of Methodism, and now most of our members meet very regularly. 

Our Sunday-school Teachers are considering the best means of increasing 
the number of scholars, and of doing good to their youthful charge. 

Our organist and leading singer is indefatigable m his endeavours to train 
the people, and render this part of the Divine Worship as profitable to the 
people, and as pleasing to God as he possibly can. 

The good ladies, who are rarely if ever behind in labours of love, are 
busily engaged in making articles for a Bazaar for the reduction of the chapel 
debt ; and two of tliem, a few weeks since, presented us with a very hand- 
some Bible for the pulpit, with ''Bethany Chapel'' in gold letters oji the 
cover. A few others presented Mr. Newton with a very good reading easy- 
chair, and, under existing circumstances, he considers this a very welcome 
present. 

In consequence of our peculiar circumstances, we could not arrange for the 
renewal of tickets until the first week in January. Mr. Newton met all the 
classes at one time, a most gracious influence seemed to pervade each breast; 
several who have recently been brought to God, seemed full of love and holy 
zeal. The old members appeared in a good state of mind, and expressed an 
earnest desire to be more fully conformed to the image of God's dear Son, 
and a determination to labour for souls. One very encouraging feature in the 
experience of all was, that they testified to the gracious influence that per- 
vaded all the means of grace, and the good they invariably realized by attend- 
ing them. 

On Tuesday, January 13th, we held our Quarterly meeting, and upon ex- 
amining of the class-books, we were highly delighted to find that our Circuit 
numbers were as follows: forty-five full members, with fourteen on trial, and 
since then, we have admitted three others on trial. 

Dear Sir, when we consider that only a few months back we were but eight 
members, and two local preachers, we are constrained to exclaim, "What hath 
God wrought ; " and I am sure you will join with us in ascribing all the glory 
to God our Saviour, and in pleading that he will continue to carry on His 
saving work, not only in Cheltenham, but in every part of the Connexion. 

In conclusion, allow me to say, on behalf of all our members, that we feel 
grateful to the Committee for acceding to our request in the appointment of 
Mr. Newton to labour on this Circuit. 

I am, Rev. and dear Sir, yours affectionately, 

Henry Lane.' 



POETRY. 

OUR NATIVE LAND. 



Breathes there the man, with roul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said 
This is my own, my native land ! 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him bum'd 
As home his footsteps he hath tum'd 
From wandering on a foreign strand I 
If such there breathe, go, mark him weU, 
For him no minstrel raptures swell ; 
High, though his titles, proud his name, 



Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 
Despite those titles, power and pelf. 
The wretch, concentered all in self. 
Living shall forfeit fair renown. 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, 
XJn-wept, un-honoured, and un-sung. 

Scott. 



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THE 
WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

MAGAZINE. 



MARCH, 1857. 

SHADOWS OF THE PAST, DAWNINGS OF THE FUTURE, 

No. HI. 

We must, now, turn from the condition of Italy to tlie state of 
things in the Eastern world. The year 1856 closed with the perpe- 
tration of what, we cannot but regard as a most wanton outrage on 
one of the largest cities on the face of the earth — we allude to the 
unjust attack made by the British forces on Canton, that ancient 
emporium of Chinese Commerce, in the month of November last. 
Whether we regard the immoral character of the contraband trade in 
Opium, valued at more than five millions sterling, and attended by 
the ruin of thousands and tens of thousands of Chinese families, which 
is carried on there, under the protection of the British flag, and in 
violation of Treaty-obligations, or the unjustifiable destruction of life 
and property, which has been dealt out by our fleet to a densely 
crowded city, or the suspension of legitimate business, in one of the 
most important branches of our Foreign Trade, or the breaking up of 
the moral organizations set on foot by our Missionary and Bible 
Societies, for the spiritual improvement of one of the most ingenious 
and interesting people in the Heathen world — we cannot but regard 
this War with mingled feelings of humiliation and of abhorrence. 
We feel it to be a dishonour to our flag — a scandal to our country and 
our name, which must subject, even our Beligion tQ reproach and 
suspicion among a people whose ideas of Christianity must be 
gathered, for the most part, from the public acts of the nations by 
which it is professed. 

What are the Chinese likely to think of the Civilization of a people 
who can perpetrate such atrocities on such miserable pretexts ? Will 
they not pronounce us Barbarians still, with double emphasis ? Will 
they not scout the very idea of a Civilization in the Western world 
of a type, equal and even superior to their own, and tortoise-like shut 
themselves up, more closely, in the shell of their isolation ? But the 
worst eflfects of this outrage, we fear, will be realised in the antagon- 
ism which it will rouse in the Chinese mind to all the efforts of true 
philanthropists, to promote the moral renovation of their country. 
Such deeds as those perpetrated by Admiral Seymour, are adapted 
only to raise up obstacles to the reception of those moral truths which 
are designed by the philanthropy of God our Saviour, to effect a 
moral revolution in China — to place Christ in the position which 



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106 Shadows of the Past, 

Buddha has occupied from time immemorial, and to inaugurate the 
dominion of humanizing and regenerating influences over three hun- 
dred and sixty millions of our common family. We know not, how 
the Providence of God may overrule human folly for the advance- 
ment of His gracious purposes ; but judging from all the data before 
us, we should pronounce the outrage equally injurious to the interests 
of its perpetrators and of its victims. Should it eventuate other- 
wise, it can only be by an exercise of that Divine sovereignty which 
often times causes '^ the wrath of man to praiee Him." And no thanks 
will be due to a policy, which, humanly considered, was adapted to 
produce the most appalling results in relation to the most momentous 
interests of nearly half the human family. 

But the influence of this outrage, though first felt in China, to the 
prejudice of the British name, will not end there. It cannot hut 
operate greatly to our prejudice among the nations of the Western 
world. What must they think of our vaunted sympathy with op- 
pressed nationalities ? What of our interference in behalf of Italy 
and of Turkey, and of our " moral support " to the Hungarian 
struggle, when they see us hurling the thunder of the broadsides of 
our British men-of-war against an impotent people, with, we fear, no 
better purpose than the facilitating of traffic in a drug, which stu- 
pifles and debases all that fall under its influence ; a drug, which has 
spread disease and death over millions of besotted victims, along the 
whole sea-board of China. This marvellous inconsistency has struck 
the attention of Englishmen, whose patriotic feelings are beyond all 
suspicion. They have said : — 

If a Ciceroachio is assassinated by Austrian bayonets, or a Poerio is im« 
V mured in a Neapolitan prison, you may call heaven and earth to testify 
against this iniquity, as more than hnmanity can endure. But if a Chinese 
city, with a million and a half of inhabitants, is bombarded by British 
cannon, until a spectacle of horror is produced before which the imagination 
shudders and reels, we are expected to believe that such a course is 
*' humane, rational, and necessary." 

When dispassionate Englishmen speak thus, we are justified in 
pronouncing the conduct of our representatives in this Cantonese 
affair, as -being at war with the sentiments and feelings of civilized 
man wherever it is known. Foreign nations will not judge of 
our conduct with more leniency than we do ourselves. Indeed, 
our intelligent neighbours on the other side of the Channel, have 
already began to moralise on the Canton outrage, in a most edi- 
fying but not very flattering style. Taking their data from state- 
ments which have appeared in the "Friend of China," they say, 
" the question at issue is the Supremacy of England in China, and 
Sir J. Bowring occupies there the position held by Clive in Hin- 
dostan : he must advance, and either perish or add another empire to 
the British Crown. If we ask on what grounds rests this right of 
Conquest, we are answered by the Eight of the Stronger /" Now, 
we have no fear of Sir J. Bowring repeating in the nineteenth century 
what was done by the dauntless Clive in the eighteenth : we have no 
belief that any such visions float before the Imagination of the Consul 



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Dawnings of the Future. 107 

as disturbed the slumbers of the energetic Clerk. But the above will 
show that vigilant eyes are upon us, and that the national character 
is in imminent peril. Nor can we, — a people who presume to act as 
Censors- general of all nations, — complain if our public acts are 
criticised in the face of Europe. Our conduct in this nefarious 
business has been such, as might have provoked criticism in the case 
of a nation of much humbler pretensions than our own. Our Flag 
has been hoisted in the cause of Outrage and of Oppression. It has 
been used to cover one of the most vicious Trades, ever carried on by 
man. When we find it thus prostituted for the most damnable 
purposes, we partake of the feeling excited by this outrage among 
Foreign nations, and could almost disown the National Flag with all 
the historic glory, that has gathered round it during the thousand 
years it has " floated in battle and in breeze." 

Men filled with virtuous indignation at this outrage, reproach us 
with affecting to be revolted at the conduct of the Spaniards in car- 
rying on the African Slave-trade, while we carry on an almost equally 
diabolic traflic between India and China. The Spaniards say they, 
at least, prohibited the export of Opium from Manilla to China, 
and the Dutch from Batavia. America like England, entered into a 
treaty by which Opium-smuggling is prohibited, and she faithfully ob- 
serves it. No vessel of the States covers the contraband article with the 
the Stars and Stripes in the presence of their Consuls, while St. George's 
Cross protects the ships of other countries engaged in their buccaneer- 
ing mission. And proh pudor! even so late as September 1855, the 
English Opium-smugglers at anchor at Loochoofoo, saluted with their 
guns that eminent philanthropist Sir J. Bo wring, the representative of 
England in China. While our conduct is the butt of reproach to all 
classes of writers who take but a political view of the aspect of affairs 
in the East, the worst consequences have ensued with respect to those 
moral instrumentalities which the Christian principle of this country 
had called into operation, for the moral enfranchisement of China. 
The war has put a stop to all Missionary and Bible Society opera- 
tions. Nay, more. Schools, Native Teachers, Medical Missions, as 
well as Missionaries, have been scattered abroad with loss of property, 
books, and furniture. The London Missionary Society's Hospital 
has been deserted. The Missionary family has been obliged to take 
refuge in Hong Kong. The Wesleyan Mission has been driven from 
Canton. The American Presbyterian Mission has had its premises 
and property destroyed by the fire which broke out under the bom- 
bardment of the representatives of a Christian Power, and the Missio- 
naries have been compelled to seek refuge in Macao. Surely, now, the 
time has come if ever, for the eloquent and noble minded Gladstone 
to repeat with increased emphasis, the declaration made by him at 
the outbreak of the former Chinese War ; — " our Flag is hoisted to 
protect an infamous contraband traffic, and if it were never to be 
hoisted except as it is now hoisted on the coast of China, we should 
recoil from the sight with horror ; we should never again feel our 
hearts thrill as they now thrill with emotion, when it floats proudly 
and magnificently in the breeze." 

I 2 



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108 Shadows of the Past^ 

It is pleasing to turn from the dark aspect of affairs in China, at 
the close of the last year, to the brighter scenes upon which 
the eyes of Christian Philanthropists in India fell, just as the funeral 
dirge of 1856 was being sounded throughout our Eastern empire. 
Our readers will remember that in a former paper we gave credit to 
Lord Dalhousie*s Administration, for having bt/ law abolished Sut- 
teeism in all parts of Hindostan. It had been the immemorial 
practice to burn the living widow on the same pile with the remains 
of her deceased husband. To the Indian Government attaches 
the credit of having adopted a Law in prohibition of this inhuman 
practice. In doing this, which was but to protect the life of the Indian 
subject, they performed, as we conceive, all that appertains to the 
functions of the civil magistrate, in such a case. They could not by 
mere legislative enactment abolish the ancient prejudices of the Hin- 
doo people — prejudice is too subtle an agent to be dealt with by the 
Law-maker. It was not in their province to ordain that, on a 
certain day the widow thus saved from the fire by British law, should 
be united in matrimony to some surviving Hindoo. In protecting the 
widow's life, they exercised the only functions of Government in the 
case, the rest was left, very properly, to the influence of Reason and 
of Truth. Nor was there, humanly speaking, much ground to antici- 
pate a very speedy triumph. A prejudice which had existed probably 
since the age of the Pyramids might have been supposed likely to 
survive the legislative enactment in question, for some generations, 
at least. But no! The ink of the enactment was hardly dried: 
Lord Dalhousie had scarcely arrived, in this country, before an event 
transpired which showed how fully the public mind of India was 
prepared to profit by the humane legislation of their Christian rulers. 
One of the very latest, and certainly by far the most important event 
of the year, was the Marriage of a Hindoo Widow ! Henceforth, 
the year One thousand eight hundred and fifty-six, will mark a new- 
era in the social and religious history of Hindostan : an era vastly 
more important to the real interests of mankind than any avatar or 
work of their gods, not excepting that of Brahma's escape from the 
divine Qgg which he split in halves, making the heavens out of the 
one half, and the earth out of the other. 

An eloquent writer observes : — 

The event, then, which the Indian news has communicated, domestic as 
it is, is by no means an unimportant one. It is a sign of decided growth 
in the native mind ; it is an act of moral courage, and defiance of the 
Hindoo gods. History and philosophy alike show the extreme difiiculty 
with which the human mind shakes off the weight of customary and arti- 
ficial moi-ality. What people have been taught to think wronff, they con- 
tinue to think wrong; the independent appeal to the light of reason and 
conscience is the very last act which they perform, and they do it generally 
with trembling when they do take the step, and half think themselves 
impious for it. When Hindoo religion, then, has said immemorially that a 
widow's marriage is wrong, it is a great step when any nnmber of Hindoos 
say, as they do say now, that a widow's marriage is right. Doubtless many 
an orthodox Hindoo is seriously grieved and distressed at so audacious an 
innovation j he feels earth and sky whirling round him, and the ground 



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Dawnings of the Future, 109 

giving way from under his feet, as ho contemplates such an act of impiety; 
he wonders why the destroyer does not at once crush the delinquents ; he 
sees avenging deities hissing through the throats of the millions of snakes 
which form Sieir celestial head-dress ; he sees the multitudinous legs and 
arms of Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, in angry commotion, their nostrils 
breathing fire, and their tongues dropping blood ; all the shapes of his 
portentous theology come out, and he dreams of dragons coiling their tails 
round the universe, and threatening to crush all nature. But the time is 
obviously approaching when the ortnodox Hindoo must retire to his cell, 
and groan in solitude over the degenerac}r of modern piety and growth of 
religious laxity. When people once begin to alter their moral standard 
they generally go on. The difficulty lies in the first step, the first act of 
independent appeal to natural reason and law. When this act has heen 
once done, the human mind feels it strength, and moves more freely after it. 
We have heen told, indeed, over and over again of the immovableness of 
the Hindoo mind, and how impossible it is to put a new idea into it ; but 
the fact now confutes these judges. It was, however, quite absurd even 
beforehand to settle the question so summarily against the Hindoo. How in 
the world could we know what his mind was, or what there was in it, so 
long as it was kept down by the weight of a colossal superstition, and so 
long as we did nothing at all to relieve it from that weight? What 
possible right had we to say that the Hindoo was incapable of progress, 
when we ourselves stopped up the way ? But these recent facts, at any 
rate, refute this idea. It now appears that the English Government of 
India have been more orthodox Hindoos than the Brahmins themselves, and 
have, in their dread of offending the native prejudices, heen actually keep- 
ing them up artificially, when of themselves they were ready to yield. But 
this has heen the consequence of that exclusively mercantile basis on which 
India has been hitherto neld. How could we legislate well for India when 
we did not even pretend that our aim as possessors of India was the good of 
India? Improve this ground and motive, and we shall see the Hindoo 
with different eyes. We shall see abundant reason to hope where at pre- 
sent we despair. India will afford a field to the zeal of the philanthropist 
which it has not had since the abolition of the Slave-trade ; and the im- 
provement of that great empire, and the progress of that multitudinous race 
will elicit and employ the benevolent energies of years. 

It now appears that the English Government of India have been 
more orthodox Hindoos than the Brahmins themselves ! What a hu- 
miliating confession ! We could almost wish that the Edinburgh Re- 
viewers of 1808, living and deceased, could be assembled in the India 
House, with the Magnates of the Company, to listen to it from the Ora- 
cle of Printinghouse Square, that well instructed organ of the public 
opinion of mankind both in this and other lands: we do wish that it 
could reach the ears of Major Scott Waring, and other individuals of his 
class, who were so eloquent some fifty years ago, on the sublime morality 
of the Hindoo system, and the imminent risk to which British rule in 
India was exposed from the vain and impotent efforts of Carey and 
Marsh man, to gain over the worshippers of Brahma, Vishnu, and 
Siva, to the worship of the One God, the maker of heaven and 
earth! Bat this cannot be. We must be content to give up half our 
wishes. Meanwhile, the maxim of the ancients is again verified ; 
Truth is mighty, and shall prevail ! 

The intelligence up to the close of the year, with respect to the 
operation of other restrictions designed to protect the Hindoo against 

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1 10 Shadows of the Past, 

the barbarising and destructive influence of the BraUminical super- 
Btition, is eminently cheering. When Dr. Boaz was in this country 
a few years ago, he announced, with the enthusiasm of a genuine 
philanthropist, that certain measures for the protection of the Hindoo 
had then been adopted. He told us, amid the plaudits of five or six 
thousand persons in Exeter Hall, that infanticide had been abolished 
— that Sutteeism had been made legal murder — that the British 
Government no longer placed sentries in the city of Kandy to guard 
the sacred tooth of Buddha — that they no longer collected the 
Revenues of the Temple — that they no longer paid the priests, in the 
Island of Ceylon. This was all very pleasing, but it was the mere 
inauguration of a new state of things that was thus announced by that 
eminent Missionary. Timid men wished to know what would be the 
end of such reckless innovation. They thought only of the sunken 
rocks upon which the vessel was destined to founder. And what has 
been the event ? Well, the last year has been singularly fruitful of 
materials to re-assure the doubting, and to inflame the zeal of the most 
lukewarm advocates of Missionary enterprise in the Edst. The 
Friend of India^ an unexceptionable witness, says: — 

Two years since the Government of Bengal issued a circular, calling 
for opinions as to the propriety of abolishing the Churruck Poojah. The 
opinions, we believe, were favourable to the measure. The festival, always 
cruel and obscene, has at last become unfashionable. Respectable natives 
never attend the ceremony. The upper classes denounce it as a relic of 
barbarism. Even among the lower orders no one swings except upon com- 
pulsion, or when stupified with opium and hemp. It was expected that an 
order would follow, prohibiting the practice, but for some unlknown reason 
Government hesitated and drew back. The Government of Bombay is 
more courageous. It has abolished the nuisance by a simple proclamation. 
It is not fifty years, since experienced men believed that the abolition of 
Suttee would produce a revolution. It was abolished nevertheless, and 
India remains a British possession. The suicides at Juggurnaut speedily 
followed, and even Pooree held its peace. Almost the first great act of the 
new Legislative Council, was to remove the restriction on the re-marriage 
of widows. The pundits are not for that cause inculcating the sacred duty 
of insurrection. Koolin polygamy is already doomed, amidst the open 
applauses of the population. And now the Government of Bombay, in a city 
more Hindoo than the Shastras, sweeps away ceremony without the forma- 
lity of an Act. It simply declares the Poojah, a nuisance, and public 
opinion supports the declaration. What is the next step to be ? 

But Education was the most tickle subject, a few years ago, not 
only in Leadenhall-street, but also in Calcutta. The rulers of the 
people were willing to educate the Hindoo in the works of Bacon, 
Locke, Newton, and even Shakspere, long before they would give any 
countenance to the Bible as a part of any general system of instruc- 
tion. When Dr. Boaz was on a visit to this country, he boasted that 
within six miles of the Metropolis of British India, there were not less 
than six thousand persons receiving education in English literature. 
This was then the case within six miles of the metropolis. But now 
schools are rising up in the interior provinces. We learn that : — 

Pandit Gopal Sin^h, one of the Zillah visitors of indiffenous schools, had 
succeeded in establishing in the Agra district upwards of fifty schools, 
attended by 1,200 girls of the most respectable families. The hope was 



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Dawnings of the Future. Ill 

also expi*e8sed that the number of schools would be doubled in the coarse 
of the current year. This hope has been already far more than realized. 
We are informed that up to the first week of the present month, nearly 
200 schools had been established, with an aggregate daily attendance of 
3,800 girls. It is rather a social revolution than a local movement which 
Pandit Gropal Singh has inaugurated. The pupils are nearly all Hindoos, 
belonging, as the European officials assure us, to the more respectable 
classes of the native community. The teachers are all men. 

Next to the extension of Ministerial Agency in India, we regard 
the increase of schools for the education of Hindoo youth as the most 
hopeful sign of the times for our Eastern Empire, and for the cause 
of Missions. Hitherto the Shasters of the Brahmin have been 
almost the only writings in the possession of the Native population 
of India, and they contain, not merely, all the information which the 
Hindoos hare had recourse to, on the subject of religion, but also on 
history, astronomy, geography, and medicine. Now those Books 
contain the m«fit erroneous statements on these matters. As hiS" 
torical records, they are found most ludicrously to confound chro- 
nologies ; as astronomical^ to be utterly inconsistent with the laws 
known to regulate the motions of the heavenly bodies ; as geogra- 
phicaly to err most egregiously as to place and distance ; and as 
books of Medicine, to be much more adapted to kill than to cure. 
But the Printing Press in India is sending forth books on all these 
subjects. They are now easily accessible to the native population. 
The youth of India are being familiarized with the truths which 
these books contain, and in proportion as real science and truth — 
moral and spiritual, take hold of the native mind, will they lose 
their reverence for that old library of Romance in which the Hindoo 
iatellect has revelled for more than twenty centuries. When the au- 
thority of their books, in history and science, has been destroyed, they 
will command but little reverence as depositories of religious know- 
ledge. 

From the diffusion of general knowledge, the true religion has 
nothing indeed to fear, but a false one everything. Based on false- 
hood and imposture, the clearing away of the mists of Ignorance 
must unveil its hoUowness and deformity. Every other kind of truth 
is the auxiliary of the peculiar truths of Revealed Religion in the 
Crusade against the Colossal Superstition of the Hindoos. We, 
therefore, hail the institution of District Schools in India, as one 
grand means, under God, of preparing the way for the final triumph 
of the Cross among its teeming population. Here, Christian philan- 
thropy, after half a century of toilsome effort, now begins to perceive 
the dawn of a brighter day, when the thrones of Indian Superstition 
shall be broken before the triumphal march of the great Redeemer :— 
when, as Dr. Hamilton has observed, in his admirable work on 
Missions, ** from the Indus to the Teeata, from Comorin to Imaus, the 
false tutelaries shall flee away, and the true Religion shall unfold its 
blessings, — ^the true Avatar of Christ's flesh, the true Metempsychosis 
of the Spirit's work, the true Veda of the Scripture's Inspiration ! " 
Hail ! happy day for India, and for the Eastern World. 



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112 



ON ENTHUSIASM. 

This term may be viewed in a good and bad sense. Enthusiasm in a bad 
sense, is to expect the end without the means. There is a great deal of ibis 
in the world. How manj, for instance, are expecting to succeed in a tem- 
poral point of view, but whq do not employ the right means. What ai-e 
those qualities with which some men succeed so admurably ? Certainly not 
those which the enthusiasts employ ; for these latter are either dreamers or 
fools. They foolishly hope to succeed without those necessary qualities 
which command success. We may extend these remarks to any business, 
profession, or undertaking whatever, and we shall see their applicabili^. 
Can a man hope to be an eminent lawyer whose time is principally spent in 
clubs, or poring over novels ? Can a man reasonably expect to be an emi- 
nent statesman who pays no attention to the debates or laws of the land. 
Or can a man hope to be an eminent and successful minister who pays no 
attention to correctness of speech, the doctrines of religion, or the character 
of his sermons ? Such persons may be very enthusiastic, but will not be 
very successful. They will develope much of the organ of hope, but little of 
the spirit of wisdom. They will be like the man who professes to fish, but 
who neglects to bait his hook. 

The taproom politicians are to a man enthusiasts, for they are expecting 
the Government to do for them what they will not do for themselves. They 
can'Y their enthusiasm to great lengths, for they build themselves up with 
the hopes of a reform which will be of little or no advantage to them. They 
decry slavery while they are in bonds. And the bondage is their own, 
which is all the more glaring. 

Another class of enthusiasts are the ignorant. This class expect to be 
heard and respected though destitute of all true wisdom. It is too late in 
the day to listen to the pratings of a fool. If a man will be respected, he 
must respect himself. This the ignorant do not, or they would seek that 
knowledge which would make them respected. The enthusiasm of some 
ignorant people is very great, for they expect the wise to listen to them. 
As soon It might be expected that the nightingale would listen to the 
screeching of the owl. 

This enthusiasm is sometimes found in the church, where some are met 
with who expect the end without the means, or in other words the world to 
be converted without suitable effort. What is prayer without effort, but 
enthusiasm ? And what is labour without prajer,but enthusiasm too ? In 
fact, this enthusiasm which expects the end irrespective of the means, is 
found everywhere. Have we not all too much of it ? 

The man who hopes to get to heaven without walking in the way, is an 
enthusiast. The number of such is legion. How strongly our Lord endea- 
vours to guard against this where he says, " Not every one that saith unto 
me. Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven." Many of the 
.believers in final j)erseverance have a great deal of this enthusiasm, for they 
expect the end without the means. We see none of this in St. Paul, that 
noble pattern of what a Christian should be. ** I keep under my body, and 
bring it into subjection ; lest by any means, when I have preached to others, 
I myself should be a castaway." " Forgetting ttose things which are behind, 
and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the 
mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." We have 
also every guard against this enthusiasm in Ood^s word, ** Be thou faithful 
unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." " Give all diligence to 
make your calling and election sure.'' 

Let us now view enthusiasm in its best and noblest sense. Much that is 
regarded as enthusiastic in its worst sense, is only so from the fact that it is 



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On Enthtmasfu, 113 

too elevated for the criticisewi, who can form no proper idea of anything 
which rises above their low notion of things. Everything noble and 
vigorous is enthusiastic to them. 

Enthusiasm proper is that which is enlightened in character, and worked 
out with spirit. The question is, what is the rule by which projects may be 
judged and the promoters charged, or not charged with enthusiasm ? At 
present the rule seems to be success, for he who fails is sure to be pro- 
nounced an enthusiast. But the above rale is evidently not a correct one. 
The failure may be from the want of time to work the principle out. Or it 
may arise from other causes over which the enthusiast (so called) may have 
no control. 

Enthusiasm is required for the accomplishment of any great undertaking. 
Without it, how puny and unsuccessful will the efforts be. It is true, 
enthusiasm is decried, but unnecessarily so, for nothing is more needed. 
Zeal without knowledge we have, but knowledge with zeal is a deside- 
ratum. How cautious many are lest they should be charged with enthu- 
siasm.. Nay, how guarded against any approach thereto. And yet it is 
the very thing that is needed, for it would show earnestness in what they 
take in hand. And here we might ask, how far any are justified in giving 
a cool support to what they regard as true and necessary tor the well-being 
of man ? 

Wo see no lack of enthusiasm in Christ and his apostles, or in the great 
spirits that have appeared from time to time on the theatre of the world in 
the great departments of philosophy, science, and art. Their followers are 
greatly in the rear, for they would on no account be deemed enthusiastic. 

What can a minister of religion do without enthusiasm? But little 
indeed. He may go through a round of duties, but most assuredly vdll do 
hut little besides. He needs to have his spirit deeply imbued with religious 
influence, to have his zeal inflamed from communion with Christ, to be 
warmed up to a degree of holy fervour at the spiritual destitution of the 
people around him, to be animated above measure by that " far more exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory," which awaits him and all he can lead to 
heaven. 

His zeal is to be commensurate with his work, and to the world, if not 
to the church, he is to be an enthusiast indeed. The minister who is not 
enthusiastic is scarcely worthy the position he occupies. It is surprising a 
minister can be otherwise. Until there is more enthusiasm manifested 
among the leaders of the " sacramental host of God's elecf," we look in vain 
for a new moral world. We may see here and there an oaisis in the desert, 
hut shall be a long way off witnessing a sanctified humanity, and a uni- 
versal Eden. 

In a lecturer too, enthusiasm is particularly required. His province is to 
enlighten and influence, and to accomplish the latter, a degree of enthu- 
siasm will be required. He, the lecturer, must be full of his subject, up to 
the mark in the delivery of it, bent on enforcing his views on his audience, 
and making them of one mind with him, and his views to prevail in the 
world. Less than this will not do. And if this be enthusiasm we must 
have it in our lecturers, or failure in a great measure will be the conse- 
quence. Anything that is deserving of our approval and commendation is 
deserving of our zealous support and energetic commendation. In lecturing 
where point is to be enforced, it should be done in a manner that will not 
fail to tell. In a word, it should be done enthusiastically. The motto of 
every lecturer should be, " conviction and persuasion," and to this end, 
nothing should be omitted that would be likely to accomplish the object. 

All teachers of youth should have a measure of enthusiasm about them. 
Bat they ask, is there anything about teaching calculated to make any man 
enthosiaetic? Yes, much. Is it nothing to mould the next generation, to 



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114 Hints on Usefulness. 

form habits of industry, frugality, and temperance ; to aasiat in making the 
scholar, the statesman, the juror, or the man ; to take one who knows 
nothing and teach him everything he needs to know, for that station he 
may be called to fill ; or to put him in the way of acquiring all knowledge 
essential to his best interests and welfare generally ? Here is room indeed 
for enthusiasm. As teaching is about the noblest employment, so ought it 
to be done in the most energetic manner. It is worthy of the highest 
powers of man, and of the greatest possible enthusiasm. Let every Gamaliel 
then think that for anything he knows, a young man who may turn out a 
Paul, may be sitting at his feet. Enthusiasm in the desk, the platform, 
and pulpit, would soon revolutionize the world. Let us not then be 
frightened at the bugbear of enthusiasm. 
£olt<m, B. Glazebbook. 



HINTS ON USEFULNESS. 

Be assured that things external cannot remove the evils found in the 
depraved heart, nor afford those supplies always needed to enable us to 
live before God aright. Mere human contrivance will always fieill short 
of meeting the wants our spirit feels. Christ must be recognized as the 
Way, the Truth, and the Life ; and only in and through Him can ve 
obtain that which will make and keep us right. Though the above are the 
honest sentiments of our heart, yet we think a proper estimate of outward 
means. is important, inasmuch as a judicious use thereof, has a tendency to 
brine; before the mind's eye those things we should never lose sight of. 
While in our probationary state we sh^al find ourselves surrounded with 
many adverse elements and things, calculated to dissipate the mind. A 
countermand is needed, and that is often found in Uie means of grace wheu 
attended to aright. And now as we are about to enter on another year, I 
feel it on my heart to beg of the members of our Society to observe a 
few things, which if observed one year, would secure such an amount of 
good, that they would be disposed to try another, and endeavour to prevail 
with others to do so too. 

1. Let us all resolve that once a week at least, we will stay before God 
in secret, until we feel, even more, of the renewing power of saving grace 
than we did when we were first brought to know God. 'Ibis will prevent 
us from losing our firat love. 

2. Let us see to it, that the fountain from whence our conversation floors, 
and the root from which our action grows, be pure. This is all importaot. 

3. Let us so examine the course we pursue before it is pursued, as t« 
be assured that the viewing of it afterwards will be, both to us and 
others, like the pouring forth of sweet ointment. 

4. Let us view doubting God's truth as one of the greatest sina we can 
commit." Oh, how we insult Him when we doubt what He has said ; God's 
having commanded us to believe, implies that we may believe the truth 
suited to our circumstances, if we will, and if we do not, the fault is our 
own. Did He ever command his people to do that which is imposaible ? 

5. Let us resolve so to live every day as to secure through Christ, the 
abiding testimony that our ways please God. how vast the peace attend- 
ant on those who thus live ; it is such as neither health, wealth, honour, 
nor anything earthly can afford. 

6. If possible, let us read a portion of God's word on our knees eveiy 
day. Those who observe this aright, will find the word to be, as a pasture 
green, one in which the great Shepherd will richly feed his flock. The writer 
heard a poor man, who had a large family, and their bread to procure, bj 
working a cotton-mill, say, he was going for the fifth time on his knee?. 



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Godliness viewed in connection with Temporal Things. 115 

If this be viewed as it ought, by those whose time is not taxed as this poor 
man's was, will it not bring the blush on the cheek ? Idleness and leanness 
are found to go together. 

7. Let us each say my class-meeting, and all means of grace, that I ought 
to attend, shall not be neglected by me through this year. O that all con- 
nected with our Societies may thus resolve, and from the God of all grace, 
receive that strength that may enable them to act accordingly. My bre- 
thren, time is short, how fast it is flying, we shall be gone very soon, and 
what has been done for eternity ] There is a record which is being kept 
of each day's actions, and this will soon be read out before assembled 
worlds. that we all may have it to say in the day of the Lord, I have 
fought my way through, I have finished the work thou didst give me to do. 

W.L 



GODLINESS VIEWED IN CONNEXION WITH 

TEMPORAL THINGS. 

No.L 

There are few who are not ready to admit that Godliness when viewed 
in connexion with eternity, is the most " profitable " thing we can possess ; 
nevertheless there are numbers who have an impression that it tends to 
marr our temporal enjoyment, or at any rate, gives but a poor promise of 
this life. It is lamentable to think that multitudes should perpetrate so 
fatal an error, in reference to the glorious Gospel of the blessed God, 
which, aceording to the summary of the angels, brings in its mission "glory 
to God in the highest, on earth peace, goodwill towards men." It might 
have been expected that man would, at least have examined its claims with 
impartiality, ere he pronounced judgment against it. We might have 
thought when all mankind were bent upon pursuing one object, namely, 
happiness, that they would be ready to listen to, and receive with gladness 
that which professed to guide them to this inestimable boon. That man 
should scorn the Gospel, that he, instead of embracing, should proudly re- 
ject it, and that he should do all this ere he deigns, so much, as to examine 
whether these things be true or not, is to our mind, an incontestible proof 
of the depravity of the human heart ; a singular illustration of the facility 
with which the judgment may be perverted by the power of the passions. 

It is our intention in the following remarks to view godliness in some of 
its aspects, towards our temporal well-being ; a subject which has been 
too much overlooked. With this object we may notice the value of godli- 
ness in its direct tendency to promote our welfare. 

Physically, No doubt all our readers are aware that we live under 
certain uniform physical laws. We all know that our physical well-being 
is promoted in proportion as we conform to those laws. All observa- 
tions and experience shows that the violation of the least of them, brings 
upon us a certain amount of physical suflPering. If this then be the 
admitted fact, it is evident that that which preserves us from violating 
those laws must promote our welfare physically. Now let the reader 
examine the nature of godliness, and he will find that it possesses the 
power to do this. It requires us "to deny ourselves of all ungodliness and 
worldly lusts." It enjoins us " to crucify the flesh and the lusts thereof." 
Temperance is an essential part of godliness, and he who faithfully con- 
forms to its mor^l maxims, will be temperate in all things, and will live 
"soberly and righteously in this present evil world." This is the purpoi't of 
its teachings on this point. Hence, we shall find that if an individual has 
been a possessor of godliness from " his youth up : " if he be free from any 
hereditary taint, and has been providentially preserved from becoming the 



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1J6 Biography of Elizabeth Greeniaood, Newton-Moor, 

Tictim of any of the casualties incident to human life, he will be the most 
likely person to possess one of the greatest boons of life, namely, good health. 
It may safely be laid down as a general rule that the good man, all other 
circumstances being equal, will by his habits preserve to his frame the largest 
amount of vital energy. Now, good health, as we all know, is an impor- 
tant accession to the other means of human happiness. The force of this 
truth will be yet more evident, when we look at the condition and position 
of the ungodly man. Has he anything upon which he can rely, to curb 
those fierce passions which bum in his breast, and more or less ia the 
breast of every man ? Experience has shown to the world that nothing 
but Divine grace can efficiently do this. Numbers who have loudly 
vaunted of their strength, have been overcome by strong temptations and 
fallen into vice, sensuality, and wretchedness. It might be thought that no 
rational being could be so presumptuous as to assert, that his own strength 
was sufficient to preserve him from indulging his passions to excess ? Bat 
let us look abrojwi on society, and what do we find 1 We find thousands 
bringing upon themselves ruin and misery by yielding to their appetites. 
Take the mdulgence of one vice alone— that of Intemperance, Sixty 
thousand British subjects drop annually into a drunkard's grave. This, it 
must not he forgotten, is only the number actually slain. How many more 
wade through fife tormented by physical evils, brought upon them by this 
indulgence. 

It is not necessary that we should enumerate other vices by which num- 
bers have had bitterly "to remember the sins of their youth." Before 
leaving this part of the subject, however, we would remind the reader of 
the admitted fact, namely, that a very large proportion of the physical 
diseases under which man suffers, are brought upon him by his own mis- 
conduct. Let the thoughtful examine this more minutely for themselves, 
and the value of godliness in promoting our physical well-being, will 
appear with as much force of evidence, as any demonstration in mathe- 
matics. 
• Sunderland. A Layman. 



BIOGRAPHY. 

ELIZABETH GREENWOOD, NEWTON-MOOR, CHESHIRE. 

Our departed Sister was horn at Stockport, Cheshire, April 12th, 1825, 
of parents in humble life, who saw the importance of sending their chil- 
dren to a Sabbath-school to be instructed for time and eternity. In the 
year 1838 they came to reside in Newton, and soon after their arrival 
Elizabeth was taken by her mother to the Hall-bottom Sunday-school, where 
she remained until she became a teacher, but being destitute of religion 
she was tlie more easily drawn away fi^om the school, bat doubtless impres- 
sions were then made upon her mind that could not be erased, though for 
some years she forsook the house of God. It was during that period of her 
life that she entered into the marriage state. The Spirit of God constantly 
followed her, bringing to remembrance what she had learned at the Sabbath- 
school, hence she would often speak to her husband of their neglected duty 
of prayer before going to rest, and what an awful thing it would be if not 
permitted to see the light of day. Such convictions as these, we hesitate not 
to say, led her feet into the path of the just, and to the courts of God's 
house. This occurred in the year 1852. It was there she became fully 
awakened to her dangerous state as a sinner. I recollect her staying at the 
prayer-meeting after preaching, when she manifested great concern for her 
own salvation, and that of her husband. She met in class a few weeks with- 



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Biography of Elizabeth Crreenwood, Newton- Moor. 117 

ont enjoying a clear sense of her acceptance 'with God, yet determined to seek 
until she found the Lord, notwithstanding the taunts and jeers she had to 
CDcounter. Having hecome a recipient of the grace of God, she felt anxious 
that her partner should he made a partaker of the like precious faith. 
Prompted by this solicitude she requested one of the brethren to see him 
about going to school, and on the importance of giving his heart to Gk)d. 
Her request was complied with, and he kindly consented. Thus far her 
desires were accomplished. She also succeeded in getting him to the 
preaching of the word of God, under which he became alarmed of his 
danger. At the prayer-meeting sinners were invited to the penitent's form ; 
the^ acceded to the invitation, and there you misht see them taking up 
theur cross, and publican-like, crying, God be merciful to me a sinner ! They 
were encouraged to look to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of 
the world. They believed the report given, and by faith in the Atonement, 
their captive spirits were set at liberty. Feeling that they had peace with 
God through Jesus Christ, like the eunuch they went on their way re- 
joicing. 

Her life was such as became a follower of the Lamb, adorning the doc- 
trine of her Saviour, giving indubitable evidence of the reality of that reli- 
gion of which she had become such a happy subject. Her attendance on 
the means of grace was worthy of imitation ; no trifling circumstance pre- 
vented her from repairing to God's house of prayer. At the prayer-meeting 
her voice was often heard pleading for sinners, often directing the weeping 
penitent to Jesus ; and in the class-meeting, says her leader, the whole of the 
class has been deeply affected by her earnest supplications. The language of 
her heart expressed by prayer was, " Wash me, but not my feet alone — 
my hands, my head, my heart." Her experience was honest and simple, 
feeling her own weakness she trusted in the power of Christ ; like many 
more Christians her path was intercepted by clouds of darkness. She felt 
sometimes afraid lest she should not reach the blessed shore, but often ex- 
pressed during her sickness what her leader told her, that God would give 
her grace according to her day. She possessed a kind and sympathising 
spirit for suffering humanity, her liberal heart often devised liberal means. 
She had a delicate constitution, and the least agitation caused her many 
times to suffer very acutely. Many indeed were her sufferings, they were 
at times indescribable ; like Job, she passed many wearisome nights and 
troublesome days. Beligion does not exempt the Christian from sickness 
and death, yet it is the staff that supports them under all their troubles ; 
very soon some tempestuous wave of sickness will shatter these frail barks 
of ours, yet if our peace with God be made, he will say to us as Christ said 
to his disciples when on the sea, " It is I, be not afraid." Many times our 
sister thought her sickness would be unto death, soon the silver cord was to 
be loosed, the golden bowl broken. At times she felt as though she could 
not give her husband and the family up, but God gave her grace to do so, and 
she submitted herself to the will of God. One night her sufferings were so 
intense that she exclaimed^ "AVhat ever must I do!" Her husband very 
affectionately said, "Try to exercise a little patience." She immediately 
began singing, " To patient faith the prize is sure," &c. One of the leaders 
asked her the state of her mind, and in reply, she said, " I have found great 
relief in being able to give all up, I am not afraid to die," but added, *•' If 
it be God's will. He could raise me up again." 

Through the weakness of the body her mind would at times ramble, yet 
as an evidence of her being in the liands of God, she was preserved from 
uttering any rash expressions. A few days before her decease she was quite 
sensible. Calling one of her brothers to her, she wished him to promise to 
Ro to chapel, saying, it was hard to suffer the pains of the body with re- 
ligion, but what would it bo without. Often did she try to sing, ** Jesu, 
lover of my soul," &c. 

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118 Biography of Mr. Wtttiam Evans. 

After sleeping some time, she enquired, what day it was ? When told it 
was Tuesday, she replied, it was class-night. One of the friends infonned 
her that they were holding a fellowship-meeting, she said, " Oh, I should 
like to be there. I could tell them something." At another time, awaken- 
ing from sleep,'she called her mother, and grasping her hand, exclaimed, 
^ Mother, I am saved ! I am saved ! — I do believe ! I do believe !" She 
appeared to have caught a glimpse of the glory which she expected very 
shortly to be still more abundantly revealed in her. Hence the sight of 
the King in his beauty, and of the land not now afar off, made her exclaim, 
" Beautiful ! beautiful !" 

Our departed sister told her mother, she had seen her father and sister, 
and that Jesus would come for her that night. Her bodily strength declining, 
she was unable to speak ; but while passing through the cold valley of dea^, 
she appeared by the moving of her lips to be praising QtoA, very feebly 
breathing the words of the Psalmist, " Bless the I^rd, O my soul,*' to which 
she repeatedly added, ** Amen, amen !'* 

Her end was come ; about half-past eleven o*clock, on the 8th of October, 
1856, she entered upon the rest that remaineth for the people of God. 
*< Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord." 

Isaac Stainthorp. 



MR. WILLIAM EVANS. 

Mr. William Evans, was bom in the year 1777, in the parish of Tolly- 
Uyn, North Wales. He was deprived eai'ly of his parents, so he was not 
favoured with much education. He spent the early part of his life in for- 

fetfulness of his latter end. He enlisted in the army, and during his service, 
e was appointed one of the guard over Napoleon Bonaparte at St. Helena, 
he being a man of very sober habits. During his stay there, he saved a good 
sum of money. After his discharge he returned to Wales and commenced 
business, in which he remained for several years. Asa man of businesis he 
was frank, and very just in all his dealings; his word was always readily 
believed by all that knew him — it was always one price, no abatement. 

He was brought to the knowledge of the truth under the preaching of the 
Wesleyan Methodists, and he evinced his firm belief of the same during his 
after-life ; he was a member for many years of their community. When the 
Missionaries of the Association commenced to labour in that part of Wales, 
he was one of the first that received them, his house was a home for them 
after their long travels, and through their instrumentality he was led to 
reflect upon his own state, and by the light which shone into his soul, he 
immediately perceived that he had hitherto lived a stranger to experimental 
religion, though he had been strictly moral. 

About two years previous to his death he retired from business, and came 
to live in the town of Aberystwith so as to be convenient to our chapel 
there ; his dear wife died about the time he left off business, and he had 
sore afflictions on account of her removal, — death often cuts asunder the 
most tender ties, of near and dear relations. During his stay in the town, 
he went about doing good, exhorted young and old to live to the Lord. He 
was a most lively Christian, he always enjoyed very good health, and a 
vigorous mind, and he possessed a clear view of our doctrmes. Often had he 
to attack those of the high Calvinists — there are many of them in South 
Wales — he was mighty in Scripture, and the Lord enabled him to defend 
the truth wonderfully. The Cross of Christ was his theme wherever he 
went. He was strong in faith, waiting for the coming of the Lord, who raised 
him very high out of the pit of corruption ; he set his feet upon the Bock 



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Biography of Mr. John Boothman, of Clitheroe, 1 19 

of Ages, and established his goings — the enemy was not permitted to distress 
hiB soul, nor did anj fears beset him, vihen he was even aware of the near 
approach of death. The last Sabbath he lived, he was at chapel as nsnal, 
and at the close of the service he met me as I came down from the pulpit, 
and said, ** I wish this had been our sacrament Sunday." I told him that it 
would be the next Sunday. To this he answered with a smile, that he 
would be in heaven before that time. I could but look at his patriarchal 
countenance, and say, " I hope that you will not leave us so soon ;" and 
then we parted. The next morning I called at his house, and found 
him as usual, speaking about the goodness of Ood. I asked him would he 
wish me to give him the sacrament P he said, " Oh, yes — what a place it 
was !" I had to leave town to go to some appointments at Towyn, 14 miles 
oft*. He asked me, when I would return. I told him on Thursday. He 
replied, that he should be in heaven before that ; and he added, that he 
would die early on Wednesday morning, and so he did. He said that he 
had a full assurance of being with his lovely Jesus, so we parted. 

On Tuesday evening he sent for the undertaker to order his coffin (what 
-we call in Welch, his Ark) ; he said, that Christ was the ark for his soul, 
and that he wished htm to make one for his frail body. He told him to 
send a plank that night, to save them from being disturl)ed in the morning, 
80 as. to lay his body on. The plank was placed at the foot of his bed 
to be ready. He spent most of the night praising God and the Lamb, 
and in the morning according to his own words, he entered into his rest, 
July 6th, 18«5, aged 78 years, and was interred at Aberystwith new 
churchyard, on the 8th of that month. 

The time was come for him to rest, 

Beneath the peaceful clod ; 
And happier still the time more blest. 

For him to dwell with God. 

0. GiaFFiTHS, Mtssionary. 



MR. JOHN BOOTHMAN, OF CLITHEROE. 

John Boothman wan bom at "Waddington, near Clitheroe, in the je&t 
1782. Like most boys he was fond of recreation, and especially so of 
sliding on the ice. When about fourteen years of age, one Sabbath-day, 
-while in company with some other boys sliding, out of mere love of mis- 
chief and fun he tripped one of them with his foot, who unhappily fell 
and dislocated his neck, fortunately there was a man near who understood 
what was the matter, and the boy*s neck was soon set right. This circum- 
stance made a deep impression on John's mind. 

He began to attend the Wesleyan Chapel at Bradford, near his native 
village. His diligence and serious attention attracted the notice of a 
Lieader, named Critchley, of that place, who took him by the hand and 
invited him to class. He continued diligently to attend all the means of 
grace, and commenced in earnest to seek for the salvation of his soul. 
He was not long before he obtained redemption in the blood of Christ, the 
forgiveness of all his sins. Having found peace with God through our 
Xiord Jesus Christ, he commenced a new life, and laboured with all his 
powers to promote the extension of Christ's kingdom in the salvation of 
others. He and his friend Critchley commenced a Sunday-school at Wad- 
dington, his native village, and were making good progress when a cir- 
cumstance transpired to blight their prospects for a season. One Sabbath- 
day, when John and his colleague were returning from Bradford Chapel, 

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120 Biography of Mr. John Boothman, of Cliiheroe. 

thej came in contact with somo young men who were playing at football 
in a field. They remonstrated with them on the sin of breaking the 
Sabbath, and took the ball from them. One of the party told his father 
of the loss they had sustained, and the lecture they had received. The 
father having some influence over the person owning the building vhere 
the school was held, succeeded in his endeavour to turn them adrift. No- 
thing daunted, they took another place in the same village, and were even 
more successful than in the former one. This was the commencement of 
Wesleyan Methodism in Waddington, a neat little chapel was shortly after 
built, and the society continues to the present time. 

In the year 1802, our late brother married Martha Bateson, a steady and 
respectable young woman, who resided in the same neighbourhood. Soon 
after their marriage, they removed to Bashall Eaves, about four miles from 
Waddington, still they continued to attend Bradford Chapel, a distance of 
five miles, in all weathers, frequently carrying each a child in the arms. 
At that time there was no chapel in Bashall Eaves and only one member. 

In the year 1806, he was put on the plan as a Local preacher in the Wes- 
leyan Body, and preached his first sermon in the old Parish school at 
Bashall Eaves ; he laboured earnestly and faithfully, and took an active 
part in procuring funds for, and superintending the erection of a neat little 
chapel, built in 1816, which is still occupied by the Wesleyan Methodists 
in the Clitheroe Circuit. At this time Clitheroe, Bradford, Bashall Eaves, 
were in the Skipton Circuit, and our departed brother was often the re- 
presentative of these places to the quarter-day at Skipton, a distance of 
nineteen miles, where he also frequently preached. He was always a 
willing labourer in the Lord's vineyard, and thought but little of travelling 
twenty miles, and preaching twice on the Lord's-day. His house was a 
home for the preachers. He entertained Sammy Hick, the village black- 
smith, and others of the venerable dead, whose praise are in all the churches. 
He frequently preached at Slaidburn, a distance of ten miles from his home, 
and his labours there have been greatly blessed. At that time there was 
no chapel in this place. They preached in a house. On one occasion he 
invited the church-singers to come and sing for him, (there being no sei*vice 
at the church in the afternoon), they kindly consented to go, and were 
so pleased that they went again in the evening; and the Lord found a 
way to the heart of the leading singer, Mr. J. Fletcher, who joined the 
Society. By the united exertions of Isabella Spencer, J. Fletcher, and 
otJiers, a neat little chapel was built there. 

Our deceased brother was much attached to this place, and frequently 
visited it, returning home through those rugged mountains at twelve or one 
o'clock in the morning. On one of these occasions, he preached from the 
text, ** God so loved the world, &c.," when one of the most notorious 
drunkards, a cockfighter, &c,, of the village, was pricked to the heart ; and 
was led to cry out, " God be merciful to me, a sinner." His name was John 
Wilkinson. This man found peace with God, and continued to adorn the 
doctrine of Christ his Saviour to the end of his life. There are many 
other instances equally striking of the success of his preaching which can- 
not be brought into so short a compass as the present sketch. 

When the Wesleyan Methodist Association was formed in Clitheroe, 
in the year 1835, he was among its earliest friends, and was warmly 
attached to its principles to the last. He laboured earnestly for the estab- 
lishment of his new home, and attended many meetings which had for their 
object, an explanation of the cause of separation from the Conference 
Methodists, and the full explanation of the principles of the Association. 
He was the second Local preacher on the first plan of the Association in 
Clitheroe, and as God gave him health, he was punctual in attending all his 
preaching appointments; indeed his attention to them was proverbial 

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Biography cf Mr. John Boothman^ of ClUheroe. 121 

among his friends. When asked by one of his young friends how it was 
that he never missed an appointment, he related a circumstance which 
transpired towards the commencement of his ministry. " He was appointed 
to preach at one of the country places in the Circuit, on the Sunday after- 
noon. His mind became deeply impressed with the responsibility of the 
office he was called upon to fuliif, and his inability to meet its duties aright. 
With this impression, " Jonah like, he turned aside into a stone quarry, 
and there he spent the afternoon in prayer ; but such was the anguish of 
his mind while there, under a consciousness of neglected duty, he made a 
vow to the Lord, that if he would continue his sparing mercy towards him, 
he woald in future attend his appointments while health and strength 
would permit." On this account he could not be persuaded by his wife or 
family to neglect an appointment, however distant the place or unfavourable 
the day. 

He was much attached to his younger brethren in the ministry, and took 
every opportunity to encourage them in the good work, and to be sure to 
keep close to the Bible and the Saviour. He was a diligent attendant upon 
all the means of grace, and was not backward in taking part in the same. 
He took every opportunity to say something for the Lord. His favourite 
public means of grace was the love-feast, at which he always spoke under 
an overwhelming sense of the goodness of God, often moving him to tears, 
accompanied by a hallowing influence, which difi^sed itself over the whole 
assembly. In all the means of grace he especially enjoyed the devotional 
part, he frequently said he could sing his life away, for it was like heaven 
on earth begun. He was always in season for good things, especially 
favourable to open-air preaching in the summer season, and to cottago 
precuihing in the winter. He was diligent in visiting the sick and afflicted, 
no matter what was the nature of the disease, where duty called he would 
obey. 

During the time when cholera made such fearful ravages in Clithcroe, in 
the year 1849, he attended the funeral of several parties, and performed 
the funeral rites, when other ministers objected on account of the infectious 
nature of the disease. When remonstrated with by his family on the 
danger of infection, he replied, " My trust is in God, with whom are the 
issues of life and death ; nothing shall harm you, if you be followers of that 
which is good." 

In the fall of the year 1864, he was taken suddenly ill, while on a visit 
to Wood End (formerly on the plan), a place about eleven miles from his 
home ; and so severe was the attack, that for a time his life was despaired 
of. Medical aid was called, and in a short time favourable symptoms 
appeared, and the following day he was removed home in a carriage. This 
affliction so shattered his constitution that he never recovered his wonted 
health and strength. From this time he was not able to take many 
appointments upon the plan, but as long as he was able, he continued to 
attend the means of grace. 

In February last, he was obliged to give up his business ; and that 
anvil, which for so many years had reverberated to the stroke of his hammer, 
was no longer heard in the neighbourhood. From this period to the time 
of his death, he was confined to his house. He had a presentiment that he 
would die suddenly, and often mentioned this to his family and friends, 
but said, I am ready for the change. A few nights before his death, he had 
a beautiful dream of heaven, and was deeply impressed that the time of 
his departure was at hand. 

Several of his local brethren in the ministry visited him during his 
affliction. One says, " the last time I visited him during his affliction, I 
found him as I expected, like a shock of corn ready for the gamer of the 
Lord, We held sweet counsel together, and had a blessed time in prayer. 

K 



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lii Biography (fMr. George froit^ t>f S&uA MokoH. 

We Bhook bands, and wlio ean ezpreas the feelings experienced b^ the last 
grasp of a djinr friend. With all his remaining strength he said, " Fare 
well I ffo on I ru meet thee there.** Another of his felTow-labonrers says, 
*^ 1 Tisited brother Boothman daring lus sickness, and in speaking to him 
on the consolation which he derived from his long and &ithfiil services, and 
from the reflection of his having been useful in winning sools to Ghrist, his 
onW reply was. ' all glory to Christ, idl glory to Christ'^** 

For two or tiire« days previooB to his death, he appeared and expressed 
himself a little better in health* On the 4th Jonei he shaved himself, and 
was conversing wiUi a friend at his own door near eight o'clock in the 
evening. Soon after he retired to rest as nsnal, and fell asleep. About four 
o*clock in the morning, he convwsed with his wife about one of the family^ 
and soon afterwards roll asleep again, to wake no more in this life. About 
eight o*clock, his danghter tooK up the breakfast to his room, his wife tried 
to wake him, but found, to their deep sorrow, that the spirit had fled to 
the realms of the blest, in the seventy-fifth year of his age, and the six- 
tieth of his membership with the ** Church of Christ,' fifty years of which 
he wa9 an accredited Local preacher and Class-leader in the Wesleyan 
Methodist and Wesleyan Methodist Association Societies, and twenty years 
a consistent member of the Temperance Society. And now his work is 
done ; he has entered into resK ^ Blessed are the dead that die in the 
tiord, from hencefortii ; for they rest from their labour, and their works do 
follow them. 

His remains were Inbrred in the tillage churbhyltfd, Wad^gton,oh 
the 10th of June, 1856. 

His death was improved to a crowded congregation m Moor-luie Chapel, 
ditheroe^ on Sunday evening, November 16, by the Bev. B. S. Barton, from 
Glasgow, from Rev. xiv. 13. 

Wm. Baetlb. 



BlOGllAPHY OF MB. GEORGB FROST, OF BOUTH-MOLTOir. 

Mm Gnoiujft Fros*, the tubject of this memoir, was bom hi South- 
Molton, in the county of Devon, November 22, 1782, but not being blessed 
with a reli^^ouB training he spent his youthful days in sin and folly. Be 
was thoughtless and careless alraut his precious soul ; he loved the gaieties 
and einfiu pleasures of the present world ; "^ the god of this world had 
blinded his niind, lest the light of the glorious Gospel of the blessed God, 
which is the image of Christ, should shine into him." In this deplorable 
state he continued until his twenty-fifth year, whi^ at Calhngton, he wM 
induced to attend the ministry of the Wesleyan Methodiste, and after 
some time he was convinced of his fallen and undone oondition) through 
sin, and was led to seek the mercy and forgiveness of Almidhty God) 
through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. That mercy, it is believed, he 
obtained through faith in Christy and havihg found advantage in the society 
of God's people, he joined himself to the Methodist body. This took place 
in the year 1611 ; he continued a meml)er with that d^iomination until 
the year 1836. That was a memorable period in the history of Methodism. 
In the year 18d5, the Oonference passed a law which depriv^ the people 
of ail their liberty of any importance in reference to Church Oovernmebt) 
and gave to the travelling preachers the sole power to kgiriate and rule in 
the Wesleyan body. Brother Frost prote^^ed against this ad aki infringe- 
ment on the crown t\^i» of the LoM Jesus, and as robbing the Chnroh of 
one of her greatest pnvil^es, namely, that of self-government ; he thought 
that the members of the &urch, either individually or in their represen- 
tative character, should have a voice in the framing of all laws atfectiug 



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Biography of Mr. Oeorge Frosty of South MoUon. 123 

the liberty of its members. And beeause this right was denied him in the 
Old body, he left it to find a home in the bosom of a Church whose laws 
are liberal, and whose principles are in accordance with the teaching of the 
New Testament. Oar late orother remained aloof from any church for 
some oansiderable time after leaving the Confbrence body, but when the 
Association was formed in Bodmin, he joined himself to that people, and 
continued a member of our Church until his death. 

On the 26th of Aagust, 1842, his name was entered on our church book 
for the first time, and while health permitted, he was very useful among 
us. He held several important offices m the Church, namely, prayer-leader, 
society steward, chapel steward, &o., &c« As a man of business, he was to 
be depended on for being regular and punotuali with regard to his moral 
character, he was irreproachable. In the Churth he was an admirer of 
decorum; his motto was "let all things be done decently and in order." 
He lored the ordinances of God's house, and was always found, when able, 
both at the public and private means of grace. He regardea with great 
affection and veneration the ministers of the Gospel, and ^ esteemed tnem 
very highly in lore fbr their work's sake." He was a liberal supporter both 
of our Olreuit and Connexional fands. He took a deep interest in our 
cause in Bodmin, and would be often inquiring how we were getting on, 
and was always pleased when any progress could be reported,— in short, he 
was a true Mend of the Wesleyan Association, and the cause of Christ 
generally. He was no bigot, but loved all who loved the Lord Jesus in 
sincerity ; ^ but the time drew nigh when Israel must die." 

Our dear brother, for some considerable period befor e his death, was the 
subject of very great bodily weakness and suffering, but he was enabled to 
trast in Jesus. He said to the writer, some little time before his decease, 
"My hope is in the Lord Jesus, I have nothing else to trust in.*' 

The oiay on which he died, he appeared just as he had been for some 
time. It was but a few hours before he expired that he said to his 
daughter, that his trust was in Christ, and there was no other foundation 
for the sinner to trust in but the atoning blood of Christ : with him it was 
"Jesus, the first and the last." Little did his daughter think, when he 
spoke these words to her, that he would so soon pass away $ but, alas t the 
silver cord was quickly loosed, and the golden bowl was broken, and the 
spirit returned to God who gave it. Our gracious God was pleased to deal 
very gently with our dear brother in his expiring moments. He died in 
his daughter's arms, almost without a groan, on the 17th of November 1866, 
after having sojourned in this lower world for near seventy-one years, and 
after having served God for the long space of forty-five years. 

One gentle sigh his fetters broke, 

We scarce could say he's gone, 
Before his ransom'd spirit took 

Her mansion near the throne. 

F^ith strives, but all its efforts ftil 

To trace her in her flight, 
No eye can pieroe within the veil 

Which hides that world of light 

Thus much, and this is all we know, 

They are completely blessed, 
Havc done with sin, and care, and woe, 

And with their Saviour rest. 

On Sunday, December 21st, the death of our esteemed friend was 
improved in Bodmin Chapel, to a deeply interested congregation, by the 

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124 Congregational Singing, 

Bev. J. W. Gilchrist, from the following words of our Divine Eedeemer, 
" Let not your heart be troubled j ye believe in God, believe also in me. 
In my. Father's house are many mansions, if it were not so I would have 
told you ; I go to prepare a place for you. John xiv. 1, 2. 
JBodmin, December 22, 1856. J. Hatdok. 



CONGREGATIONAL SINGING. 

Sib,-- Will you permit me to call the attention of your readers to the 
subject of Congregational Singing, which, considering the important part 
it is intended to sustain in our public services, seems entitled to a little 
more cultivation and study, than are usually bestowed upon it. 

Is it not a matter calling for inquiry, and at the same time for regret, 
that after the lapse of more than eighteen centuries, from the time when 
the Christian Church introduced the singing of hymns into its service, we 
are now found performing this duty in so imperfect a manner, as yet to be 
dependent upon choirs and instruments. Tney are at best but necessarr 
evils, and I believe the day is not far distant when they will be abolished, 
and when the voices of whole congregations will be heard in such simple 
solemn, devotional strains, as are alone suited to give expression to our 
hymns of praise and prayer. Where the necessity for this reform is ac- 
knowledged, and the desire to effect it is felt, the object can be attained 
without doubt, and by very simple means. What has already been accom- 
plished throughout this country by such teachers as the Rev, J. J. Waite, 
and those who are following the simple, straightforward method of his 
teaching, is sufficient evidence of this. The more immediate object of 
these remarks, however, has reference rather to the character of the music 
that is suited to the purposes of public worship, than to the manner of 
its performance. 

Before we can have universal congregational singing in all its simplicity, 
solemnity, and grandeur, we must undo the mischief that has been perpe- 
trated by the depraved and vitiated taste of modem times. Swarms of 
modem amateur composers have crammed our Methodist tune-books in 
every direction, with all sorts of heterogeneous stuff, and have also brought 
upon metrical psalmody the contempt of persons of good taste. They 
have aimed at producing such music as would strike, dazzle, and amuse, 
hence the nonsensical, capering melodies we frequently hear, bearing such 
names as Ebenezer, Knaresborough, Lonsdale, Mount Zion, Musicians, and 
all the tanes of such composers as Leach, Stanley, Fawcett, &c. Tunes of 
a lax, vulgar, secular character, abounding in repetitions, solo passages and 
ornaments, turns and jerks.* All such compositions are most unfit for the 
purposes of sacred worship ; they are completely at variance with the proper 
expression of a spirit of devotion, and moreover extremely offensive to 
every person of a cultivated taste. Notwithstanding the hundreds, almost 
thousands (for they seem inexhaustible) of these tunes, which have 
appeared from time to time, they have none of them obtained a permanence. 
They burst upon us by fits and starts, and after a brief but noisy existence 
they die away ; our choirs soon sicken of them, only, however, to perpe- 
tuate the mischief, by introducing more of the same class. Under these 
circumstances is it a matter of surprise, that all the members of our con- 
gregations are not found joining in the singing, and of those who do engage 
in it — how few can understand the harmony ? The males are compelled to 
sing the treble, or each extemporise his own bass, the result of which most 
probably is, that no two in a whole congregation sing alike. We are con- 
* Our readers vrill judge for themselves as to the justice of these allegations.^^if. 



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A Doorkeeper in the House of the Lord, 125 

fused with the multitude of tunes, many of which are so intricate and 
anintelligible, that the people cannot learn them ; of so extensive a com- 
pass, that the voices cannot reach them, and constructed in such a manner 
as to withdraw the attention from the spirit and meaning of the words, and 
centre it in the music. Others, in which the repetitions are of such a 
nature as to interfere seriously with the sense of the words, and often 
render them unmeaning, sometimes ridiculous. 

A comparison of the music of the early reformed churches, both in this 
country and on the continent, with that of modem times, will be by no 
means favourable to us, referring more particularly to psalmody and hymn- 
ody, as it forms almost exclusively the music of this branch of the Wes- 
leyan Church. The essentials of good and suitable music for the service, 
are as follows, viz., the melody should be simple, and slow, the harmony 
full and plain, and the whole of a solid and ecclesiastical character, totally 
free from a mixture of levity, perfectly distinct from everything of a 
secular character, essentially and exclusively church music. Of such a 
description are the Lutheran, the German, and the Italian chorales, toge- 
ther with the works of such English composers, as Tallis, Dr. Tye, Eavens- 
croft, Orlando Gibbons, &c. The fine stout old Lutheran tunes, have pre- 
served all their vigour and freshness for upwards of three hundred years, 
and stand out in bold contrast to the maudlin compositions of a later and 
degenerate age, though all modem composers are not to be included in 
these remarks. 

Dr. Jebb, speaking of Tallis, says, and the remark might be applied with 
almost equal propriety to the other composers already named, " The study 
of Tallis as a correct, grave, and religious harmonist, is essential to any 
real progress in the knowledge of sacred music : and nothing has tended 
more to debase the art amongst us, than the neglect of such studies, and 
the substitution of the showy, but thin and imperfect harmonies of modern 
composers, and the exaggerated and eflfeminate melodies, that rather express 
the morbid sentiment of religious excitement, than the deep-seated energy 
of a calm but influential devotion of the understanding and of the heart." 

Another authority upon this subject is Dr. Crotch. In his lectures on 
church music, Dr. Crotch says, "The psalms used and composed by the 
Reformers, usually called the Old Hundredth, the Old Thirty-eighth, &c., 
and those by their, immediate successors in this kingdom, together with 
those made in imitation of these pure, sacred strains, are alone worthy of 
study ; and these should be played simply, and with such harmonies as are 
of a suitable style ; while all the Magdalen and Foimdling hymns, with 
psalms made out of songs, glees, and quartetts, in drawling, whining, 
minuet-like strains, with two or three notes to each syllable, full of modern 
or chromatic discords, with interludes, symphonies, introductions, shakes, 
flourishes, cadences, appogiaturas, and other unseemly displays of the 
oiganiatic finger or fancy, should be denounced and utterly abolished." 

And must we then have no new church music ? Yes, but no new style, 
nothing which recommends itself, ow7y, by its novelty, or reminds us of 
what we hear at the parade, the concert, and the theatre. Much new music 
maybe produced in the sacred style, though to equal what has already been 
produced, will not be found so easy as may perhaps at first be imagined. 

Feh. mh, 1857. 



A DOOEKEEPER IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD. 

A few days since, it was determined by the Trustees, that to meet the 
demands for increased accommodation, provided the debt on our Chapel at 
Penzance was not increased, galleries should be erected, and the other 

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126 Review and Criticism, 

Qvonin^, at the close of the prayer-meetinff in the vestry, a few yet 
rexnaminff, a little conversation ensued upon the subject of contrlbutionB in 
aid of the object, when two brethren (journeymen mechanics) whose 
weekly wages somewhat differed, stated their mtentions. One said ho 
would give a ffuinea, the other would contribute half a guinea, when 
suddenly a tnuy poor man, obtaining a livelihood for himself and family 
by the most slender and precarious means, bent over and said, ''I'll give a 
sovereign myself." He was the door-keeper. All present loiew this un- 
solicited but earnest offer to be at the instance of sacrifice, and the incident 
suitably impressed us. But the poor man had seen an amiableness in the 
tabernacles of the Lord of Hostr^ and could say, ^ I had rather be a door- 
keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tent of wickedneaa** 
Pemance, Wk. Hutrt Kosd. 



EEVIEW AND CRITICISM. 

Elemente of Mental and Moral Scienee. By tho Bev. Geo. Fatme, 
L.L.D. London : Johk Skow, Paternoster-row. 

No. I. Meittal Scixnob. 

This is a new edition of an able work in the department of Meta- 
physics. This term, now of such general use, — often much abused— 
seems to have been originally employed by Andronicus of Rhodes, 
when the manuscripts of Aj'istotle were brought by Sylla from 
Athens to Rome, simply to designate those of the philosopher'i 
works, which, in arrangement came after the Physics. There does 
not appear to have been any intention of giving it a technical use. 
But it soon was so used, and for a number of ages with more 
laxness of meaning tiian most of technical terms. It has been 
used, to denote the scienoe which treats of tho nature, essence, 
and qualities or attributes of being-^the science which treats of 
the nature and laws of matter and of motion-— as well as that which 
treats of the powers of man, and the motions by which theorists 
have supposed life to be produced. But more recently, as an 
able writer in the Encyclopedia Britannica observes, it has been 
used to denote the doctrine of nUnd. The natural division of things 
that oxist, is into body and mind^ things material and immaterud* 
The former belong to Physics, the latter to the science of Mbta* 
PHYSICS, The work before us treats on that department of Metaphysics, 
to which Dr. Campbell and some other philosophers, both Scotch and 
English, have recently applied the term. Psychology, 

The study of mind is one of the most ancient of human pursuits. 
The Greeks, before the dawn of British history, and while all the 
tribes of Western Europe were in a state of barbarism, devoted them- 
selves to the prosecution of inquiries into the nature of the Mind, 
and a variety of cognate subjects. The bias of their understanding, 
was decidedly in the direction of abstract inquiries. Plato, the great 
teacher of classical antiquity, seems to have regarded abstract truths 
as the only objects worthy of the philosopher's attention. He recom- 
mended tne study of the properties of numbers, as habituatbg the 



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Review and Criticism' }27 

mind '' to the oontetnplation of pure truth, and as raising it above the 
material universe/' He recommended pure Mathematics as a subject of 
study for the same reason; while Archimedes, whose genius enabled 
bim to construct those famous engines of antiquity, which projected 
huge stones against the Romans, and guided ixixn to the invention of 
those burning Glasses by which their fleet was destroyed under 
Marcellus, at the seige of Syracuse, ^Impst apologises for this com- 
paratively useless diversion, i^s he regarded it, frpm fhose abstract 
studies to which bis life w^^ devoted. 

Plato ^nd Aristotle, though not ipuch distinguished hj t^he discp- 

very of new truth? in meptal spience, both contributed ^ijetaphj^sic^I 

terms, which have been in vqgue for more than two thousand ye^rs. 

Our word " idea " seems, according to Coleridge, to have been first 

adopted by Plato as a technical term^ and as the antithesis tp ^he 

Greek word for sensuous images, the transient apd perish^hle emblpm^ 

or mental words of ideas, The ideas, themselves, he regarded as 

mysterious powers, living, semina), formative, and expn^pt from time. 

In this sense the word became the property pf the Platpmc school, and 

it seldom occurs in the writings of the Stagyrite, without some suph 

phrase annexed to it, as " accordiujg to Plato," or " as Plato says." 

The doctrine of the Schoplnjeu in explanation pf the meau5> by T^hich 

the mind becomes aware of the existencp pf an e:^teru^l world^ wa^ 

borrowed from the disciples of Aristotle, who maintained that 

external ol^ects emit 3pecies entirely reseu^bUng t'lfi^m, ^nd th^t 

these species striking ou the senses, are by them transmitted to 

tjie understanding. This piost absur4 thepry, which prevailed for 

nearly two thousap4 years, met with itj? de^th-hlow at Jhe bands pf 

the celebrate^ Thomas Hobbes of Malnie^bury. lYithout trpubliug 

our readers with that philosopher's rej^ouings on the subject, y^e may 

observe, that it WBB a fs^tal object;ipn to this theory that it required co».- 

ditions in the humau siensorium, which ^p .cranium cpul4 possibly 

supply. For iustjauce, when Barclay de Tolly beheld the invading 

army of Napoleon for the first time, he was called upon hv this theory 

to find ii> his cranium, not only quarters for the senmle m^g^s of 

neaily haJf a milUpja of n?jen, but also gt^^-blerropin for thp sensible 

images of forty-thousand horses. Again, when Nelsou first yijBw.ed at 

Trafalgar tb^e junction flaejts of Fran.ce nx^ Sp*i»> and looked dpwn pp 

the noble fi^uet of England of which he was Admiral, he w.^ re.quir.e.d 

by thi^ th^eory to find sea-room in his brain for "tb,e sensible sp,ecie3 " 

of all th4Siit was visible,— the men, the ships, ithe tackling of three fi^eets 

of the thrive greatest maritime powers in the world* No wonde^ th^^ ^ 

theory lAvolviog ao m^nv absurd conditions; .should ultimately f^ 

under tibA successive shocJh( ?f^hicb it received frpm the bat^efin^ t^'^n^ 

of him^A experience and x>f com.mo^''^^^^* I^ ^^^ ^^7} thi^* 0^^^ 

Gvoooua theory is rega^rded as utterly unfounded in fact ^nd in nature. 

A diwl^r &te has befa^le;u the Platonic doctrine of ideas. '^ The 

term •"ide»" is aow aeldow or inever used by philpsophera JHcf^tg- 

nicallt/. Even before Dr. Reid's time — ^who^ laurels were .chiefljr 

WQU ia iiie conflict with ancieut not^jjus — the word idea was selijlom 

jaed to deo^ an image in the mind sep^ra/^ jaAd distinct &<W ii^9 



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128 Review and Criticism. 

mind, but since the time of Dr. Brown, to whom Psychology is much 
more indebted, than to any other philosopher since the time of Locke, 
writers have generally regarded " an idea " as nothing more than the 
mind affected in a certain manner^ or which is the same thing, the 
mind existing in a certain state. The author before us adopts the 
very words of Brown, when he states that " Our notions, thoughts, 
and ideas, are nothing more than different states of the mind itself/'— 
so that now the common opinion of mental philosophers is equally 
against the ancient Platonic notion of ideas and the Peripatetic doc- 
trine of sensible species, which from the time of Descartes to a com- 
paratively recent date, had assumed the name of " ideas," and were 
regarded as distinct objects interposed between the mind and out- 
ward objects. 

Dr. Payne's refutation of the ancient theory of Perception, is 
signally successful. But^ on one point, he alleges an incompleteness 
against the theory, to which we think it not justly liable. We allude 
to his first argument, which proceeds on the assumption that the 
doctrine of sensible species, as taught first by the Peripatetics and 
afterwards by the Schoolmen, includes only such sensible images as 
may impress the mind through the organ of vision. In this view he 
represents the theory as implying in relation to many objects of per- 
ception, a manifest absurdity. " If vision had been our only sense, 
we might, perhaps, have understood, at least, what was meant by the 
species that directly produce our visual images. But what is the 
phantasm of a sound or an odour f " The Doctor evidently wishes 
to convey the idea that the doctrine of the Schoolmen made no pro- 
vision among its sensible species for impressions of the latter class. 
In this, we regard him as at fault, and think his error the more 
remarkable, from Hobbes having stated the contrary in his attack on 
the doctrine of the Schoolmen two centuries ago. Hobbes, in stating 
the case, says, — " The Philosophy of the Schools through all the Uni- 
versities of Christendom, grounded upon certain texts of Aristotle, 
teaches that for the cause ofvision^ the thing seen sendeth forth on every 
side a visible species, the receiving whereof into the eye is seeing. And 
for the cause of hearing, there is an audible aspect, which entering at 
the ear maketh the hearing. Nay, for the cause of understanding 
also, they say the thing understood sendeth forth an intelligible 
species, that is, an intelligible being seen, which coming into the 
understanding, makes us understand." But, however, the theory 
might account for the phenomena it was radically defective in its 
principles ; indeed it violated two of the most important rules of 
theorizing, which are — 1. That the principles employed in expla- 
nation should be known really to exist. And 2. That those principles 
should be known to produce all the effects attributed to them in theory. 
Tried by these tests, the Peripatetic theory of perception was thoroughly 
worthless, for first of all, its principles were not known to exist, 
and if they were, they were not known to produce stich effects as 
the School-men ascribed to them. 

But while modern philosophers have given an almost unanimous 
decision against the doctrine of ^< ideas *\ propounded by the ancients, 



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Review and Criticism. 129 

it has been very different with respect to another of the controversies 
of former times. The Schoolmen of the thirteenth century originated 
a controversy relating to the use of general terms, which has remained 
unsettled to the present day. This, unlike many of the topics mooted 
by these men of the cloister for the mere display of dialectic skill, 
really involves matters of the utmost importance to the cause of 
Knowledge, in every department. It involves neither more nor less 
than the inquiry whether the human mind be capable of forming 
such general ideas as are supposed to be expressed by general terms? 
and that other cognate question, as to whether general terms express 
aught besides a number of particular perceptions ? Such were the 
questions, at issue, between the Nominalists and the Realists: and 
such the interests involved in their fiery debates. They were found 
unsettled at the dawn of modern learning, and have remained subjects 
of debate, even, since the father of the Inductive Sciences commu- 
nicated such a*'mighty impulse to all kinds of Knowledge; — Hobbes, 
Berkeley, and Hume, standing on one side, while Descartes, Locke, 
Reid, and Kant, are ranged on the other. The first named phi- 
losophers declared for the Nominalists, while the latter, with some 
qualification, gave their decision on the side of the Realists. 

Dr. Brown, since the time of these distinguished men, has done 
something to place the doctrine of the Realists on a foundation, from 
which it will not easily be shaken. He shows that the general term 
stands for certain real relations that subsist between the various 
individuals in a class. Thus, we may take a number of animated 
creatures, which differ fi:om one another in colour, in size, and in 
strength, but agree in being four-footed. Well, to designate this 
common relation the general term " Quadruped^* is used. Or to 
vary the illustration, we find a class of beings in all parts of the 
Globe, which, though they differ from us with respect to the com- 
plexion of the skin, the formation of the head, and the character 
of the hair, agree in having fingers and toes, an upright gait, and the 
faculty of speech and of reason, and to designate this relation of re- 
semblance, we use the general term " ManP Numberless other 
illustrations might be taken, if it were necessary, from liquid sub- 
stances and from elastic fluids. But these are sufficient for our 
purpose. Dr. Payne has admirably followed up the reasoning of 
Brown on this point, and shown that unless the reality of the re- 
lation, in such cases, be conceded, we are chargeable not only with 
coining words without necessity, but with having agreed with all man- 
kind to use terms without any corresponding idea, which, since thought 
must be supposed to precede speech, is much the same as to conceive 
of an effect without a cause, or of a symbol without the thing signified. 
And'further, that the extension of general terms to some objects only, 
and not to all, implies some reason for this limitation, — some feeling of 
the general agreement of the objects included in the class, to distinguish 
them fi:om the objects not included in it, which is itself that very 
"general notion" professedly denied. "We Aare," says Dr. Payne, 
"it is admitted, general terms; now if these terms have no meaning, 
where can be the impropriety of arranging, in the same class, and 

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130 Emew and CrUicum, 

designating by the same name, objects the most dissimilar in their 
nature? What can there have been to prevent such a classifi- 
cation ? Whj has it not been made f On what principle has all 
classification proceeded ? How can a Nominalist defend one mode 
and repudiate another ?" We are not aware of any aQswer that could 
be offered to these inquiries except the hollow statement of Hobbiss, 
that "Words are essential to general reasonings, and that without them 
all our conclusions would be particular^ but that it is words that give 
to our conclusions all their generality,^* An answer that strikes at the 
very foundations of human knowledge and must therefore be pro- 
nounced utterly worthless^ for of what value caa words be, or the 
reasoning to which they are said to be essential, unless thev are to he 
regarded as expressive of real relations ?-^unless they be tne symbols 
of something instead of nothina at all ? 

The sul^ect of Beauty has long engaged the attention of philoso- 
phers, with the object of determining whether it be really, a quality 
of external objects, or merely an emotion of the mind ? And if the 
latter, how external objects are adapted to call it into manifesta- 
tion?" On this point metaphysicians have been at issue:— some 
maintaining that there are qualities, primarily existing, in certain 
objects which are absolutely beautiful, and therefore adapted to call 
forth the sense of beauty in all who observe them, much in the 3ame way 
as the odoriferous particles of the rose give us the sense of fragrance- 
while others, with equal spirit have maintained that beauty is an 
emotion wholly dependent on the principle of association. The &rmer 
opinion, was advocated by Mr. Payne Knight, and with some 
modification by Dr. Brown ; the latter, with some little difference 
of opinion among its advocates, by Macintosh, Alison and Jeffrey. 
Macmtosh inclining towards the principle of association, has incidentally 
observed in his Ethical Dissertation in relation to this matter,^—" that 
the same properties 'which are admired as beautiful in the horse, 
contribute also to his safety, and his speed ; and they who infer that 
the admiration of beauty was originally founded on the convenience 
of fieetness and firmness, if they, at the same time, hold that the use- 
fulness is gradually effaced, and that the admiration of a certain shape 
rises instantaneously without reference to any purpose, may with 
perfect consistency regard a sense of beauty as an independent and 
universal principle in human nature." Dr. Payne on this much 
conti'overted question supports the theory which ascribes the emotion 
of beauty to the associated feelings which certain objects are adapted 
to awaken in the mind. 

But if philosophers have been greatly at variance respecting tbe 
source of our peculiar feelings, in relation to the Beautiful, they 
have not been more agreed as to the origin of our sense of 
the Sublime, Sublimity is regarded by Lord Kainies as consisting 
in extreme elevation and bidk^ thus the Peak of Teneriffe and 
the Alps are, according to his theory, sublime objects. I^i^rke, 
on the other hand, makes terror to be the grand element of sub- 
limity: "terror is in all cases, either openly or lat^tly, Ui« ruling 
principle of the sublime." The theory of Helvctius bears an almost 



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Review and Criticism, 131 

ludicrous resemblance to that of Burke. Burke makes terror either 
more openly or latently, to be the ruling principle of the sublime ; 
Helvetius makes the ruling characteristic of Sublimity to be an emotion 
of terror begun^ and maintains that it cannot be produced by any other 
cause whatever. Knight ascribes it, as an effect to the influence 
of mental energy in exciting a sympathetic energy in the mind of 
the spectator or reader. Dr. Brown places it in the higher parts 
of the scale of Beauty. This ingenious writer makes the emotions of 
beauty and sublimity to glide into each other, in the same way as the 
degrees of Heat in a Thermometrical scale. The philosopher's scale is 
divided into three parts. First, the lower part, to which he confines 
the emotion of Beauty in its various degrees of intensity. Second, the 
middle, to which belong feelings which, he thinks, might properly be 
designated the emotion of Grandeur. Third, the highest part, with 
which, exclusively, he associates the emotion of Sublimity. Alison and 
Jeffrey, as well as Dr. Payne in the volume before us, regard the 
emotion, when excited by material objects as the result of Association, 
and the last of these great names, agrees with Dr. Brown and Lord 
Kaimes, in the opinion that the quality or property in the presence, 
of which, the emotion of Sublimity rises, is VastnesSf which by the 
principle of Associa,tion suggests the idea of Power and of Wisdom, 
This is confessedly a most difficult question, but to Jeffrey, Alison, and 
Payne attaches the merit, at least, of consistency. They apply the 
same principle in the inquiry into the origin of the emotion of 
Sublimity which we have mentioned, as having been adopted by them, 
to account for the emotion of Beauty, Besides, they agree in re- 
garding Sublimity and Beauty, not as a sensation but an emotion^ 
and we are not aware that any better explanation has ever been 
offered, with respect either to the one or the other.* 

We felt it necessary thus to dwell, at some length, on our Author's 
treatment of two or three topics which have, so often, served as testing 
points of a metaphysician's analytic power, but having done so, we 
may proceed, at once, briefly to sketch the intellectual part of Dr. 
Payne's philosophical system. In a few particulars, as our readers 
have perceived, he is at variance with Dr. Brown, but in the main he 
agrees with him, and his whole system, at least, so far as the intel* 
lectual powers are concerned, is formed on the model of that of his 
singularly keen and subtle predecessor. 

The first part of "the Elements" treats of the object of Intel- 
lectual Science and the mode in which our inquiries should be 
conducted — the true nature of the powers and susceptibilities of the 
mind— the manner in which our knowledge of the mental phenomena 
is obtained, — the origin of the notion of Self— the identity of 

* The writer ef the Article oa this subject, in the Penny Gyclopeedia, divides the 
question concerning the Sablime into three parts, 'which he describes as the Material 
Sublime, the Moral Sablime, and tbe Emotion of Sublimity. The first of these is the 
BubUmi^of ear^ema^ Nature. The second, the sublimity of human actions and ideas. 
The thiid, that ** feeUug in the mind which giyee to certain phenomena of nature or 
deeds of man, the attribute of Sublimity." After thus distinguishing between the forms 
of SubM^dty, he lays down his theory in very simple terms. " Speaking objectively,** 
Mysbe **tibe exiting cause of SubUmity is wMtnees; spea1dng««ijec/toe7y, the emotion 
fiicited is a sense of Insig&lficft&oe.*' The main bearings of the question are thus 
presented in small compass. 



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132 Review and Criticism. 

the Thinking Principle, — and the analysis and arrangement of the 
mental phenomena. The remaining portions of that division of the 
work, which is devoted to the Philosophy of the human mind, 
comprise an exposition of what may be called, Payne's Intellectual 
System. He follows Dr. Brown in substituting "Suggestion" for 
" Association," the term, by which certain mental laws were desig- 
nated by Hume. He does not, however, attempt to reduce Hume's 
laws of Association (resemblance, contrariety, causation, and con- 
tiguity) to the single principle of contiguity as was done by Dr. 
Brown, and for which the Doctor did not deserve all the credit 
he claimed, inasmuch as the germ of the discovery, as he regarded 
it, had been supplied by Aristotle more than two thousand years 
ago — was exhibited with more clearness by Hobbes — and presented in 
a blaze of light by Hartley and Condillac. He treats Simple Sug- 
gestions as being subject to the three laws of Resemblance, Contrast, 
and Contiguity. Conception, Memory, and Imagination are resolved 
by Dr. Payne into Suggestion. The Doctor has also availed himself 
of Brown's discovery of the secondary laws of Suggestion, under the 
head of Conceptions of Relation, (the same as Dr. Brown's Relative 
Suggestion) which Payne discriminates into the two Relations of Co- 
existence and of Succession. The Emotions, he divides into three 
classes, — the Immediate, the Retrospective, and the Prospective, 
Under the first, he classes the Emotions of Beauty, Sublimity, 
Surprise, Wonder, Astonishment, Love, Hatred, Sympathy, Pride, 
Humility, and Moral Approbation and Disapprobation : under the 
second. Anger, Gratitude, Regret, Gladness, Remorse, and Self- 
approbation : under the third, the Desire of Continued Existence 
— of Society — of Esteem — of love of others, and of Superiority. 
He controverts Stewart's notion, that "Attention" is an original 
power of the Mind, and traces the processes of Judging, Reasoning, 
and Abstraction, to the relation of Co-existence. 

Throughout the work, the Doctor evinces a thorough acquaintance 
with those controversies which the spirit of Speculation has, in various 
ages, stirred up in connection with this branch of science. Coleridge 
was not more familiar with the German philosophers than Payne, 
with all the great English authorities, on these questions. Nor does 
he merely evince an intimate acquaintance with the history of 
opinion. He has read the authorities with all the keenness of a 
critic, with all the penetration of a philosopher, and with all the 
care of a student, who prefers the truth to any number. of great 
names or of well received notions. Hence, in Dr. Payne's work the 
student will find nearly all the results of philosophic inquiry in this 
department of science, combined with the reasons, why one view is 
preferred to another. Less ornate than Brown's admirable Lectures, 
" the Elements " before us, are quite equal to those wonderful pro- 
ductions in earnest inquiry, calm reasoning, and severe analysis, — 
qualities in a philosophical work, much to be preferred above mere 
eloquence of statement or graces of style. We regard this profound 
work as a most valuable contribution^to the Philosophy of the Human 
Mind. It is just such a work as every student ought to read until 

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Review and Criticism. 133 

his mmd is permeated, so to speak, with its facts and its rea- 
sonings. 

Want of space admonishes us to laj down our pen for the present. 
Bat we intend to return to this Work in our next issue, and to 
famish our readers with a few observations on the Author's Outliues 
of Moral Science. 

Thoughts and Aphorisms on the Christian Life. Edited by the 
Bey. JoHK Baillie. London : James Nisbet and Co., Berners-street. 

While the celebrated Bunyan was laid in an English prison, think- 
ing out his story of the " Pilgrim's Progress," there was/ another per- 
sonage of kindred character pining on bread and water, in one of the 
prisons of the Eomish Inquisition in Italy. That individual's name 
was Molinos. Like Bunyan, he offended the ruling powers by the 
eminently evangelical character of his notions on the. subject of reli- 
gion, and like him, resolved to turn his imprisonment to some account 
in the general interest of humanity. Though he was not up to 
Banyan's mark, either in the originality of his genius or in the clear- 
ness of his views, he was further ahead of his Romish countrymen 
than Bunyan was in advance of hi* Protestant persecutors. Molinos' 
work was on the subject of " the Christian Life," and has been re- 
garded as an extraordinary work, considering the circumstances 
under which it was produced. It was, indeed, disfigured here and 
there by some traces of Romish superstition. The mind of the 
author, as his Editor intimates, though raised from the grave of 
superstition, was not freed from the grave-clothes in which he had 
been bound. An individual was required, who should free his work 
of certain blemishes by which it was disfigured. Now, that has been 
done by Mr. Baillie in the present publication. " The Christian 
Life " is now sent forth nearly free from the cerements which ori- 
ginally covered it, and will, we doubt not, promote the cause of 
experimental Religion. 

The Literarium, Vol. iii., No. 26. 
This is a periodical intended to serve as an Educational Gazette 
and Journal of Literature, Science, and Art. As such it supplies 
considerable variety of matter. The following brief articles will convey 
some idea of the manner in which it is conducted ; — 

LIFE IN MANCHESTER. 

The Eev. Canon Stowell, delivered a lecture bearing the above title, 
before a very large audience, in the Free Trade Hall, Manchester, on Tues- 
day evening, the 20th ult. The lecturer said that it was his intention to 
sketch the general and prominent characteristic features of * Manchester 
life,' not in the lower but in the middle and higher walks. The 
most prominent feature which distinguished the men of Manchester was 
an intense, energetic, determined attention to business and the occupation 
of ordinary life. There it was life in earnest, and he loved earnestness. 
Another distinctive feature in Manchester life was good common sense and 
sound judgment. Their Liverpool friends were disposed to imitate London 
and disparage Manchester — to speak of the * gentlemen ' of Liverpool and 
the * men ' of Manchester ; but he would rather have a good, sensible man 
than a gentleman who set up for more than he was. Again, there was 
about Manchester men and Manchester life, a great deal of honesty and 



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184 Revitw and Critieism. 

unaffectednesB, and disinterestedneBS, and unpretending kindness. There 
was also a great deal of public spirit, energy, and enterprise. Another 
feature of MancheBter life was the zeal Manchester had shown, and was 
still showing, in the cultivation of the arts and in the inorease of informa- 
tion and intelligence among all classes of the community. The last feature 
on the bright side of the picture to which the lecturer alluded was large- 
hearted liberality and generous munificence. A person had only to make 
out a good case to meet with princely generosit^jr and liberality. Taming 
to the dark side of the picture, the lecturer sfud that there was in Man- 
chester a too intense and sastained application to business<*-an absorption 
in its pursuits. Manchester life was largely— too largely — a mere mer- 
cantile life, many having no idea beyond business. The spirit of competi- 
tion led to speculation and commercial rambling, — to people trading with- 
out capital, and to an extent beyond the& means. But, besides that, there 
was a great deal of actual gambling. He had heard it said that Man- 
chester was looked upon as an authority in horse-raeing and stakes. He 
concluded by alluding to what he very much regretted to see, the growing 
love for the excitement of diversions and amusement^ and the growing 
taste for ostentatious display at entertainments. Against all these dark 
phases he earnestly warned his audience. A hearty Vote of thanks was 
accorded to the lecturer at the close. 

Such articles as the following on th^ use of Time, especially with 
reference to mental cultivation, will be found to be valuable to readers 
of all classes 5 — 

tmB— HOW TO iJtPROVB If ,— BY THB RKV. ADAM BLt*rfi. 
1. YALUB UOMBNTS. 

The smaller portions of our time are, perhap^ of all others, the most 
apt to be despised. An hour is wasted^ because it is onlt/ an hour. Minutes 
are disregarded, because thev are only minutes. Strange, indeed, that 
such a mistaken notion should be so common. How mu(m depends upon 
the hours and minutes thus trifled away t Who will undertake to estimate 
their united value at the end of a day, a week, or a year ? It must be 
acknowledged that we are inconsiderately prone to overlook the aggregate 
amount, in the apparent insignificance of these stray corners of time. We 
need to be constantly reminded that ^ sands make the mountain; mo- 
ments make the year." How few put the question, "If I lose an hour, 
how shall I repay the debt V Nor snould we forget here, that ^' of all the 
portions of our life, the spare minutes are most fruitful in good or evil 
They are gaps through wnich temptations find the easiest access to the 
garden of the soul." In this view, it is sad to think of the multitudes to 
whom their leisure has proved their rtun. Yet how often are thoughtless 
and giddy persons heard to speak of their spare hours, in connection with 
the very amusements and pleasures that present such temptations to sin. 
Alas ! now little do such persons think of the precipice on the brink of 
which they are sporting. How little do they reflect that they have in 
truth no hours to spare for such unworthy purposes — none for worldly 
vanities — none for the service of sin— none for the works of Satan— and 
that it is nothing short of robbery thus to employ them. Your spare 
hours, if such you call them, ought never thus to be trifled away, but, on 
the contrary, to be diligently redeemed for rational, and dignified jajid holy 
ends. Whatever be your outward lot in life, your condition is indeed truly 
pitiable if you are guilty of despimng n\oments. or of throwing away any 
portion of your time in vain, or frivolous or sinful amusements. Assuredly 
you would not thus squander it if you remembered its hidden worth, or 
the infinite consequence which depends upon its right improvement. How 



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Heview and Criticism, 135 

ilnpdrtant; the ihatriiction of Scripture when thus applied : " Gather up 
the fragments, that nothing be lost." Value moments. 

2. STUDY ORDSB. 

The poet says, " Order is heaven's first law." And viewed in relation to 
the improvement of time, the observance of this law would not, in all pro- 
babilitj, be earth's meanest boon. The disregard of this maxim, at least, 
it cannot be doubted, is one of the most prolific sources of Wasted time^ 
How many precious hours are every day frittered away, through want of 
systematic arrangement ! If you would seek to obviate this waste, let 
there be a time for everything, and let everything be done in its time. In 
all your engagements let an hour be named, and let the utmost punctuality 
be observed. Let a regard to the value and importance of time, both to 
yourselves and others, be not only cherished in your memory, but be prac- 
tically recognized in all the minutiae of life. Let each day, if possible* be 
divided into portions, according to the several duties you are called 
to discharge, and the relative importance attached to each. The econo- 
mizing of time, it has been said, is like the packing of a trunk 5 ** A good 
packer will get twice as much in as one inexperienced." You may see 
this illustrated every day in all the various walks of life— not more In the 
calm, steady, and systematic progression of some, than in the flurried, 
fitful, and unsatisfactory course of others, and in the relative amount of 
work which they each perform. Be impressed, therefore, with the im- 
portance of method in relation even to the smallest matters ; and as no 
duty should ever be forgotten^ so see to it that it be never wilfully mis- 
placed. Let not one duty jostle out another* Let the law of order regu- 
late your whole daily work. Attention to this practical bat much neglected 
nile, will not only keep you from desultory habits, so ruinous in themselves, 
but enable you to make such progress in all your aims and employments, 
as would otherwise be perfectly unattainable. " One at once" is a valuable 
maxim. Study order. 

i^, ATOli) DELAYS. 

There is a natural propensity in many minds to forget the &miliar 
adage, " Never put on till to-morrow what can be done to-day.** With 
such persons the urgency of present obligation is entirely overlooked, and 
the dim and uncertain future is the world in which they live. To-da^ 
is forgotten in the prospect of to-morrow. To-morrow is always the fatal 
period to which the activities of their life refer. With them there is no 
I»«8ent duty — the unborn future has .carried it away. Their good inten- 
tions never assume a tangible ^shape ; for the coming day to which they 
trust is always cominp^, but never comes. Thus they Hve regardless of the 
present^ which alonb is theirs, and pleasing themselves with the db&dow, 
while they lose the reality. In the common afl^irs of this world such a 
habit is always pernicious, but in grave conoems of the immortal soul it is 
positively fatal. The ^Bvords are strong, but nevertheless quite true, ** Pro- 
crastination is the kidnapper of souls, and the recruiting-offieer of hell." 

" Without delay,'* was the motto of Alexander the Great. Short and 
emphatix^ Would that it were also the motto of the teeming multitudes who 
are now gliding so unconsciously down the stream of neglected time ! Again 
we say, execute the work of every day with promptitude and vigour. Let 
not your life be ^ided before your work is miished^ ** Opportimity is the 
blossom of time.'* Avoid delays. 

4. EARKESTNESB, THB SECRET OF SUOCSSS. 

Young ta&an, whatever be your employment or calling in life^ however 
homUe or howl9ver elevated, be in earnest. Let not your proceedings be 
characterised by insincerity and lukewarmness, but let a vein of vigour 



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136 Review and Criticism. 

and zeal nm through them like a golden thread. Be absnrd, if yon please ; 
imbecile, if God has made you so ; rash, if your temperament is warm ; be 
anything or everything included in the list of human infirmity ; but be not 
a sham 1 As siogs the immortal bard, 

life is real^ life is earnest, 
And the grave is not its goal; 

and if you palter -with your avocation and coquette with visionary attrac- 
tions, you will awake one day to a bitter realization of a life wasted and 
energies misspent. Live in realities; think, speak, act and write truths 
and facts : put all the immortal strength of your soul into duty, and per- 
form it with might and persistency, and you shall then in " patience pos- 
sess your soul,** when no work remains to be performed, and when the 
voice of approval shall say, " It is enough, come up hither.'* 

Our readers will agree with us, in regarding the periodical that con- 
tains such articles, as being of some importance to the cause of general 
enlightenment. 

The Desert of Sinai. By H. Bonae, D.D. London : Nisbet 
and Co. 

This is the title of a work, comprising a large variety of very intel- 
ligent Notes, of a Spring Journey from Cairo to Beersheba, by Dr. 
Bonar of Kelso. The notes were taken on the spot : the pen and ink 
sketches were all executed in the presence of the objects described, to 
which, no doubt, is owing that air of reality and life with which the 
reader is struck in reading Dr. Bonar's production. The ample stores 
of information with which the traveller entered on his somewhat 
hazardous journey, enabled him to view the numerous objects in the 
course of his pilgrimage in their relation to Biblical^History, and in 
this view, his work must prove of more than passing interest. We 
regret that want of space obliges us to dismiss this excellent work, 
somewhat summarily, but we cannot deny our readers the gratifica- 
tion of one or more quotations. We shall select a brief passage on— 

THE PYRAMIDS. 

The Pyramids, with the exception of two small ones at Dashur, are built 
of limestone, not of brick. The limestone seems to have come partly out 
from the immediate neighbourhood of the Pyramids themselves, and partly 
from the Mukattem ridge near Cairo. The red granite which is found in 
the interior, and also in the surrounding tombs, is from Syrene in Upper 
Egypt, 500 miles farther up the Nile. 

The view from the top was no common one. Some travellers have written 
that they were disappointed both with the view and with the Pyramids 
themselves. We were not with either. Seated on the top we had to take 
Jbreath for some minutes after the ascent, which tries every joint and 
muscle in your limbs. Then we began to look about us. To the East, 
the yellow Mukattem cliffs, with the Desert behind them and Cairo at 
their feet, gleaming in the fair noon. Between us and the city there 
flowed the mighty Nile, whose waters we could trace far North and South 
for many a mile by the long line of moving silver, dividing the vast waste 
of dull unmoving sand. Along its banks rose numerous palm forests, and 
upon its bosom glittered the sails of a hundred river-boats, which, as they 
moved along, seemed in the distance like the white wings of the sea-birdB, 



! 



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Itevieia and Critieisn^ f ^ 

To the West there lay the Lybian wastes on.xrkieH.tha'blTie hoftizon rested. 
To the Soi^h rpse the loiirteen Pyramids of Sakbaraft^ some ten miles np 
the Nile, wh^re is the lately-discovered Necropolis with the mummy-pita 
of kings and gods. There is no doubt that the Pyramids were the tombs 
of kings, and the greatness of these structures* shows how men strove to 
undo the htimbli^ circumstances of mortality* To keep u|7:th^ semblance 
of perpetueJ life^ they caused themselves to be embalpied. To 89,ve them-^ 
selves from £he abasement of the *' narrow hbiise," they*cased thefnselves 
in pdlishctd^gramtei and reared these enormous tombs. Faith, accepting 
^P l^l|te«us 8ent^C9 of mortality, as the wages .of sip, and yet counting'- 
^n-a gkoriqus] immortality, in .resurf eotion j said, '^ Let jpie bury my dead 
out of 8ight,"-^l)ul unbelief, y^^Uiftg itj the jpunishment, ant} resolved to 

thus, 

^ , , ^_,_^ _.^._^ . , in his 

own house," 190 that when God would' thrfeaten Babylo*, 1ie*{elJs her that 
ahe shall be eat out of her grave, ^^ and not joined with them'in burial ^* ; 
and when He would warn £gypt| He says, th^y shall ndfc lie with the 
mighty. 'J 

The prophets nowhere make the slightest reference to these works, of 
Egyptian pride, in their various predictions opnceming. Egypt,, fs if ^ that 
which was the wonder of the nations was not worthy to' be.namea. But 
perhaps it was' to such structures that Job^ referred when he spoke of 
*' kings and counsellors of the earth, wha built desolate places for them- 
selves." 

In looking from the Pyramids, it is old Egypt that comes up before your 
view,~old Egypt on both sides of the river. Modem Egypt, both in its 
Christianity and its Moslemism disappears. An old bridge seems to spring 
from the Pyramids, and to rest its hrst arch on the island of Itodah ; from 
that it springs its second arch, which spans Cairo and rests on Heliopolis ; 
—the Pyramids, the Nilometer, and the Obelisk, forming links of. an un- 
broken chain. It is all old Misratm everywhere, a land that seems never to 
die,— or if it does, in its very death to rise up- into a vastness that over- 
shadows fdl nokodem grandeur. Gazing fr<wa ^e : Pyramids^ Oairoj fine as^ 
it is with its minarets and domes, seems bul^ as a patch of jnushrooms be^ 
tween two mighty oaks, or ,as a.ptte of white- washed houses between two. 
old Cathedrals. Greek philosophy had its day of greatness, but old Egypt 
was still above it. Moslemism has had its era of grandeur; but old Egypt 
still towers above it. AU the changes of the last two thousand years 
are but as modem additions to some old temple, which time after time 
mouldar awi^yand leave the ancient structure more venerable and more 
marvellous than before. 

We have thus broken bulk, and now only have to refer the reader 
to the work itseli^ where he will find many passages of equal in- 
terest.** 

. Our Christian Classics. London i Jahbs Nisbet and Co., 21, 
Berners-street. 

This is the first number irf a work intended to be a continuation of 
the " Excelsior," with a very much larger space devoted to Religious^ 
Literature* It consists of readings from the best Divines. Its con- 
tents are sufficiently varied and the articles are of solid interest. If 
the snceeeding numbers should evince the same discrimination in the 
selection and arraagAmeat of the articles, the work must acquire » 



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188 Review and Criticism. 

high place in popnhr favonr. There are very few serial publications 
that have more fully commended themselves to our taste than this 
Supplement to the "Excelsior.** We wish the enterprising Pub- 
liishers a wide circulation. 

Centenary Commemoration of the Opening of the Tottenham Court 
Chapel^ London^ London : John Skow, 35, Paternoster-Row. 

The work before us consists of Addresses and Sermons by ih& Revs. 
J. W, Richardson, Dr. John Campbell, ^ames Sherman, and C. H. 
Spurgeon, with a Report of the Public Meeting on the occasion 
mentioned in its title. The address of Mr. Richardson consists 
mainly of a sketch of that extraordinary man (Rev. George Whit- 
field) of whose piety and eloquence the chapel in Tottenham Court 
Road is so fine a monument. Dr. Campbell's address, the most 
valuable, in our estimation, of the two, is designed to show the 
progress of Evangelical Religion in the world, during the last 
century. The sketch abounds with statistical information evidencing 
the progress of Evangelical Religion. ** Let these facts be combined," 
says the Doctor, ** and it will be seen that the century 1756 — 1856 
has been by far the most remarkable on ' record. The church has 
broken forth on all sides, and taken possession of the whole earth for 
Him whose right * is to reign,' who is the ' Head of the heathen,' 
and the * Lord of all,' " But it is one of the inconveniences of joint 
Authorship, that one writer sometimes utters sentiments at variance 
with the statements of another. This is what has been done by Mr. 
Spurgeon in relation to Dr. Campbell. Dr. Campbell it will be seen 
represents the age as one in which the Church has taken mighty 
strides in the path of improvement. Mr. Spurgeon describes it as an 
age of formality and corruption. " Everybody now-a-days joins the 
church; go where you may, you will find professing Christians. 
Almost every one sits down at some Lord's table or another. But 
are there fewer cheats than there used to be. Are there less frauds 
committed ? Do we find morality more extensive ? Do we find vice 
less freely indulged. No, Sirs, we do not. The age is as immoral as 
any that has preceded it; there is still as much Sin, although more 
cloaked and more hidden^* We know too well that the Age is no 
better than it should be, but when Mr Spurgeon says, it is as immoral 
as any that has preceded it, he must be understood either as uttering 
monstrous hyperbole, or as being utterly ignorant of human history. 

There are two excellent Sermons by Dr. Leifchild, and the Rev. 
James Sherman ; indeed, the volume as a whole is well worth pdrusal, 
and forms a valuable memorial of one of the most eminent and 
devoted men that ever lived. That it will have a wide circulation 
there can be no doubt. 

ScBcula Tria : An Allegory of Life — Past^ Present ^ and to Come. 
London : David Bogxje, Fleet-street. 

This is a poetical production from the pen of Mr. Wyke Bayliss 
— a new name, to most of our readers, little adapted to awaken 
those pleasurable emotions which usually attend the announce^ 

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Friends in Council, 139 

ment of new works from the pen of an eminent literary character. But 
this should not be permitted to operate to the Author's prejudice. The 
Saecula Tria, we believe, is the first work of this youthful author, and 
no wonder that it should present some marks of juvenility. The wri- 
ter is a person of great strength of imagination, some depth of feelings 
and considerable facility in the employment of both for literary purpo- 
ses. His flights are of an ambitious order, but his imagination is per- 
mitted to roam abroad without restraint, and his diction wants those 
graces which can be acquired only by close application to the study of 
the best authors. The youthful author is not without genius, but we 
think, he might, in preparing his next production, do well, to bear in 
mind, the suggestive observation of a genuine poet, that the blotched 
copies make all the fine writing. The neglect of this, has, in the 
present instance, done very much to present the pieces before us in a 
state that might have tempted the pen of the Edinburgh Reviewer 
of the poems of the late Robert Montgomery. The Author will 
understand us. 

PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED. 

1. " Words of Comfort for Bereaved Parents." Edited by W. Logan. 

2. "Entire Devotion." !^ Mrs. Palmer. London: Heylin. 

3. " Sketches of the Rev. Br. Livingston." London : John Snow. 

4. "British Workman." January and February, 1857. 

5. " Baud of Hope." January and February, 1857. 

6. " My Word Book." No. III. London : Ward and Co. 

7. " GHmpses of our Heavenly Home." London : Heylin, 

8. " The Virgin Widow." London : John Snow. 



FRIENDS IN COUNCIL. 

It was the custom of Marvel, Woolmar, and Digbv, to spend Saturday 
afternoon together. In summer time they generally left the din and dust 
of the crowded city for a quiet stroll into the country. When the day 
was. wet or cold, they met at Marvel's house, or Woolmar's rooms, and 
passed the evening in cheerful, earnest talk. 

Woolmar was — or rather is— a Dissenting Minister, or as he prefers 
to be called, a Christian Teacher. His friends say, that when a boy ne was 
fond of books. So he still remains. In theology and politics his views 
are broad and liberal. And earnestly is he striving, as best he can, to 
serve his God, and improve his generation. 

Bighy is at present a hard student in College ; expecting shortly to 

take his degree, and to receive a call from a large church in a populous 
town. 

Marvel is a sleeping partner in a lucrative business, and lives in good 
style a little distance from town. Like most men who spend their time 
ia reading rather than in action, he is too much disposed to find fault with 
tUngs as thej are. Foster and Carlyle are his favourite modem authors. 
Notwithstanding this, you cannot know him without loving him. He is 
devout, without being dull, Gk)dly, without being grim. You have only 
to hear him laugh to discover he is healthy and hearty, both in mind and 
body. He reads much, thiiJss more, and says little, except to his intimate 
friends. 

It was on an afternoon, bright and warm in the beginning of autumn, 
that the three friends left the town for the accustomed stroll. An hour's 
valk brought them to the Uttle village of Darley, and as they passed the 

l2 



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140 friinda in Council 

old cborob, the cloek tolled tbree,-*wh6n the' Mowing OGnTenatioii 
oommenced. 

Woolmar^ I don't wonder at Cowper exclaiming^ 

'< Qod made the country, and man made the town.** 

The Bimplicity and innocence of this quiet, rural life, is a striking contrast 
to the sin and misery of our great towns. How much more healthy, both 
to body and soul, is the occupation of these villagers. And what manifest 
opportunities they have for reflection and meditation on the wonderfnl 
works -of €rod. 

Marvel, Cpwper*8 line is oidy partially true. And your notions of 
country life are altogether untrue, £uter the cottages of these jteasanta 
and your poetry will be turned into prose. Instead of finding their inmates 
thoughtful and intelligent"; you. will find them dull and stupid. To get a 
new thought into theur heads is the most difficult of all difficult things. 
I never pass through these villages Without being reminded of that oft- 
repeated line in their church service, " As it was in the beginning, so ft is 
now, and ever shall be." That is the Jinale of their creed, in religion, 
politics, agriculture, and trade. If you were to live amongst^ them your 
views would alter, as Qowper's did, respecting that beautiful cottage 
perched upon the hilL When at a distance he thought it would be the 
very place for a poet. But upon nearer inspection h6 discovered ita 
inconveniences. Its owner had, to go fkr for his water j and then it was of 
little worth. And he often' had to wait long for the bsJcer. 

" So farewell envy of the.^5af»0LMM| !- 
If solitude make scarce the medns o| ll 
Society for me ! — thou seeming sweet, 
Be still a pleasing object in my view ; 
My visit still, but never mine abode." 

So, Woolmar, you would say, if you were to come and live in the country. 
Don't talk any more cant about the virtues of the peasantry. Tour soul 
woald be starved to death among them— for they are not only ignorant, 
but they ftre perfectly content to remain so. 

Woolmar, '■ In aU your pictures, Marvel, you use too much lamp-black. 
The peasants are not so stupid as you think. Besides, may we not 
meet with the same ampunt of iffnorance, with double the amount of sin, 
in our large towns. • In the crowded city we meiet with but little to remind 
us of God. ?ut when we take a walk into the country, and watch the 
fields waving with golden grain ; — when we listen to tjie light tinkle of the 
brook chanting its quiet tune, or the birds merrily singing among the 
branches ; we are brought into communion with the unseen Father of our^ 
spirits, and look through nature, up to nature's Qod. Alexander Smith- 
one of our young poets, who has edways lived in town— has well described 
the dangers to which those are exposed who see so little of God*s works. 
He says, 

''In mighty town ; immured in their blaek hearts^ 

The Btars are nearer to you than the Md$^ 

I'd grow an Atheist in these towns of trad^ 

Were 't not for stars. The smoke puts heaven out | 

I meet sin- bloated faces in the streets. 

And shrink as from a blow. I hear wild oatha, 

And curses spilt from lips that once were sweet, 

And seal'd for heaven by a mother's kiss. 

I mix with men whose hearts of human fiest^ 

BeneaUi the petrifying touch of gold. 



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Friends in Council. 141 

Have grown as «tony as the trodden wayg. 
J see no trace of God, till in the night 
"While the vast city lies in dreams of gain 
He doth reveal Himself to me in heaven I ' 

Marvel. I have not met with those lines, Wooldiar. But you know my 
opiuion of the p6ets of our day. I often fancy that they are all vegetarians, 
and are far gone in consumption. A man who is always feeling his 
Bpiritual pulse, and examining his own thoughts, cannot be in good health. 
Yigorous health is unconscious. A man never feels his toe until he has 
got the gout. He never thinks of his tooth until it aches. I think if our 
young poets were to eat more beef, they would perhaps write better poetry. 
Tliere » a verse of Kebk'it, Woolmar, that I have heard you quote whioa 
has a healthier tone than those lines of Smith* Just repeat it. 

If^Qolmar, I suppose you mean the following :— 

^ There axe in this loud stunning tide 
. Of human care and crime, 
With whom the melodies abide 

Of th' everlasting chime 1 
Who carrv music in their heart, 

Through dusky lane and wrangling mart. 
Flying their daily task with busier feet. 

Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat' 

Marvel. Yes, that is the verse. And notwithstanding the authority of all 
the Smiths, I will maintain that there is a far greater proportion in the 
town " who carry music in their heart," than in the country.' It is a great 
mistake to suppose that a countryman is affected by the' beauties of nature 
like a townsman. The Swiss peasants are not so much improved by the 
magnificence of their mountains, as those are who have lived In more level 
coantries. And you must remember, Woolmar, how much you are indebted 
to books for the enjoyment derived .from communion with nature. Shake- 
pere, Cowper. and Words worth,' ha Ve enabled you- to read the page, which 
to the peasant is written in hieroglyphics. He can . no 'tnore discern the 
deep spiritual meaning in the objects around, than he could enterpret the 
slabs in the British Museum, which Layard broaght from Kineren. 

Bighy. I think Marvel is right. The town is more conducive to the 
growth of manly intellect than the country. How is, it Woolmar, if the 
country be more (avourable to the religious life, that the word paaan^ 
which originally meant villager^ has come to be equivalent to heathen f 
Or, how has the word heathen sot its presentmeaning ? Did it not origin- 
ally mean heathmen, those who lived in the country f — The change in the 
meaning of those two words, is historic proof that the towns were 
Christianized before the country. And the world's work has ever been done 
in the great cities. 

Marvel. Well said, Digby. This morning I was reading a letter of 
LamVs to Wordsworth, in which he humorously ccmplains of the- 
intolerable dulness of a little country town, in which he had to stay for a 
time to recruit his health. Instead of the lofty fruiterers of Oxford Street; 
he 8aid,**there were shops two yards square, their stock in trade, being half 
a dozen apples and two penn'orths of overlooked gingerbread.. And in 
pbice of the immortal book and print stalls ; there was a circulating library 
that stood stilly where the show picture was a last year's valentine." 

I^ighy. Well, let us leave the question. Town versus country is an old 
anbject. Perhaps a little of both is the best. Which road shall we now 
take, through the fields or-tbe wood ? 

IdarveL Of course, Woolmar will say through the wood. For he always 
becomes eloe^uent whei» he talk? about trees. A lady of my acquaintance. 



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142 Friends in Councils 

the other day asked him, if he was going to a horticultural show in the 
neighbourhood, when he replied, " No ! but he would like to go to a tree- 
show." 

Woolmar, I confess, that there are few 6bjects more beautiful to my 
mind, than a large tree. What flower-show is to be compared with that 
wood which lies oefore us. Look at those brilliant colours. How rich and 
deep. And all those varied tints mingled in one living mass of glory. 
And not only is a great tree a most beautiful object in itself, but there are 
80 many pleasant associations connected with it. Look at that majestic 
oak, and think of its age. It has lived there for three hundred years at 
least, and is yet in its prime. And notwithstanding your radicalism, 
Marvel, we all have at the bottom, a deep love for tmngs that are old. 
Then think what it has suffered. What battles it has fought with nvind 
and storm. On many a dark and lonely night, has it struggled with the 
demon of the tempest, until it has roared out with pain. And although it 
has lost a limb or two in the fight, yet in the end, it struck its roots deeper, 
and in the following summer it was yet more vigorous. Then again think 
of the benevolence of that tree. It does not live for itself. It is as useful 
as it is beautiful. It has provided food and shelter for hundreds of gene- 
rations. Millions of insects have fed upon it, and danced beneath its 
mighty shade. And thousands of birds have performed many a merry 
concert in its wide spreading branches. How can you compare that 
delicate, tender, hot-house plant, which was only bom last week, and which 
the least frost or wind will destroy, with that brave old oak. When 
looking at a tree like that, I have often admired that verse of George 
Herbert's, where he says — 

'^ I read and sigh, and wish I were a tree, 
For sure then I should grow 
To fruit or shade ; at least some birds would trust 
Her household to me, and I should be just.'* 

Marvel, If you could as easily find ' sermons in stones,' as you can 
'tongues in trees,' you would be saved a good deal of hard study. By-the- 
bye, this talk about trees, brings to my mind a story I once heard respect- 
ins Foster. He was going to preach to a small congregation in a country 
viUage, and on the road he passed a remarkably large tree, which suggested 
to his mind a striking train of thought. When before his congregation he 
felt that the sermon he had prepared would not be exactly suitable, he 
therefore made the tree the theme of his discourse. Having invested it 
with intelligence, and given it a tongue, he supposed it to give utterance to 
all that it had seen, and heard, during its long lifetime. During the 
course of three hundred years or more, how many oaths had it heard ? how 
many deeds of wickedness had it seen done under the dark shade of 
night. What secrets it could reveal, &c. &c. And 'tis said, that ever after, 
that was a mysterious tree in the eyes of those villagers. And one poor 
man said he could never pass it at night without trembling. 

I>iffhy, That's what I should call putting tongues in trees, rather than 
dnding them there. 

^ Wbolmar, True, as regards Foster himself, but not so as regards the 
villagers. It is the prerogative of the poet's genius to show us spiritual 
meanings in all the oojects around. 

Marvel, Well, Woolmar, I agree with you that a tree-show is more 
interesting than a flower-show. Oaks before tulips any day. A forest of 
pines is more beautiful than a bed of pansies. And perhaps the chief 
reason why so many ladies like to go to flower shows is to show themselves. 
But I am now hungry, and I always talk better, at least more pleasantly, 
after a good meaL You remember that our friend told us the other night, 



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7%e Casket. J43 

that one striking trait in the character of the Anglo-Saxons, was, that 
they took kindly to their meat. I am happy to say that in this respect I 
have not degenerated from so noble a stock. Share out the sandwiches, 
Digby. 

[Hamng done ample justice to the bread and beef, and Marvel having 
lighted his cigar, they proceeded through the wood. The birds were singing 
their merriest songs, and millions of insects were dancing through their 
blithesome hour. The very rabbits seemed to know that it was Saturday 
afternoon, and were making holiday. After half an hour*s walk they had 
left the wood behind them, and now the west was open to the sky. The 
landscape which lay before 'ihetii was rich and beautiful. Near at hand was 
the river, with its sweet sad music, rolling on and on perpetually. Not far dis- 
tant was the quiet village of Sherwood, with its old church standing on the hill, 
and its white cottages among the trees. In some of the fields the corn was 
rich and ripe, all in shock, ready for the garner, and in others, the husband- 
men were surrounding the last waggon load, merrily shouting, * Harvest 
Home? The sun, like a mighty artist, was painting strange, fantastic, 
gorgeous scenes. The fleecy clouds were all tinged with gold, and as they 
melted away, you could read the prophecy of a bright Sabbath morn.. Saving 
found a seat, the three friends sat to drink in the beauty of the scene, when the 
conversation again became earnest.'] 

(To be continued)^ 



THE CASKET. 

THE CLOSING SCENE. 

The world has seen many more ages than those assigned to it by the poet 
philosopher of the heathen. He traced the gradual deterioration of man- 
kind and earth itself from the Age of Gold until it reached the Age of Iron, 
and though the world has grown much older than it was in the days 
of Ovid, we fear that its subsequent ages have not been marked by any 
effectual attempt to re-ascend the scale of morality. On the contrary, sad 
experience must teach us that we sank deeper and deeper in the abyss, till 
at leo^h the Age of Eeason lowered upon us, and^ despite the truths of 
revelations, sousnt to enthral us in the chains of infidelity. Than this 
there can be nothing deeper, nothing more debasing, nothing more sickening 
to the refiectine mind, for it betokens ill-applied powers of the highest 
order, perverted, not merely hidden talents, and a mischievous misappli- 
cation of the opportunities placed within our reach by supreme wisdom for 
the palpable purpose of bringing man by comparison nearer to his Creator 
in intellects and powers of thought. Man, however, has for the most part 
misconceived the use of the great facts which have been graciously placed 
within his reach through the instrumentality of science and research. In 
his fond conceit he would throw aside his allegiance to God, and, arrogating 
to himself the command of the very elements, would, from having learned to 
^ise, fool himself into the vain imagination that he could create the world 
afresh, and fai^ion it more in accordance with his finite understanding. 

To this end does the A^e of Keason insidiously urge its victims ; nor are 
they few, for the plant is of rapid growth. Deadly though the poison 
is which lies concealed within the captivating exterior of this plant, we fear 
that there are few of its cultivators who have taken the trouble to analyze 
it, and to test its properties with patient assiduity and an earnest desire 
to elicit the truth. Captivated by the perfumed atmosphere which ever 
floats around the object of their admiration, they are dead to all its inherent 
defects; and pluming themselves qu tUeir qwn fancied superiority over those 



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who Acknowledge the ttammelt of loyalty, ffdbjectioh, &ith, ^iid aldtgiflkitil 
to the Supreme, they on all sides spread their toils for the vaTfei«r«i|i^ 
wanderer irom the fold' of the true Shepherd. Of these there is ne^r an^ 
lack, and many there he who fall into the net thus laid for them, for tho. 
creed of the Freethinkers is, to minds untutored hy education and moral 
culture, a most inviting study ; it can be shuffled on or on, aa the humour 
suits, with th«^ slightest exertion of the wearer ; and, if it holds out no 
prospect of reward, it at least is silent as to punishment. 

Little matter of wonder is it, then, that during the excitement of pursuit^ 
and at a period when the lifeblood courses through man*s veins and arteries 
with healthy rapidity, such notions as were professed by a Bolingbroke, 
-a Volney, or a Shelley, appear in their hoU^y attire. If, howevef, we trace 
these men to their hiding-places, and sift their seoret. tboi^hts in that 
fearinl moment when the pulse flags, and the. limbs refuse their office, while 
the restless soul, hanging 1;>etween Heaven and Hell, can find no city of 
refuge, and compare tneir last hours with those of the meek but steadfast 
believer and the practical Christian, the tinsel wiM soon :drop from off the 
worthless theory, and the doubting disciple of a creed which begins and ends 
in nothing, will be rudelv awakened to his dan^r, and fly for succour and 
protection from his own devices to the foot of his Saviour's cross. There, as 
ne gazes in his mind's eye on the Son of [Man, whom he has hour hy ho«£ 
crucified afresh, and in imagination wUnessps the terrors of the ''ninth 
hour," he will widly, yet firmly, exclaim with the watching centurion,— 
" Truly this was the Son of God,*' and renouncing the error of his past life, 
seek to attain to that happy state under the influence of which the saints and 
elect of God have been enabled to contemplate their last hour with patient 
submission, and to welcome its immediate approach with the earnest con- 
viction that the grave hath no victory^ and Death no sting. 

Young has well described the origin of Scepticism in these satirical lines: 

Health keeps an Atheist in the dark, 

A fever argues better than a Clarke ; 

Let but the logic in his pulse decay, 

The Grecian he'll renounce, and learn to pray. 

BBAL VIRTUE ACTIVE. 

I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreath- 
ed, that nfiver. sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, 
where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. 
Assuredly we. bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much 
rather; that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. 
That virtue, therefore which is but a younglifig in the contemplation of 
evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and 
rajecta it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure.— 3f»^to«, , . * 

THE KING AKD THE SILVER-TONED BELL. 

There is a story told of an anonymous King, the moral of which may be 
well applied by all sovereigns. The old monarch, when dying, called bis 
son to him, put in his hand the sceptre, and then asked him if he could 
take advice as easily as he had taken from his father the symbol of autho- 
rity. The young heir, grasping tbe sceptre tightly, and hinting at the 
excellence of brevity in counsel as well as, in wit, said, under the circum- 
stances, "he could." "I will be brief as my breath,** answered th9 
. abdicating monarch, "and that is short enough. You look upon the world, 
boy, as a house of pleasure ; now, hear better from me» Woe, my lad, 
tumbles in pailfulls, and good luck is only distilled in drops," The eon 
looked down at his now silent sire, and found he was dead. The new King 
commaaided a splendid ftineral, and arranged a grand hunting pwty for the 



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The €amt. 14A 

day afber. B^laugbed at the paternal smile, and, to pablkh^ its weakness 
and hiaiown fellcitty«r he caused to be placed above his palace a large silver- 
t(B]«dibeil ; A rope'p^sed from it to each room he occupied, '^ I vill ring 
it," said he^ " WA^nnror I jfeel thoroughly happy. I have no doubt that 
I shall Wflaxy m^ ca^n arm^ and deafen my people's eai^." For a whole, 
month the bell was fiil^nt "Iha^e had my hand on the rope/* said the. 
Eongitf^ fifty times^ but J, felt thi^ I was hardly happy enough to proclaim 
it to fny people ; but ifge ha«ee got over, our first difficulties, and to- 
morrouh^^^ Oik the morrow, as he was boasting of the fidelity and friend- 
ship of one of his ministers, he learned t^at his friend and servant was in 
the habit of betraying the contents of hi^ private despatches to a^ neigh- 
bouring potentate, from whom the traitor received stars and ci*osses in 
return. The King sighed. "We shali.not toll the bell, tUyn, to-day ; but 
assuredly to-morrow.'^ In the morning ihe rodje- over tO; the house of. the 
mistress of his heart <* There," he remarked to himself, as he went along 
in that pace which used to-be observed by the pilgrims to Canterbury, anpi 
which xa England has tak^n its name^ f^om the two first syllables of the 
city's name,r-T" there I have never found disappointment." What he did 
find he never told ; but on his return to the palace, when his groom of the 
chambers looked intferi'ogatively between, hini and t the bell-rope, the 
monarch simply twisted thd etod q£ the latter into a noose, and angrily 
mattered, as he flung it down again^ " Would to heaven that they were 
both hanging from it together !" On the following da,y he philosophically 
reviewed his case. *!l.have been unreasonable," ne said ;. "why should 
1 grieve because \ have been betiayed by a knave, and jilted by a girl with 
golden hairP ;I have wide dominions, a full treasury, a mighty army,: 
iaaghing vineyards, verdant meadowa, a ^people who pay t^xea- as if they 
lo?ed thenii aaad GknTs free air to- breathe in. I may be happy yet," added 
he, advancing to the window*-*" bay, I am^/" and he reached his hand to 
the rope. He was on the very pioint of ringing at it with good will, when, 
he saw a. sight without, and heard a voice witMn, which made him pause. 
A messenf^r was at hu feet. '' Oh, Sire 1" exclaimed the bringer of bad^ 
tidmss, ^ thou seest the dust, the fires, and the gleam of arms without. 
The foe has broken in upon the land, and terror is before and devastation 
behind him!" **Now a curse upon kingship, that brings a. wretched 
monarch evils like these !" cried the King who wanted to be happy. The 
courier hinted something about the miseries of the people. " By tnat Lady 
of Hate, whose church is in Brittany," cried the prince, "thou art right 1 
I thought to pull lustily at the beU, but I will as lustily pull at my sword 
in the sheath, and see if there be not viiiiue in that. How came in the 
foe ? and who commands them 1" The answer to this double query told 
him that the enemy could not have entered, had not hiff despatches been 
betrayed to the invader ; and that the van of the army was under the 
comnuuid of a prince, whose same was no aooneir uttered to the kin? than 
the latter tamed red with fuiy, and exclaimed, *• He ! — then I shall ring 
the bell yet. I will have his life, and the lady — " He said no more, but 
went oat, fought like a man, cleared the land of the foe, hung the traitor 
^ith all his orders on him, maimed the young leader of the hostile 
vanguard past sympathy from Cupid, and returned to his capital in 
triumph. He had so Biuoh to employ him after his return, so much 
to accomplish for the restoration of the fortunes of his people, so much to 
nieditate upon for future accomplishments, that when at night he lay down 
upon his couch, weariness upon his brow, but a shade of honest joy upon 
hia cheek, he had fairly forgotten the silver bell in his turret, and the 
ropes whiqh depended from it. And so he grew gray and infirm, never 
tamii^ ^^Qta his work till the inevitable Angel looked smilingly in his face, 
ftnd began to beckon him away.' He was sitting upright in his uneasy 



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146 The Casket. 

chair, pale as deatli, bat still at his ministry, till his eyes grew dim, 
his head sank on his breast, and there was, without, a sound of wailing. 
" What voices are those ]" asked he softly : " what is there yet for me to 
do ?*' His chancellor stooped over him as he now lay on a couch, and 
whispered, *' Our father is departing from among us, and his children 
are at the threshold, in tears.** ** Let them in ! let them come in !" 
hoarsely cried the King. *' God ! do they really love me 1" ** If there were 
a life to be purchased here, O worthy Sire, they would purchase thine with 
their blood. The crowd streamed silently in, to look once more upon the 
good old king, and to mourn at his departure. He stretched his hands 
towards them, and asked, " Have I won your love, children % have I won 
your love ?*' One universal affirmative reply, given from the heart, though 
given with soft expression, seemed to bestow on the dying monarch newlSe. 
He raised himself on the couch, looked like an inspired saint, and tried 
to speak, but £siiled in the attempt. None the less happy, he looked np 
to God, glanced to the turret where hung the bell, extended his hand 
to the rope, gave one pull and died with a smile on his lips as he 
rang his own knell. — DorarCs Mbnarchs Retired from Business, 

LADIES* INFLUENCE ON ELDER LADS. 

There is one thing in school- work which I wish to press on yon ; and 
that is, that you should not confine your work to the girls, but bestow 
it as freely on those who need it more, and who (paradoxicid as it may seem) 
will respond to it more deeply and freely — the hoys, I am not going to enter 
into the reasons why, I only entreat you to believe me, that by helping 
to educate the boys, or even (when old enough) by taking a class (as I nave 
seen done with -admirable effect) of grown-up lads, you may influence 
for ever, not only the happiness of your pupils, but of the girls whom 
they will hereafter marry. It will be a boon to your own sex, as well as to 
ours, to teach them courtesy, self-restraint, reverence for physical weak- 
ness, admiration of tenderness and gentleness; and it is one which 
only a lady can bestow. Only by being accustomed in youth to converse 
with ladies, will the boy learn to treat hereafter his sweetheart or his wife 
like a gentleman. There is a latent chivalry, doubt it not, in the heart 
of every untutored clod j if it dies out in him (as it too often does), it were 
better for him, I often think, if he had never been bom ; but the only 
talisman which will keep it alive, much more develope it into its fulness, is 
friendly and revering intercourse with women of higher rank than hiin- 
self. — jRev, Charles Kingshy, 

ADMIRATION AND ASPIRATION. 

It is a good thing to believe ; it is a good thing to admire. By oontinn- 
ally looking upwards, our minds will themselves grow upwards, and as 
a man, by indulging in habits of scorn and contempt for others is sure to 
descend to the level of what he despises, so the opposite habits of admiration 
and enthusiastic reverence for excellence impart to ourselves a portion of the 
qualities we admire. Here, as in every thing else, humility is the sorest 
path to exaltation. — Dr, Arnold, 

ANECDOTE OF REV. ALBERT BARNES. 

The following anecdote is told of this gpentleman. Being some time (as 
younger men might be) inclined to sleep a little during the sermon, a friend 
who was with him in his pew one Sunday lately, having joked him on his 
having nodded now and then, Barnes insisted that he had oeen awake all the 
time. " Well, then," said his friend, " can you tell me what the sermon 
was ahoutf^ *' Yes, I can," he answered, " it was about an hour and a half 
too long !" ^ 



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Eeligions IntelUgence* {47 

THE TKEES IN BLOSSOM. 

One day in Spring, when the weather was beautiful and tlie fruit trees 
showed one mass of blossom, Gotthold, walking in his garden, and feasting 
his eyes with their splendour, made the following observations to a friend : 
—These trees bear much more blossom than they can possibljr ripen into 
fruit This shows in them an inward and natural disposition to pay 
liberally for the ground they occupy, but afterwards they are more or less 
hindered by outward circumstances, from carrying into effect. It is the 
same with good men. Ah me ! how large, how keen, how many thousand- 
fold are often their good resolutions, and inward desires to love and serve 
the Lord ! O God, we hear them cry, had I the love of all angels and men, 
it should burn for Thee alone ! had I ten thousand hearts, to Thee should 
they be consecrated and resigned ! Had I the tongues of all mankind, their 
only employment should be to praise and extol Thee, O God of glory. With 
what alacrity and joy I will henceforth serve Thee ! Ah me ! why did 
I not know Thee sooner, O Thou pure and eternal Love ! " Depart from 
me, ye evil doers, for I will keep the commandments of my God." (Psalm 
cxix. 115.) At such a time, the tree is in full blossom ; and the inward 
impulse of the Holy Spirit, and the constraining power of the love of Christ, 
are powerfolly felt. Scarce a tithe of the l^lossom, however, ripens into fruit, 
But as man, notwithstanding, takes pleasure in beholding it upon the tree, 
so does God delight in a heart overflowing vnth fervour, and holy reso- 
lutions, and in the fruits and works of righteousness, though these may 
at first be few. O Lord, my God and Father, have patience likewise with me, 
and be satisfied with the blossom and poor firstlings of my Christianity. 
Do Thou also purge me, and vouchsafe to me Thy blessing, that I may 
become more and more fruitful and productive. 



RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENCE. 
FIRST LONDON CIRCUIT. 

BRUNSWICK CHAPBL, DEFTFOBD. 

The Fifteenth Annual Tea and Public Meeting of the Tract Society, in con- 
nection with the above place of worship, was held on Wednesday, January the 
28th, the Rev. R. Miller in the chair. The attendance was good, and the pro- 
ceedings of the evening were of a most interesting character. The report of 
the committee showed that the operations of the Society during the pastyear 
had been attended by the Divine blessing, and proved instrumental in effect- 
ing considerable good ; and also expressed a determination on the part of the 
committee to put forth every exertion, in order to promote the kingdom of 
Christ, by circulating more extensively the Word of God, which is able to 
make men wise unto salvation. Excellent addresses were given by Mr. 
Drake, of Woolwich, Mr. Coster, of London, Mr. Ball (City Missionary), and 
Mr. Wame, both of Deptford, eminently adapted to urge all those engaged in 
Tract distribution to increased activity, and unwearied perseverance in this 
important work. The pecuniary state of the Society is very satisfactory, and 
there is good cause to nope that under the Divine blessing, the present year 
may be one of great success. 

At the close of the meeting several persons came forward and offered them- 
selves as distributors and subscribers. May the Lord of the harvest send 
more labourers, and crown their efforts with abundant prosperity, J. C. 

HELSTON CIRCUIT. 

To the Editor— Rev. and dear Sir, 

On Monday evening, the 10th of November, 1856, the Annual Meeting was 
held at Roswick, and the following evenin|;8 at Bpwy where, at Breage, and at 



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1^ 



Reliffious Int^mc^ 



Lower Town. The weath^c was ^tremely utkfavotirable, but in all the places 
the attendance was satisfactorv, in most very good. A gracious ana-'^ar- 
nest spirit tras . manifested, and tae ^collections were several pounds in advance 
of the fa^t year. Sermons were preached by the Revs.'T. Ellery of Penzance, 
and J;'Cleave of Camborne, ana Mr. N. Tmner. In addition to the services 
of these brethren, addresses were delivered by Messrs. W.Thomas of MuUins, 
J. Curnow of the Garrus, W. C. Odger, F. Carter, G. Carter, W. Selwood, E. 
J. Rogers, and the two Circuit ministers. A deep impression' was produced 
on the Farious meetings, as was evident from the sustained attention, the 
xsollections, and \iy other s^ns of a still., more gratifying .character. This was 
the case in an eminent degree, at homey Tdwii^a n^w place tecently taken on 
the general plan, at which our fu-st Missionary m^etttog was held, o4 Thursday 
evening the 13th of November,' and which will be long repnembered as a season 
of great spiritual good to the souls of the people. On the Sunday previous, 
sermons in behalf of the Missions had been preached by our esteenaed brother^ 
J. Cleave of Camborne, a deep impression was produced, and at the nra^rer- 
meeting held aftier evening service, several Were in distress seeking salvation. 
At the meeting beld t)n the Thursday evening, the' room was well filled, Mr. 
G. Carter occupied the chair; during the time the chairman and the other 
speakers addressed the meeting, cries of penitence were heatd. Thb celleetioii 
had to be made early, and the meeting turned into a penitent prayer-meeting. 
.In different parts of the meeting might be seen, penitents «i6njlWaing' sin tad 
earnestly pleading for mercy. Two or three obtained a sense of pardon.: The 
ibllowing Friday evening Mr. Ellery preached. The room was agdn crowded 
•and three obtained peace in believing. Since that time the .work .has been 

Soing on gradually ; many precious meetings have been held, and mQch good 
one. 

Last Friday evening, the 16th of January, at the request of the. friends 1 
went there to preach, and to give notes of admission into our Society. The 
attendance was good — a gracious feeling amongst the people — there \yere four 
or live penitent, one of whom was completely broken down. At the close I 
had the pleasure of giving notes of admission to thirteen persons, most of whom 
are giving evidence of an inward change, and the others are earnestly seeking 
salvation. No doubt many of the readers of the Magazine, who take an inter- 
est in the progress of the work amongst us, will feel interested in a state- 
ment of the singular manner in which the cause at Lower Town commenced. 
A few months agb,^ after preaching at Helston on a Sunday evening, we 
were holding a prayer-meeting in the vestry. When we arose from prayer, I 
was surprised to see a fen&ab present, who had enteiied diking prayer. She 
appeared interested, and remaiiied to the close of the meeting without giving 
any strong indications of penitence. IJeamt that she had been. at a feast 
held in the neighbourhood, and had called in on her return home. The Spirit 
of God was working on hermind, and. in a few days she became a sincere 
■penitent. Along with another female^ a friend of hers, who had been converted, 
she came to the means of grace, joined class, and after a severe struggle ob- 
tained deliverance from her burden of guilt* She resided at Lower Town. 
She invited her friends to the means of grace at Helston Chapel. In A short 
time several others were brought under a gracious influence, and a prayer- 
meeting was established at Lower Town. The two young women above re- 
ferred to began to labour zealously for God. Numbers attended the means of 
grace and several were converted. Brother Selwood, one of our Local preach- 
ers, opened his house for prayer — a class was established — Brother John Pett- 
gelly and a few other pious souls soon joined, and another class was com- 
menced. An old woollen factory was taken and fitted up as a preaching- room, 
and on Whit»Monday it was opened by a nublic tea-party and meeting. The 
expense of pulpit, seats, repairing, and cleaning, wae met by the proceeds. 
AYe have now upwards of fifty persons meeting in class, with a prospect of 
increase. Land has been obtained for a new chapel which the friends are 
intending to erect immediately, so that the conversion of one soul it is hoped, 
will lead to many more. I am thankful to be able to say, that in several other 
places we have tokens of progress. At llinsey and Ashton, the chapels are 
crowded, and several conversions have recently taken place ; indeea, in the 



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Riligiaus IntetligenceS i4£f 

western part of ihe Circuit generally, the worlt is in a^l' encouraging state. 'I^ 
believe oUr friends are praying and working for a revival, — using these means,' 
the churches must prosper. ' 

That such may he the case, not merely in this Circuit, hut in every part of. 
the Connexion, is the earnest prayer of. Yours truly, 

HeUtonj January 72nd, 1857. Charles Edwards. 

SCARBORQTTGH. 

Thr Annual Tea Festival in hehalf of our Chapel Fund, waa held in the Me* 
chanics' Hall on the 15th Deeemhep, 1856. .Most of the trays were furnished 
gratuitously, and ai usual* exhibited great variety and abundance. The 
weather was very wet and cold, and thia.no doubt prevented seme from being 
present. Still we had a good company — three hundred and twenty-^i^t 
persons sat down to tea. Considering the un propitious state of the atmosphere; 
it was sui^ristng and truly encouraging, to see *so many gathered together. 
After tea the resident minister presided, and interesting addresses were deli- 
vered by the Revs. B. Evans, J. J. Poulter (BaptisU), B. Backhouse, R..Bal* 
^rnie (Independents), J. Calvin (Primitive) ; and by H. Fowl^,.£sq.,.\Mr. 
C. Pearne (Wesleyans), and Mr.-R. Goodhind (Primitive). The meetings Wis 
enlivened and interested by our chapel choir, who at intervals sang tome 
appropriate pieces. Altogether the festival passed off remarkably well The 
proceeds, including subscriptions and donations, amount to rather more than 
20/. We hope soon to effect another reduction of our chapel debt Great; 
praise is due to our friends for the efforts they make to render this annuiil 
festival a help to our Trust Fund, and it must be very gratifying to them that* 
they succeeded so well. In all our endeavours may we continue to seek the 
assistance, and to aim at the honour of the blessed God. 

On Lord's-day, February 1st, 1857, sermons were preached in our cha]pel, 
OQ behalf of our Home and Foreign Missions ; in the morning and evening 
by the Rev. Thomas Newton, of Bradford, and in the afternoon by the Rev*- 
George^Mather (Wesleyan). On the following evening a public Missionary 
meeting was held ; our esteemed friend, Henry Fowler, Esq. (Wesleyan), 
occupied the' chair, and by his spiritual and earnest address gave a good tone 
to the meeting* kh4r the readmg of the report the meeting was ably ad* 
dressed by the Revs. O. Mather, J. T. Shepherd (Primitive), T. Newton, and 
i. SL Nightingale, of Hull. According to our practice another m^ting^was. 
held in the same place on the following evening, and that venerable andkmd- 
bearted Christian-gentleman, Dr. Murray (Episcopalian), presided. Addiesses 
were delivered by our respected brethren. Nightingale aud NeWion,.and.by^ 
the Hevs. D. Adam (Baptist), R. Balgamie (Independent), and Mr. C. Fearnei 
(Wesleyan). The attendance at these services was better than usual, and the 
collections esiceeded those of last year. Tbe 'Missionary meeting8»w«re ^re- 
markably spiritual, earnest, and edifying. The children of God could look to 
their Saviour and say, "Master, it is good for us to be here." Ho#* important 
it is, in all our meetings to keep fully in view our own spiritual improvement, 
the salvatipn of souls, and the glory of God. Of Ute sons© of our ordinary 
services btve been marked bv more of the power pf (Jod than usual. Such 
power ishnportant in the highest degree, it is essential" to 'success. May the 
Holy Spirit richly descend upon us. Amen. 

CnARtES R. HOPPEK* 

ROCHDALE CIROXnT. 

In forwarding an account of this Circuit, we have reason to rejoice that the 
work of God is ia some measure progressing amongst us. For a length of 
time we have felt the need of more vestry accommodation in Baillie-street, 
and about a year ago the Trustees agreed to build. At each side of the 
cbapel they have erected a neat and substantial building, at a cost of about 
1000(^ towards which 400il have been raised by subscription : and on Lord's- 
day, December 14th, 1856, two excellent sermons were preached by the Rev. 
James Everett, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, when collections were made on 
bebalf of the Trust Fund, amounting to 196/. 4a. ed. 



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150 Religiaus Intelligence. 

Durine tbe Christmas holidays^ all the places in the circuit with one excep* 
tion had tea-meetings. They were more numerously attended this year than 
on former occasions. 

On Sabhath-da^, January 11 th, 1857, two sermons were preached by the 
Rev. M. Miller, ot Manchester, when collections were taken on behalf of the 
Sabbath-school, amounting to 68/. 12«. %d. In the afternoon of the same day 
an address was delivered by the Rev. H. Breeden, superintendent of the 
circuit, to the teachers and scholars. There are 1100 scholars who receive 
religious instruction in this school. 

The annual tea-meeting of the circuit, was held in Baillie-street school-roooi, 
on Tuesday evening, January 15th. There was a larger attendance than on 
anv former occasion. More than 1000 persons sat down to tea. After tea the 
public-meeting was held in the chapel. The Rev. H. Breeden took the chair. 
The following gentlemen addressed the audience on^ subjects previously 

Rev. W. H. Walker, and Mr. J. Mills—" The Christian Workman." 
Rev. jr. Mather, and J. Petrie, Esq., sen. — '* The Christian Tradesman." 
Mr. Thos. Schofield, and Mr. J. Butterworth— **The Christian Socialist" 
Mr. John Ash worth, and Thomas Booth, Esq. — "The Christian Politician." 
Rev. Jas. Sayer, and Mr. John Petrie, jun. — ** The Christian Philanthropist' 
Rev. J. MoUneux, and John Hoyle, Esq.— "The Christian Sufferer." 
The speeches were of a superior character, and will not soon be forgotten. 

It was resolved, the one by Rev. J. MoUneux be forwarded to the Magazine 

for insertion.* 
Of late we have seen some souls converted to God, and are expecting a 

more abundant outpouring of His Holy Spirit. J. Matkbb. 

STOCKTON CIRCTJIT. 
To the Editor, dear Sir, 

I enclose a notice of a tea-meeting, which we held here lately. As a few of 
us here have been struggling for some time to raise a cause in this town, and 
have never sent any intelligence of our proceedings for the Magazine, we 
shall feel much obliged if you can find a corner for the enclosed paragraph. It 
is from the " Stockton and Hartlepool Mercury," for February 7th- A large 
number of Magazines are taken here, and we are much pleased with them. 
Our prospects are now very encouraging indeed. We began here in June 
1853, with four members ; since then we have progressed, if not rapidly, at 
least steadily to the present time. We now number about fifty members, 
nearlv the whole of whom we have been the means of gathering trom Satan's 
kingdom. We thank God and take courage. Thanking you for the instruc- 
tion and pleasure that we monthly receive trom your excellent Magazines, 

I remain. Sir, yours truly, 

Middlesbrough, February lOth^ 1857. Thomas Hood, Local Preacher. 

Weslbtah Association Tea Party.— The annual festival in connection 
with the above body, was held in their chapel, West-street, on Monday even- 
ing, February 2nd, when about 130 partook in company of the cup " that 
cheers, but not inebriates." The provisions, according to the description of 
one of the speakers, were ^ splendia," and seem to have given great satisfac- 
tion* ^ It was stated that the whole was provided gratuitously by working men 
— their bodv being composed entirely of that class, not naving any of the 
affluent to help them out with their sovereigns or five pound notes. It must, 
therefore, have been very gratifying to these hardy sons of toil to find their 
verjr lauaable efibrts crowned with success. After tea, the Rev. £. Hey wood, 
minister of the Association, delivered a lecture on ** John Wesley's Noncon- 
formist ancestors, with sketches of their times." The lecture gave equal satis- 
faction with the tea. Mr. Hey wood is one of those gentlemen who do not 
confine themselves to the mere routine of what are considered their ** profes- 
sional " or " ministerial " duties — who do not try to get clear by doing as Ultle as 
they can for their flock, but who are anxious to do as much as possible. Hence, 
in addition to mere sermonising^ he has got up a course of lectures upon the 

* Mr. Molinenx's excellent address will appear next month. EniToa. 



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Religious Intelligence, 151 

"Wesley Family/' and also wUlinglj^ gives his valuable services to other good 
movements of the age; thus cherishing that spirit of which the vener- 
able Wesley was possessed, who, when certain narrow-minded characters 
told him he ought to confine himself to his district, replied, that he ** claimed 
the whole world as his parish." We hope, as this is only the first of Mr. 
Heywood's series of lectures, that the men and women of Middlesbrough will 
show their appreciation of such a man by assembling in large numbers to hear 
him on future occasions. During the course of his delivery, the lecturer gave 
some admirable sketches of the time of Cromwell and Charles II., to which he 
traced Wesley's ancestors ; pointing out that they belonged to that noble class 
of men who, rather than *' conform " to that in which they did not conscien- 
tiously believe, chose to be turned adrift bv thousands, and endure all the 
girsecutions to which they were subject in the intolerant reig^ of the second 
harles ; and concluded with the lines of Longfellow :-« 
** Lives of great men all remind us 

We may make our lives sublime. 

And, departing, leave behind us 

Foot-prmts on the sands of time ; 

Foot-prints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, mav take heart again." 
After votes of thanks to the ladies, chairman, and lecturer^ the meeting 
separated* 

HARTLEPOOL. 
To the Editor, dear Sir, 

With vour permission, I will, as brieflv as possible, relate a little of the 
doings of God and his people at Hartiepool, in this circuit 

About four or five months ago our cause was ver^ low, our friends few, and 
certainly our prospects were not of the most brilliant. We were not a little 
downcast, and our only hope seemed to be in uniting with our friends the 
Reformers, which formally we have done, but worship in separate Chapels. 

Our highly esteemed minister. Mr. Hey wood, had nardly commenced his 
labours in the circuit, when happily this state of things changed ; our congre- 
gations began to increase, our friends were inspired with more energy, and the 
goodness of God was made more manifest to us, that He will never leave nor 
forsake. 

On Sunday evening, 25th January last, a sermon was preached by Mr. 
Heywood, in our chapel. Mount Pleasant, on " The late terrific gale." It was 
announced as £8peciaUy to teamen, and I assure you it cheered the^ hearts of 
our friends to see, how these hard-working and useful men flocked in crowds 
to the house of the Lord. By six o'clock the chapel was comfortably filled, 
hy half-past six it was crammed ; the aisles, pulpit stairs, and every available 
sitting and standing place being occupied. And it was with feelings of a 
peculiar nature, that we observed scores turn away, disappointed at not being 
able to get into the chapel. Mr. Heywood preached a beautifully powerful 
sermon, and spoke, in terms of great kindness and afiection, to those whose 
friends had found a grave in the briny deep, during the late furious gale of 
the 4th ult, and was listened to by the congregation with the most marked 
and earnest attention to the close. After which, a public meeting was held, 
when fh)m 150 to 200 persons stayed, and many evinced an earnestness about 
things eternal, really astonishing, but truly delightful. We cherish the hope 
that much good was done. The voluntary subscriotions at the door, amounted 
to more than has on any previous occasion been collected. 

We have great cause to be thankful for the present, and good reason to 
hope for the future. 

Hartlepool, Feb. 16, 1857. A. B. C. 

SEAHAM, SUNDERLAND CIRCUIT. 

OTJR JTJVENILB MISSIONARY BBRVICES. 

In November last (Nov. 23rd 1856), we celebrated the services of the 
sixth Anniversary of the Juvenile Missionary Society. The Rev. R. 



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}%S^ Iteligieus Intetttgenei^ 

dheWjOf South SliieWs, preached three truly excellent serincms, on tlie 
otjcafiicfn; This is th^ -fifth year we have heen favourfed with a visit from our 
esteemed friend and one of our former pastors. The collections exceeded those 
ctf previous years. On the Monday following a puhlic meeting was held, when 
Wm. Dixon, Esa. of Sunderland, presided. After a few pithy remarks from 
the chairman, the Rev. D. Rutherford addressed the meeting, and was fol- 
Idwed'ljy the. Rev. J. Crowning, and the Rev. R. Chew, who ably advdcated 
the Mission cause. An extract from the Report perhaps may not' he out of 
place, hut Encouraging to the fnends of Missions. 

*• ITie Committjee would express their gratitude to Almighty God for that 
Mnd Providertce which has watched over them for the last six yeari, arid have' 
pleasure in reporting that the amount received hy the children in* the school has 
exceeded any former year, and that a larger amount of zeal and missiooary 
spirit has been infused'into the young people ; the Committee trast^thit still 
greater efforts will he made to send the Gt)spel to the morally destitute, and 
that the latter day glory may' speedily be ushered in, when the knowledge of 
'* the Lord shall cover the earth, as the waters cover the face of the great 
deep." ' 

The Sabbath School Box ;... 2 2 6 

Subscriptions and Collections ,. 9 16 3| 

Total £11 18 ^9J 

"A vote of thanks was given to the chairman for Che able manner in which 
he conducted the business of the meeting, to which the chairman suitably res- 
ponded; an invitation was given to the Rev. R« Chew, to come another year 
and preach the annual sermons if Providence proloi^ed hitf- u»eful llfe.^ A 
vote of thanks also was given to the Reir. R. Chev^ for hia excellent aerrices. 
Mr. Chew responded. The benediction was pronounced^ and'thd meetiog 
separated rejoidng in the God of Missions. 

OUR CHRISTIIAS ffESTlVAL* 

• We held our Anirual Festival on Christinas-day, to promote the interests of 
our Sabbath-school, in connection with our very much beloved Zion, wor- 
shipping regularly at Church-street, Seaham. The scholars were provided with 
a comfortable Christmas tea, after which, they returned home cheerful, blythe 
and merry. * ■ ' 

At Rv^ .o'clock a respectable coip pan v sat down tQ enjoy an excellent tea 
provided for the occasion. After tea a public^eeting was held, when Mr. John 
Wright, our very much esteemed and respected Superintenderit of the school, 
was called to preside. The meeting was addressed by Mr. Wm. Leighton, 
secretary to the school, and a well tried, and untiring friend, of Sabbath' 
schools, *also, Messrs Atkinson, Yule, the Rev. £. Baden, ^arvd Captain G. 
Harrison, of Newcastle. The whole of the speakers ably advocl^d the interests 
of Sabbath-schools. Three chapters and a short piece of poeii'^^ere recited 
by the following scholars, M. P. "Wright, Epistle of John,, chap, iii; J. G. 
Phillips, Jsaiap, chap, liii: R. Greenwel)^ St. John's Gospel, chap, xiv: 
Frances Phillips,B very little girl, recited a piece of poetry, entitled ** Preparing 
for Sunday." 

During the progress of the Meeting several anthems were sung by our 
Tabernacle choir, who performed their parts to the satisfaction of a respectable 
and attentive audience. 

A vote of thanks to the chairman, the choir, and the ladies, for their excellent 
services on the occasion, was moved by Mr. J. Storey; and seconded by Mr. F. 
Nicholson, which was passed unanimously. The benediction was then pro- 
nounced, and the audience separated highly delighted, and rejoicing in the 
entertainment of a truly Christmas holiday. 

We feel it due to our society, seat-holders, and a genefons public, to state 
that our school is in a prosperous and thriving condition. During the past 
year several of our senior scholars have united with the people of God, and 
are now meeting in class ; we are praying and waiting for a fuller outpouring 
of the influence of Divine grace on the school. May God hasten it, in the day 
of his power. Thos. Nigsolsok« 



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THE 

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

MAGAZINE. 



MAY, 1857. 



THE POWER OF GODLINESS. 

A Sebmok delivered on Sabbath Morning, August 2nd, 1856, in 
Lady Lane Chapel, Leeds, (and published by request of the Annual 
Assembly^ by the Rev. W. Jackson. 

'< Haying a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof." 

2 Tim. iii. 5. 

This Epistle appears to have been written a short time before the 
martyrdom of its author, the Apostle Paul, which is supposed to 
have taken place at Rome, during the reign of the Emperor Nero. 

In the seventh verse of the fourth chapter, we have the following 
words : " I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure 
is at hand." 

Here is pointed allusion to the near approach of death, in some 
form or another. Probably the Apostle had been condemned to 
"lose his life for Christ's sake," in the holy cause, which he had so 
powerfully, and successfully pleaded, and was now looking forward 
to the speedy execution of that sentence. Under these solemn 
circumstances he wrote this letter to Timothy, a young man, whom 
the Apostle styles his own son in the Gospel, and who had been 
appointed overseer of the Church at Ephesus. The letter contains 
important counsel, addressed to Timothy respecting his own conduct, 
and the management of the important work to which he had been 
called, and also informs him of a general apostacy that should take 
place in the **last days." The character of these apostates is 
described in the chapter before us, one trait of which is contained 
in the text — a form of Godliness professed, while the power thereof 
is denied. 

Let us endeavour, then, this morning, by Divine help, to illustrate 
the gracious fact denied by these men; a fact, also, which is 
practically ignored by thousands of professing Christians in our own 
day. It is very common to meet with the form, or appearance of things, 
in the absence of the reality, or the things themselves. The painter's 
canvas presents us with a view of natural scenery, consisting of rivers, 
lakes, and mountains ; but these things are only there in appearance ; 
not in reality. In the statue of a man, we have the form and image 
of a man, but not the conscious power of the living creature. 
When, in reference to this subject we read of the " breathing marble," 
we recognise only a figure of speech. A piece of money often has 



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202 The Power of Godliness. 

its counterfeit, and the spurious maj very correctlj represent the 
true coin in form and appearance, but the counterfeit possesses no 
commercial value, none of the power of money. 

The character and conduct of a godly man are the creations and 
natural expressions of a holy mind and heart. A godly man is 
a good man, and the good man out of the good treasure of the 
heart bringeth forth '< good things." The character of the good man 
is the result of the foweb of godliness ; but his character may 
be assumed, and his conduct imitated by others who are strangers to 
this renewing power. This statement requires no proof. Unfortu- 
nately there have always been, and still are many persons in the Chris- 
tian church who maintain a form of godliness, but deny the power 
thereof. They form religious opinions, and those opinions nuiy accord 
with the teachings of holy Scripture: their outward conduct also 
may be in unison with the exteiiials of religion. The house of God 
is frequented on the Sabbath-day, where they profess to worship, by 
a scrupulous observance of the prescribed form. Like Jehu also they 
profess a zeal for the Lord of hosts, which sometimes displays itsdf 
in bitter and relentless persecution. But however correct the 
theological knowledge of such persons may be, or minute their 
observance of religious forms, — their private life, ofien their public 
acts betray their utter destitution of the power of godliness. They 
have not been made free from the law of sin and death, by the law 
of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus, they bring not forth the fruit 
of this Spirit, fruit which is ''in all goodness and righteousness 
and truth." On the contrary, the works of the flesh are manifest 
in their unholy tempers, and unrighteous actions, unite in revealing 
the absence of godliness in its hallowing and soul-renewing power. 
Let us endeavour, then, this morning to show, that godliness has 
potoer^ as well as form. 

L In illustration of this doctrine we first direct your attention to 
the comparisons employed in the Scriptures, expressly designed to 
set forth the nature and effects of true religion. 

1. It is a well of water. One of the most beautiful and useful 
objects ia nature. But '' a well of water springing up into everlasting 
life." The pure life-giving stream, is plenteous in its source and most 
gracious in its effects. What an expressive emblem is here of the 
spiritual life of a good man ; both as it regards its divine origination, 
amidst the sin and darkness of this world, and its consummation in 
purity and happiness of heaven. 

2. Religion is like the wind — ^a powerful, but invisible agent. This 
simile is employed by the Redeemer, in his conversation with the 
celebrated *' Master in Israel," Nicodemus, on the nature and effects 
of the new birth. 

3. The Prophet Malachi foretells the coming of the Messenger of 
the Covenant, and in evident allusion to the nature of his work 
declares, ^' He shall sit as a refiner, and purifier of silver, and he shall 
purify the sons of Levi, and purge them as gold and silver, that they 
may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness." In this pas- 
sage religion, in its power to cleanse and renew depraved human 



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The Power of God&inessl 203 

nature, thus consecrating it to the spiritual service of God, is com* 
pared to the action of fire in the purification of metals. 

4. The kingdom of heaven is also likened to a grain of mustard 
seed, which, although one of the smallest of seeds, yet when cast into 
the earth grows into a large plant. 

The principle of vital power, so mysteriously wrapt up in that 
thing of diminutive size, is strikingly embodied and developed in the 
growing tree. In like manner the seed of the Divine word, when 
received into a honest and good heart, produces a holy life ; and the 
man who before was free from righteousness, and the servant of sin, 
is now free from sin and the servant of righteousness. What a gra- 
cious — ^what a glorious change ! one, too, which it is the privilege of 
all to feel and know. 

The kingdom of heaven is further compared to leaven, which a 
woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole was 
leavened. As soon as the leavening substance had been deposited, it 
began silently but efiectually to operate until it had affected the entire 
mass. So the power of godliness controls the whole conduct, and is 
felt through every faculty and affection of the soul. 

Such, then, are some of the comparisons used by the sacred writers 
to illustrate tlie nature and effects of true religion. Life and power 
constitute the most prominent feature in them all. Such language 
could not be truthfully employed, therefore, if godliness consisted in 
a mere form — however attractive and imposing that form may be, 

n. The power of godliness receives further illustration from the 
literal terms in which the reformation of character produced by it, is 
expressed, mingled as they are with figures of another class. The 
change is obviously the most thorough and complete, as the following 
language proves «: "At that time ye were without Christ, being 
aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the cove- 
nants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world : but 
DOW in Christ Jesus, ye who sometimes were far off*, are made nigh by 
the blood of Christ." — " And you, that were sometimes alienated and 
enemies in. your mind by wicked works, yet now hath He reconciled 
in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy and un- 
blameable and unreprovable in His sight." — " But God who is rich 
m mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we 
were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ — ^and hath 
raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in 
Christ Jesus." — " If any man be in Christ he is a new creature." He 
having been ** bom again " — " not of blood nor of the will of the flesh, 
nor of the will of man, but of God." And that which is " bom of the 
Spirit is spuit." 

It is not in the power of language to describe a greater and more 
blessed change than this : every godly man, daily realises it in his 
own experience, and proves to others its genuineness by a holy lifeu 
The external circumstances attending this change are much diversified 
in different individuals, but the successive states of mind are essen- 
tially the same, through which all must pass in their progress to one 
common state of spiritual life and liberty. There is in all, the broken 

p 2 



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204 The Pawer of Godliness. 

heart — the contrite spirit — a loathing of self and sin — faith which 
justifies and obtains peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ 
If religion were a mere form— if it consisted of a number of outward 
rites, could it either renew the heart or reform the life ? As soon 
might we expect a painted fire to warm, or a statue to perform the 
functions of a living creature. 

The power of godliness is further seen in the influence which its 
subjects exert on the world around them. " Ye," said the Saviour 
addressing his disciples, " are the salt of the earth" — " the light of the 
world." Salt is well known for its seasoning properties. Its influence 
is powerful and diffusive. Good men are in the world, to recover 
and preserve the world from its " corruptions," for it " Ueth in wick- 
edness." They place it under the corrective operation of a holj 
example. Their humility rebukes its pride, their purity holds in 
check its sensuality, and their self-denying benevolence condemns 
its selfishness and insatiable love of gain. Good men are the light of 
the world. The light of the Gospel of Christ is reflected from them 
on the darkness of this world, and it is the property of light to dis- 
cover or make manifest. The men of the world recognize nothing 
but visible things — a portion for '' this life." Christian men are living 
witnesses for God, a spiritual life, and the reality of a " world to 
come." They are the subjects of a faith which is the substance of 
things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Good men are the 
soldiers of Christ, who wrestle not with flesh and blood, but with 
principalities and powers, and spiritual wickedness in high 2>laces. 
They resist if need be, even unto death, striving against sin. The 
power of godliness is strikingly displayed in the ceaseless and uncom- 
promising opposition of Christian men to moral evil, in all its Tarious 
and ever shifting forms. No matter how specious and fashionable 
these forms may be, or how respectable the persons and places in 
which they are found. They cannot have any fellowship with the 
unfi*uitful works of darkness, but must reprove them ; for they love 
the Lord and therefore hate evil. The arduous nature of this con- 
flict, and the importance of its results, are shown in the numerous 
exhortations to endurance and faithfulness ; and in the gracious pro- 
mises made to them that overcome. This overcoming is spoken of as 
a victory — a triumph. If godliness were a form only, a mere " ques- 
tion of words and names," such terms would be most false and delu- 
sive. In what good, or true sense could it be said %o resist^ to over- 
come, to triumph ? The comfort and support yielded by true religion 
under affliction and persecution, are further proofs of its power. Good 
men have often been the subjects of one or the other of these evils. 
And to suppose that in a world like this, any degree of moral or 
spiritual excellency can exempt from either, is a great mistake. The 
^orld, notwithstanding its boasted enlightenment, has not ceased, 
even in our day, to hate true religion. Indeed, it not unfrequently 
happens that those persons are made to feel its hatred most, who best 
exemplify, in their spirit and conduct, the purity and integrity of the 
Christian life. In ages past, and for many ages in succession, how 
furious have been the world's attacks on God's most holy servants. 



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The Power of Godliness. 205 

It has spared neither their character, their property, their liberty, nor 
their life. The altered circumstances of our own favoured country, 
no longer afford an opportunity to torture and burn for righteousness' 
sake ; contempt and slander ofien now supply their place, displaying 
the same spirit of enmity. The world may not now be able " to kill 
the body," but it can still c^st out the name of a good man as evil, 
and with a derisive sneer sarcastically call him '' saint** Has godli- 
ness " power " to support under slander, the loss of property and 
liberty, and also in prospect of a violent and cruel death ? Ask the 
Apostle Paul, and attend reverently to his noble answer. " And now 
behold, I go bound in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the 
things that shall befall me there : save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth 
in every city, saying that bonds and afflictions abide me, but none of 
these things move me ; neither count I my life dear unto myself, so 
that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have 
received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God.'* 
Ask the same witness, when the day of actual trial came, and the 
executioner's axe gleamed before him, and we obtain the following 
answer : " I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure 
is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I 
have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at 
that day, and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his 
appearing," 

The servant of God did not cower before the storm ; there was no 
throbbing of the heart through fear. He is fully sustained, and even 
enabled to triumph in the hour of mortal conflict. The Christian is 
exposed in common with other men to the ordinary troubles of life, 
in addition to the sufferings sometimes infiicted by persecution. It is 
frequently his lot to be cast on the bleak shore of poverty and adver- 
sity, where he is exposed to the '* pelting of many pitiless storms " ; 
for poverty has many privations and sorrows, peculiarly its own. 

Family and personal affliction also, has sometimes increased this 
burden. Under its crushing weight he may have hastily said, in the 
bitterness of his grief, '^ The wicked are not in trouble as other men, 
neither are they plagued like other men." But this language is almost 
as soon disowned as uttered ; for it expresses sentiments that are 
false and ungrateful ; both of which he regards with loathing. The 
good man has faith in God, as the governor of the world, as well as 
faith in Christ as the Saviour of the world. This faith yields the 
peaceable fruits of righteousness, and opens the fountain of Divine 
consolation. It sheds a true light upon his path in the darkest day, 
during the stormiest night. It inspires him with a trust in the wisdom 
and goodness of our God and Saviour ; so firm, so rational, that he 
is able to adopt the strong, though beautiful language of the Prophet, 
'^Though the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the 
vines ; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no 
meat ; the flocks shall be cut off firom the fold, and there shall be no 
herd in the stalls. Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the 
God of my salvation." 

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206 The Power of Godliness. 

Grodliness has power to sustain in death. When the heart and flesh 
are failing, then God is felt to be the strength of our heart and our 
portion for ever. This is the last illustration we shall notice this 
morning. For many true reasons death has justly been named the 
king of terrors. This momentous event dissolves the human body, 
and breaks asunder all those tender and affectionate bonds, which 
unite us to earth. Our love of family and friends, is painfuUy inter- 
rupted, and the conviction steals over us that these sweet relationships 
are about to end, or at least that precise form of them, in which some 
of our holiest earthly affections, and interests have been embodied. 
The familiar walks of daily life, and daily duty, are about to be for- 
saken for ever, with all those pleasant scenes and circumstances of 
X)ur present being, which the change of seasons, and the sweet inter- 
change of day and night, produce. Our Sabbath-day work, and 
worship, have been a delight, but they are now all over and past. The 
body, which we have nursed so long, is soon to be borne away to "the 
land of darkness, and the shadow of death ; a land of darkness, as 
darkness itself ; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and 
where the light is as darkness." The spirit must return to God who 
gave it, where it is awaited by a new and untried state of existence. 
To make light of so great a change as this, with all its solemn cir- 
cumstances, is not creditable, either to the head or heart of any man, 
much less to affect indifference about the continuance of his being at 
all in another world — 

" Annihilation is a monstrous wish. 
Unborn, till virtue dies. 

But great and tremendous as the change is, godliness has power io 
support the Christian, even in prospect of death. The Holy Scrip- 
tures contain clear and direct statements respecting the safety of the 
righteous, in, and their eternal happiness after death. ** I give unto 
them eternal life," said the great Shepherd of the sheep, " and they 
shall never perish." Not only are life and immortality brought to 
light by the Gospel, but this life and immortality, are secured to 
every godly man, by the immutable promise of Him who cannot lie. 
On this promise the good iaan confidently relies amid the silence and 
gloom of his sick chamber, the sorrow, and tears, and painful partings 
from friends and family, and the dissolution of the earthly house of 
this tabernacle. He descends into the grave with the assurance that 
his flesh shall rest in hope, and that God will redeem his life from 
the power of the grave, and will receive him. Whether the good 
man is sustained in ^' his final hour," by the power of his religion, is 
not a matter of opinion, but a matter of fact. Thousands of the 
most prudent, thoughtful, and intelligent, of our race, in many ages 
and countries have been so sustained. Individuals who could not he 
charged with ignorant credulity, or unreasoning fanaticism, have 
calmly and thoughtfully, in the solemn silence of a dying hour, com- 
mended their spirits into the hands of the Lord Jesus. And not 
unfreqently, has this been attended with a holy joy, exceeding in 
fulness all their past experience. And we most devoutly thank God} 



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The Christian's Great Work. 207 

that sacb experience of the power of godliness to comfort, at a 
time when all earthly comforts must inevitablj fail, is not confined to 
^J ^^ country, or condition of life. It may be realized by the 
young disciples of Christ, dying in the morning of their days ; it 
reaches the poor Christian, dying in his poverty, as did Lazarus ; or 
the aged servant of Grod, who has borne the burden and heat of the 
day, and who may be sinking into the grave under the weight of 
years, like Simeon of old, whose words, in many respects, are expres- 
sive of his condition ; " Now LordJ lettest thou thy servant depart in 
peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 

In confirmation of these things, many facts are now frequently 
occurring m connection with the death of Christians in almost every 
condition, — ^fiacts which have constrained many thoughtless and irreli- 
gioas persons, to desire for themselves the death of the righteous, and 
that their last end may be like his. 

My dear friends, how many of you are found this morning, desti- 
tute of the power of godliness ? You have tlie form only. But what 
does this avail you in the midst of the sober and stem duties of every- 
day life, with its difficulties and dangers ? But it will avail you less, 
if possible, in the hour of death, and in -the day of eternity. Think, 
I beseech you, think of the delusive nature of your state and pros- 
pects. The kingdom of God is not in word, but in power ; you are 
not, therefore, the subjects of that kingdom. And whatever advan- 
tages you may suppose you now gain by your fair show in the flesh, 
the time is coming when nothing less than the power of godliness will 
serve you, — when you must utterly perish without it. You who now 
possess true religion, hold fast this pearl of great price, and you shall 
shortly prove its inestimable value in the hour of death, and reap its 
fuhiess of blessing in the world to come. 



THE CHRISTIAN'S GREAT WORK. 

**I am doing a great work, so tliat I cannot come down : why should the work cease^ 
whilst I leave it, and come down to yon. Nehemiah It. s. 

Ths above manly and spirited declaration was once made by a patriotic 
and pious Jewish worker, to a company of mocking and crafty foes, who 
soQght to seduce him from his work, of repairing the desolations of his 
Deloved and sacred home. But for an extended detail of the circnmatances 
▼e must refer the reader to the scriptural narrative. 

In looking at this verse as the adopted language of every Christian, we 
^y observe— 

1* The Christian has a great work to accomplish. 

Oar Divine Lord and Master, during his career upon the earth, seemed 
ever to be possessed and burdened with the one idea—** I have a great work 
jo do." Simikr to this was the conviction cherished by the early disciples of 
the Lord, and one which was ever exhibited in their devout lives, and fervent, 
"J^inff zeal, and similar fdso must be the true avowal of every redeemed 
^•^^d of God. This work may be said to be twofold ; both internal and 
^^'^^^mal^ personal and relative. As Christians, we are called to " work out" 



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208^: The ChrUiiarCs Great Work. 

under God, our own personal salvation, as well as the enlargement of the 
Church of Christ. This double work we may well designate "^rca^,**a8 
we shall hereafter attempt to show. 

Firsts it is " great," in the sphere of its operation. This we find to be 
the mind and soul, man's highest and noblest nature. And where, we 
would ask, can you find so sublime, so important a field to cultivate 
as this ? In contrast with this, the fairest spot on God's earth, or the 
noblest work of human form, would be miserably vain and contemptible. 
The soul of man has no less than Deity for its author, and a whole eter- 
nity to its appointed life-time. Amid the exuberant wealth of the 
vast creation, there is nothing upon which the Almighty has set so great 
a value, as upon the human soul ! Which then commands our strongest 
sympathies, our souls or our bodies 1 About which are we concerned the 
most, our inward or our outward life ? Which business are we driving 
with the greatest energy, our secular or our spiritual ? Alas ! brethren, 
we do not belie the state of things when we aver that many are pushing 
a terrible trade for future woe ; and would, oh, would to God, that they 
might now ponder the path of their feet, and consider the perils which 
are impending ; for ** what shall it profit a man, if he should gain the 
whole world and lose his own soul." Our first and our greatest work, 
then is to save our own souls, and in this may Heaven help us. And 
then let our " great work," external to ourselves, be found ever in relation 
to the souls of men. Whatever of bodily good we may now be doing, or 
attempting to do, for our needy neighbour, and this is not to be neglected, 
yet ever let it be our first, our deepest, our absorbing concern, to secure 
the highest well-being, the salvation of his soul, and thus be ever stand- 
ing ready to say to the wily seducer who would decoy us from our duty, 
" 1 am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down, &c." 

Secondly, The Christian's work is "great,** inasmuch as th9 merehj 
human is totally inadequate for its performance. 

If in proportion to the skill and strength necessary for any human 
achievement, be the value and importance of the work when performed, 
then what must be the worth and interest of that work, in the effecting of 
which we are compelled to call down the wisdom and strength of Heaven. 
Bring your most erudite scholarship, with the most extensive literary 
attainments, the keenest and shrewdest acquaintance with human nature, 
with the most potent and persuasive powers of oratory ; add to these every 
other conceivable excellence and perfection of human thought and action, 
and you shall find not the faintest voice, or motion respond to your effort^, 
for it is " not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord." 
In the great heart-work of our own personal salvation, our best and 
most devoted efforts will be sickly and impotent, except as we are moved 
and sustained by the mind and heart of Heaven. And dare we say other 
than this, with reference to the "great work *' before us ? Men aie dying 
in thousands by our very side, and within our sight and sphere of action, 
without a knowledge of the blessed Gospel of Christ. Now we are posses- 
sed of the instrumental means for their salvation ; but except as we 
enlist the aid of Heaven, these means will only be ** clouds without 
water, and wells without life," and our efforts a mockery, a delusion 
and a sham. Commit yourselves anew then, my dear brethren, to this 
"great** and commanding "work,** while with hearts reinflamed and 
energies restrung, you forget not to invoke from "the four winds of 
Heaven," the divine and saving breath. 

Thirdly. The Christian's work is seen to be " great,*' in the potency of 
the instrumentalities it wields, 

"My kingdom," said the Saviour, "is not of this world." And an 
Apostle could say, " the weapons of our warfare are not camaJ, but 



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The Chrisdaris Great Work, 209 

migUy throQgli God, to the pulling down of strongholds." And what is 
more mighty, we would ask, than is truth f 

Before its omnificand resistless progress, hoary and mammoth'institutions 
have been rased to the ground, and giant errors been smitten with sickness 
and death. And then as to value, a single grain of truth is worth infinitely 
more than whole tons of error. But in tbe large and extensive realm of 
trath, what is more powerful than moral truui 1 Other truths have a 
value, and one not to be despised, but what is there to compare with those 
truths which are concerned in the moral state and relation of men and 
things, and their accountable relation to the Author of all ? And then of 
moral truths, what is there mightier than the divine and mysterious truth 
of Christ crucified 1 Of all the potencies in the moral world, not one is so 
eminent as that generated by the cross of Christ ; this alone is '* the power 
of God unto salvation." It is this truth, this power, that we are called to use 
in the great work to which we are called. However feeble and poor may 
be the worker, yet with this instrument, and the divine strength, "' thO' 
worm Jacob shall thresh the mountains, and make the hills as chaff." 

Fourthly, The greatness of the Christian's work is reflected in the 
formidable opposition it enlists. 

Whether attempting to work out his own salvation, or seeking the 
salvation of others, the work is deemed of sufiicient moment by the evil 
prince of this world, to awaken the most malignant and deadly hate, 
and call forth the vast resources of His dark empire in opposi- 
tion to it^ Not a day nor moment is there that passes, but our great 
enemy ** goeth forth as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour ; " 
80 that were there no other illustration than this, the fell enmity of hell 
to the ^ work" of the Christian, would alone proclaim its character to be 
important and " great." 

Fifthly. The Christian's work is seen to be " great," in the amazing 
cost of the arrangement, by which he is furnished with the needed strength for 
his work, and possessed of the assurance that eternal felicity shall crown his 
labours. 

Not an effort could man make, not a single step could he take, but for 
Christ having paid down as the ransom-price, his own most precious blood. 
That costly donation of his own life was rendered absolutely necessary, ere a 
single soul could be saved. Who then will dare to be indifferent to the " great 
work " of salvation, in the light which streams from such a sacrifice ? Who 
can be unconcerned in the salvation of men, as he views the scenes and 
hears the sounds of Calvary's tragic scene ? The work must indeed be 
" great," to have thus commanded the bestowment of so costly and trans- 
cendent a gift, as that of our blessed and Eternal Lord. For this let the 
Lord be ever praised. 

Sixthly, The greatness of the Christian's work is further seen in the 
unspeakable bliss it insures. 

After all the eloquent and inspiring descriptions of the felicities of true 
religion that have ever been given to man, its bliss is yet untold, its joys 
still unconceived ; it is " the peace' that passeth understanding, and a joy 
imspeakable and full of glory." 

The Christian, whether keeping his own heart, and maturing his own 
personal growth in grace, or whether labouring to extend the cause of 
Christ around him, is equally helping to swell the tide of human bliss 
below, and enlarge upon the earth the harmony of heaven. Who is there, 
in confidence and authority, we would ask, that serves the best interests of 
his fellows, so widely and so thoroughly as does the Christian ? Disarm, 
unnerve, yea, extinguish the despised band of Christian workers in the 
"vorld, and what would be the issue ? What ? why you would at once 
destroy the small remnant of peace and true happiness which it possesses, 
and place in their stead discord and woe. 



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210 The ChrisHafCs Great Wori. 

But on the other haiid, augment and strengthen this lUmtrioas but 
slender army, and let it engage with a burning devotion in the great and 
divine work to which the Lord hath specially called it^ and soon shall the 
calm and purity of the earlier Eden he restored, and humanity be relieved 
of its weight of sin and sorrow, and woe. This ^ work " is tiierefore the 
greatest possible to all human effort, inasmuch as it yields a peace and 
^oy, that transcends all eke below. 

Seventhly, The Christian*s work is *^ great," in the permanence of Us 
results. 

The works of man in the material world, however stup^idous in size, 
and durable in character, are nevertheless all doomed to an eventual decay; 
and should any continue to survive when Time itself shall d^, even snch 
shall witness a sure destruction in that great and awful day of the world's 
conflagration. But the special and peculiar work of the Christian, 
having to do with the immortal mind, shall ever continue to survive, 
long as that mind itself shall live. The one single word spoken to the 
sinner about Christ, may touch a chord whose vibrations in distant ages 
shall be unspent, but be heard in the exultant song of a saint, before the 
throne of the Lamb. 

Do you, my dear brother, want the fame of accomplishing a work like 
this 1 Would you have your name engraven upon an endurtnff tablet, the 
tablet of a renewed spirit ? Then give up your entire, your undivided 
self, to this '< great" and enduring work. Gird you anew with all the 
earnest might of Heaven ; — be you inflamed with a consuming zeal for bouJs, 
and " never stand still till the Master appear." 

II. The Christian is not withotft inducements to withdraw from its 
perjormance. 

Look at Kehemiah and his work. This pious Hebrew worker, was beset 
and tempted by Sanballat and others, who were extremely desirous to 
draw him away from the work he had so nobly set himself to accomplish. 
And so it is with every soul that is determined to do God's wiQ, for 
he is — 

" Surrounded by a host of foes, 
Stormed by a host of foes within." 

The great enemy of our souls will summon to his aid a host of agencies, 
in order to weaken our hands and drive us from our work. The flesh will 
plead its claim, with its desire for sensual gratification, whilst the love of 
mdulgence and ease may ensnare us, except as we be watchful against the 
crouching and waiting foe. Many of the strong and devout have nibbled 
at this bait, and, alas, have been caught in the treacherous snare. Even a 
saintly David was once thus wounded to his bitter and painful cost. How 
many thousands of Christian professors have been slain by that curse and 
bane of the church, the love of strong drink ? They have dared to launch 
upon this mighty rapid, nor have they stayed in their fleshly and fatal 
course until their whole man has been plunged in an abyss of infamy and 
woe. Their loathsome breath, with a stench like rottenness itself, has pro- 
claimed aloud to their brethren, their diseased taste, and their incipient 
woe. Not only thus, but in many other ways, will the flesh attempt the 
seduction of our souls from our work. 

Sometimes an inflated sense of self-sufficiency will aspire to our control, 
and thus restrain and render powerless our efforts, by withdrawing our 
reliance from our only source of strength ; for we are only strong, just in 
proportion as we realise the aid of the Divine arm. Let us but fell Aerc, 
and we shall assuredly fail in doing our " great work," both in reference to 
our own salvation, and the extension of the Kedeemer's kingdom. 



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The Christian's^ Great Work, 211 

Sometimes ure discover an inordinate craving after ereature favour to be 
a treacherous foe to Christian progress. Many thousands of Christian 
professors have unhappily been seduced to the lap of this fell Delilah, and 
have there submitted to be shorn of their Samson > locks of spiritual 
strength. They have studiously avoided being charged with an over- 
anxiousness and zeal in spiritual matters, and they have been promptly 
rewarded for their pains, by the sad withdrawment of the Divine Spirit. 
They have counted the flesh-fiivour of their ungodly employers, or per- 
chance of their patrons and customers in business, an^^have by them been 
sold over to the enemies of the Lord. *' Know ye not that the friendship 
of the world is enmity with God." 

But ag^in, the Christian sometimes finds that the adversities of his state 
toiU assail the weak side of his nature^ and thus seek to seduce him from his 
one "great work.'* And, alas, how many have thus yielded to their grievous 
and irreparable loss. Those very trials, privations, and losses, that are 
the necessary tax upon our work, and which should ever sharpen our 
energies and brighten our graces, are sometimes found in the hour of un- 
guardedness and folly, to induce a yielding up of all to the fleshly and 
earthly, and the " great work " upon which we valiantly entered, becomes, 
in the end, dishonourably forsaken. 

And so we shall ever find in our " great work," that many and varied 
seducers will compass and tempt our withdrawment, coming sometimes 
with the most pious pretences, and draped in the most specious and decep- 
tive form. Stand then on your guard, my brother, against their stealthy 
advance, and be ever ready, with a stubborn manliness of spirit, to reply 
to the foe — " I am doing a great work," &c. 

III. For the Christian to yield to these inducements would he both foolish 
and criminal. 

It would he foolish, inasmuch as his time for the performance of his ^* great 
toorky** is both limited and uncertain. The holiest man living has an 
appointed time for his stay here, nor is it in his power to extend it for a 
single moment, when once the set hour of his departure has come. And 
then how frail and uncertain is life ; it is but as *' the shadow of smoke." 
We know not but that the next hour may close our allotted day for 
work — for — 

" Dangers stand thick through all the groand, to push ns to the tomb." 
Wise indeed will it be for us, if, with a whole-souled earnestness, we 
should reply to every seducer — " I must work the work of Him that sent 
me, while it is called day," for "I am doing a great work," &c. 

But further, it would be foolish and criminal, because we have been forC' 
learned of the existence and fell purpose of our seducing foes. By the Scrip- 
tures we have been thus assured, in various distinct and solemn state- 
ments, and many painful examples and warnings. Nor have we been 
without a personal experience of the painful fact, for we have known too 
much and too often of the alien force arrayed against our inward Christian 
progress, and then in our Christian efforts for the spiritual welfare of others, 
we have but too frequently been called to prove — that ** legions of foes our 
work oppose." 

And further, the criminality of our yielding to these inducements will 
be seen, in its being fraught with ruin to ourselves and others. Should 
we fail to ^ work out our own salvation with fear and trembling," who 
else could do it for us ; — and £a.iling thus, what other could we expect 
than an unmitigated hopelessness and eternal woe ] And then with refe- 
rence to the conversion of the ungodly masses around us, if Christian men 
do not seek and labour to undertake this urgent work, by whom, we ask, 



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212 The Christian's Great WarJU 

oan the work be done ? Would not the blood of the slain cry out in tones 
of thunder against such careless, slumbering souls ? Such inactive Chris- 
tians might have ** the name to live,'* but what and where would be their 
Jruit f And what better can be said of many Christian Churches ? They 
have a ^^nanie" for orthodoxy — for order, for a scriptural liberty of 
thought and action, but where is the fragrance and life, of a godly and 
saving fruit ? We are thoroughly sick at heart of " names, and sects, and 
parties.*' A hungry and dying world has been cheated by these miserable, 
empty and high-sounding sul^titutes for the truth long enough. We have 
been fencing about a few " head points," instead of seeking for heart-power. 
The high winds that have raged in Zion, during the periods of nn ecclesi- 
astic or polemic strife, have, alas, but too frequently kept up in the 
heavens, the waiting and needed -shower of refreshment and grace. At 
such times, when the world has knocked at Zion's gate for ** br^,** it has 
been coollv shown "a stone," when it has called for "a fish," behold "a 
serpent " has been offered. 

Let the time past suffice, brethren, for such heartless trickery and 
hypocrisy as this. Let us do our *' great work," both the inward and the 
outward, with the sincerity and fervour becoming our exalted profesdon, 
and never for a moment listen to the siren voice of the fair charmer, who 
would strive to seduce us from its vigorous prosecution. In closing, there- 
fore, let us here observe, that in yielding to these inducements so as to 
withdraw from our work, we shall act in direct opposition to our belief— 
our conscience and our interest ; and we scarce need to add, in opposition j 
to our God. Let us up then, and awake, my brethren, and be piously 1 
valiant for our God. On all hands, are we surrounded with inviting I 
fields of useful labour ; fields of a true adaptedness to the varied types of | 
mind, and every class of talent, found distributed over the vast human j 

family. Tell us not as a cover for your sloth, that there is no work for j 
you, that your sphere is restricted, or that your talents are slender ; there j 

is a work for you, and a ** great work " indeed. If it is not to rule a king- I 

dom — it is to rule your heart. If it is not to sway a sceptre of regal rule, ' 

it is to wield one of truth and love, over the hearts and consciences of your 
fellows. If you are not called to minister in holy things at God's altar, 
and sustain a teaching eldership in Zion, there are other posts of service j 

inviting your help— the Sabbath-school— Tract distribution — visitation of 
the sick — or privately warning and inviting your ungodly neighbours j 

around. " The harvest truly ilb great, but the labourers," alas, "are" j 
very — very " few." ] 

'* Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." Show not 
the time-serving, fedtering, and sceptical spirit, that cripples and disgraces 1 

the multitude, but " be strong in tne Lord, and in the power of his might," 
and come what will, resolve to be a great-heart in the ranks of ImmanueL | 

Not only have a strong and a courageous heart, but a working heart : not \ 

one that can simply, yet sincerely cry — " Lord, what wilt thou have me to ' 

do '*" — but one that can ever truthfully and boldly declare — " I ah doing a 
great work." The resolute, daring, and constant worker, is a character 
of which the world stands greatly in need. And well would it be for the 
cause of Christ and his Gospel, if an enlargement of such characters were 
now witnessed in the ranks of the militant Israel. 

Young man, as you have been reading these pages, have you felt an in- 
ward kindling— the stirrings of a Divine fire in your breast ? Have there 
been rising before you, the valiant and devout worthies of the past, whose 
names are " as ointment poured forth," and whose pious works still follow 
them here, and speak in our ears ? Have you felt the desire— yea, the 
conviction— that you not only should, but mag do something "great" for 
God and your fellows, and ring your name in the drum of the world's ear ? 



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The Value of a Wise and Faithful Servant. 213 

Then delay nofc, nor be disheartened by the hindrances around. Tiiink of 
a limloerd, a Martyn, a Spenoer, a M^Cheyne, and others, who though 
removed hence in early life, were yet distinguished by the performance of 
a " great work, " at an age when others hardly begin to think of putting 
on the harness. Pledge the unmeasured might of your whole being to the 
Lord's " great work," and in the freshness and ardour of your youth, 
render up yoarself freely to His service " who hath bought you with his 
blood." And let us, my brethren, who are already in this work, whatever 
be our post in JerusuJem, never grow so weary and faint in our spirits, as 
to think for even a moment, of retirement therefrom, but ever let us strive 
to cherish and manifest the spirit of the good and devout Nehemiah, and 
with a manly and fearless soul declare, in presence of the many Sanballats 
of the day—" I am doing a great work, so that I cannot come down : why 
should the work cease, whilst I leave it and come down to you ?" 

E. D. G. 



THE VALUE OF A WISE AND FAITHFUL SERVANT. 

" Prayers and pains will do aaythia^."— Dr. Cb A.LMRas. 
Among the many pleasant places and beautiful scenes in Scotland, there 
is one which has often been greatly admired by travellers, when they have 
had occasion to pass that way. In their drive from an ancient and castel- 
lated town, they wend their course eastwards, having a fertile plain on 
their right, and on their left a range of verdant hil£ (one of the most 
pleasing groups, perhaps, in all Scotland), along the base of which the 
road proceeds, intersecting some thriving manufacturing towns, and on 
each side exhibiting to view a variety of elegant mansion-houses and 
country seats. At the distance of twelve or fourteen miles, they reach 
a peaceful valley, and suddenly there comes in sight a handsome Grecian 
building, which they find to be a literary academy, situated in the centre 
of a straggling village, and having a very interesting history connected 
with it. The village is overlooked by the grim ruins of an old castle, which 
also has a history, associated with times long gone by. 

About half-way down this drive, the travellers, cannot fail to observe 
an elegant modern mansion-house and park, and near the side of the road, 
a small enclosure, which is the burial place of the family who formerly 
inhabited the house. 

Within that mausoleum repose the ashes of a lady, once the mistress 
of the mansion— the pride and ornament of the place — a person of most 
estimable character — accomplished, thoughtful, and devout — who, in 
giving life to a son, lost her own, and was most sincerely lamented by the 
rich and the poor of the whole district, and throughout the circle of her 
many friends. There can be no doubt that, " as her soul was in departing," 
she committed her infant to the care of Him who, when father and mother 
are removed, takes the children up. 

Circumstances led to an arrangement by which the child came to-be the 
special charge of " a wise and faithful servant" of the family, who watched 
over him with an assiduity and affection which could have been surpassed 
only by those of a mother. He grew up, and was sent to school, and the 
only preceptor or private tutor that he had during the earlier period of 
his education was this excellent and worthy woman. When he entered 
upon the higher departments of youthful learning, she could not, indeed, as 
in his earlier years, follow or guide him in his studies, yet she contrived to 
make sure that he never went to any of his classes without his haying 
been perfectly prepared for the exercises of the day, and she strictly 
superintended everything connected with his food, his clothing, and his 
comfort in all respects. 



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214 The value of a Wise and FaUkful Servant. 

Under the wise and fidthfiil training of this person, the jonng man, 
possessing naturally excellent abilities, acquired that without which, 
nowever, the highest talents are often of no avail — the strictests habits 
of diligence and application. He became a pupil in two distinguished 
classical seminaries in the Scottish metropolis, and in them he attained 
the very highest distinction. One of these Institutions, particularly, feels 
the utmost pride and gratification in having contributed to rear such a 
youth, whose highest honours he gained while attending its classes, and at 
whose annual exhibitions he has frequently since then attended and presided. 

From his high position at the acaudemy he removed to one of the Scottish 
universities. Thither his faithful female attendant accompanied .him, and 
watched over him during a course of study, characterised by all the 
steadiness and earnest application that -had marked his former years, and 
where also he secured the greatest distinction. 

From the Scottish college he proceeded to take his place in one of the 
English universities. To this place, however, his faithful guardian could 
not accompany him, save with her wishes and her prayers. She had done 
her best to prepare him for all the future of his life, and ushered him upon 
his new path with the firmest confidence in his character, and the highest 
anticipations as to his after history. She lived for several years in the 
familv to whose youngest scion she had been such a signal blessing, respected 
by all, and at her death was mourned over by none more sincerely than bj 
the object of her early, long, and watchful care. 

At the English university the youug man became also distinguished, and 
his whole course was one of uniform and steady progress. He took orders 
in the Church of England, and from his high attainments in classical 
learning, and the general weight and depth of his character, was selected 
to be the head of one of the most celebrated schools in England, and was 
afterwards called to an eminent position in connection with one of its cathe- 
drals, where the value of his services, the excellence of his public discourses^ 
and his exemplariness in private life, have secured for him the veneration 
and esteem both of the Church and of the whole community. 

With what deep and sympathetic sorrow did every one, during the last 
winter and spring, hear of the severe and successive bereavements which 
this good man had to suffer in his family — five daughters being cut off, by 
one fell disease, in the course of a few weeks ! Yery seldom has such an 
aggregate of affliction fallen upon one household, but never was there 
awakened a more profound or universal feeling of sympathy in the breasts 
of all to whom these sad tidings came. 

Now, of what places— of what persons— is all this recorded ? The 
question shall be answered with all plainness. The old castellated town is 
Stirling — the drive eastwards from it is by what is called the HUl-foot 
Koad, at the base and on the south side of the Ochils — the valley, the vil- 
lage, and the Provincial Academy are those of Dollar — the overtopping 
ruin is Castle Campbell— the modem mansion house is Harvieston — the 
lady that adorned it was the daughter of Sir Hay Campbell, formerly the 
President of the Supreme Court of Justice in Scotland — her husband 
a gentleman of extensive practice in the profession of the law— the metro- 
politan seminaries are the High School and Academy of fklinburgh— the 
Scottish university that of Glasgow — the English one, that of Oxford— the 
school of learning, Rugby, formerly presided over by Dr. Arnold — the 
cathedral office, the Deanery of Carlisle, once held by the celebrated 
Dr. Milner — the name of the "wise and faithful servant" was Bettt 
Morton, whose name and worth can never be forgotten by him who was 
so much and so long the object of her wisdom and fidelity — and who 
himself is no other than Dr. Archibald Tait, now the Bishop of London. 
Edinburgh, R. P. in the Monthly Messenger. 



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215 

BIOGRAPHY. 
MR. CHARLES GREEN, OF WINCHESTER. 

Died, on January 25, 1857, Mr. Charles Green, aged seven tj-tkree, at 
St John's Hospital, in Winchester, a comfortahle Asylum appropriated for 
the benefit of aged citizens. 

Onr departed Brother in his jonth was gay, and lived after the course 
of the present world, following its maxims, and seeking his happiness in 
its pleasures. 

His first awakenings of a serious nature took place about forty-five years 
ago, under the ministry of the late Rev. Joseph Taylor, who then travelled 
in the Southampton Circuit, of which Winchester formed a part. His 
conversion was clear, and the consistency of his conduct manifested and 
showed forth the grace of God, who had called him out of darkness into 
His marvellous lignt. That conduct was seen in his deep decision and con- 
stant perseverance in the heavenly path. He turned not aside to the ri^ht 
or to the left, but was constantly, like his Divine Lord and Master, going 
about doing good, looking unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of his 
faith. He kept his eve constantly on his copy. For many years he 
laboured acoording to his ability, in making known those truths to others, 
that had been made the power of God to his own salvation. 

Our late Brother loved the cause of Gbd, and for many years according 
to his ability, liberally supported the same. His love was of that nature 
that was manifest in action. If all members of the Christian church were 
actuated by the same love, and gave the same proof by willing heartiness 
in its support, we should not so frequently hear of the complaint of the 
insafficiency of the means to carry on the work of Qt)d. Our friend might 
with the greatest propriety be termed a benevolent man. Distress in any 
and in every form, was sure to find in him a sympathizing friend. He 
often put himself to much inconvenience in order to relieve such, and when 
nnable to do so himself, has had recourse to others on their behalf. Though 
often imposed on, yet this made no difierence in his conduct. He was 
largely the instrumental means of establishing, through the benevolence 
of many worthy individuals, what is termed the Winchester Refoge ; 
an Asylum devoted to the reclaiming of females who have wandered from 
the path of rectitude, and to whom few lend an helping hand to rescue 
them from woe, either in this or the other world. To this good work the 
energies of our dear brother, the last few years of his life, were largely 
devoted in visiting the public houses, those dens of iniquity, where those 
nnhappy individuals chiefly resort, in leaving Tracts and the like at these 
places. At this Institution, he, in conjunction with a clergyman of the 
Establishment, regularly conducted a religious service on tne LordVday 
afternoon. 

The Institution, if not so successful as might have been desired, and what 
Institution does actually accomplish all thiat it contemplated, has never- 
theless, had cheering success ; success sufficient to show the loving-kindness 
of Him who came to seek and to save that which was lost. Many have 
been restored to society and to their Mends, who will hold our friend in 
grateful remembrance. He collected the subscriptions, and rendered 
efficient aid in all the departments. He was a man more fitted for this 
work than most. His place will not easily be supplied. He was a tried 
man ; he was tried in his business, in the church, in his family : but he 
bore it all with the greatest equanimity and composure. Under trial, he 
would express himself, '* Jesas, thou source of calm repose," and the like 
Unguage. He was a man of the most even temper. The writer, who 



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2 16 Biography of Mr, Charles Green, of Winchester. 

knew him for about forty years, and often saw him in trying dream- 
stances, never remembers having seen him lose his temper ; he was men- 
tioning this circumstance to one of his sons who corroborated the statement, 
and said he had seen him grieved, but never out of temper. 

His death was sudden, consequently nothing can be said of his dying 
testimony ; an apoplectic seizure deprived him of the power of conscious- 
ness and speech in the midst of health ; but he had given living testimony 
of the power and goodness of God to save, and sudden death to him, was 
only the messenger that removed him from this state of trial, to that 
where tribulation is unknown, and death and sorrow is never seen ; many 
die as suddenly, not as safely. He was largely esteemed and justly so by the 
majority of his fellow-citizens ; it. is to that esteem he was indebted for his 
admission into the Institution where he died. Nearly the whole of the 
elergymen in the neighbourhood, to their honour, signed his testimonials ; 
to many of them he was well known by his connection with the Kefuge 
aforenamed, most of them and their connections being its principal sup- 
porters. He was the first dissenter that had been admitted to the Insti- 
tution as far as the writer is aware. He joined the Association soon after 
its formation, and continued an accredited member till his death. Some 
may be led to enquire, with all his excellences had he no defects 1— with 
much that is light, were there no shadows ? — had he no drawbacks, no im- 

Serfections, no errors ? — doubtless he had, for he was mortal ; he often, no 
oubt, erred in judgment, and who does not? It might be expected by 
those to whom he was intimately known, that some allusion in a sketch 
like this, should be made in all faithftilness to circumstances that occurred 
not long before his decease. It was well known our brother had conceived 
the idea of again entering the marriage state, at his advanced age, and the 
circumstances in which he was placed, appeared to most of his friends to 
be a most injudicious step ; doubtless it was so; in this he no doubt erred. 
This circumstance cast somewhat of a shade over his latter end in the 
eyes of some ; it need not, it ought not to have been so ; the deed contem- 
plated was not a sinful act, marriage is honourable in all, either old or 
young ; it was simply an error in judgment, neither less nor more ; but his 
work was done, and God took his servant from the evil to come in mercy; 
if an evil it would have been. 

The Kev. Mr. Thorn, the independent minister, conducted the funeral 
service, and gave a very appropriate address on the occasion, and paid a 
Christian tribute to our Brother's memory from many year*s personal know- 
ledge of him. 

His death was improved at Twyford, by Brother Bichardson, from Matt 
XXV. 34, in an appropriate sermon, who spoke at the end to the Christian 
character of our Brother, irom the best of all knowledge, personal ex- 
perience, having formerly lived in his house, and seen his daily walk. 

His death was likewise improved at Up Somborne, by Mr. S. Chamberlin, 
where part of his family resided, and where he was well known, a people 
to whom he carried the first tidings of salvation, which many members of 
hifif family embraced, and a goodly number of them are now rejoicing in 
its full fruition in the heavenly world. Many of our aged friends who 
have borne the burden and heat of the day, have been removed from as, 
of whom no account has appeared, the writer thought it not right that no 
notice should be taken of our dear Brother, which made him venture, 
though not used to such work, the present account. 

Ehenezer Cottage, 



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217 



MR. JAMES ASHTON, OP MANCHESTER. 

James Ashton, the subject of the present memoir, was born at Ashton, 
in Mackerfield, on the 26th of January, 1804. His parents were moral 
and industrious, of agricultural employment, and of high Church principles. 
From early life he frequented the Church of England Sunday-school, of 
which he became a teacher, and although his parents were not strictly 
pious, yet they appear to have inculcated on their children moral prac- 
tices and precepts. 

When the subject of the present sketch was about eighteen years of age, 
he and his companions, Ml of mischief and youthful frolic, agreed to go to 
the Wesleyan chapel, to have, as they denominated it, " some sport," at the 
door of which they fired off two pistols. Elated by this, which they cha- 
racterised by the terms, "heroism and bravery," they returned on the 
ensning Sabbath evening to renew their sport. On this occasion they agreed 
to change the hats of as many of the congregation as they could, and thus 
produce, what they thought — and which really would have been the case, 
had the design been effected — considerable inconvenience and disorder; 
bnt God was there, and that event, which was intended to end in fi'olic and 
mischief, was overruled by Him, and terminated in the sound conversion of 
the subject of the present memoir; reminding us of the beautiful sentiment 
of Oliver Gtoldsmith, that 

" Fools who came to scoff, 
Renudned to pray." 

A person of the name of Richard Yates, well known for more than ordi- 
nary talent, was the preacher on the occasion. He was a farmer, and the 
circumstance of a farmer preaching, being to our (then young and high 
church) friend somewhat of singular occurrence, his attention was deeply 
engaged ; so much so, that the design of their visit was comparatively for- 
gotten. The text of Scripture selected was, " He that winneth souls is 
wise;*' and treating, doubtless, in his discussion of this subject of the 
intrinsic value of the human soul, and the wisdom of securing its present 
and eternal interests, a deep and lasting impression was made upon Mr. 
Ashton's mind. 

On the termination of the discourse, and on his return towards home, ho 
was miserable ; labouring under the most acute mental agony, so much so, 
that coming to an oak tree, which grew by the lane side leading through 
the fields to his father's house, he knelt down by its sturdy trunk, and offer- 
ing up a prayer, with strong cries and tears, he sought the Lord for mercy ; 
&nd, apprehensive of coming judgment and doom, he promised the Lord, if 
he would spare him this time, he would lead a new life and devote himself 
to God. Three months from this period he found peace. That ha^py 
event occurring as follows : One morning, hearing that a prayer-meetme 
was to be held in the house of a neighbour, he made up his mind to attend. 
It was a summer evening, and walking through the fields towards the 
place appointed, musing upon his disconsolate and wretched condition in the 
sight of God, and the alarmingly dangerous position he stood in, if death 
were to take place, he came to a gate, and leaning on the top of it, took 
from his pocket a volume of Wesley's hymns. He opened at page 385, and 
iua eye fell upon that beautiful hymn — 

O joyful sound of Qospel grace ! 

Christ shall in me appear ; 
I, even I, shall see his nuse ; 

I shall be holy here. 



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218 Biography of Mr, Jamei Askton, of Manchester. 

This heart shall he his constant home ; 

I hear his Spirit cry; 
" Surely," he saith, «* I quickly come ;** 

He saith, who cannot lie. 

The readine of this heantifnl hymn imparted some degree of hope and com- 
fort to his, hitherto, desponding soul; and on reaching the house appointed 
for prayer, so full was he of longing desire after God, and so emholdened 
by the dawning of the love of G^ upon his soul, and cheered by the first 
beams of the ^ bright and the morning star," that he gave out the hymn in 
the meeting and afterwards prayed, in deep and humble strains, for salva- 
tion. The Lord heard—peace suddenly burst in upon him, his sorrow was 
turned into joy, and he rejoiced in God his Saviour, " in whom he had now 
redemption, even the forgiveness of his sins." He immediately afterwards 
joined the Wesleyan Methodist Society, and leaving the Church of England 
Sunday-school, became a teacher among the Wesleyans. For this step he 
suffered much persecution from an enraged uncle, of high Church principles. 
He was then employed by his uncle as manager of his business, who threat- 
ened him with dismissal, if he did not immediately disconnect himself with 
the Wesleyans. 

This threat proving unavailing, his uncle sent for Mr. Ashton's mother, 
and requested her to use her influence for the same end. This she did, for 
one evening, when Mr. Ashton was on a visit to his mother, she did all she 
could to persuade him to dissociate himself from them : but he boldly 
refused, and said, that although threatened by his uncle with dismissal from 
his service, he would still adhere to his resolution, and added, that he would 
not labour on the Sabbath (which his uncle had wished him to do, until 
service-time in the Church of England), remarking that, during the 
six days of the week he would labour and do his best for his uncle, but the 
seventh day was the Sabbath, and which was given to him by God, and the 
whole of that day he would have,— adding this strange remark, and lifting 
up his hands towards heaven : — " Mother, I will not sell Christ's blt>od for 
bread, as long as I have an arm on my body !" From this period, all 
attempts to persuade him to renounce the connection with the Wedeyaos, 
were abandoned. 

Six years after his conversion to Gk>d he became a class-leader in the 
Wesleyan Society in Ashton, and zealously and efficiently prosecuted every 
effort, not only for the spiritual interests of each individual member of his 
class, but for the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom in generaL 

Being naturally of a generous and social disposition his house was ever 
open to receive tne various preachers ; showing no partiality or distinction, 
but being always the most happy when snugly conversing in his homestead 
with these messengers of the Cross, and rendering them all the social and 
pecuniary help he could. 

The memory of these seasons of social and religious intercourse were ever 
fresh in his mind, and descended with him to the grave ; and the writer has 
frequently heard him express the most flowing sentiments of esteem and 
love for many with whom he thus associated, but who now, like himself, 
are mouldering in the silent tomb, " awaiting the general resurrection ci 
the just." 

In the year 1831 he left Ashton in Mackerfield, and came to reside in 
Manchester, On settling in this city, he immediately joined the Society in 
London Road, and entered with his accustomed zeal into the labours of the 
Sabbath-school. 

During the struggle of 1835, when the whole of the Methodist com- 
munity was agitated and convulsed by the introduction of an arbitrairand 
despotic law, he felt it his duty to declare on behalf of the Ubeial and 



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BiograjAy of Mr. Jam^ Ashton^ of Manchester. 219 

reform party ; and although he did not stand prominently forth either as a 
platform orator or pabllc exponent, yet he was ever active on committees, 
and in the general working and carrying oat of the Keform sought. It was 
he, who, on the very week of the schism, as it has been called, in con* 
nection with a few mends, whom it is unnecessary here to name, took a 
room, and opened it as a temporary Sabbath-school, in order to make pro- 
vision for the children of the dejected members and detached congregations, 
and thus secure their educational and spiritual interests. 

On the building of the Association Chapel and L mdon Road District 
Sunday-school, in the year 1836, he became one of its conductors, and con* 
tinued so to be until the year 1341, when, in consequence of a deputation 
waiting upon him, and soliciting his aid and influence on behalf of the 
Orosvenor-street Society and School, he transferred his services, as con- 
ductor and class-leader to that locality, and from that period until incapa* 
eitated by serious illness, he continued to fill those onerous engagemeuts. 

Perhaps, before entering upon the scene of his last sickness. Christian 
experience and death, it would not be superfluous or unsuitable, at this stage 
of the memoir, to give some traits of his character — for the illustration and 
presentation of character are the main designs of biography. It is not to 
show, merely, how the Christian died, but how he lived : how he, by 
Divine help, obtained grace to exemplify, to live the life of Christ in thejiesh, 
Iq doing this we shall notice his love for Christ and his Caurch, as seen in 
the exceeding interest he took in the children of the Sunday-school. This 
indeed was his sphere of labour, one for which he was most adapted,— 
for which the Providence of God designed and fitted him. He had, 
I am told, an aptness and facility in this field of labour, enjoyed only by 
few} and these qualifications, sanctified by a sincere love for their souls, 
gave him easy access to their hearts, and secured their attention, esteem, and 
attachment. 

But few men possess facilities for addressing youth. The more intellec- 
tual are generally too elevated, and often soar beyond the powers and 
apprehensions of their juvenile audience ; whilst the less intellectual or 
ignorant, are too low^too beggarly^-in their ideas to create anything like 
mental aspirations after knowledge and God. His method with the young 
was to secure their attention by suasive means — and this is, in the writer's 
hnmble opinion, the only way to be an efficient Sundat/school conductor. 
The advice of D*Aabigne, in his ** History of the Reformation in Ger- 
many," was followed by our departed friend, and it proved successful and 
pleasing in its results. *' What we ought to endeavour to secure,*' writes 
that celebrated man, " above all things is their hearts, and in order to that, 
we must proclaim the Gospel. Then the sweet word will drop to-day in 
one heart, and to-morrow into another, and will operate in such wise, that 
each will withdraw from the vicious mass of society and forsake it altogether. 
God effects more than if you and 1, and all the world, were to combine our 
efforts. God seizes the heart, and when this is secured, all is secured^* 

His love for the Church too, was equal to that of his love for the school. 
He loved purity of doctrine and purity of discipline ; but yet all discipli- 
nary, all church government, were by him to have a New Testament cna- 
racter— a primitive aspect. No one more than he, accorded with the 
sentiments of another celebrated writer, who says, ** If we would mingle 
aoght of human authority with the absolute authority of Grod, or the Bible, 
or aught of human righteousness with the perfect righteousness that is 
through Christ, we vitiate Christianity in its two foundations.** 

Sis patience and resignation. '*In patience possess ye your souls,** was 
the advice of our Ijord, and we may truly say that such did our departed 
and esteemed ft*iend. Nothing seemed to depress or to weigh heavily on 
his spirits. Subject to his share of suffering— both social and commercial-^ 

Q 2 



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220 Biography of Mr, James Ashton, of Manchester. 

falling to the lot of humanity, he bore it ^ith Christian fortitade, and if 
for a moment trials appeared to ruffle the ordinary placidity of his mind, it 
indeed was only momentary, and all was again serene. So conspicaoua 
were these features in his character, that men of the world, who knew 
nothing of vital religion, or its regenerating and sanctifying power on the 
heart and passions, haye been known to wonder and express their admira- 
tion. And when asked by others, how Mr. Ashton bore up under pecuniair 
losses and difficulties (for losses and difficulties he had), they hai^e replied, 
'* O, he is as philosophical as ever, he takes all very calmly and composedly,'' 
little thinking that what they attributed to mere philosophy, was the pro^ 
duct only of the saving grace of God. His trust was in Providence. 

No one was better assured than he of a secret, yet Divine hand, p;oveni« 
ing and controlling the affairs of the world and of men. And in that 
special and guiding Providence, he was ever disposed to confide his aU. 
Having trusted his soul to God, he could also trust his circumstances and 
affairs. Hence that contentedness and composure of mind, so habitual to 
him. For what can possibly give greater contentment and resignation to 
the Christian mind, than to know that Almighty God, in every incident 
during life, exercises a guiding and overruling hand, and in His sacred 
word has affirmed ** that all things shall work together for good to them 
that love God/' As was said of a disinguished patriot, so also it might be 
said of him, " That he passed through scenes and sufferings, which would 
have broken the heart of many a man, or frozen him into a misanthrope, 
or soured and corroded him into a demon." He was gentle, affectionate, 
good tempered, benevolent, sanguine, and hopeful in all circumstances. 
Whenever he got into trouble, he became possessed with the conviction that 
some special good was in store for him, and the darker the sorrow, the 
stronger grew the presentiment that joy was to follow. He was, in conse- 
quence, he said, '' One of the happiest of men." And well he might be, for 
such a way of looking at things, literally converted every cloud that darken- 
ed his horizon, into a shadow of good things to come. 

His strict morality. A man of unimpeachable morality ; being a living 
exemplification of the practical power of evangelical and saving religion. 
His ^* light shone," and men seeing his good works, " glorified God, who is 
in heaven." If conduct, if consistency of character, with profession, if the 
outward life be the reflex of the " inner man," and " if by their fruits we 
are to know them," then all who knew our departed friend, must acknow- 
ledge him to have been a Christian indeed. 

Sis social .and domestic character. Here he was a pattern for idl to 
follow, a character for all to imitate and emulate. He ruled his house in 
love, — yet not that blinded and mistaken love which overlooks or connives 
at faults, or cloaks sin. No! but love characterized by order, and that 
enjoined obedience. Love that governed as well as embraced, that expected 
reciprocal returns, due and loving submission to parental rule and authority. 
His love for his children was intense, yet judiciously exercised and exhibited 
«— full and from the heart, yet moderated by due and becoming prudence 
and restraint. 

His experience of religion. It was sanctifying and saving. He carried 
within him, in the " inner man," the regenerating grace of God. and that 
grace continually imparted aspirations after God and holiness. The temper 
and the passions were, generally speaking, under the control of this power- 
ful principle. It is true, his experience of religion was not of that raptur- 
ous character enjoyed by some. It presented few varieties, few changing 
scenes ; it was one regular, steady, approximation to God and holiness. 
Not? the ebulition of occasional joy and ecstacy — not now on the heights of 
Pisgah, viewing the glories of the celestial city, and ravished with its prosr 
pect, and to-morrow down in the valley — '< in the slough of despond." ile 



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piographff of Mr. James Ashtoh, of Manchester, 221 

ran the race, the Christian race, hut not as many do — to-day very swiftly 
and passionately, and to-morrow fainting, or faJling, or relapsing, — and 
thus Datarally losing time and ground, and having to start anew in the 
race. His was the race of godly principle, not of transient passion ; a race 
constantly progressive, onwards, though perhaps not swiftly, hut surely ; 
and now, having arrived at the goal, he has won the prize, secured the 
crown, and has sat down at the right hand of God. 

His views and feelings on the prospect of death. Death had no terrc ra 
for him, he feared not the approach of the dread monster; and yet, although 
he feared him not, knowing that all was right and his interest in Christ 
secured, he clung to life with a tenacity not often witnessed in the experi- 
enced and prepared Christian. Death to most is appalling, to him it was 
not; but yet he wished to live, ho wished his pilgrimage protracted, 
although attended with much sorrow and suffering. But, however this 
may be accounted for, of one thing we are certain, that our departed friend 
feared not, dreaded not death ; but was prepared to meet him, to grapple 
with his final enemy, and to conquer. 

His illness -and death. The first attack of illness which Mr. Ashton had, 
and which ultimately terminated in death, was in the year 1850. He had 
gone with the scholars on Whit-Thursday, and it becoming exceedingljr 
wet, and sympathising with the children, he collected as many as he possi- 
bly could under a large cape he wore, trying to protect them from the 
descending rain. The labour and anxiety consequent upon the exertions of 
that day were too much for him. What with the teeming rain, and the 
profuse perspiration he experienced by being over crowded, he took a very 
serious cold, and the day following, when at Adlington, became much worse 
—so much so, that he had to hasten home. From this time till Christmas 
1854, he b'ngered on, though partially able to attend business. When he 
had another attack, much more violent than the former one, which so 
wrought upon his constitution, that besides being confined to the house for 
six weeks, he never was perfectly restored. 

On the 29th of May, 1866, he had the third and last attack. This took 
place in the street, and so violent was it, that he had to lean against some 
buildings, or otherwise would have fallen to the ground. In this emergency 
a passing friend observed him, and recognizing him, went to him and found 
him speechless. He got him home, and for four months he was confined to 
the house. During this protracted sickness, he exhibited great patience, was 
continually happy in mind, and had constantly the witness of God's holy 
Spirit, that he was accepted in Christ. As we have before said, his was not 
the extreme of joy or the ebulition of rapture ; but " a peace which passeth 
understanding,—" the peace of God." And who can tell what that is ? A 
peace, the result of implicit faith, and accompanied by stedfast love, and. 
blooming hope. 

A few hours before his death, he sat up in bed, and conversed cheerfully 
with his wife on some pecuniary matters. On the afternoon preceding the 
day on which he died, he stretched out his arms in triumph, and cried out 
I' Glory be to God." " Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly." His wife 
immediately asked, " James, canst thou really say, *' Come, Lord Jesus, and 
come quickly ? " He replied, " Yes! yes ! " 

About three o'clock on the morning of Monday, the 29th of September, 
1856, he became suddenly and alarminely worse, and wished to be raised 
in bed. For this purpose he requested that the servant should be called. 
When this was done he wished them to send for his son John, who, on his 
arrival found him speechless. His breathing was becoming weaker and 
more indistinct, till he calmly, without a struggle or a groan, or even a 
sob. "Fell asleep in Jesus." 

Peace to his memory ! O it is sweet to contemplate the happy dead. 

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222 Biography of Mr. George MiarshaUj of Thomse. 

It i8 sweet to be permitted to hold in kindly afiection, to embalm witli 
kindly reminiscence the memory, and to imitate with holy emnlation the 
▼irtues of thoee who sleep in Jesas. 

Sacred be the memory, hallowed be the recollections of departed worth ! 
As their virtaes flit across oor memories ; and as we think of those eyes 
which once beamed with sanctified fire, and the accent of whose yoices yet 
again seems to echo in our recollection, let ns pay a tribute to their 
memory and offer the voice of praise to their worth. He shall rise again, 
and again be re-united to yon whom he lored, and with whom he took 
sweet tellowship while on earth. ^ Grieve not as them without hope.** 
On the bright morning of the resurrection, your songs shall mingle, in 
harmony join in the loud Hosannas to Him that wash^ ns in His blood, 
and hath made us kings and priests unto God ; and unto the Lamb, to 
whom you shall ascribe glory and honour, and power, for ever and for ever. 

October 19, 1856. X. Y. Z. 



MR GEOKGE MARSHALL, OP THORNSE. 
The following is a brief sketch of our dear and much-lamented late 
Brother George Marshall, who died at Thomse^ in the New Mills Circuit, 
on the 15th of October, 1856, in the 69th year of his age. He was horn in 
Sheffield in the year 1788, and no sooner was his barge launched on life's sea, 
than we find him subjected to its rockings. When George was very young, 
his fiather entered the army, and his mother not being able to proTide for 
him, he was removed to Edale, where he resided with his grandfather Mar- 
shall, until he was able to take the place of a servant at a farmhouse; and 
while sustaining this position at a farmhouse in Chorley, which at that 
time formed part of the Macclef^field Circuit, the light of GkMpel-graoe found 
a way to his heart, ^ hich disclosed to him his condition as a guilty exposed 
sinner, and led him with purpose of heart to seek forgiveness at the hands 
of God. Having truly repented of his sins, and ascertained the way of salva- 
tion through faith in Christ, he beUeved with his heart unto righteousneBSi 
and could then with the poet say, 

O love, thou bottomless abyaa^ 

My sins are swallowed up in thee ! 

Covered is my unrighteousness, 

Nor spot of guilt remains on me ; 

While Jestt*s blood through earth and skies^ 

Mercy — free boundless mercy cries 1 

The persbn employed as the instrument in bringing about this happy 
change, was the Kev. John Hanwell, who was then in the Macclesfield Cir- 
cuit, whose labours it pleased the Lord to crown with success. The truth de- 
livered by him led Brother Marshall with manv others to the Saviour, and 
the good then done, where will it terminate ? We had in our lovefeast last 
Sabbath one of Brother Marshall's sons, bearing his happy testimony to the 
power of saving grace, evidently clothed with the mantle his father wore; 
he is now a husband and a father, and so it may drop on his seed, and thus 
go on. O the importance of saving a soul ! 

Our dear brother began to bend his attention to the best of causes when 
about nineteen years of age. We have often been told that from sixteen to 
twenty-five is a vastly important period, for then it is that habits become 
fixed and connexions formed, the effects of which follow through life» 

After walking in the way to heaven about eighteen months, George began 
to think of taking to himself an helpmate ; and having the fear of God 
before his ejes, he sought counsel of Him* He was wisely directed^ fle 



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Biography of Mr, George Marshall^ of Thornse. 223 

was taught by the word of God, that it was wrong for him to seek an help- 
mate amongst the spiritually dead, to assist him in doing spiritual work, 
which of all work is the most important. He found one who was truly 
alive in the best sense of the word, and as deeply devoted to the cause of 
troth as himself, viz.. Miss Ellen HalL We have reason to believe their 
union was sanctioned by the best of Beings, and sanctified by those in« 
fiuences in the absence of which we seek in vain for palmy days. He was 
one of the kindest of husbands ; I think we may almost say he laboured, 
by every possible means, to lessen the sorrows of his wife and increase 
her comforts. For many years he had to labour hard to support a numerous 
family. He brought up nine children, two of whom have preceded him to 
the heaven of heavens. Ellen his daughter, who married John Molineuz, 
was one of the excelleut of the earth ; she had power with God in prayer ; 
when at the throne of grace, pleading with God, she did indeed take 
hold of the tree of life, and did shake it in such a way as brought down the 
ripe fruit in abundance. She lived boldly, died happy, and is now with the 
redeemed. William also left a testimony behind that he was going to join 
the blest. The efforts he put forth purposely to bring his children to God, 
have not been in vain, and the position in life now held by them bespeak a 
father's care. We regret that some of them are not converted to God. 
May the numberless prayers offered on their behalf speedily be answered. 

ue<M^ held a situation as leading man at a colliery for upwards of 
twenty years, and had the entire confidence of his employer, whose kindness 
towards him in his last sickness goes to confirm the above statement. A 
leader and preacher with us, who has known Brother Marshall for thirty 
years, says, he cannot recollect having heard the least thing ever having 
been said against his moral character. The Christian principle adopted by 
him had taken fast hold on his heart, making pure the fountain^ conse- 
quently, the streams flowing therefrom must be pure also. He was indeed 
an uniform, humble, unassuming, consistent, and truly devoted Christian, 
honouring the God he loved, and doing honour to the Church to which he 
belonged. 

The members of the class he led haye felt his loss almost as much as the 
members of his own family. He was as a father amongst them, caring both 
for their bodies and their souls, and ever ready to ^iye suitable counsel. He 
was esteemed in the neighbourhood in which he lived both by saint and 
sinner — ^uprightness does command esteem. 

In his last affliction, although it was heavy, be found God^s grace to be 
lufficient for him. I had an opportunity of seeing him once a fortnight^ 
and on every occasion I found him firmly fix:ed on the Rock, the mellomng 
infloence of that grace which God gives to the truly devoted shone through 
his countenance, and was felt to accompany the expressions escaping from 
his lips. The course he had pursued through life, led him to find the even-* 
ing of life's day calm and tranquil. Peace was associated with the un-> 
shaken confidence he had in God. His sun went down in a clear sky, so as 
to foretell a bright rising again. After being connected with the militant 
church nearly half a century, God called him to his home in the heavens^ 
and now he ib joined to the triumphant church aboye, — 
His race is run, his work is done, 
He's left a sinful world behiifd ; 
And now he's found before the throne, 
Wliere all are peaceful, pure, and kind« 

M^ we all follow him to heayen. 

We endeavoured to improve his death on the 16th of November. Our 
thapel at New Mills on the occasion was much too small, many had td 
go ai^ay who could not get in. W. J. 



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224 



PURGATORY. 



The dogma of Purgatory argnes the insufficiency of the ChriBtiiUi 
system. This doctrine is so vague and doubtftd in its eyidence, and the 
influence its belief has on the mind is so qaestionable, that it is matter of 
surprise to intelligent men, that it should have been received b^ a nume- 
rous and respectable class of the community as an article of fieiith. That 
it is an anciVnt doctrine, we ^rant, but everything is not true 'which 
is ancient. The partisans of this faith, however, pride themselves much 
on its antiquity, as if it must of necessity be sound, because it is 
old. Many principles are propagated in the world, which can boast 
of greater antiquity than Furgatory, and yet are founded in error. 
Purgatory is the child of error, and the mother must of necessity he 
older than her offspring.- Men who advance antiquity, as evidence of 
the genuineness of a doctrine, should be reminded that it was erroneous 
doctrine, the doctrine of devils, which plunged our species from the 
sublime summit of primeval purity, into the depths of depravity. Error is 
older than man, ror it was manifested in the fall oi angels prior to 
human existence. 

Belief in the existence of some such place as Purgatory is said to have 
found a place in old heathenish religion. Heathens, Jews, Rabbins, Mabom- 
medans, professed Christians, all have believed that after the soul had 
departed this life, it would be purified by fire before being admitted into 
the state of the blessed. Pythagoras, whose philosophy wrought such 
a revolution in the manners of tne Crotonians and others, taught this 
doctrine to his pupils, five and a half centuries before Christ. And not 
long subsequent to this period, somewhat similar views were propagated by 
Plato. But these philosophers believed also in the pre-existence of the 
soul, that it was invested with a body, only to punish it. The soul 
being thus defiled through its combination with the body, rendered its 
purification necessary. Being well acquainted with the purifying pro- 
perties of fire, and at a loss to know how the soul otherwise was to 
be purged, they easily arrived at the conclusion, that the soul after the 
death of the body, was thus cleansed from its impurities. They walked 
according to the light they possessed| probably, they had little or no 
knowledge of the Mosaic Revelation. 

Some of the fathers believed this doctrine. It was by the teachings of 
Augustine, that the foundation of it was laid in its present form. In the 
sixth century it was taught definitely, that the purging process commenced 
immediately after the decease of the body ; that the suffering thus 
caused exceeded every other kind ; and that by this sufferings the im- 
purity which had not been cleansed from the soul by repentance, prayers, 
and alms, would be removed by the fire of Purgatory. On this account it 
is urged, numerous praters and alms should be made for the deliverance of 
those souls that may still be detained in this fiery ordeal of purification. 

Purgatory is said to be a fire which burns in the depths of the earthy 
into which souls not fully delivered from sin, are cast to purify them 
before being admitted into the habitations of the blessed.* Whether or not 
such a fire exists, does not belong to our present purpose to determine, but 
to shew that the spirits of men departing this Hfe, whether polluted or 
sanctified, are d ^tained in no such place. Those who receive Purgatory as 
an article of ai h, say, that it is ''A middle state of souls which depart 
this life in Qod's grace, yet with some lesser stains, or guilt of punishment, 
which retards them from entering heaven. But, as to the particular place 

* Neudecher*s Religious LezicoD, Vol. ii. p. 15. 

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Purgatory. 225 

where these soals suffer, or the qnality of the torments they suffer, the 
church has decided nothing."* 

This article we regard as being eqnally opposed to the remedy the Lord 
has provided for the healing of the nations, and to the validity and 
potency of the Divine law. K it is possible for the soul to depart this life 
in God's grace, and at the same time to be guilty of sin, no matter to what 
amount, it must be because the grace of God cannot fully save it, nor yet. 
the law fully condemn it, and hence would arise the insufficiency of 
the one, and the impotency of the other. It proceeds upon the assumption, 
that a person may enjoy the saving grace of Grod and be guilty of sin at 
the same time, \diich is a moral impossibility, and contrary to the plain 
teachings of Scripture, and the settled laws of Divine government. 

He who can rely on such a flexible doctrine, may soliloquize after 
this manner : '< Why should I confine myself to a rigid morality, and a 
strict observance of Scriptural rules of conduct ? though I should be cast into 
Purgatory for a few petty sins, the suffi-ages of the faithful would restore 
me ! AVhy then should I deny myself the world's luxuries P let me enjoy 
life, and not rob it of its sweetness by a limitation of its pleasures t" Pur- 
gatory countenances a very liberal morality. We shall search in vain in 
the Word of God for anything that warrants such procrastination and 
laxity of morals. Such a doctrine cannot be from God. 

A glance into the fulness of the Gospel, will reveal the emptiness of 
Purgatory. If the mind can be purified, and the habits corrected by the 
expedient provided and proclaimed in the Word of Grod, there can be no 
necessity for other means of sanctification. The heart is to be Changed by 
grace, that grace being imparted in virtue of faith in the atoning blood of 
Christ. An Apostle exclaims triumphantly : " The blood of Jesus Christ 
his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Sublimely simple, yet transcendantly 
glorious is that scheme created by an Infinite mind, by which the wayward 
dying sons of men, become inspired with the vivifying influence of the 
Spirit, and established in virtue and holiness. The Gospel proclaims 
a fall and free pardon to all repentant sinners, even to the "vilest and 
worst,*' and not less perfect because free. To cite all the Scriptures which 
support this assertion, would be to transcribe a considerable portion of tlie 
Bible. Let one definite passage suffice. Accept it as the representative of 
auumerous class. "If we," says the Apostle John, ''if we confess our 
sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all 
unrighteousness." 

A confession of sins, which springs from a heart contrite with sorrow, 
and relying on the merits of Christ, is the only requisite to frill salvation. 
An unreserved compliance with this condition, will let into the soul the full 
Hght of the GospeL Like a man emerging from a subterranean mine in 
the twilight of morning, and rambling abroad at full liberty, while 
the light increases more and more unto the perfect day, the soul, arising 
from its darksome prison, is enraptured with pleasure, m proportion to the 
perfection of the contrast between its former darkness and its present 
hght God is faithful. By numerous promises he has pledged himself to 
regard the man of a humble heart and broken spirit. We might sooner 
expert the annihilation of a thousand worlds, than that the light of Divine 
favour would not spring up in the soul of the penitent beUever. Science 
declares the former to be improbable, but the Word of God declares the 
latter to be impossible. , ^* Heaven and earth may pass away, but the word of 
the Lord endureth for ever." 

God is just. The. death of our Lord Jesus Christ, redeemed us from the 
curse of tne law, being made a curse for us. The first man sinned, and the 
hanefdl effects of the first sin cleaveth to the nature of his posterity. The 

* Confesaion of Faitb, by Pope Pius IV. 

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226 Pwrgatory. 

second man Jesus Christy died instead of the first man, so that the benefits of 
redemption are fally commensurate to the extent of the fall. " Where 
sin abounded, grace did much more abonnd.'* By one we died, by one also 
we Uye. When a sinner repents, the integrity of Divine government, the 
stipulations of the covenant, the claims of that '' blood which speake^ 
better things than that of Abel,'' and the trust of the broken-hearted sinner, 
all conspire to move God to forgive his sins ; and He faithful to himself, and 
merciful to the sinner, bids him go in peace and sin no more. If men will 
repent of their sins, and forsake the evil of their ways, the Lord will 
receive them, and be a Father unto them. 

Salvation is by faith. Man believes God, and it is acobanted to him for 
righteousness. To believe, then, is to be saved. If faith in Christ is 
maintained through all the stages of experience, the soul remains in a 
justified state. Justification is an act which springs spontaneonsly from 
the mercy of Jehovah. It is not a gradual work, whose silent operations 
are carried on deep in the heart, like that of sanctification ; hence the 
impossibility of being in a justified and condemned state at the same time. 
Every man must be wholly, in one or the other condition, Uirongh eveiy 
period of life. A Christian may grow in grace, extend his knowledge, and 
learn wisdom from experience, he may have clearer and more convincing 
views of divine favour, but the set of justification remains always the same. 
To speak of a soul being in God*s grace while guilty of sin, is not trifling, 
it is more, it is starting a doctrine without the shadow of a foundation, and 
using words strangely inconsistent with each other. " Te cannot serve 
Qod and mammon. 

When faith in Christ is maintained, it justifies the soul ; in its absence 
the law condemns it. ** He that believeth shall be saved, and he that 
believeth not shall be damned." To ofiend in one point, is to be guiltv of 
all. The eternal destiny of the soul is fixed immediately after the death of 
the body. As the tree falls so it lies. " He that is unjust, let him be 
unjust still : and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still : and he that is 
righteous, let him be righteous still : and he that his holy, let him be holy 
still. And behold I come quickly ; and my reward is with me, to give to 
every man according as his work shall be." 

Thus then we see, according to the teachings of the Scriptures, there 
can be no such place as Pulsatory. The soul cannot be detained in any 
mid-state ; justification would transport it to heaven, the want of it sink it 
down to hell. Salvation hy Christ is God's remedy for the world's malady; 
and this being sufficient, we require no other. There cannot be two ways of 
salvation. That made known to us in the Bible, is through the sufferings 
and death of Christ, not by the sufferings of Purgatory. The idea of 
a fiery ordeal of purification for souls, originated not in the Word of God, 
it owes its birth to heathen mythology. It proposes a medium of salvation 
in addition to that propounded in the Scriptures, and at the same time 
contrary to it. To point out a place where men who have entirely 
neglected the duty of repentance, or only attended to it imperfectly, can 
shelter themselves from the vengeance of an angry God, is to point the 
sinner to a refuge of lies, and like the blind who lead the blind, both must 
eventually fall into the ditch, J. Baro5. 

Hamhurghi 

BOOKS AND AUTHORS* 

SIR T. BROWK AND JERJOCT TAYLOR. 

Sir Thomas Brown is among my first favourites. Rich in trarions 
knowledge, exuberant in conceptions and conceits, contemplative. Imagina- 
tive, often truly great and magnificent in his style and diction, tiiongh, 



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Boohs and Authors. 22? 

donbtleasi too oflen big, stiff, and hyperlatinistic ; thtw I miglit, without 
admixture of falsehood, describe Sir T. Brown, and my description would 
have this fault only, that it would be equally, or almost equally applicable 
to half a dozen other writers, from the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth 
to the end of the reign of Charles the Second. He is indeed all this, and 
what he has more than all this, and peculiar to himself, I seem to convey 
to my own mind in flome measure, by saying, that he is a quiet and sublime 
enthusiaBt, with a strong tinge of the fantast; the humorist constantly 
mingling with and flashing across the philosopher, as the darting coloura 
in shot-silk play upon the main dye. In short, he has brains in his head, 
which is all the more interesting for a little twist in the brains. He some- 
times reminds the reader of Montaigne, but fi'om no other than the 
general circumstance of an egotism common to both, which in Montaigne 
is too often a mere amusing gossip, a chit-chat story of whims and 
peculiarities that lead to nothing, but which, in Sir Thomas Brown, is 
always the result of a feeling heart, conjoined with a mind of active 
curiosity^the natural and becoming egotism of a man, who loving other men 
as himself, gains the habit and the privilege of talking about himself as 
familiarly as about other men. Fond of the curious, and a hunter of 
oddities and strangenesses, while he conceives himself with quaint and 
humorous gi-avity, an useful enquirer into physical truths and fundamental 
science, he loved to contemplate and discuss his own thoughts and feelings, 
because he found by comparison with other men's, that they, too, were 
curiosities ; and so with a perfectly graceful, interesting ease, he put them, 
too, into his museum and cabinet of rarities. In very truth, he was not 
mistaken, so completely does he see everything in a light of his own^ 
reading nature neither by sun, moon, or candle-light, but by the light of 
the &iry glory around his own head, that you might say, that nature had 
granted to him in perpetuity, a patent and monopoly for all his thoughts. 
Kead his Hydriotaphia above all, and in addition to the peculiarity, the 
exclusive Sir Thomas Browness, of all the fancies and modes of illustra- 
tion, wonder at and admire his entireness in every subject which is before 
him* He is totua in illo, he follows it, he never wanders from it, and 
he has no occasion to wander, for whatever happens to be his subject, he 
metamorphoses all nature into it. In that Hydriotaphia, or treatise on 
some urns dug'Up in Norfolk — how eaiiihy, how redolent of graves and 
sepulchres in every line ! you have now dark mould, now a thigh bone, 
now a skull, then a bit of a mouldered coffin, a fragment of an old tomb- 
itone, with moss in its ' hie jacet,' a ghost, a winding sheet, or the echo of a 
funend psalm wafted on a November wind ; and the gayest thing you shall 
meet with shall be a silver nail, or gilt anno domini, from a perished coffin 
top. The very same remark applies, in the same force, to the interesting, 
though far less interesting treatise on the Quincuncial Plantations of the 
Ancients, the same entireness of subject ; quincunxes in heaven above^ 
quincunxes in earth below, quincunxes in deity, quincunxes in the mind 
of man, quincunxes in tones, in optic nerves, in roots of trees, in leaves, in 
every thing. In short, just turn to the last leaf of this volume, and reaa 
oat aloud to yourself the seven last paragraphs of chapter v., beginning 
with the words, •* more considerable." But it is time for me to be m bed. 
In the words of Sir T. Brown, which will serve as a fine specimen of his 
manners, ** But the quincunxes of heaven, the hyades, or five stars^ about 
the horizon, at midnight at that time run low, and it is time we close the 
five parts of knowledge ; we are unwilling to spin our waking thoughts 
into the phantoms of sleep, which often continue precogitations, making 
i^bles of cobwebs, and wildernesses of handsome groves. To keep our 
eyes open longer, were to act our antipodes ; the huntsmen are up in 
Arabia, and they have already passed their first sleep in Persia," lliink 



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228 Bo(^ and Auihori. 

you, that there ever was such a reason given before' for going to bed ait 
midnight ; to wit, that if we did not, we should be acting the part of our 
antip<3e8, and then, '' the huntsmen are up in Arabia^" — what life, what 
fwcj, does the whimsical knight give us thus, the essence of gonpowder 
tea, and call it an opiate. 

Jeremy Taylor was a writer as different from Sir T. Brown as it waa 
possible for one writer to be from another. He was a dignitary of the 
church, and except in matters of casuistry and contraverted points, could 
not be supposed to enter upon speculative doubts, or give a loose to a sort 
of dogmatical scepticism. He had less thought, less ^ to give us pause,*' in 
his impetuous oratory, but he had equal fi&ncy, not the same vastness and 
profundity, but more richness and beauty, more warmth and tenderness. 
He is as rapid, as flowing, and endless, as the other is stately, abrupt, 
and concentrated. The eloquence of the one is like a river, that of the 
other is more like an aqueauct. The one is as sangiune as the other 
is saturnine in the temper of his mind. Jeremy Taylor took obvious 
and admitted truths for granted, and illustrated them with an inexhaustible 
display of new, enchanting imagery. Sir Thomas Brown talks in sum-totak 
Jeremy Taylor enumerates all the particulars of a subject; he gives 
every aspect it will bear, and never ''cloys with sameness." His character- 
istic is enthusiastic and delightful amplification. Sir Thomas Brown gives 
the beginning and the end of things, that you may judge of their 
place and magnitude. Jeremy Taylor describes their qualities and 
texture, and enters into all the items of the debtor and creditor accouut 
between life and death, grace and nature, faith and good works. He 
puts his heart into his fancy. He does not pretend to annihilate the 
passions and pursuits of mankind in the pride of philosophic indifference, 
out treats them as serious and momentous things, warring with conscience 
and the soul*s health, or furnishing the means of grace and hopes of gloiy. 
In his writings, the frail stalk of human life reclines on tne bosom of 
eternity. His ** ^oly Living and Dying*' is a divine pastoral. He writes to 
the faithful followers of Christ, as the shepherd pipes to his flock. He 
introduces touching and heartfelt appeals to famiUar life, condescends to 
men of low estate, and his pious page blushes with modesty aud beauty. 
His style is prismatic. It unfolds the colours of the rainbow; it floats 
like the bubble through the air ; it is like innumerable dew-drops that 
glitter on the face of morning, and tremble as they glitter. He does not 
dig his way underground, but slides upon ice, borne on the winged car of 
fancy. The dancing light he throws upon objects is like an Aurora 
Borealis, playing betwixt heaven and eartn — 

* Where pure Niemi's faery banks arise, 
And frmged with roses Tengli rolls its stream. 

His exhortations to piety aud virtue are a gay memento mori. He mixes up 
death's heads and araman thine flowers, makes life a procession to the grave, 
but crowns it with gaudy garlands, and '' rains sacrificial roses '* on its 
path. In a word, his writings are more like fine poetry than any other 
prose whatever ; they are a choral song in praise of virtue, and a hymn 
to the Spirit of the Universe. I shall give a few passages, to show how 
feeble and inefi&cieut this praise is. 

The ** Holy Dying" begins in this manner. "A man is a bubble, he is bom 
in vanity and sin, he comes into the world like morning mushrooms, soon 
thrusting up their heads into the air, and conversing with uieir kindred of the 
same production, and as soon they turn into dust and forgetfulness ; some 
of them without any other interest in the affairs of the world, but that they' 
made their parents a little glad, and very sorrowfuL Others ride longer in 



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Boolts and Authors. £29 ^ 

the storm, it may be until seven years of vanity be ex^Hred, and then per- 
adventure the sun shines hot upon their heads, and they fall into the shades 
below, into the cover of death and darkness of the ffrave to hide them. But 
if the bubble stands the shock of a bigger drop, and outlives the chances of 
a child, of a careless nurse, of drowning in a pail of water, of being over- 
laid by a sleepy servant, or such little accidents, then the young man dances 
like a bubble, empty and gay, and shines like a dove*8 neck, or the image of 
a rainbow, which hath no substance, and whose very imagery and colours are 
fantastical ; and so he dances out the gaiety of his youth, and is all the 
while in a storm, and endures, only because he is not knocked on the head 
by a drop of bigger rain, or crushed by the pressure of a load of undigested 
meat, or quenched b^ the disorder of an ill-placed humour ; and to preserve 
a man alive in the midst of so many chances and hostilities, is as great a 
miracle as to create him ; to preserve him from rushing into nothing, and 
at first to draw him out of nothing, were equally the issues of an Almighty 
power." 

Another instance of the same rich continuity of feeling, and transparent 
brilliancy in working out an idea, is to be found in his description of th« 
Dawn and Prepress of Reason. 

'*Some are called at age at fourteen, some at one and twentjp^, some never^ 
bat all men late enough ; for the life of a man comes upon him slowly and 
inseDsibly. But as when the sun approaches towards the gates of the 
morning he first opens a little eye of heaven, and sends away the spirits of 
darkness, and gives light to a cock, and calls up the lark to matins, and 
bj-and-bye gilds the fringes of a cloud, and peeps over the eastern hills^ 
thrasting out his golden horns, like those which decked the brows of Moses, 
when he was forced to wear a veil, because himself had seen the face of 
God ; and still while a man tells the story, the sun gets up higher^ till he 
shews a fair face and a full light, and then he shines one whole day, under a 
cloud often, and sometimes weeping great and little showers, and sets 
quickly, so is a man*s reason and his life." 

This passage puts one in mind of the rising dawn and kindling skies 
in one of Claude's landscapes. Sir T. Brown has nothing of this rich 
finishing and exact gradation* The genius of the two men differed, as 
that of the painter from the mathematician. The one measures object^ 
the other copies them. The one shows tJiat things are nothing out of 
ttiemselves, or in relation to the whole; the other what they are in 
themselves, or in relation to us. Or the one may be said to applj the tele- 
scope of the mind to distant bodies ; the other looks at nature in its infinite 
minuteness and glassy splendour through a solar microscope. 

In speaking of death, our author's style assumes the port and withering 
smile of the King of Terrors* The following are scattered passages oa 
this subject 

'4t is the same harmless thing that a poor shepherd suffered yesterday, 
or a maid servant to-day ; and at the same time, in which you die, in that 
very night a thousand creatures die with you, some wise men, and many 
tooa ; and the wisdom of the first will not quit him, and the folly of the 
latter does not make him unable to die. 

I have read of a fair young German gentleman, who, while living, often 
refused to be pictured, but put off the importunity of his friends' desire, b^ 
guying way, that after a few days' burial, they might send a painter to his 
vault, and if they saw cause for it, draw the image of his death unto the 
life. They did so, and found his face half-eaten, and his midriff and back- 
bone, full of serpents ; and so he stands pictured among his armed an- 
cestors. 

It is a mighty change thit is made by the death of every person, and 
it is visible to as who are alive. Beckon, but from the sprightfulness of 



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280 Biwks and Auihori, 

youth, and the fair cheeks and full ejee of childhood, from the Tigonnuaen 
and strong frame of the joints of fiTe-and-twentj, to the hollowness and 
dead paleness, to the loathsomeness and horror of a three days* hmial, and 
we shall perceive the distance to be very great and very strange. But so 
have I seen a rose newly springing from the clefts of its hood, and at firefc 
it was fair as the mornmg, and full with the dew of heaven as the lamVg 
fleece ; but when a ruder breath had forced open its virgin modesty, and 
dismantled its too youthful and unripe retirements, it began to put on dark- 
ness, and to decline to softness and tne symptoms of a sickly age, it bowed 
the head and broke its stalk, and at night, having lost some of its leaves, 
and all its beauty, it fell into the portion of weeds and oat-worn feces. 
So does the fairest beauty change, and it will be as bad with you and 
me ; and then what servants shall we have to wait upon us in the grave 1 
What friends to visit us ? What officious people to cleanse away the moist 
and unwhobsome cloud reflected upon our faces from the sides of the 
weeping vaults, which are the longest weepers for our funerals ? 

A man may read a sermon, the best and most passionate that ever man 
preached, if he shall but enter into the sepulchres of Kings. In the same 
Escurial where the Spanish princes live in greatness and power, and decree 
war or peace, they have wisely placed a cemetery, where their ashes and 
glory shall sleep till time shall be no more ; and where our kings have been 
crowned, there their ancestors lie interred, and they must walk over their 
grandsire*s head to take his crown. There is an acre sown with royal seed, 
the copy of the ^^reatest change from rich to naked, from ceiled roofs to arched 
coffins, from living like gods to die like men. There is enough to cool the 
flames of lust, to abate the heights of pride, to appease the itch of covetous 
desires, to sully and dash out the dissembling colours of a lustful, artifi- 
cial, and imaginary beauty. There the warlike and the peaceful, the fortu- 
nate and the miserable, the beloved and the despised princes mingle their 
dust, and pay down their symbol of mortality, and tell all the world that 
when we die, our ashes shall be equal to kmgs, and our accounts easier, 
and our pains for our crimes shall be less. To my apprehension, it is a sad 
record which is left by the Atheneus concerning Ninus, the great Aseyriaa 
monarch, whose life and death is summed up in these words: — ^^ Ninas, 
the Assyrian had an ocean of gold and other riches more than the sand 
in the Caspian sea. He never saw the stars, and perhaps he never desired 
it : he never stirred up the holy fire among the magi : nor touched his god 
with the sacred rod according to the laws : he never ofiered sacrifice, 
nor worshipped the deity, nor aidministered justice, nor spake to the people, 
nor numbered them ; but he was most valiant to eat and drink, and having 
mingled his wines, he threw the rest upon the stones. This man is dead ; 
behold his sepulchere, and now hear where Ninus is. Sometime I was 
Ninus, and drew the breath of a living man, but now am nothing bat 
clay. I have nothing but what I did eat, and what I served to myself in 
lust is all my portion ; the wealth with which I was blessed, my enemies 
meeting together shall carry away, as the mad Thyades carry a raw goat 
I am gone to hell, and when I went thither, I neither carried gold nor horsey 
nor silver chariot. I that wore a mitre, am now a little heap of dust.* " 

He who wrote in this manner also wore a mitre, and is now a heap of 
dust : but when the name of Jeremy Taylor is no longer remembered with 
reverence, genius will have become a mockery and virtue an empty shade. 



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2S1 



REVIEW AND CRITICISM. 

The Unsealed Prophecy ; Lectures on the Revelation of St. John, 
Bj Robert Skken. London : Berger, Holjwell-street. 

The lectures contained in this volume, were delivered by a member 
(not in the ministry) of the Moravian Church, on the usual week.* 
day evening services held in the Chapel, Fetter Lane, during a part 
of the year 1853. From a careful perusal of the whole, we are 
prepared to say that they are quite equal in style to some works of 
the same class of far loftier pretensions. They reflect credit at once 
on the head and heart of the author, and on the church to which he 
belongs. 

With an amiable modesty the lecturer acknowledges his obligations 
to Elliott's Horse Apocalypticse ; and while it is not difficult to trace 
the characteristics of that ^fted student of prophecy in a portion of the 
volume, there is abundant evidence throughout that Mr. Skeen can 
think for himself, and has not hesitated to differ widely from him, 
whenever he conceived the views of Elliott coi^ld not be fully 
sustained by an appeal to the sure word of the living God. 

The chief points which have struck us as peculiarly interesting 
and original, and apparently more in the spirit of the prophecy, are 
the chronological arrangement of the outpouring of the viali^ and 
the interpretation generally, of the sixth vial. 

After stating the argument very clearly, he sums the whole up by 
the following, — 

" We may therefore legitimately consider the Euphrates, not as signifying 
the Turks, but as denoting the line of separation between Christianity and 
eveiy false religion in the East. Even as it was the promised eastern 
boandary of the territory of God's ancient people, and in the days of David 
and Solomon, separated them from their idolatrous neighbours. The 
Euphrates may thus typically represent the many obstacles which have 
hitherto opposed the spread oi the Gospel in the regions towards the sun- 
rising. When they are removed — when the mystical Euphrates is dried 
up— the glad tidings of salvation vnW spread as easily and as rapidly as the 
troops of Cyrus spread themselves through the streets of Babylon, on that 
memorable night when they entered it by the dry bed of the nver." 

The valuable historical references, some of which we have not 
seen before, render the lectures full of interest. We are not willing 
to endorse all Mr. Skeen's conclusions, but on a subject so involved as 
unfulfilled prophecy, we regard the man who is able to shed any 
light upon it as worthy of honour. Apart from the character of 
this volume, there is an interest attaching to it, as being a specimen of 
the typography of the island of Ceylon. The lectures having been 
transmitted to a relative residing in Colombo, who undertook to con- 
duct them through the press, and it is but just to say that he has 
performed his duty tastefully and correctly. 

The Great Redemption, By William Leask. London : B. Gbebn, 
Paternoster-row. 
This i^ an Essay on the Mediatorial System. Its object is to 

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232 Beview and CrUkUm* 

present a systematic view of redemption in a popular form. The 
author begins with the idea of Revelation, and passes under review, 
first a summary of the gracious plan, and then successively, its 
antiquity, ^'sovereignty, completeness, adaptation, freeness, efficacy, 
and design.** And he brings his subject to a point by presenting what 
may be supposed to be the conceptions of the redeemed concerning it, 
as they look back on its course of development in the present state, 
from that high platform which they occupy in the heavenly world 
** The great Redemption" is characterised by considerable originality 
and depth of thought. Its style is singularly clear, and it is entitled, 
on the whole, to occupy a highly respectable position among the 
theological productions of the age. 

Memoir of T. Batty, By John Petty, London : Thomas King, 
Button-street, Commercial Road East. 

This is the record of the life and labours of one of the most inde- 
fatigable of those zealous and self-denying men, who, under God, have 
made Primitive Methodism one of the great powers of the nineteenth 
century. Its author in a calm and dispassionate manner presents 
the principal incidents in the history of the deceased. The volume 
abounds with matters of deep interest, and cannot fail of a wide circu- 
lation both among the Primitive Methodists and Christians of other 
denominations. We wish the author's effort to preserve the memory 
of this good and useful man, may exceed his most sanguine anticipa- 
tions. 

GottholcTs Emblems. By Christiak Scrtveb. Edinburgh : T. and 
J. Clark, 38, 6eorge*street London : Hamilton, Adams, and Co. 

The work before us is a production of the German mind, to which 
the bibliography of the age, is so much indebted. German contribu- 
tions to our literature have, however, been mostly in the department 
of scientific theology; and some of those contributions have been of 
questionable value. In another department, for which the German 
intellect is eminently adapted, we have had fewer re-publications 
in this country from the German press — we allude to that of 
devotional literature. With the exception of Bogatzky's " Gk>ldea 
Treasury" and "the Emblems,'* we remember scarcely any other 
works in this department. This is to be regretted, for we understand 
the literature of Germany is rich in a class of works kindred with 
<* the Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul," — " the Saints' 
Everlasting Rest," — ^and " Hervey's Meditations." The translation of 
a few such works into English would do vastly more to promote the 
interests of vital godliness, than many of their muddy speculations in 
the department of Criticism. The publication of the beautiful work 
before us is a step in the right direction. Gotthold brings the genias 
of an ^sop to the illustration and enforcement of the principles of 
Divine truth. This work which has charmed the German people of 
six generations, is destined, we doubt not, by the aid of this trans- 
lation, to interest the English people for generations and ages to come. 
The " Emblems " is one of those works which cannot jierish. 



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WickliffVs Bible and his Colporteurs, 233 

Upward and Onward, By S. W, Partridge. London : Par- 
tridge and Co., Patemoster-row. 

This is a poetical production bj the Author of " Voices from the 
Garden," " An Idea of a Christian," &c. The following passage will 
convey some notion of the spirit and power of the author : — 

THE SABBATH. 

Oh day of happjr meetings, kindly nurse 

Of holiest charities and purest joys ! 

Oh day of glad domestic gatherings ! 

The sister, from the neighbouring village now » 

Th' family circle joins, and cheers the heart 

Of her fond father, and awakes his pride, 

Observant of her budding womanhood. 

Th' apprentice trudges from the distant town 

Big with commercicd duties, laden too 

With a huge hard-earned present, — all for her, 

His fond indulgent mother. With kind hand 

The loving gentle Sabbath gathers those 

Whom labour had dispersed, unites again 

The social fragments round the homely hearth, 

And makes the circle once again complete. 

Ev'n the brick floor, ruddy every day, 

To-day is clean and red beyond its wont, 

The hearth is whitened worthy " the best day ;" 

There is a larger joint upon the board, 

A bigger pie i' th' cupboard ; and around. 

The pure thankoffering of a gladdened heart 

Beams manifest from every brightened eye. 

We wish we had space for more passages from this excellent work. 

Motives to Holiness. By Benjamin Glazbbrook. London : M. 
Baxter, 5, Horseshoe-court, Ludgate Hill. 

A new work from the pen of Mr. Glazebrook. This is a suit- 
able sequel to those other excellent works from his racy pen, entitled, 
" Motives to Piety " and " Motives to Faith." The style and spirit 
ia the " Motives to Holiness " is the same as in the excellent and well 
known works just alluded to. We wish an extensive circulation to 
this little work. 



WICKLIFFE'S BIBLE AND HIS COLPORTEURS. 

As has been remarked before, no book before the invention of printing 
ever had such advantages for becoming widely known. Wickliffe, the 
great practical reformer, with his thorough knowledge of all classes of 
English society, had not urged through this gigantic task [his version of 
the Scriptures] as a mere experiment. He had hia eye on a definite, 
practicable result, the means for accomplishing which were in his own 
nands. Aside from the demand for the Scriptures excited by his general 
influence during a public career, he had at command one of the most 
eflfective agencies of modem publication. The active, hardy, itinerant 

R 



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234 British Colonization. 

preacliers whom he had sent out to procUum, by word of mouth, glad 
tidings to the poor, who hod threaded every part of England, and become 
intimately acauainted with the character and wants of its population, now 
formed a band of colpobtbvrs for the written Word. They knew in what 
&ir-off hamlets pious souls were counting the days to the return of their 
missionary and pining for the bread of lue; what thinking merchants and 
tradesmen in the great towns, what honourable men and women among 
the country gentry, were eager to search the Scriptures whether these 
things were so. Several copyists, no doubt, had kept pace with the pro- 
gress of the translation ; and as fast as a few chapters or a book was com- 
pleted, these faithful agents would make known the priceless treasure in 
the homes of the people. Many a touching scene might be imagined, of 
rustic groups by the wayside, in the churchyard, or around the peat fire 
at evening, listening for the first time to the words of the Bible in their 
mother tongue. Then how would the beautifully written manuscript be 
passed round, from hand to hand, to be admired and wondered at ; and not 
seldom to be wet with tears from eyes that beheld for the first time, in 
English characters, the name of Jesus ! Nor would the missionary be 
suffered to depart before a copy, of at least some portion, had been obtained. 
If 110 professional copyist was to be found, hands all unused to the labour 
of the pen would scrawl painfully a nide transcript of a plasm, of the ten 
commandments, a few chapters of the Gospels, or of Paul's Epistles, to 
remain as a lamp of heavenly light, when the living preacher had 
departed. It is a fact of intensest interest and significance, that numerous 
fi-agments of this kind were subsequently found among the Lollards. True, 
a large majority of the middle and lower ranks must have depended for 
their knowledge of the holy oracles on the ear alone ; but when the 
memory is little occupied, and the heai*t writes the lesson on its tablets, 
much of the very language of Scripture may even thus be handed down, 
unimpaired, through successive generations. The truth of this is abun- 
dantly verified in Uxq history of Wickliffe's later followers.— -5fr«. Conanfi 
JSnglish Bible, 



BRITISH COLONIZATION. 

The warlike legions that go forth to conquer remote regions — ^however 
dazzling their achievements — exercise a far less enduring influence, and 
noiaintain their territories by a far feebler hold than do the peaceful mis- 
sionaries of commerce who quit their native land to colonise. The 
national ffenius of the Goths, and especially of the Anglo-Saxon family, is 
pacific. The Norman invasion introduced into these islands an infusion of 
that martial spirit which characterises the Frankish races. But still the 
Anglo-Saxon blood predominates, and retains its indigenous virtue. If 
Great Britain have created, as undoubtedly she has created, an empire far 
wider than that " of Greek or Boman fame," it has been less by the power 
of her arms than by the sway of her intellect Her progress in truth, has 
often been stained with bloou ; but comparatively less so than that of the 
other European nations who have invaded the American, African, or Aus- 
tralian territories. 

It were indeed easy in the records of our colonial history to fix upon foul 
deeds, and to brand with infamy many a distinguished actor ; but if our 
system of colonization has been on the whole more prosperous than that of 
our neighbours, it is because it has been on the whole more peaceful 
and benevolent. Contrast the inroads of Spain in Central and Southern 
America, with the progress of England in the Northern part of that great 
continent. The sole instrument by which the Spaniards established, and 

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The Last One RemenUfcred, 235 

sought to oonsolidate their authority was that of violence, and when, in pro- 
gress of time, it was wrested from their hands by their descendants, aided 
to a small extent by the native tribes, violence is still found to be the 
foundation on which the revolutionary governments seek to erect themselves, 
and confusion and anarchy follow in its train. Not so were our American 
plantations founded. The soldier did not precede, or make way tor the 
citizen. The sword was not the precursor of the plough. Peaceful men — 
pilgrims of liberty — pastoral families who tilled the field, and levelled the 
forest, were the most successful and the most honoured settlers ; and the 
great North American race still preserves the stamp of its origin. To me 
nothing appears so unnatural, — so unnational,— so wholly out of keeping 
with elL the antecedents of American history, as this warlike cry which has 
lately broken out in the United States for Texas, and Oregon, and Mexico, 
and California. I know it has been loud — but it must have been hollow. 
The venr instinct of America must respond to the admirable advice 
addi'essed to them by Dr. Mackay — 

If we do desire the land 

Bide your hour — 'twill not be long j 
Clear it — plant it— send a band. 

Peaceful, enterprising, strong, 
Who will people all the clime. 

Spreading commerce as they go. 
Free to answer in their time. 

When you ask them, " Yes, or No !** 

And who will dare refuse to ratify a "Yes, or No !" so uttered? 

Look at Algeria ! It represents the attempts of a nation renowned for 
military prowess to establish a colonial empire by force of arms. It is a 
most disappointing and disastrous exhibition. The warrior there was to 
make way for the settler. It would be difficult to estimate what multitudes 
of men, and what amounts of money have been sacrificed by the French in 
their determination to make Algeria their own. The Arabs have been 
extirpated with the most reckless barbarity. Razzias — a horrible word — 
implying general devastation and destruction, have been adopted against the 
natives, not as a dire and dreadful necessity, but as part of a system. The 
colonization of the European just progresses with the flight or the annihi- 
lation of the children of the desert. A succession of what are called vic- 
tories mark the progress of French aggression. But never was a land held 
by a more unsatisfactory tenure. The man who sows, and the man who 
reaps the harvest, requires the protection of the soldiery. Beyond the 
spots occupied by military legions there is everywhere peril to the traveller. 
Violen<fe is the only sceptre — the only authority. It is not an auxiliary to 
aid the decrees of law and equity ; there is no law or equity but that of 
force. Government is war, and being war briogs with it all war*s demora- 
lisation—crime and calamity. Would that France, having so completely 
foiled in her schemes of coercion and conquest, were persuaded to try. 
whether civilisation and kindness — whether a pacific instead of a belligerent 
policjr might not better advance her objects! — From a Lecture on the 
Political and Commercial Importance of PeacCy delivered in the London 
EaU of Commerce, and published by the Peace Society. 



THE CASKET. 

THE LAST ONE REMEMBERED. 

It is a mar^ of f^race, that the believer in his progress heavenward, grows 
more and more alive to the claims of Jesus, if you " know the love of 

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236 The Casket. 

Christ," his is the latest name yoa will desire to utter ; his is the latest 
thought jou ^ili desire to form ; upon Him you will fix jrour last look on 
earth, upon him your first in heaven. When memory is oblivious of all 
other objects — when all that attracted the natural eye is wrapped in the 
mists of death — when the tongue b cleaving to the roof of our mouth, and 
speech is gone, and sight is gone, and hearing gone, and the right hand, 
lying powerless by our side, has lost its cunning, Jesus! then may we re- 
member Thee ! If the shadows of death are to be thrown in deepest dark- 
ness on the valley, when we are passing along it to glory, may it be ouis to 
die like that saint, beside whose bed wife and children once stood, weeping 
over the wreck of faded faculties, and a blank, departed memory. One bad 
asked him, '* Father, do you ramember me ?*' and received no answer ; and 
another and another, but still no answer. And then, all making way for 
■the venerable companion of a long and loving pilgrimage — the tender 
partner of many a past joy and sorrow — bis wife draws near. She bends 
over him, and as her tears rail thick upon his face, she cries, **Do you not 
remember- me ?*' A stare — bat it is vacant. There is no soul in that filmy 
eye ; and the seal of death lies upon those lips. The sun is down, and life's 
brief twilight is darkening fast into a stai'less night. At this moment, one 
calm enough to remember how the love of Christ^s spouse is " strong as 
death" — a love that many " waters cannot quench" — stooped to his ear, and 
said, " Do you remember Jesus Christ ?" The word was no sooner uttered 
than it seemed to recall the spirit, hovering for a moment, ere it took wing 
to heaven. Touched as by an electric influence, the heart beats once more 
to the name of Jesus ; the features fixed in death, relax; the countenance, 
dark in death, flashes up like the last gleam of day ; and with a smile in 
which the soul passed away to glory, he replied, <* Bemember Jesus Christ ! 
dear Jesus Christ ! he is all my saltation, and all my desire." — Br, Guthrie, 

OBORGB FOX, THE FIRST QUAKER. 

While London was agitated by the news that a plot had been disooveredj 
George Fox, the founder of the sect of Quakers, died. 
. More than forty years had elapsed since Fox had begun to see visions 
^uid caflt out devils. He was then a youth of pure morals and grave 
deportment, with a perverse temper, with the education of a labouring 
^man, and with an intellect in the most unhappy of all states, that is to say, 
too much disordered for liberty, and sufficiently disordered for BedlauL 
The circumstances in which he was placed were such as could scarcely 
fail to bring out in the strongest form the constitutional diseases of bis 
mind. At the time when his faculties were ripening, Episcopalians, Pres- 
l)yterians, Independents,' Baptists, were striving for mastery, and were, in 
every comer of the realm, refuting and reviling each other. He wandered 
from congregation to congregation. He heard priests harangue against 
Puritans, Puritans harangue against priests, and he in vain applied for 
spiritual direction and consolation to doctors of both parties. One jolly 
old clergyman of the Anglican communion told him to smoke tobacco and 
Bing psalms ; another advised him to go and lose some blood. The young 
inquirer turned in disgust from the i^visers to the Dissenters, and found 
them also blind guides. After some time, he came to the conclusion that 
no human being was competent to instruct him in Divine things, and that 
the truth had been communicated to him by direct inspiration from 
Heaven. He argued, that, as the division of language began at Babel, and 
as the persecutors of Christ put on the cross an inscription in Latin, Greek, 
and Hebrew, the knowledge of languages, and more especially of Latin, 
Greek, and Hebrew, must oe useless to a Christian minister. Indeed, he 
was so far from knowing many languages, that he knew none ; nor can 



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The Casket. 23^ 

the most corrupt passage in Hebrew be more unintelligible to the nn- 
leamedj than his English often is to the most acute and attentive 
reader. One of the precious truths which were divinely revealed to 
this new apostle was, that it was falsehood and adulation to Ui:e the 
second person plural instead of the second person singular. Another 
was, that to talk of the month of March was to worship the blood- 
thirsty god Mars, and that to talk of Monday was to pay idolatrous 
homage to the moon. To say good morning or good evening was highly 
reprehensible, for those phrases evidently imposed that God had made bad 
days and bad nights. A Christian was bound to face death itself rather 
than touch his hat to the greatest of mankind. When Fox was challenged 
to produce any Scriptural authority for his dogma, he cited the passage in 
which it is written that Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego were thrown 
into the fiery furnace with their hats on ; and, if his own narrative may be 
trusted, the Chief Justice of England was altogether unable to answer this 
argument, except by crying out, " Take him away, gaoler." Fox insisted 
much on the not less weighty argument that the Turks never show their 
hare heads to their superiors; and he asked, with great animation, 
whether those who bore the noble name of Christians ought not to surpass 
Turks in virtue. Bowing he strictly prohibited, and, indeed, seemed to 
consider it as the effect of Satanical influence ; for, as he observed, the 
Woman in the Gospel, while bhe had a spirit of infirmity, was bowed 
together, and ceased to bow as soon as Divine Power had liberated her 
from the tyranny of the Evil One. His expositions of the sacred writings 
were of a very peculiar kind. Passages, which had been in the apprehen- 
sion of all the readers of the Gospels during sixteen centuries, figurative, 
he construed literally. Passages, which no human being before him had 
ever understood in any other than a literal sense, he construed figura- 
tively. Thus, from those rhetorical expressions in which the duty of 
patience under injuries is enjoined, he deduced the doctrine that self-^" 
defence against pirates and assassins is unlawful. On the other hand, the 
plain commands to baptize with water, and to partake of bread and wine 
in commemoration of the redemption of mankind, he pronounced to be 
allegorical. He long wandered from place to place, teaching this strange 
theology, shaking iSte an aspen leaf in his paroxysms of fanatical excite- 
ment, forcing his way into churches, which he nicknamed steeple-houses, 
interrupting prayers and sermons with clamour and scunility, and pester- 
ing rectors and justices with epistles much resembling burlesques of those 
Buhlime odes in which the Hebrew prophets foretold the calamities of 
Babylon and Tyre. He soon acquired great notoriety by these feats. His 
strange face, his strange chants, his immovable hat, and his leather 
breeches, were known all over the country ; and he boasts that, as soon ar 
the rumour was heard, **The man in leather breeches is coming," terror 
seized hypocritical professors, and hireling priests made haste to get out of 
his way. He was repeatedly imprisoned and set in the stocks, sometimes 
justly, for disturbing the public worship of congregations, and sometimes 
tinjustly, for merely talking nonsense. H e soon gathered round him a body 
of disciples, some of whom went beyond himself in absurdity. He has told 
tis one of his friends walked naked through Skipton declaring the truth, 
and another was divinely moved to go naked during several years to 
market-places, and to the houses of gentlemen and clergymen. Fox com- 
plains bitterly that these pious acts, prompted by the Holy Spirit, were 
requited by an untoward generation with hooting, pelting, coach whipping, 
and horsewhipping. But though he applauded the zeal of the sufferers, he 
did not go quite to their lengths. He sometimes, indeed, was impelled to 
strip himself partially. Thus he pulled off his shoes and walked barefoot 
through LiQhfield, crying, '^Woe to the bloody city." But it does not 



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288 The Casket. 

appear that he ever thought it his daty to appear before the public 
-without that decent garmeut from which his popular appeliation was 
derived. 

If we form our judgment of George Fox simply by looking at his own 
actions and writings, we shall see no reason for placing him, morally and 
intellectually, above Ludowick Muggleton or Joanna Southcote. But it 
would be most unjust to rank the sect which regards him as its founder 
with the Muggletonians or the Southcotians. It chanced that among the 
thousands whom his enthusiasm infected were a few persons whose abuitiea 
and attainments were of a very different order from his own. Eobert 
Barclay was a man of considerable parts and learning. William Fenn, 
though inferior to Barclay in both natural and acquired abilities, was 
a gentleman and a scholar. That such men should have become the 
followers of George Fox ought not to astonish any person who remembers 
what qxiick, vigorous, and highly-cultivated intellects were in our own 
time duped by the unknown tongues. The truth is, that no powers of mind 
constitute a security against errors of this description. Touching God and 
his ways with man, the highest human faculties can discover little more 
than the meanest. In theology, the interval is small indeed between 
Aristotle and a child, between Archimedes and a naked savage. It is not 
strange, therefore, that wise men, weary of investigation, tormented by 
uncertainty, longing to believe something, and yet seeing objections to 
everything, should submit themselves absolutely to teachers who, with 
firm and undoubting faith, lay claim to a supernatural commission. Thus 
we frequently see inquisitive and restless spirits take refuge from their 
own scepticism in the bosom of a church which pretends to infallibility, 
and, after questioning the existence of a Deity, bring themselves to 
worship a wafer. And thus it was that Fox made some converts to whom 
he was immeasurably inferior in everything except the energy of his 
convictions. By these converts his rude doctrines were polished into 
a form less shocking to good sense and good taste. No proposition 
which he had laid down was retracted— no indecent or ridiculous act which 
he had done or approved was condemned ; but what was most grossly 
absurd in his theories and practice was softened down, or at least not 
obtruded on the public ; whatever could be made to appear specious was 
set in the fairest light : his gibberish was translated into Englisn, meanings 
which he would have been quite unable to comprehend were put upon his 
phrases, and his system so much improved that he would not nave known 
it again, was defended by numerous citations from Pagan philosophers and 
Christian fathers whose names he had never heard. Still, however, those 
who had remodelled his theology, continued to profess, and doubtless to feel, 
profound reverence for him ; and his crazy Epistles were to the last received 
and read with respect in Quaker meetings all over the country. His death 
produced a sensation which was not confined to his own disciple& On the 
morning of the funeral a great multitude assembled round the meeting- 
house in Gracechurch-street. Thence the corpse was bom to the burial 
ground of the sect near Bunhill-fields. Several orators addressed the 
crowd which filled the cemetery. 

DEATH OF QUEEN MART. 

"William had but too good reason to be uneasy. His wife had, during two 
or three days, been poony; and, on the preceding evening, ^ravesjrmptoras 
had appeared. Sir Thomas Millington, who was physician in ordinary 
to the King, thought that she had the measles, but Kadcliffe, who, with 
coarse manners and little book learning, had raised himself to the first 
practic in London, chiefly by his rare skill in diagnostics, uttered the 



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The Casket 239 

more alarming words, " small pox." That disease, over which science has 
achieved a succession of glorious and beneficent victories, was then the 
most terrible of all the ministers of death. The havoc of the plague had 
been far more rapid, but the plague had visited our shores only once or 
twice within living memory, and the small-pox was always present, tilling 
the churchyard with corpses, tormenting with constant fears all whom it 
had not yet stricken ; leaving on those whose lives it spared the hideous 
traces of its power; turning the babe into a changeling at which the 
mother shuddered, and making the eyes and cheeks of the betrothed 
maiden, objects of horror to the lover. Towards the end of 1694, this 
pestilence was more than usually severe. At length the infection spreadl 
to the palace, and reached the young and blooming queen. She received 
the intimation of her danger with true greatness of soul. She gave orders 
that every lady of her bedchamber, every maid of honour, nay, even 
every menial servant, who had not had the small-pox, should instantly 
leave Kensington House. She locked herself up during a short time in 
her closet, burned some papers, arranged others, and then calmly awaited 
her fate. 

During two or three days there were many alternations of hope and 
fear. The physicians contradicted each other and themselves in a way 
which sufficiently indicates the stjite of medical science in that age. The 
disease was measles, it was scarlet fever, it was spotted fever, it was 
erysipelas. At one moment some symptoms, which, in truth, showed that 
the case was almost hopeless, were hailed as indications of returning 
health. At length all doubt was over ; Eadcliffe's opinion proved to be 
right ; it was plain that the queen was sinking under small-pox of the 
most malignant type. 

All this time William remained night and day near her bed-side. The 
little couch on which he slept when in camp was spread for him in the 
ante-chamber, but he scarcely lay down on it. " The sight of his misery," 
the Dutch envoy wrote, " was enough to melt the hardest heart." Nothing 
seemed to be left to the man whose serene fortitude had been the wonder 
of old soldiers on the disastrous day of Landen, and of old sailors on that 
fearful night, among the sheets of ice and banks of sand on the coast of 
Goree. The very domestics saw the tears running unchecked down that 
face, of which the stem composure had seldom been disturbed by any 
triumph or any defeat. Several of the prelates were in attendance. The 
king drew Burnet aside, and gave way to an agony of grief. " There is no 
hope," he cried. " I was the happiept man on earth, and I am the most 
miserable. She had no fault— none ; you knew her well, but you could 
not know, nobody but myself could" know, her goodness." Tenison 
undertook to tell her that she was dying. He was afraid that such 
a communication, abruptly made, might agitate her violently, and began 
vith much management ; but she soon caught his meaning, and with that 
gentle, womanly courage, which so often puts our bravery to shame, 
submitted herself to the will of God. She called for a small cabinet, 
in which her most important papera were locked up, gave orders that, 
as soon as she was no more, it should be delivered to the king, and 
then dismissed worldly cares from her mind. She received the Eucharist, 
and repeated her part of the office with unimpaired memory and intelli- 
gence, though in a feeble voice. She observed that Tenison bad been long 
standing at her bedside, and with that sweet courtesy which was habitusS 
to her, Sdtered out her commands that he would sit down, and repeated 
them till he obeyed. After she had received the Sacrament, she sunk 
rapidly, and uttered only a few broken words. Twice she tried to take 
a last farewell of him whom she had loved so truly and entirely, but 
she was unable to speak. He had a succession of fits so alarming, that his 



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240 The Casket. 

priTy cotincillord, who were asembled in a neighbonriDg room, Were appre- 
neusive for his reason and his life. The Duke of Leeds, at the request of 
his colleagues, yentured to assume the friendly guardianship of which minds 
deranged by sorrow stand in need. A few minutes before the queen 
expired, William was remoyed, almost insensiblei from the sick room. 

FEUIT8 OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1688. 

England has passed through severe trials, and had come forth renewed in 
health and vigour. Ten years before it had seemed that both her liberty 
and her independence were no more. Her liberty she had vindicated by a 
just and necessary revolution. Her independence she had reconquered by 
a not less just and necessary war. She had successfully defended the order 
of things established by the Bill of Rights against .the mighty moDBrch 
of France, against the aboriginal population of Ireland, against the avowed 
hostility of die nonjurors, against the more dangerous hostility of traitors 
who were ready to take any oath, and whom no oath could bind. Her open 
enemies had been victorious on many fields of battle. Her secret enemies 
had commanded her jQeets and armies, had been in charge of her arsenals, 
had administered at her altars, and taught at her universities, had swarmed 
in her public offices, had sat in her parliament, had bowed and fawned in 
the beachamber of her king. More than once it had seemed impossible 
that anything could avert a restoration which would inevitably have been 
followed, first, by proscriptions and confiscations, by the violation of 
fundamental laws, and the persecution of the established religion, and then 
by a third rising up of the nation against that house which two depositions 
and two banishments had only made more obstinate in evil. To the dangers 
of war and the dangers of treason had recently been added the dangers of 
a terrible financial and commercial crisis. But all those dangers were over. 
There was peace abroad and at home. The kingdom, after many years of 
Ignominious vassalage, had resumed its ancient place in the first rank of 
European powers. Many signs justified the hope that the revolution of 
1688 would be our last revolution. The ancient constitution was adapting 
itself, by a natural, a gradual, a peaceful development, to the wants of a 
modem society. Already freedom of conscience and freedom of discussion 
existed to an extent unknown in any preceding age. The currency had 
been restored, public credit had been re-established, trade had revived, the 
exchequer was overflowing ; there was a sense of relief everywhere, from 
the Hoyal Exchange to the most secluded hamlets among the mountains of 
Wales and the fens of Lincolnshine. The ploughmen, the shepherds, the 
miners of the Northumbrian coal-pits, the artisans who toiled at the looms 
of Norwich and the anvils at Birmingham, felt the change without under- 
standing it ; and the cheerful bustle in every seaport and every market 
town indicated, not obscurely, the commencement of a happier age. 

THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 

During near half an hour the battle continued to rage along the southern 
shore of the river. All was smoke, dust, and din. Old soldiers were 
heard to say, that they had seldom seen sharper work in the low countries. 
But, just at this conjuncture, William came up with the left wing. He bad 
found much difficulty in crossing. The tide was running fast. His 
charger had been forced to swim, and had been almost lost in the mud. As 
soon as the king was on firm ground he took his sword in his left hand, for 
his right arm was stiff with his wound and his bandage, and led his men 
to the place where the fight was the hottest. His arrival decided the fate 
of the day ; yet the Irish horse retired fighting obstinately. It was long 
remembered amon? the Protestants of Ulster, that, in the midst of the 
tumult, W iUiam rode to the head of the Enniskilleners. ** What will you 



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The Casket. 241 

do for me ?" be ^rxedu He was not immediately recognised, and one 
trooper, taking him for an enemy, was about to fire. William gently put 
aside the carbine. " What," said he, " do you not know your friends ?" 
"It is his majesty,'' said the colonel. The ranks of sturdy Protestant 
yeomen set up a shout of joy. ** Gentlemen," said William, " you shall be 
my guards to-day. I have heard much of you. Let me see something of 
you." One of the most remarkable peculiarities of this man, ordinarily so 
saturnine and reseinred, was, that danger acted on him like wine, opened his 
heart, loosened his tongue, and took away all appearance of constraint from 
his mannw. On this memorable day he was seen wherever the peril was 
greatest. One ball struck the cap of his pistol, another carried off the heel 
of his jadcboot ; but his lieutenants in vain implored him to retire to some 
station from which he could give his orders without exposing a life so 
valuable to Surope. His troops, animated by his example, gained ground 
last. The Irish cavalry made their last stand at a house called Plottin 
Castle, about a mile and a half south of Oldbridge. There the Ennis* 
killeners were repelled with the loss of fifty men, and were hotly pursued, 
till William rallied them and turned the chase back. In this encounter 
Richard Hamilton, who had done all that could be done by valour to 
retrieve a reputation forfeited by perfidy, was severely wounded, taken 
prisoner, and instantly brought through the smoke, and over the carnage, 
before the pi-ince whom he had foully wronged. On no occasion did the cha- 
racter of William show itself in a more striking manner. '< Is this business 
over ?" he said, *' or will your horse make more fi^ht P*' ^ On my honour, 
sir," answered Hamilton, **I believe that they will." "Your honour!'* 
muttered William, *• your honour !" That half-suppressed exclamation was 
the only revenge which he condescended to take for an injury for which 
many sovereigns, far more affable and p^racious in their ordinary deport- 
ment, would have exacted a terrible retribution. Then restraining himself, 
he ordered his own surgeon to look to the hurts of the captive. 

EiNQ William's manners. 

One of the chief functions of our sovereigns had long been to preside 
over the society of the capital. That function Charles the Second had pcr- 
i'ormed with immense success. His easy bow, his good stories, his style of 
dancing and playing tennis, the sound of his cordial laugh, were familiar to 
all London. One day he was seen among the elms of St. James's park 
chatting with Dryden about pjoetry. Another day his arm was on Tom 
Darfey^ shoulder ; and his Majesty was taking a second, while his com- 
panion sang, "Phillida, Phillida," or " To horse, brave boys, to Newmarket, 
to horse.'* James, with much less vivacity and good nature, was accessible, 
and, to people who did not cross him, civil. But of this sociableness 
William was entirely destitute. He seldom came forth from his closet ; and 
when he appeared in the public rooms, he stood among the crowd of cour- 
tiers and ladies, stern and abstracted, making no jest and smiling at none. 
His freezing look, his silence, the dry and concise answers which he uttered 
when he could keep silence no longer, disgusted noblemen and gentlemen 
who had been accustomed to be slapped on the back by their royal masters, 
called Jack or Harry, congratulated about race cups or rallied about 
actresses. The women missed the homage due to their sex. They observed 
that the king spoke in a somewhat imperious tone even to the wife to whom 
he owed so much, and whom he sincerely loved and esteemed. They were 
amused and shocked to see him, when the Princess Anne dined with him, 
and when the first green peas of the year were put on the table, devour the 
whole dish without offering a spoonful to her Koyal Highness ; and they 
pronounced that this great soldier and politici&n was no better than a low 
Dutch bear. One mistbrtune, which was imputed to him as a crime, was 



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242 The Casket. 

his bad English. He spoke oar language, but not well. His accent was 
foreign ; his diction was inelegant ; and his Tocabalary seems to have been 
no larger than was necessary for transaction of business. To the difficulty 
which he felt in expressing himself, and to his consciousness that his 
pronunciation was bad, must be partly ascribed the taciturnity and the 
short answers which gave so much offence. Our literature he was in- 
capable of enjoying or of understanding. He ncTer once, during his whole 
reign, showed himself at the theatre. The poets who wrote Pindaric 
verses in his praise complained that their flights of sublimity were beyond 
his comprehension. Those who are acquainted with the panegyrical odes of 
that age, will perhaps be of opinion that he did not lose much hy 
his ignorance. 

THE FAULTS OF THE TOLEKATION ACT. 

The Toleration Act approaches very near to the idea of a great English 
law. To a jurist, versed in the theory of legislation, but not intintotely 
acquainted with the temper of the sects and parlies into which the nation 
was divided at the time of the Revolution, that Act would seem to be a 
mere chaos of absurdities and contradictions. It will not bear to be tried 
by sound general principles. Nay, it will not bear to be tried by any prin- 
eiples, sound or unsound. The sound principle undoubtedly is, that mere 
theological error ou^ht not to be punished by the civil magistrate. This 
principle the Toleration Act not only does not recognise, but positively dis- 
claims. Not a single one of the cruel laws enacted against Nonconformists 
by the Tudors or the Stuarts is repealed. Persecution Continues to be the 
general rule. Toleration is the exception. Nor is this all. The freedom 
which is given to conscience is given in the most capricious manner. A 
Qaaker, by making a declaration of faith in general terms, obtains the fnll 
benefit of the Act without signing one of the Thirty-nine Articles. 
An Independent minister, who is perfectly willing to make the declamtion 
required from the Quaker, but who has doubts about six or seven of the 
Articles, remains still subject to the penal laws. Howe is liable to punish- 
ment if he preaches before he has solemnly declared his assent to the 
Anglican doctrine touching the Eucharist. Penn, who altogether rejects 
the Eucharist, is at perfect liberty to preach without making any declara- 
tion whatever on the subject. 

MOTIVE POWER OF THE NUOARA FALLS, AS COMPARED WITH 
THE WOBKS OF ART. 

It appears, from a calculation made by Mr. G. R. Blackwell, in the Ame- 
rican Journal of Science and Arts, that the waterfall of Niagara is capahle 
of imparting a mechanical force of motive power equal to 4,533,334 horse 
power, being nineteen times greater than the aggregate motive power of 
all the steam-engines and waterfalls of Great Britain ; and when it is con- 
sidered that the water power of the cataract of Niagara is unceasing night 
and day, and that the power, as calculated above, for practicable purposes, 
in Great Britain, is only applied, on an average, about eleven hours per day 
during six days of the week, it may be assumed that the motive power of 
the Fall is at least forty-fold of the aggregate of all the water and steam 
power of this country. 

" Such, and in so great a scale," says the Journal, " are the ordinary 
operations of the impulses of physical power employed in the mechanics of 
nature in the movements of a single nver, that there is thus furnished an 
impressible lesson to humble the pride of man in his boasted achievements 
of the triumphs of mind over matter.' 

" True, there is much in the comparison to humble man in the pride of 
his triumphs, and the boast of his discoveries--and we even might pro- 



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The Casket. 243 

ceed a little farther, untD. we had reduced into utter insignificance the most 
brilliant attainments of art, and the proudest monuments of human skill and 
ingenuity : — 

In human works though laboured on with pain, 
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain. 

" The projectile force of a cannon>ball is equal to eight miles per minute; 
what is this compared with the tangential force of the earth at a point of its. 
orbit, which is equal to nearly 1,130 miles per minute ? The greatest arti- 
ficial heat yet obtained is 21,877 deg. scale of Fahrenheit ; the internal 
heat of the earth is computed to be equal to 450,000 deg. Thus ascending 
in the scale of creation, we outstrip every element of calculation, and 
annihilate every point of comparison, in estimating the energies of matter, 
whether as developed in the mechanics or in the chemistry of nature. The 
concentration of power is an object aimed at by man in the progress of dis- 
covery, but it is not the chief one ; the application of that power to the 
-Tarious purposes of life has contributed most to call forth his ingenuity. In 
the steam-engine, he is in possession of a power limited only by the strength 
of the vessel in which it is generated ; but unlimited in its wonderful appli- 
cation to the numerous and diversified processes of art and manufactures. 
With this power, man has reduced the labour of five hundred years to one 
day ; with this power he can perform the most delicate processes, as well as 
those requiring the greatest application of mechanical energy — with this 
power he has diminished both time and space. But recently he only 
crawled on the sur&ce of the earth ; now, he can transport himself from 
place to place with the swiftness of the carrier-pigeon ; and thus, by the 
rapidity of his movements, the extent of his intercourse, the variety of his 
operations, and the amount of his enjoyments, he has materially added to 
the sum of his existence, and extended the boundaries of thought and of 
action." 

A WORD TO THB SORROWFUL. 

" They that sow in tears shall reap in joy " — not they that simply sow 
tears. "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall 
doubtless come again rejoicing " — not he that only weeps. 

Let us remember this, lest we be asked, " Where are your sheaves ? " 
Why are they not the richer for this dew of heaven, for this " rain upon the 
mown grass ? " How many are they who ** wrap the mantle of their grief 
about them," and idly sigh their life away ; making, moreover, a virtue of 
their cloak, even a robe of righteousness, which shall, they think, admit 
them into heaven ! 

Let us rather feel our responsibility to be the greater for all this grief.. 
After all this process of cultivation — this gift of God for the end of our 
perfection, shall we not indeed be barren trees, unprofitable servants, if we 
have no harvest to bring in, no jewelled crowns to lay down at Jesus' feet ! — 
at the feet of this Captain of our Salvation, who was made perfect through 
suffering; of Him who, " though he was a Son, yet learned he obedience by 
the things which he suffered ? " — Puritan Recorder, 

A BRIEF COLLOQUY. 

"Our doctrine," said a Universalist preacher, "is certainly the most 
merciful ; it embraces in its charity the 'whole race of man, and divests 
God of all appearance of that severe justice, which you say requires him to 
damn sinners. Surely, if you would consult your peace of mind, you 
would discard your gloomy views and embrace it." "True," says the 
plain Christian addressed, " it seems to be very charitable ; but is it true 1 
Snppose I should trust in it, is there any way of rectifying my mistake, if 



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244 Eeligioiu Intelligence* 

in the other world I Bhonld find it to be erroneous 1 I feel no dispoation 
to hazard mj soul, and as UniyersaliBm will, if tme, cover my case at all 
events, I will in the meantime trust to the eood old way, of believing ia 
Christ for salvation, and testifying my sincerity by a holy life." 

LIFE A FILGBIMAGK 

' Here thou art but a stranger, travelling to thy country, where the glories 
of a kingdom are prepared for thee ; it is, therefore, a huge folly to be 
much aMcted because thou hast a less convenient Inn to Iwlge in by the 
way. 

SECRET FRAYEIU 

Christian brother ! hast thou " entered into thy closet" daily of late ? If 
not, what dishonoar hast thou done to Him who stands ready there to 
*^ hear all thy petitions !" How much love for your family could you be 
supposed to possess, if you should stay away from the family circle whole 
davs, and eat and sleep in your barn ? Yon can eat your breaa from heaven 
only in the closet, and keep your heart warm with the blood of Jesns only 
there. If you are willing to venture through the dangers, and to assume 
the responsibilities of any day of your life, without Christ for your guide 
and strength on that day, omit entering your closet, but on no other. 

Again, hast thou considered the closet the place for the virtual achieve- 
ment of the main business of life ? Jacob had been many years acting out 
the views gained and plans formed in secret communion with Grod, when be 
was about to meet Esau, who might destroy him. Now, he must gain 
victory and success in his secret communion wish God. In going to 
and coming from Fandan-aram, he achieved the great ends he aimed at in 
secret intercourse with God. Before we have God with us in outward 
labour, we must seek him and gain his direction, and promise of help in 
secret. Oh, if thy heart was more in the closet, it would be more full of 
hope in the church of God, where thou oughtest to "play the man" 
always. 



RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENCE. 
GROSVENOR-STREET CIRCUIT. 

GREEN HSYB CHAPEL. 

Dear Sir, 

You will be pleased to learn that the interests of the kingdom of our 
Redeemer are being promoted in our Circuit. 

Simultaneously with the revival of the work of God, by which many have 
Been brought to a saving acquaintance with Him, it has been our delight 
to receive other manifestations of His favour. 

From the time our Association first was formed, we have had a 
Sabbath-sebool (the Wilmot Street Sabbath- school), on this side of tlie 
Circuit. But although situate in a densely populated neighbourhood, we 
have done little more than keep our school together. We had long been of 
opinion, that in order to succeed, it would be necessary to have more suitable 
accommodation, but until, in the order of Divine Providence, our way was 
opened, all our efforts were utterly fruitless. Our extremity proved to be 
God's opportunity. A. small but neat and comfortable chapel and school- 
room, which had been built about the year 1855, for the use of the Primitive 
Methodists, was offered for sale by auction, it was thought by many of our 
friends that if the purchase could be effected, at a suitable price, we ought to 
secure the place. 

On the day of sale, the chapel and school-room were bought for the use 
of the Wesley an Methodist Association, for the sum of 4007. Conveyance, 
alterations, &c., have increased the cost to about 500/. 



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Religious Intelligence, 245 

It being our opinion that the house of God should be free of debt, an effort 
has been made, wliereby we hope that, within twelve months from the time of 
.opening, to have it free from all encumbrance. 

To accomplish this object, we iirst called together a few friends, who nobly 
responded to our appeal for aid. Our next business was to set about can- 
vassing the Circuit, the result of which canvass has been most gratifying. 

On Sunday, February 1st, the chapel was opened for Divine worship, when 
tbe Rev. A. Gilbert, our much esteemed minister, preached in the morning 
and evening, and the Kev. J. Steele, of Sal ford, in the afternoon. 

On the following Monday evening, the Rev. Wm. McKerrow, D.D., of the 
United Presbyterian Church, preached for us; and in addition to a most 
eloquent discourse, made us a present of half-a-sovereign. 

On Sunday, February 8th, the Rev. G. J. N. Faull preached in the 
morning ; the Rev. M. Miller in the afternoon ; and the Rev. H. Tarrant in 
the evening. 

On the Monday evening following, we had an excellent discourse from the 
Rev. Joseph Rayner Stephens of Staley bridge. 

Tbe services were well attended, and the collections good, amounting 
altogether to upwards of 30/. 

On Wednesday evening, February I8th, we had a public tea-meeting, the 
trays for which were kindly furnished by the ladies. After tea, the. chair was 
occupied by our minister, the Rev. A. Gilbert, when the meeting, which was 
a crowded one, was addressed by the llev. J. Steele, and others. ^ 

Our prospects are most cheering, — the school is rapidly filling,— and we 
doubt not but that, with the blessing of God upon our united efforts, we shall 
soon bave to say, " the place is too straight for us, give us room that we may 
dwell." 

ManeheMter, March 10, 1857. Jas. McAllesteb. 



STOCKTON CIRJCUIT. 

"the WESLEY FAMILY " LECTURES. 

The fifth and concluding lecture of this most interesting series was delivered 
by the Rev. Edmund Heywood, in the Wesleyan Association Chapel, Regent- 
street, Stockton, on Tuesday evening last The audience was larger than at any of 
the preceding lectures, ana completely crowded the chapel. The entirely unsec- 
tarian character of the lectures and their enduring interest, combined with the 
well known abilities of the lecturer, occasioned a large attendance of members 
of other denominations. Amongst the audience we noticed Episcopalians, 
Independents, Baptists, Presbyterians, Wesleyan and Primitive Metnodists, 
and persons of no professions whatever, all drawn together by a common 
sympathy to listen to Mr. Heywood's delineation of the founder of Method- 
ism. The chair was occupied by Mr. Thomas Brown. The subject, as an- 
nounced, was " John Wesley, what he was, what he taught, what he did i 
Saul of Tarsus, Martin Luther, and John Wesley compared. ' 

Mr. Heywood commenrced with a brief review of his former lectures, show- 
ing tbe influence possessed by the parents of John Wesley in forming the cha- 
racter of their most celebrated son ; the judicious training jziven by his 
motber especially, being cited as a glorious example for all Christian parents. 
His diligence was pointed out as the secret of his success. His large-nearted 
benevolence when at college, and throughout life was illustrated by charac- 
teristic incidents. The lecturer gave a graphic sketch of the extraordinary 
circumstances of Mr. Wesley's eventful career, embracing the mission to 
Oeorgia ; his conversion ; the closing of the churches against him ; his con- 
nection and difference with Whitfield (of whom Mr. Hevwood spoke in terms 
of the highest commendation) ; the foundation of Methodism and its subse- 
quent success; his unhappy marriage, and its attendant circumstances ; his 
cbeerful and happy old age, and triumphant death. As an author, Wesley 
was most industrious, as his Christian library, his sermons and hymns, and 
the ** Arminiaa Magazine," (of tvhich he was editor for a considerable time), 



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246 ReUgious Intelligence. 

sufficiently prove. How he travelled, preached, and wrote bo much, has 
been the wonder of all, but in Mr. Hey wood's words, " he never lost an 
hour." 

The lecturer then made a brief survey of the points of comparison between 
the Apostle of the Gentiles, Martin Luther, ana John Wesley, instancing the 
zeal and earnestness displayed by them in their search after the troth, the 
manner of their conversions, the moral courage exhibited by each on many 
trying occasions, their great superiority over their fellows — each standing far 
out like landmarks in the religious history of the world — and their abundant 
success. 

This lecture, like the preceding ones, was copiously illustrated by facts and 
arguments poured forth from a richlv-stored mind, guarded by a powerful and 
retentive memorv, and which, guided hy^ a keen mother- wit, Mr. Heywood 
placed before his hearers iu a most attractive and telling style. 

The most marked attention was bestowed by the audience throughoat the 
evening, and the applause given was as liberal as it was deserved. A vote of 
thanks to Mr. Heywood was proposed by Mr. Flockton, who evidently ex* 
pressed the wish of the meeting m hoping for future lectures of a similar 
nature. Mr. firiggs seconded the motion, which was carried unanimously; 
and after the usual thanks to the Chairman, the assembly dispersed. — Northern 
Daily ExpresSf March 20. 



NORTH WALES. 

RBOSLLANERCHRUQOY. 

On Monday evening, the 2nd of March, 1857, a Lecture was delivered by the 
Rev. W. Williams, Wesleyan Association Missionary, the subject being a Nar- 
rative of a Journey performed by the Rev. Lecturer from tne United States, 
over the Rocky Mountains, to California. 

The discourse was divided as follows : — ^The journey from New York to the 
boundaries of the United States — the journey over the Mountains— the Latter- 
day Saints, and the Salt Lake — the South Pass to California ; and finally, the 
passage home. The united choirs of all the congregations of the place, con- 
tributed to the interest of the occasion by singing choice pieces of sacred 
music, between the various divisions of the discourse. 

The admission was by tickets. The proceeds, amounting to the sum of 16/., 
were given towards defraying the expenses incurred by the recent enlargement 
of the chapel. Great praise is due to the Independents for kindly lending their 
chapel on the occasion. 

The lecture, which was extremely able and of thrilling interest, was listened 
to by the crowded auditory with profound attention. The chair was filled by 
the Rev. Mr. £vans. Independent minister. 



TODMORDEN CIRCUIT. 
To the Editor,— Dear Sir, 

A little more than two years since a few of the friends here, thought the 
introduction of an organ into Bridge-street Chapel a desirable object, if it 
could be accomplished. To some extent instrumental music had long been 
employed in Divine worship, with the consent of the church and congregation. 
There was therefore no objection to instrumental music, as such being so em- 
ployed ; and an organ was deemed the most appropriate and effective instru- 
ment for such a purpose. Accordingly a committee was appointed at a Society 
Tea-meeting to manage the matter. The friends were waited upon privately, 
at different times for contributions, who responded ultimately to the amount of 
195/. 8«. 4|d 

Mr. Holt, organ-builder, then of Bradford and now of Leeds, engaged to 
furnish us with a suitable instrument for 305/. 



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Religious Intelligence, 2 17 

The organ was completed in July, 1855. At the opening, sermons were 
preached on two successive Sabbatiis by the following brethren. The first 
Sabbath, by the Rev. Robert Eckett, morning and evening, and the Rev. W. 
Jackson, in the afternoon ; on the second by the Rev. J. Peters, in die morn- 
ing: and evening, and the Rev. J. Guttridge, in the afternoon. 

The collections at these and other public services amounted to 1372^ 0«. 9i//., 
vbich, with what had previously been subscribed, produced a total of 330/1 
99. 2d, The cost of the organ and expenses of opening amounted to 328/. 
9«. 2£/., leaving a balance of 2/. in the hands of the treasurer, which was present- 
ed to the two young men, members of the church, who have played the organ 
gratuitously for about twelve months, as a small acknowleagment of their 
services. 

On Friday, December 7, 1855, the committee delivered the organ unencum- 
bered with debt into the hands of the Trustees, who passed a unanimous vote 
of thanks to the committee and subscribers, for the handsome and successful 
manner in which they had performed their task. 

I am happy to say in conclusion, Mr. Editor, that our congregational singing 
has not been injured by the introduction of the organ, as is sometimes the 
case, but considerably improved ; so also is the internal appearance of our 
spacious chapel ; changes with which we are all well satisfied, and which we 
are anxious to press into the service of our blessed Redeemer. 

Todmorderit April 22nd, 1857. W. J. 



HELSTON ciRcrrr. 

One of our correspondents gives the following account of his labours : — 
" We are glad," says he, ** that we are alive, and do assure you that we have 
no desire to die. Life is as precious as ever ; we think we can understand 
Job in his strong saj^iug,-^' Skin for skin— all that a man hath, will he give 
for his life !' Your friend is trying to represent the reality of living, which is 
to dare, to work, to strive, to be, and do. At it,—* In labours more abundant.' 
As ministerial work and success have not lost their charm upon your attention 
and interest, suppose we sum up an epitome of a few exercises, &c., during the 
last eighteen months? 

Preached on ordinary occasions about 550 sermons ; on special occasions 
in this and other Circuits, 50 ; held and attended a great many public meetings 
on different occasions ; 200 prayer-meetinss ; 40 class- meetings ; paid 1000 
pastoral visits ; travelled by land and by sea about 2500 miles— besides efforts in 

5ointing many — many penitents to Christ; reading, studying, recreating, &c. 
'his is no child's nlay, is it ? Still we are at it ; and God is with us 
yet. Generally speaking our Circuit promises well ; we have peace, plenty, 
and good cheer. Wishing my friends well, strength to prosecute their work, a 
large increase to their circle from the world; from the contemplated bridal of 
the Reformers ; and every temporal and spiritual good, 

*' I remain, in Christ Jesus, 

" Yours very truly. 

Alpha. 



ROCHDALE CIRCUIT. 

To the Editor,— Dear Sir, 

During the commencement of March and the commencement of the present 
month, we have held the residue of our Missionary meetings for this Circuit. 
At Spotland, March 11 ; Brimrod, March 19 ; Milnrow, March 23 ; Lower- 
place, March 24 ; Bagslate, March 25 ; Lowerfold and Hamerplace, March 
26 ; Watergrove, March 30 *, Littleborough, March 31 ; and Smallbridge, April 
Itt. At these places sermons were preached and collections made, on the 
previous Sabbaths. At Belfield, the public meeting was held in the evening 
of the Sabbath, March 16th, as also at the Pottery, April 5th ; and in the 
afternoon of Sundays April 12th, the annual meeting of the Juvenile Branch 



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24S Poetry. 

of our Missionary Society, was held in Baillie- street Chapel, Rochdale, vben 
several young persons connected with our Sabbath-schools, advocated the 
cause of Missions in a most interesting and acceptable manner. 

All the services connected with these Anniversaries have been most 
pleasing and profitable, and we trust an influence has been left to work which 
will produce good results in years to come. More has been accomplished by 
the aid of Missionary Boxes than in former years, and we hope the Treasurer's 
account will in the end show an increase in the proceeds of this Circuit in 
support of Missionary labour, at home and abroad. 

At the several public meetings it was intimated that invitations had been 
received from our Mission in Australia, directed to several ministers in the 
Home Societies, and that it was probable that one of the ministers of this 
Circuit, would accept the invitation that had been directed to him. The sym- 
pathy and prayers of the people were therefore solicited, that God in His 
mercv may guide and preserve his servants, that so the wants of this Mission 
may be supplied, and that other labourers may be raised up to supply the calls 
of the other important Missions of the Association. 

** Lord, send thy servants forth, 

To call the Hebrews home I 
From East, and West, and South, and North, 
Let all the wanderers come. 

" With Israel's myriads, sealed, 

Let all the nations meet ; 
And show the mystery fulfilled— . 

Thy family complete." 

J.Sayer, \seci. 



ThOS. SCHOFIELD, 



POETRY. 

" Time shall he no longer ! " 
At length a point of light appears on high 
Like one sole star that gems the midnight sky, 
Descending swift to earth with brightning glow, 
Nearer it draws till seen by man below, 
A great Archangel bursts upon the view. 
Clad in the splendours of each rainbow hue, 
In stature vast beyond all human thought, 
Of Godlike form with heavenly glory fraught, 
Above the earth, radiant in dazzling light. 
And by bright clouds encompassed m his flight; 
He pauses, and self-poised in ether, sounds 
His golden trumpet huge. The blast rebounds 
From heaven to earth, and vibrates far and wide, 
Encompassing the world on every side, 
Pealing in loud reverberating roll, 
Like rival thunders flung from Pole to Pole. 
Then while his wings shoot scintillations bright, 
Skirting the earth, once more he speeds his £ght ; 
A moment only, glorious he descends, 
Alighting where the earth with ocean blends. 
With speechless awe, mankind behold him stand, 
One foot on ocean placed and one on land, 
And with his arm uplifted in the air, 
And solemn voice majestic hear him swear, ' 
Bv God himself, who lives for ever more, 
That Time shall be no longer ! 



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THE 

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

MAGAZINE. 



JUNE, 1857. 



THE INTEREST WHICH ANGELS TAKE IN THE 
SCHEME OF REDEMPTION. 

The substance of a Sermon delivered in Lady Lane Chapel^ Leeds^ 
on Sabbath Evening^ August 2«rf, 1856, and published by request of 
the Annual Assembly, 

By the Rby. M. Baxter, President of the Annual Assembly. 

'^ Wliicli things, the angels desire to look into." 

1 Pbtxb L 12. 
(Contiimed from page 165.) 

We come now to notice — 

in. The deeplt excitbb Feelings with whioh Angels 

DEVOTE themselves TO THE StVDT OF THIS THEME. 

^Tnto these things the Angels desire to looh" 

In order to feel the force of the Apostle's allusion, we must enter 
for a moment into the Holiest of all, in the Tabernacle built by Moses. 
Here, we behold a Mercy-seat of pure gold : two cubits and a 
balf in length, and one cubit and a half in breadth. And over 
it are two golden cherubim — one cherub on the enc^on this side, 
and another cherub on the other end on that side. And the 
cherubim are seen to spread out their wings on high, and to 
coyer over the Mercy-seat with their wings; to turn their fiices 
one toward another, and toward the Mercy-seat are their faces turned. 
This tabernacle-scene is sketched more in detail by the Apostle Paul, 
in one of the chapters to the Hebrews — that singular production of 
inspiration which may well be designated the Leviticus of the 
New Testament *^And after the second vail, the Tabernacle 
vMch is called the Holiest of all ; which had the golden censer j and 
the ark of the covenant overlaid round about toith gold^ wherein was 
the golden pot that had nianna, and Aaron's rod that budded, and the 
tables of the covenant; and over it the Cherubim of glort 
shadowing the Merot-seat." Now, the question which naturally 
arises on viewing this scene, connected as it was with a typical 
economy, is this— What was the grand reality under the dispensation 
OF the FULNESS OF TIMES, which thcsc goldcn Cherubim, (for they 
must have had some significance) were intended to shadow forth f 
And the obvious answer is, that the symbolic Chenibim in th^ 

s 



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250 The Interest which Angels take 

Tabernacle of MoMft» art also ift Solomon's Temple, wefO Intended to 
typify the all-absorbing interest which the living Cherubim in 
the presence of Ggd, fe«l in the deep tn/lteftes and the brilhant 
discoveries of "the glorious Gospel of the blessed God.** The word 
which is here translated "look," eignifies, according to Robinson, "to 
stoop down, near by any thing, to bend forward near in order to look 
at any thing more closeli/J* " It would denote," says Barnes, " that 
state where one was before at so gfeai a distance that he could not 
clearly see an object, and should draw nearer, stooping down in order 
that he might observe it more distinctly.'^ It is probable, therefore, 
that the Apostle had in his reeoUectioii the posture of the Cherubim in 
the Holiest of all, when he penned the words bdfc^d us. And it is 
clear that his object Wad to convey the idea, that the Angels of God 
hftvs An intense desire to examine minutely the great principles of 
the Gospel BeteUttion i that they regard them with the interest And 
fixed attention of one who draws near an object, and looks at it 1?ith 
intent gaze, in order that he may know it in all its aspects. 

Now, it will be recollected tnat, under the last head of discourie, 
we specified two or three general aspeots of the Ohristian Religion, 
which might serve to attract angelic Beings towards the study of 
" these things." It may be well, therefore^ under this division of the 
subject, to point out some features in an Angel's mind which render 
him peculiarly susceptible to the influence of such attractions. Are 
we asked, then, what there is in an Angel's mind to move him towards 
the study of " these things." We answer-^ 

1 . 7'he Angels ar$ impelled to this study ^ by thsir exaltsd sympathies^ 
which find " in these things " their most delightful exercise. Among 
intelligent belftgs there are vatIous forms of sympathy. But It will 
be admitted by all, that in proportion to the morftl elevfltiott d a 
being, must be the refinement and intensity of that being's sympathies. 
Now of all created beings, the Angels have the loftiest morsl 
nature. They Are most eminently distinguished by the purity of 
their feelings and of their actions. And that prineiple of love, 
which Is the great element of Holiness, whether practised In Heftv^n 
or on earth, is also the root of the noblest sympathies which <ifl 
intelligent Being can either feel or manifest. 

There Are two ways in which Angels mAV exercise their exalted 
ti^pathles. They mAV exercise them either in the contempktion of 
dl>fects qf moral grandeuty or in the performAnce of acts of pity 
towArds beings deeply plunged in moral wretchedness, And the Angela 
find in « these things "the most ample scope for exercises of both 
kinds. 

What Ample scope do " these things" supply for the eterclse of 
their sympatny with all that is morally grand in nsture and in actidii ! 
With what admiration they must have regarded that marvellotis 
eomblnation of Power and of Grace which efl'ected the constltttticn of 
the nature of the God-man ! What an Intense feeling of the moral 
sublime they must have experienced when they saw Christ driving 
fiis Sworn- Adversary before Him in the fierce encounter of the 
Wilderness 5— when they saw Him on the Cross, scAttcr like dust 

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in %h^ Scheme of Redemption. 231 

the hosts of Hell, all marshalled on Calvarjr for the final onslatight ! 
With what delight must they have witnessed His final triumph over 
the Jew and the Roman— over Death and the Grave— over Earth 
and Hell, which had entered into a solemn compact to keep Him 
cloteljr eottflned in the captivity of the Tomb ! And what must have 
been their raptures of admiration when they saw Him return, in 
triumph from those bloody scenes amid which he had waged a conflict 
of more than thirty years against all the powers of Evil, carrying 
our Humanity up with Him to the skies to share in His glory, as the 
Mediatorial Chief of the Universe I But thehr sympathy— however 
intense^with the triumph of Inflnite Goodness over all the agents of 
''the Wicked One,^' levied for the most diabolical purposes, must 
have been more intenselv excited when they saw the World's great 
Redeemer walking fbrth m all the scenes of moral action as a living 
Commentary on God's Holy Law— IbWUing its most difficult require- 
ments in the most trying circumstances-praising the virtues of 
Humanltv in this remote world to more than the angelic Standard^ 
and finally converting his Cross into an instrument for the manifesta* 
tion of the noblest types of moral Goodness to all Beings throughout 
^ ages. The Angels delightfully witnessed <' these things" in their 
enactment-^their noblest sympathies are still enlisted in their contem* 
plation ; and if their feelings could find expression in the language of 
mortalSi we should hear from the lips or the Cherubim and of the 
Seraphim sentiments kindred to those of the immortal Youngs 

'< Talk they of morals ! thou bleeding loYe, 
Thou Maker of new morals to mankind ! 
The grand morality is love of Thee.'^ 

Nor is it A mere contemplative interest which the Angels feel in refe- 
rence to << these things." They belong as inetrumenU to our Economy* 
They, too^ have laboured and struggled in the cause of God and man. 

^ Michael has fouffht our battles ; Raphael sung 
Our triumphs ; Gabriel on our errands flown, 

SlNt BT THB SOVKMION !** 

We learn fVom the sacred records of the Old Testament that these 
glorious Beings were, largely concerned, in the great scheme of human 
feoovery, from the time of its first announcement in the garden through 
all its Suooessive stages of development down to the manifestation of 
Christ And when " the fulness of time" came, they were still more pro- 
nunently engaged in those great historic scenes which are sketched with 
Bttch graphic power, in the New Testament. The angel Gabriel an- 
nounced the miraculous conception to the Virgin. ^^Hail thou ihat ar$ 
highly fatxmtedi the Lard is with thee t bleeeed art thou among womeH» 
• • . Behold^ thou ehaU conceive in thy toomb, and bring forth a Son^ 
and thou ehalt call hie name Jkstts. He ehall be great, and ehall be 
oaUed the Son of the Higheet i and the Lord God ehall give unto hint 
tt« throne of hie father David t And he shall reign over the houee qf 
J^eob for ever ; and of hie hinadom there ehall be no end. * . The 
^^ Ohoei ehall come upon Aee^ and the power of the Higheet ehall 

s ^ 

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252 The Interest which Angels take 

cver-shadow thee : therefore also that holy thing that shatt be bom of thee 
shall be called the Son of God/* Luke i. 28, 31 — 33, 35. It was an 
Angel who made known the same event to Joseph. *' Joseph, thou son 
of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife, for that which is 
conceived in her is of the Holy Ohost. And she shall bring forth a 
son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus : for he shall save his people 
from their sins. Matt. i. 20, 21. And when the miraculously con* 
ceived son of the Virgin made his appearance among men, an Angel 
was sent from the throne of the Eternal to announce his birth to fiie 
Shepherds. ^' Fear not :for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great 
joyf which shall be to all people. For unto you is bom this day in the 
dty of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord/* Luke ii. 10, 11. 
When a natal anthem was wanted to celebrate the Advent of the 
Ejng of Glorj, then a multitude of the Heavenly Host appeared, 
saying, '< Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace, good will 
toward men/* Luke ii. 14. When Herod, jealous of his Supremacy 
in Judea, sought the life of Him who was born King of the Jews, 
Joseph was warned by the Angel of the Lord, to " Arise, and take the 
young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt/* And when Herod 
was dead, behold the Angel of the Lord appeared again unto Joseph, 
saying, ^* Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and go into 
the land of Israel : for they are dead that sought the young child/ s life/* 
Matt. ii. 13, 20. The sufferings attendant on our Lord's in&ncy were 
but a faint type of the more av^ul endurance destined to signalise his 
maturity ; but when this endurance was stretched to its utmost limits, 
in the fearful struggle of the Garden, where his agony found expression 
in these words never to be forgotten, '< Father, if thou be vnlling, remove 
this cup from me : nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done**— in that 
hour, that dark hour of the Bedeemer's History, ^' there appeared unto 
Him an Angel from heaven that strengthened Him." Invisible watch- 
men, taken from the heavenly host, mingled with the iron sons of 
Bome during his brief confinement in the tomb : and on the 
morning of the Resurrection they still clung to the hallowed place, 
and startled the devoted women who were the first to go thither on 
that memorable morning, with the inquiry, ^' Why seek ye the living 
among the dead ?** and then again, with the unexpected announce- 
ment '^ He is not here^ but is risen/* They did more. They formed 
his escort on the day of His Ascension, and conducted Him to His 
throne at the Head of the Universe, ^^Far above all principality, and 
power, and might, and every name that is named, not only in this 
world, but also that which is to come/* Ephesians i. 21. 

Nor did their connection with our system cease when their Lord 
took << his seat at the Father's right hand in the heavenly places.'' 
No I they still belong to our economy. In the Ascension, they wit« 
nessed the triumph of the Bedeemer's person over all the foes of Media- 
torial government, and they still come to this earth to exercise their 
benevolent sympathies in marking the triumph of His doctrine over 
the Tarious forms of error. When the rebel becomes contrite, some 
one of their orders is always present to witness the interesting scene* 
No sooner doe» the sinner penitently clasp his hands in prayer— bow 



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in the Scheme of Redemption. 253 

liis stubborn neck at the Throne of Grace— smiting upon his breast, 
and eryiog, ''God be merciful, to me a sinner" than the attendant 
Angel carries off the news to the innumerable companj of Angels, 
and <' there is joy over one sinner that repentethy more than over ninety 
and nine just persons that have no need of repentance.*** Their liyely 
interest in such a soul, far from eyaporating in these new-born joys, 
continues, from this moment, to increase through the whole course of 
his earthly pilgrimage. They hail him as one fitted by the renewal 
of his natui*e to be introduced into their fellowship, and in relation to 
the intimate connection between them and him, the Apostle speaks ex- 
pressly, that they '' are all ministering spirits sent forth to minister for 
them who shall be the heirs of salvation ** Heb. i. 14. These celestial 
beings attend the saint in all his journeyings through the Wilderness. 
fVhere he encampeth, they encamp. Where he joumies, they jour- 
ney. He may be but a Worm — a worm of the earth in conflict witfi the 
powers of Hell, but he is attended by ''celestial powers," who minister 
to him as " the heir of salvation." In the Hour of Temptation they 
stand by his side : in the Hour of Tribulation they do not leave him 1 
And when they have, by direction of their Lord, attended him through 
all the toils and perplexities of life, they do not forsake him in l£e 
final struggle. His death to the eye of Sense may be marked by every 
sign of discomfort and even of wretchedness. He may fall the victim 
of mortal disease, far away from home and friends. No one of kin* 
dred blood may attend, in the final scene, to wipe off the mortal sweat 
from his clay-cold countenance ! No earthly friend may be there 
to whisper into the ears of " the dying," words of spiritual comfort, 
or to unfold to his spirit the glorious visions of Christian Hope ; but 
the Angels are there, and they are ministering spirits to him who is 
forsaken by friends, and kindred, and race ! Their wings form a canopy 
of unearthly brightness over him, as often the sun-ray gilds some ruin in 
the Wilderness ! His heart is cheered by the assurance that his escort is 
in waiting, and when the clay tabernacle fiills under the mouldering 
tonch of Death, they carry off the undying part of his frail nature to 
the realms of bliss and of immortality ! He is conducted through gates 
of Pearl, and over pavements of Gold ! Then, again, there is joy in 
Heaven ! over a soul newly-born into the community of the skies. 
Those legions who rejoiced over him, when he first gave signs of peni- 
tence, now renew their transports as the enfranchised spirit escapes 
to Liberty and everlasting Best. Happy day ! when the chain is bro- 
ken and the exile is summoned home. Thrice happy soul I who is 
escorted to the " great Metropolis" by ministering spirits— conducted 
by his elder bret^n to the footstool of the great Redeemer, and pre- 
sented before the Throne without spot or wrinkle or any such thing. 
The Angels are moved to the study of " these things" by— - 
2. Their vast powers of intellect which find in them, subjects adapted 
to their loftiest aspirations^ and conducive to their fullest developments 
Every person knows that the subjects which a man studies usually 
hear some affinity to the character of his mind ; a grovelling mind will 
dwell on grovelling subjects — a lofty mind, on lofty themes. You have 
sometimes known a narrow soul that could find enough of occupation 
in the contemplation of a pin's head— a leaden soul, that was always 

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254 Th€ Initreit uhick Ang$b take 

gntTitatiiig towirds the centre i without \m0jnntj9 it eeold nftter be 
tempted under way circnmstences to leave terra Jirma / narrow ift the 
gmsp of ite faeultiee, it never attempted to comprehend Being in i^litf 
▼aitness and varietj. Now, ae there are minda of different meoU, 
00 there are varioua kinda of mbfeeU auited to corretponding tjpei 
of mental being. It ia with reepect to minda and their varioui 
taates, aa it ia with the habita of different kinda of animated Bdngf. 
Aa there are some winged creaturea^the butterflj for inatance-^ 
that flatter from flower to flower in the lower regions of the air» so 
there are some minds that find their most congenial element in ths 
humblest order of subjects j and aa there are otherSf like the eagle, 
which soar to the regions of the clouds, and if they touch the Earth St 
all, touch it only where its mountain peaks seem to penetrate into the 
skiesi so there are minds that find their purest pleasure in the contem* 
plation of the loftiest and in the investigation of the deepeat truths 
which Sod Almighty has revealed to fhllen man. Now the f ntelleeti 
of the Angels are of the latter class, and they are nobleat apeoimeus of 
the dasa to which they belong. Ia the early history of the materiel 
universe their fiienlties were disciplined by a Divine Artifloar ; their 
first lessons were taken as th^ stood amid the sublime seenas of the 
oalerial creation, the delighted witnesses of Jehovah'a power. Each ef 
them, might adopt the language of Uriel, in Milton'a magnifioeot 
Poem^^ 

" I saw when at Sis word tb@ formless maesi 
This world*8 material mould, came to a heap ; 
Confnidon heard his voice, and wild uproar 
Stood ral'd, stood vast infinitude oonnn'd i 
Till at his second bidding, darkness fled, 
lAi^t shone* and order &m disorder sprung ; 
Swift to their several quarters hasted umu 
The oambrous elemenUr esrtb, ftx>d, air, fine. 
And tills ethereal Quintessence of Heaven 
Flew upward spirfted with various formSr** 

In aUoeioD to the joy Inspired tiirougb all the aogiii^ iiAki» if 
these marvellous manifinitations of Divine pow(^9 wiedosi and geoi- 
nesii one of the Old Tesliuoent poets aays» in one of the Sneit 
paesagea of aneiant Iospirati0n«^^^ The mnming 9Ui/re umg (ppether 
and all l*# eom 0/ Chd ehauted f&r jey'' Job »wviii, 7* But 
their m^itsl exerdsea did not terminate here. These glorious beings 
urhose lofty inteUeeis were first exercised in the contemplation of the 
eosnes and processes of the original Creation, were efterwaids em^ 
ployed in the minutest observance of the course of Providence;^ 
cloaely c^lieerving the unfolding of the great scheme of Providentisl 
arrangements, eqiuaUy in reference to the individual and the natioii— 
lo ^he atom« and the woHd. And this study, which atfcnrded intellec- 
tual eaereiee lo their mighty fiMMiltieet hee often called forth the leu4 
expffcesion of ibeir devotion to Him who dwells in the midet of ^the 
eloode and darkneee" whieh environ the JBtemal Thronei ^^ 7% 
reU mi day and night, eaying, H^^ hofyy h^ly, L^rd God Almighi^f 
whieh iffoe, and is, and i$ ta fi&mfi,*' &ev. iv. B, 

But the moat m ag nifo e n t field Ibr the display end eaemee of sa 

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in the Schemi qf JR^ehmpHon. 965 

Aagerii poweri} i« jfbund in oonneotiosi with tbe «tup6ndou« mftQifM- 
tatieai of tb^ Economy of Grace, In the system of Nature, an Angel 
has a j^iMiTBp theme for study ; in the revelations of Grace, a theme 
wbiob shall continue to expand with the contemplation of it for ever. 
Nature indeed is so vast, that an Angel might roam over its wide 
fields for ages, finding new seenest and disoovering fresh beauties, every 
hour s but the time at length, would oome, when the subject would be 
entirely exhausted. Nature may be regarded as a huge Volume, in 
which the Divine Being has inscribed a vastf but still limiiedt number 
of truths for the mental enlightenment of His intelligent creatures. 
This EarUi, with its chemiea^ galvaniOi metallurgic, geological, geo- 
graphical} physiologioali and oosmioal relations, forms, so to speai, one 
chapter in the Volume, The planet Mercury forms another, and the 
Sun, with the other Planets and their Satellites, form so many more 
ebapters. The Solw System, then, may be regarded as forming 
one Section in this wondrous volume, the system of the nearest 
fixed Star another, and so on, to the highest System in the Fir- 
mament Well, let us suppose an Angel to tum, with his mighty 
intellect, to the e;camination of the vinous sections and the study 
of the numerous suceesslve chapters in this great Volume. It is not, 
at all, improbable that he would master all the natural truths this 
world is adapted to oonvey, in less time than Newton took to learn his 
Alphabet,-r-Tand than turning to the other parts of our Section of the 
vast whole, he would master them, probably, in less time than our great 
Cireumnavigator took to sail round the World. And so he may bp 
supposed to proceed, mastering Section afta* Section as he rises higher 
and higher in the Firmament until, after ages of oeeupatien, he is 
leea en the outskirts of the Universe, mastering the last truth Nature 
is adapted to oonvey. And if there were not other fields of Know- 
ledge, besides those, over which, we have thus in imagination passed, 
for the exercise of an Angel's powers, his last discovery on the onnfines 
of Creation would be to him the beginning of sorrows* Left without 
other worlds, towards which he might direet his adventurous flight, 
and possessed of a soul lai^r than the XJaivarse, he, toOk might weep, 
Uke another AJexaiider, because no new theatre remained towards 
which his alUsubduing powers might be directed. Thank God, 
there is another Voluna besides the Book of Nature ; a volume c^ 
imaller bulk indeed, but pf brighter discoveries than any whloh the 
Volume of Nature contains. This volume is filled with germinant 
tnithcti whieh proceed to ftiller and fuller development in the es*- 
perienoe of the believer, during the course of unending ages. In 
the study of the glorious revelations of God's graee in the Gospel, 
the Angela realise, and more than realiae, the boast of the proud Cas- 
tiliann>4he Ambassador to one of the Italian Bepublics, soon after 
Old Spfun had achieved the eonqueat of the New World. When the 
Spaniard was shown the treasures of St. Mark at Venice, he groped, 
into the (iasket that he might find the bottom. Whereupon he said, 
^^ In this do the treasures of my Master exceed those of your Master, 
that my Master's treasures have no bottom 1" Now this was an empty 
bea8k,^>«eqaally empty, whether irttered with respeet to iha.lreasttNS 

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256 The JnUrest whieh Angels take 

of the Republic or of the Monarchy ; but it 19 literal tmHi when 
construed of "the unsearchable riches of Christ," — the inexhaus- 
tible treasures included in <* these things." There are heights here, 
which no Angelic thought was ever able to reach, — depths, which 
nothing less than the plummet of Etemitj can fiithom, — and a length 
and breadth which you could not measure, though the attempt were 
made on the swift wings of an Archangel's Fancj, and prolonged 
through myriads of ages! 

Away, ^en ! with the vile habit of representing ^Hhese things" 
as being adapted to interest only intellects of the most grovelling 
order. Away ! with the notion that while Nature is adapted to 
exercise the loftiest powers of created intelligences, Bevdation is 
only suited to the feeblest class of minds. Never was any thiug 
more shallow. And yet men, pretending to be philosophers, have 
made such representations. There was that butterfly genius, Motu. 
Voltaire (as he loved to be called) who, about a century ago, flut- 
tering, over the earth in quest of amusement, used to wonder how the 
mighty intellect that discovered and demonstrated the true system of 
the Universe, came to study "the Book, called the Bible," and to 
credit its fabulous nonsense. Vain and unhappy man ! He would 
not have wondered at Newton's devotion to this Book, had he only 
realised the fact, which the Apostle here announces, that ANesLS desire 
to look INTO THESE THiHOS. Had he really known that an order of 
Beings, — ^with faculties so power/itl thai probably the most polished 
literature][of man does not extend beyond their alphabet, while his 
brightest discoveries reach not above the elementary truths of their 
more comprehensive system of the Universe, — are so profoundly inte- 
rested in these things, that they regard everything dse as Vanity in 
comparison of them ; — had the Arch-Sceptic, I say, but realised 
this, he had spared his ridiculous sneer at the expense of this most 
iUustrious philosopher, and devout Christian. 

The Angels are moved to the study of this theme by— - 
3. Their love of moral order, which finds its highest grcOification 
in the glorious events which follow in the course of '^ these things" in 
this sin-smitten world. Of all created Beings, theg know best what was 
the ancient order that prevailed in our moral system. Their recollections 
reach back to the period, when our world presented to the eye one 
unbroken scene of moral beauty,— -when no jarring sound disturbed the 
harmony of the moral world. And if angels could feel sorrow, we may 
imagine with what regretful feeling they witnessed the breaking out oi 
the great Bebellion, of which this Earth has been the theatre, — ^when 
Sin first reared its brazen front on Earth, and sent forth its pestilential 
breath only to spread blight and death) over some of the brightest 
scenes in the Empire of the Great King. Now the enactment and 
the publication of " these things," are Heaven's expedient for putting 
down the Rebellion, and whenever a Heathen Oracle Is silenced, or a 
Heathen Temple is closed, or a Superstition of any kind ih exploded, an 
important step is taken in the direction of the final Triumph. The 
Great Bedeemer, in the agonies of Gethsemane, and of Calvary, 
saw of the travail of bis soul and was satisfied. He, in one intuitive 



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m the Scheme of Redemption. 257 

glance took in the whole vision, from the first trinmphs of the Cross 
down to the final consummation, when ^^ the kingdoms of this ioorld 
shaU become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ'* But 
what was matter of instantaneous perception to Him can only be 
gradually unfolded to finite intelligences^ however, exalted. The 
Angels therefore look attentively into '< these things," in order to 
appreciate the bearing of current events on the final issue As 
time rolls on, they rec^ve new lessons, illustrative of the power of 
'^Christ crucified," as 6od*s grand instrument for the re-establish- 
ment of MoKAX Order. Many such illustrations they have witnessed 
during the last eighteen hundred years. But the day of Revelation, 
in this respect, is not closed ! It has not yet struck twelve on the 
great bell of Time ! The Mystery is not yet i^lfilled ! Angels are on 
the lookout for still greater events, which, in the. purposes of God, 
are destmed to follow in the track of '^ these things !" And while 
they joyfully witness passing triumphs, they prepare themselves to 
raise the Apocalytic anthem over the final triumph, which, shall 
nsher in, the new era of a renovated world ! *^Now is come salvation 
andpower^ the honour of our God and of His Christ." 
The Angels are moved earnestly to enter upon this study by — 
4. A deep personal interest whkh they feel in the issues of ^Uhese 
things," in that glorious world to which they belong. It is a mistake 
to regard Redemption in all its varied developments as confined to 
oar world, of all the worlds which float on the bosom of space, and 
to mankind alone, of all God's intelligent creatures* It is true that 
this world is the main seene, and mankind are the most deeply inte- 
rested of all the subjects of Jehovah, in the marvellous develop- 
ments of redeeming grace. But it is not true that this is the only 
world where redeeming acts are known, and the race of man the only 
intelligent Beings, to whom the developments of Divine Grace bring 
aught of interest. Heaven is the final scene of *^ these things," and the 
Angels of God have a deep interest in them as well as mortal man. 

Wherever an Angel looks in that world in which it is his felicity to 
dwell, he finds traces of '* these things." His Eternal Home has 
acquired some of its chief attractions through '^ these things." 
The Heavenly world has, in all its aspects, been greatly mod&ed 
hj the Redeemer's work. Every object there gives evidence to 
the influence of <' these things." The Throne around which the 
Angels gathered before the enactment of <* these things," was, indeed^ 
occupied by the symbols of the Divine presence, as the Shekinah in 
the Jewish Temple dwelt above the Ark, between the forms of the 
Cherubim, but now, in virtue of 'Hhese things," they behold a ^'new 
throne" in Heaven, — a new throne occupied by the glorified personality 
oftheGrod-man, through whom the Angels as well as man, now approach 
the Triune Grodhead. The Heaven of their early recollections was the 
place of the Lord of Hosts, and of His holy Angels, and of them 
alone; but ^Hhese things" in their efficacious development, have raised 
a new class of intelligent Beings to the fellowship of the skies, and the 
ianumerable company of Angels have hailed as members of the same 
common brotherhood, the general assembly and church of the firstborn 

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w^h» grwi moUitodo wbicb no man wn number, of nil ii«Uraf, wA 
kindred, «nd pfM>plei and tongue. The Pialmody of H«a?«o, eoa* 
listed originally of the Anthame wbiob *^ the Angabi" gong in the 
ealebraUon of tba Divina parfaetionsi and of tba Dima worka is 
craation and proyidanoe ; but in virttta of *^ thaaa Ibinga," a nw 
Qnthem baa h^m addad to tba oonga tf tba akiaa to calabrat^ 
Ood's ]Mt, graat reth^ming y>ork. Wa read, in tba Bavalation 
by Jobni of ranaomad milUona witb tbair barpa falling down bafm 
tba Lambi and tinging, a> irnw aoira, ^< Thou art worthy la UAe 
the boohi 0ml to open the §eak thereqf; for thou mant #lntm md 
hoMt rfide$med u$ to God hy thy bloody out qf every hindreif and 
0nguey and people^ and noHon^ and hast made ue unto imr Gait 
J^ngs and priests, *' Bav. ¥• 0. Tba << prinolpaliiiaa and powwi ia 
baayeoly pbiaaa " may not ba abla to nttar tbaie worda, but tbay too 
aing a nw »om ^^^ Join tbe radaemad in a »ong wbicb nayar coaU 
haya baan baard in Haavan or on Eartb, but in yirtua of ^' tbaaa tbingi.'' 
And I bsheld^'^ 9ay9 tba apoatla, ^^andlhsard the voke qf mann 
AiTQisi^a round about the throne, and the beasts, and the eldirs t and 
the number ofthom was tsn thousand tt$nes ten thousand, and thousands 
of thousands, saying, with a loud voioe. Worthy is tha Lamb that m» 
slain, to reoeive power, and riohes, and wisdom, and Mirongih, and 
honour, and glory ^ and blessing,'* Ray. ▼. Uf Tba key-note of thii 
spng may ba toandad by tbe radaamad, but tba Angela iwall the 
musia ^Mn itraind of beayenly subUmity and patboi." And thoao 
aong9 and choral aymphonias are all due to tbe inflaenaa of << theie 
things." It may ba a queition aa to whatbar tba Angela liatmad to 
tbe new song of tba redeemed from tba lips of the martyred Abol, 
or of tbe peaitani thief, in tba firet initanoe i but tbM« aan be no qnai- 
tion that but for tbe enaatmant of <Ubaaa things,'' that song navareoiild 
haya baan heard at all Let ua, therefore, join ayery oreaturo that ii 
in heaven, and on earth, and under tbe earth, and snob aa are In tbe 
sea, and all that are in them, to ory, *' Blessing and honour, and 
glory andpowsr, he unto Him that siUeth imon As throne^ and unto 
ths Xmk,f^ posiri' Let the angeb of &od auswo^. Amen. And let 
eye]7 ransomed soul, through Uie wide world, utter, in loud nHi|ioaM^ 
Amen and Amen 1 

Sut we must elose. The most mtarestiQg aisoeiatioBa an eaHb ai« 
subjaet to interruption, and it is with extFema reluctaBoey that we 
laaya a tbania on whieh wa might expatiate &r ever. Let us, 
boweyer, depart with tbe reeoUaation that wa must be <<ona ia 
spirit"— ^ue, in our devotion to "these things." We must, my 
brethren, take heed, wherever we go, that our eye be fixed on 
the CrQSS->*tbat our minds be ever aequinog enlargement by the 
Study of its leasons^and that our bearta be kept in unison with those 
noble prineiples whieh found embodiment in the person of <'tho 
Crueifled/' Q«l<inys:B I take your stand at the foot of the Orosa, 
and join in tbe exclamation of the great apostle of the Gentiles. << Bat 
Qod forlnd that I should glory, save in the Gross of our Lord Jssui 
Christ," And 8INNEB let mo exhort you to flee to the Croas, si 
the liepe set before you by Infinite Grace, There is no Security for 

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in the Scheme qf Redemption, 259 

jon, bat under the sbeltar of tbe Cr<m !— ^on9 of the blessings of the 
New Covenant for you, bat hj faitb in the blood of the Cross ! Flee 
then to that Cross ! to which you are directed by monitory gouijds 
from all parts of the Universe. Heaven and Hell concur in regarding 
it, as the only Refuge for lost linji^rs. We too, woulcl take our stand 
tWet mi feol tlx9 savipg pow«r of Him who boro our gins ^'Ir bis 
own body cu the troa«- ' And w# would oxhort poori loat mmn^ 
of every elaM, in the worde of the Ba0iiti to ^^JSeMd ih$ Lmib ^ God, 
that tak$th away the Hm of the wo^W^ Ai in tha Oamp of Israel, when 
the flying fiery ^et^^n^^had 9tung the Israelites, the 4yinj§f people were 
greeted, by tjie prophet of the Lord to look on the foramen serpent, i» 
order to their recovery ; so, now it is the proylpae of God's Amfcas- 
Bftdors to nrg# the m-stung soul to look to the Cross and be saved* 
Itb still, look md live I Then let usi Look and live ! My bretbreni 
let ns atf Look ftnd Liva l*^Loak and Uvo 70Ji W9M9, i 



A UINIBTER'S WIPE. 

Ths duties of a minister's wife do not diffier essentially from those of the 
W1& of sny o^ber ChristiAu. The domestic eircle is the mportent sphere <^ 
wowsn's activity I and the duties that engage her there, rowst, on the wbele, 
be ponsidfijrtd the same in ^y^Tj priyate family, The time of a pasterns 
wife is as much needed and occupied at home as that of any other wife^ 
And no minister, who understands the conditions of his peimanent influence 

^r gaod upon the people of his chergei will desire her to es^ehange her 
ms»t imnoeed by GedL for such lahonrs as a &Ise spirit of the age demands* 
The officjA duties of t4e ministry helong to the hoshand; Ae has been §^ 
woed to the works bis wiiSs is his helpmate in this partienlar ealUng. 
^m^ she need net he the president of every benevelenf ssseciation in the 
»er^|elii» J nor need eb^jfo ftom house fo house to pay pastoral visits^ 
To visit the siek and tbe.afflfcted, and mingle with the poor and the rich 

families of the congregation, is indeed a part of her duty; hut not ef the 

tet importaoeer She ought to sympathise with her husband in his studies, 
M^jMsteral lii^, and in bis trmls; manege all bis domestio a^aips to the 
w sawtpjje J ehe^ and eonsole bim in nie d^rk hoers \ aod go bawd in 
Jwa w^ bin. so far as the position of ber ses will alJow# in bie eudeaveuffli, 
y the Bse of aU proper means, to promote fte inher/est qi Christ's kiogdo». 
^ m should indeed be etemplary \ but eo should that of eveij Qbr^ian 
Ifif 09. She should be aealous m ^nrj good work ; but pot m those wbie^ 
b^tositothieiniwstrFr 

.«p eue wUl deny ftiat ber position is liferent from that of a l«^ma»> 
^w» She is indeed a oity set on a hill, But none of the duties ofa wim 
fijw to be here, beeause ber busbend is a miuister of the Gospel, @be 
^ r* *^® *^^^ ^^ * minister; this is all-=-that is, her whole charujcter 
and life should he adapted to the solemn vocation of b^r husband. In this 
respect only is her position pee«diar \ f^i importieftt in the highest sense of 
uie term, 

Tbelujsb^ should h^ a pattern pf a minister end a pastor; not pf fem^Jp 
cwtitatipn and refinement. His wife rfionld he a pattern of a npinister's 
wycj-j-pot of a female p^tpr gr of a female reformer. %? positipn of wo- 
ffiw to as elev^ted^ and Jier power fpr good as great, as that of man. %f 
tbpir proper relation, boweyer. he destroyed, hioth ar^ at the same time in- 
cited and degraded/ 

Let a woman he a wprnjeut, and a 9ian he a man ; hujb i^rpe to the world 
^en women become men, for then men will become women.— &er. MeK 

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260 

GERMS OP THOUGHT. 

DIVINE FELLOWSHIP. 
«< And tndy ow feUowthip is with the Father, and with the Son Jesus Christ**- 

1 John i. 3. 

The word ' fellowship,' as used in the New Testament, seems to denote 
communion, participation, to share tcith, the enfot/ment of something in com' 
tnon. Christians, ' have fellowship one with another.' They are snhjeGts 
of a common Lord, common experience, a ' common salvatioxL' and a common 
destiny. They 'assemhle themselves together,' and 'speak often one to 
another' for their common benefit. Hence a Christian church is ' a fellow- 
ship of saints.' They have not ODly fellowship with each other, but ' with 
the Father^ and with his Son Jesus Christ' They have communion, parti- 
cipation with God. Fellowship with the Divine Being, however, does not 
mean equality with Him. Men generally associate with their equals. The 
Deity cannot do this, for He has no equaL He is infinite, — we are finite. 
Though we commune with Him, the disparitv remains. Nor does it mean 
that we share everything with God. In tne pnysical universe God pafomu 
His work without man. The sun rises and sets, the sea ebbs and flows, the 
earth rolls and the seasons return ; the thunder roars and the lightnings 
flash; the inundation sweeps the valley, and the tornado tears up the 
gigantic trees on the mountain side without the intervention of man. la 
His moral government man is frequently His agent or instrument, bat 
never His counsellor or associate. Nor is the fellowship in an eqoal 
degree, — man's participation being circumscribed by his nature. TfaiB 
fellowship is— 

I. By Faith. 

* No man hath seen God at any time.' He can neither be seen, nor heard, 
nor felt. He has neither colour, tangibility, nor audability. It is not a 
fellow^ip of sense, but of faith. < The just shall live by faith.' £vea 
those manifestations of God of which the senses take cognizance, are appeals, 
not to sense, but to intelligence and faith. ' We walk bjr faith, not by sight' 
God must ever be, to a spirit enshrined in flesh, an object of fldth, — ^mith 
not wiUiout, or in opposition to intelligence, but intelligent fedth. 

II. Intellectual. 

* Come and let us reason together.' Beligion is a ' reasonable,' or rational, 
* service.' It must be done with the * understanding.' God ha« appealed 
to the intelligence of man through the physical universe. ' The heavens 
declare the elory of God.' And this, had man been a rational creature 
merely, might possibly have been sufficient An intelligent being he is, 
and sometmng more ; so mere intelligence will not compass the whole of 
his nature or his wants. The intellect perceives and approves of God u 
manifested in the physical works of his hands. Human reason, on rational 
grounds, is satisfied, and delights to hold fellowship with God. Beasonin? 
may pervert the subject and clamour for something more, but tiie unvitiated 
light in man corresponds with the evidence without, and ' Gk>d is seen by 
mortal eye,' *' I hear thee in the summer breeze. 

See thee in all that's pure and fair ; 
Thy whisper murmuring in the trees. 

Thy breath, thy Spirit everywhere." 
The soul communes with God in His Word. * O how love I thy law ! it is 
my meditation all the day.' It contains a more direct and specific revda- 
tion of God. It adapts itself to the diversities of men's nature, states of 
feeling, and circumstances. The written text is the unerring standard of 
appeal in all ages and in all nations. It is clear, full, and inSdlible on the 
great question of man's salvation, and through it the b^man soul holds 
f fellowship with the Father, and with his son Jesus Christ' God appears 



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Germs of Thought. 261 

man's intelligence bj the inward reyelation of his Spirit. The manifes- 

itionof theT -...-..-... - 

f the Spirit 1 

ieiit;'andthen to 'receive' of Christ, I ^-^ 

evelations of the Spirit correspond substantially with those of the Word, 
}r the Word is generally the instrument of his operations* He brings the 
rath to our remembrance, applies it with power, and ' helps onr infirmities.* 
^e < Hto in the Spirit,' ' walk in the Spirit,' are ' filled with the Spirit/ and 
our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus ChristJ 

III. MOBAL. 

It is a communion in which the heart is largely concerned. Man is a 
Doral being. This quality is his distinguishing excellence* Mere intelleo* 
ual fellowship therefore will not suffice. There mnst be exercise for his 
iffectioDS, his conscience, his imagination. ' My son, giye me thy heart.' 
With the heart man believeth unto righteousness.' The heart is vitalised, 
ud sanctified, and fiUed with the love of God. The soul is blessed with a 
ielightfid consciousness of the Divine presence, as clear and satisfactory to 
;he moral sense as revealed truth is to the understanding:. ' The Spirit 
kimself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.* 
[t becomes a sharer of the nature and purity of the Divine Being. Believers 
ve ' partakers of the divine nature,' and ' partakers of his holiness.' There 
is, then, sympathy, deep and earnest, with the moral plans of God> and 
conformitv to all his moral precepts. There is harmony, though not equality, 
between the soul and God, with whom it holds fellowship. There is harmony 
of will, of feeling, and of purpose, and this, in great measure, is both the 
pbilosophy and the design of the plan of redemption. < But we all, with 

ri face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into 
same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the I^rd,* 

IV. Evangelical. 
The soul communes with God and Christ, or with God through Christ. 
'I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life ; no man cometh unto the Father, 
but by me.' Man, in his original state, held fellowship with God like a 
child with his father.. There was no need for a special medium or mediator. 
Created as man was, it was natural for him to hold communion with his 
father. But his sin has altered his position. He can no longer hold fel- 
lowship with God in virtue of his original relation and capacity. This 
priTilege has been irretrievably forfeited. He can neither claim nor regain 
It Hence the necessity of a special arrangement of a Divine interposition. 
'There is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ 
Jesas.' Christ is the medium of approach to God, and of blessing to man. 
He is the * only way* unto the Father. The Bible may be received as a 
divine revelation ; the ordinances and institutes of religion may be con* 
fonned to; but if Christ, as our Mediator and Saviour, be rejected, die soul 
cauiot hold fellowship with God. He can admit us into His presence only 
According to the provisions of the evangelical system, 
y. Exalted. 

It is fellowship with Ood, the King of hingst and Lord of lords ; creator^ 




of souls ;— with truth, purity, benevolence, and all that is just, good, honest 
lovely, and of good report. It is the noblest, sublimest, and most elevated 
fellowship unto which man can attain* 

VL Intimate. 
^ Qod dwells in us, and we in Him. * Christ in you the hope of elory.* 
A man in Christ.' It is not a cold, distant, formal, reserved feUowship, but 
UTiDg, cordial, and intimate. It is a communion of mind and of heart, of 



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26S Biography ofFrancii OaienUy of Stocktan-on'Tees. 

natufei lyfli^thy, ftiid objeot, tittly more ItitimAt* Hum ttM fliMNit, 
tendtrmit nktion Mitoiig inefl« 
VII. PBAcmoAL. 

The Ohrlrtian beooffiM A ' oo-workcr together with GM.' Hft Mnami 
irith Him Id his eloMt, his Ikmllf » and in the ordlnauMi of MUtfkm. H« 
rtndtfrt Mtit« tenrioa to tlio oauso of Qod^ and dedioatot hii alf td flk. 
Bf try InMtittitkm oalealatod to honottr Ood and beiiMt tnati has a ahanin 
his tyttpathy and sttpport. 'Not slotkftil in traflineiMi. ftrtent in i^t, 
serving tha Lord.' Ha is a man in tho worid« loading It on and 6lm% 
its moral character ; but not of the world in its spirit and iOlldsneitli 'U 
any man Ioto tho irorld. tho kto of tho Vatkor is not In him/ tiae, 
tftioatt iflfluonse, and woaith aM oouooMtod to tho ftortiooof God oaltha 
hA|)pins8S of man. 
VIIL TwunfftVAL, 

In snashlno and in shado^ in protpority and adf^rsi^, in hMltb lod 
sieknttSi at homo and abroad, alone and in eompany, tho Ohristiafi ma M 
fellowship with Ood« Nothing need separato him from the ftatlmir,bBt 
oTory OTont of his lifls may, by the blessing of Ood^ tead him noarsr to ' t)» 
spring of all his Joy.' He will finally hold fellowship with Ood in hMTn, 
where ho will ' see him as he is.' This commnnion will be dirsot snd ioti- 
ntato-^a fellowship not of faith, but of ' sight.' It will be on a larff^ seali, 
beholding Jeho?ah * as he is*--in the fulness of his glory and perfeetiooi It 
will bo sternal, fbr at God's ' right hand there are pleasures for wttrnm 

1» How great the loss which man sustained by sin l-^tk loss fbf whidh 
nothing can compensate, fbr nothing can yield tho same amonnt of good u 
fellowship with God. 

9. What a privilego to be restored to this fellowship I How MtfaMiii 
Christ through whom We onjoy * fellowship with tho Father,' ana an iiud« 
* partakers of the divine nature and holiness.' C 

BIOailJLPHT. 

FRANCIS OATBNLEY Of STOCiTON-ON-TMS. 

'^BtoORAPHY is a feeble struggle with death.** But it is a struggle tbtu 
in many instances worth makmg. It is prompted by some of the beit 
instincts of our nature, as well as countenanced oy the intimatioufl of m 
Scripture. Our hearts oliuff to the memory of dear Mends, and whes we 
can no longer retain thenuwlves among us, we are anxious to procure thitf 
likeness axid enshrine the story of their history^ as well as the portniton 
of their character, in imperishable writing. It is the Book of God that bai 
said, both that *' the memory of the Just is blessed," and« '< that the joit 
shall be had in everla8tin|f remembrance." How much of the sacred book 
is itself biographic t Neither is there any branch of human literatois tbt 
is more interesting and instructive than well-written biographies. 

It is an agreeiu)le task that is imposed on the writer Inasmuoiisiflfi 
whose life I have to sketch was one who ought not to be foraotten— one in 
Inference to whom the spontaneous tribute rising to the ups of all ^°J 
knew him is, '| Francis Gatenley was a good man«*' He was not bleiiM 
with extraordinary mental endowments, though he had native shrewdaea 
and ffood common sense, nor by civic honour or distinction, though ft& 
uprignt citizen and an honest man } but he was distinguished by ^^^J^ 
common moral excellency and by genuine spiritual Worth. He had been 
a true Christian for the third part of a centuir, and his glorious trismpQ 
over the last enemy was a meet and sublime finish of a life well ipeBf- 
" Mark the perfect man and behold the upright, for tho end of that man u 
peace." ^ 

Francis Gatenley was bom at Oarthorpe, a village in Yorkshire, Apni 

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Mojfrapkf oftVundi Uaitntiy 9/ SiOekton'^'Teft. 2)08 

2od, laos, ind diid ftt Stookt6ii«oti-l!«ei on tho 19tb of Jamiai^, 1S57. His 
father WM a pioui Spuoopalian *, hi« mothet & d^Tottt Methodist. His Uf«i 
nntil foartMn yeum of agO) was Sfient tmdet* tlie paMiital roof, and beneath 
the watohful ffuardiafiship of the pat«ntal eye. That eye was remarkably 
obierra&t) ind the discipline to whioh Francis was su^ected remarkably 
Btriot. His mother won strongly on the alfections of yonng f'raneiS) and he 
chiriahed an aAiotionate reverence fbr her name to the close of his life. 
lie was a grateful and reverent son* He neter remembered disobeying his 
pirsiito but onee, when he went to a village Fair contrary to their com- 
mands. He was severely corrected for it, and such was his regard for their 
aathority, that such correction neter needed to be repeated. xTaturally he 
had a veiy kind and waim heart, though his manner w«s often shy, reeertedi 
a&doooL 

From the qniet home of his childhood and the ruitlc sceiiee of his native 
TiUagei he removed to Leedsi when he WM fourteen years of age. Here ha 
Icanisd the trad* of a grocer, and had the advantage of living with an elder 
brother and sister, who were pious and consistent members of the Methodist 
Sooiety. It was while residing in LeedS} witnessing active domestic piety, 
and attending on a fidthfal ministry, surrounded by religion in its imposing 
and attractive aspects, that he became the happy subject of ^ the washing of 

Xeratimi and the renewing of the Holy Ghost" fie ever remembered 
sineere gmtitude to Qod his religious privileges and enjoyments at 
Lfesdi. He has even been heard to say, that he would rather have lived on 
btead and water^ enjoying such happy religious fellowship as was his privi« 
legs at Leeds, than have been surrounded by all the luxuries of this life, 
where there wa« spiritual barrenness. *'To be carnally minded Is death, 
bat to be spiritually minded is life and peace.'' 

He removed f^om Leeds to York, about the close of the year 1892. 
While there he was in the employ of one man for more than seven 
Tears. When he left York for Stockton, in 1830, his employer presented 
bim with a beautiful gilt pocket Bible, •' as a mark of esteem due for the 
ikithfttl discharge of his duties, as shopman, for upwards of seven years.'* 
Boring his stay At York he was a member of the Methodist Society, and 
NO^ht to do good by labourinof as a Sunday-school teacher and a prayer 
leader. He was very panctual in his attendance on his duties in these 
offloeit tnd unwearied in his efforts to do good. 

At the formation ot the Protestant Methodist Society, in 1827— sympa^ 
tbisiog with those who left the parent society as ill-used men— he united 
with them, and to the close of life remained a sincere friend of liberal 
Mtthcdisffl. On removing to Stockton, at the latter end of 1830, and find- 
m uo aeparated societyi rather than forego the pleasures and advantages of 
Mithodirt means of grace and Chrisnan fellowship, he again united 
uaulf to the parent Soeiety, by whom he was soon appointed a leader of a 
utN. Here he pursued the even tenor of his way, eiyoyinK the confidence 
of hii Ohristian brethren, and working to harmony vfith the Church, until 
fte memorable Methodistic year of 1885» During that year the Methodist 
Societies were extensively agitated on matters of Church government, A 
«^ appeared from Stockton in the '* Ohristian Advocate" newspaper. 
Brother Qaienley was suspected as its author— and because he refused to 
Mtiaff the sttperlntendent minister aud others that he was not its 
Mther, he was declared to be no longer eligible to flU the office of 
JjHdsr. The members of his class, all, with one exception, sympa- 
jWilni with him as a man unjustly condemned, requested him still 
"> tt»««t them, which he did for four months. As the ministers 
aad offieers refosed to re-instate our departed brother, four local 
Pjwhsrs, one leader, and several members of Society, out of sympathy 
Jlth hia and the principles for which he iuflfered, voluntarily withdrew 
Q^om the Methodist Society, and m the month of October, 1835, formed a 

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264 Biography of Frands Gatenhy of Stockton-on-Tees. 

separate Societj, under the name o£. the Weakrfan Methodist Asflociation. 
Thus our departed brother mav be regarded as m an important sense, the 
£Either of the Association in this town. The brethren who came out with 
him are, many of them, still liying, and four were pall-bearers and chief 
mourners at his fnneral. I may be allowed to say, that Brother Gatenley 
had no knowledge of the eziBtence of the letter that he was accused of 
having written until he was shown it in print. When will Christians learn 
to practise the charity which thinketh no eyil ? 

To the liberal principles of the Association our brother remained strongly 
and consdentiousiv attached to the close of his life. 

Soon alter the rarmation of the Association Society he was called by the 
Church to eneage in preaching the Gospel as a local preacher. He is spdcen 
of by those who know him well, as an earnest and very faithful preacher of 
the faithful saying. What he did in the pulpit or elsewhere he did with 
all hu miffht. His deep and strong feelings poured themselves out in a 
stream of kind, earnest, and faithful address ; and though his manner mi^t 
not bespeak familiarity with the Graces, and though hu impetuosity of feel- 
ing led nim to dispense with that exact method tluit some admire, yet there 
were thgse who always heard him with profit and pleasure, and he was fui 
without seals to his ministry. Frequently would he reward his hearers with 
unexpected, racy, and somewhat original remarks, and all felt that the man 
was in earnest, and " knowing the terrors of the Lord he sought to persuade 
men." He was veiy exact and punctual in attending his several appoint- 
ments, and never was known through carelessness, indifference, or mqne to 
disappoint a congregation. His last sermon was preached at Middlesbro*, 
about four months before his death, his text on that occasion being the sig- 
nificant one, ** The living know that they shall die.*' That night sevexu 
souls were converted to Uod. Whether in his prayers or preacSdng, there 
was an earnestness and even impetuosity of manner that bespoke the sin- 
cerity and real fervour of the man. I have seldom met with a man who 
impressed me as having a more genuine and sincere sympathy for perishing 
sinners. He was at home in a revival, and deeply aid he deplore the 
abfence of revivalism in the Church. When the news of the oanse of God 
being in prosperity was made known to him, sincerely did he praise the 
source of all good for visiting his people. 

Perhaps there is nothing in which a man's true character and heart are 
more truthfolly exhibited xsmsxl in his free and confidential letters to his 
friends. It is in them that he pours out his whole soul, and you see him as 
he is. I have pleasure in introducing here a characteristic letter, written by 
our departed brother luder deeply interesting circumstances. He had josC 
received a letter from one of his own sisters, informing him of a gracioiis 
revival of religion that was begun in his native vilkge. Amongst the 
number of the saved was a dear brother who had often been the subject 
of Francis' prayers. At the same time the little Church at Stockton hid 
recently been visited with a shower of heavenly grace. The letter is 
dated ** Stockton-on-Tees, February 22, 1841." It is as follows— 

" Dear Sister, — ^Your letter to me was good news, and glad tidings of 
great joy to my sool. Just about an hour uter I received your letter Ihad 
to go and talk a little in our Chapel, to the people, about their predou 
souls ; and really, when I saw my brother Thomas's name in the letter, it 
put firesh life and energy into my soul. I have, this last two months back, 
been led oat in prayer that God would convert all our dear friends and 
relations, and that I might hear such glorious news as you have sent me. 
I was dreaming, a few nights since, that I was talking to my brother 
Thonias, with tears in my eyes, about his precious soul. I luive felt much 
for his eternal welfare. Glory be to God ! Glory be to God ! I hope yoa 

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Biography of Francis Gatenley of Stockton-on-Tees. 265 

will look after the precioas souls that God has converted to himself. Tliey 
will need jonr prayers, and, especially, a good example set them by all the 
people of Grod at Carthorpe. Endeavour to bear with the little faults of 
each other, and convince the sinners at Carthorpe that there is a reality in 
the religion that you profess to enjoy, by your conduct and deportment in 
the world ; and then you will not prove to be a stumbling-block to those who 
have recently been brought to God. And I have no doubt that God will 
continue to reyivo his work among you, and that you may have the whole 
village converted to God, if you are all faithful to your God, and loving to 
each other.^ O let the people of Carthorpe see that you love one another. 

" Dear sister, yon sav truly, when you say that it would rejoice my soul 
to be among you. Tell my brother Thomas that he has put more joy into 
my heart by his coming to God than I can express, and I cannot help 
shedding many tears while 1 am writing to you ; and there are his wife 
and daughter too. Glory, glory, elory be to God. Tell brother Thomas to 
mind and have family prayer, ana keep outside of the public-house, never 
entering but when necessary business calls him. I shall be glad to hear 
that the work of God is still going on amongst you. You shall have my 
prayers. 

** Dear sister, I want to tell you how I am getting on in the way to 
heaven. I feel while I am writing to you that I am very happy in the love 
of God, and that the work of God is prospering in my soul : and I do not 
know that I ever felt more determined to be on the Lord's side than I do 
at present. I desire an interest in all your prayers that I may be kept 
humble and faithful unto death, and have the happiness of meeting you all 
in heaven. In our Society at Stockton we have had a week set apart for 
Kevival meetings, and God has been powerfully amongst us : and, glory be 
to God, he has saved about fifteen souls, his people have been quickened and 
revived, and we are looking for still greater things than these." 

The foreeoing letter will show of what spirit Brother Gatenley was. 
Who can help praying for an increase of such a spirit among the people of 
God. 

I ought to have stated that our departed Brother was married and became 
a housekeeper in 1836, and his surviving partner says that a better husband 
never lived. To her he was uniformly and always kind. No sooner had he 
a house of his own than God had an altar in that house, and tothe close 
of his life, morning and evening worship was performed by him. On 
taking possession of the house in which he died, ere the furniture was all 
placed m it, himself and the minister united in prayer, and during his last 
illness he said, that as the house, from his first building it, had been a house 
of prayer, he hoped that it would continue to be so. He was a man of one 
^k. He had a remarkable, and, to the close of his life, an increasing 
love for the Bible. He said he was always discovering new beauties in its 
sacred pages. With all his heart and soul he could sing — 

When quiet in my house I sit, 

Thy book be my companion still, 
My joy thy sayings to repeat, 

Talk o*er the records of thy will. 
And search the oracles divine ; 
Till every heart-felt word bo mine. 

Our dear brother was remarkably kind-hearted and hospitable. The 
ministers of God were always welcome to his house and table. The first 
time I called to see him, I thought at first his manner was cold and some- 
"what reserved and shy. He opened, however, as does a flower, gently and 
S^oally. From that day to the day of my last visit, his character and 

T 

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266 Biography of Francis GaUnUy of Siocktof^-on^ Tm. 

heart seemed to me to be opening. My pleasure in vintittg him ^w gnda- 
ally and continually. I felt his conversation to increase in mtera^ and 
the savonr of his speech and presence became more richly and divinelj 
refreshinsr. I never saw a man evince more deep and heartfelt aatiifaotion 
than he &d on hearing of the signs of prosperity in the Circuit. Ofttn did 
he say encouraginely, '< yon onght to thank God and take courage." Having 
watched over, and deeply sympathised with, the Wesleyan Assidation in 
Stockton for the last twenty years ; having offered np prayer with strong 
crying and tears for its welfare ; he was most happy ere he died to lee a 
hearty union between ourselves and the Reformers so happily eflbcted ; and 
to leave the Church and Circuit in a promising and prosperous oonditioa vaa 
to him a matter of great satisfaction and joy. He was fflad to be at peace 
with all his Christian brethren, and to say with his latest tnvath, in referenee 
to the Church that he had been for twenty years nnitod with— *< Peace be 
within thy walls, and nrosperity within thy places : For my brethren and 
companions* sakes I wulnow say, Peace be within thee.** When I told lum 
in one of my last visits to him, that we never met in social or public worahip, 
but we remembered and prayed for him, and often by name, be wept 
profusely, and with very deep emotion said, " Praise the Lord. Pndae the 
Lord.** He set a high value on the prayers of the Church, and spoke verr 
gratefully of the very acceptable visits of the offieers of the Chnrdu 1 
greatly enjoyed my various visits to him during his illness. On one 
occasion, just before I left him, he said, " I have often given out that vene," 
alluding to the fact with much interest — 

Let us take up the cross 
Till we the crown obtain, 

And gladly reckon all things loss 
So we may Jesus gain. 
I said, *^ My brother, my visits to you are made a great blessing to myaeir' 
" They are,*' said he, '* made a blessinff to me. Yours is a blessed work." 
And 6, to visit such saints as he in tneir dying moments, is blessed work 
indeed. There was about him such child-like simplicity, such child-like 
love, such childlike gratitude, such child-like affection ; so much of Jesus, 
so much of heaven, that it was indeed good to be there. The week 
before his death I said, "Brother Gateuley, if we should improTe 
your death, we shall not have to apologise for you as we sometimes 
have for people." Said he, in reply, '*You may say as little about 
me as you like, but as much about the Saviour as you can. I am a 
poor sinner, saved by grace. I have tried to do a little for Ood, 
and though I am an unprofitable servant, I have not been without 
success." It was remarkable, and it was remarked by all who visited him, 
in his last moments, that the nearer he approached his end the richer 
became the influence that surrounded him and the happier was hia sool. 
More than one who has been much in the habit of visitinff the dying, laid, 
that they had never witnessed a more happy and triumphant death than 
his. Never were the well-known lines of Dr. Young {more truly verified, 
than in his case—" The chamber where the good man meets his rate is pri- 
vileged beyond the common walks of virtuous life close on the verge of 
heaven." I here quote from Brother Francis Bell, to whom I have been 
much indebted for my knowledge of the facts recorded in this narrative, as 
they had been personally acquainted for more than thirty years, and much 
mixed up in business transactions:— '* Our dear brother's health was en- 
dently declining for twelve months before his departure ; but during the 
last seven or eight weeks of his life he was confined to his house. I visited 
him several times during his illness, and when I first spoke to him conoern- 
ing his state of mind, he seemed to have a desire for the sake of the Chorcfa, 
and through attachment to, and sympathy with, tiie partner oi his joys and 

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Si^ffta^hy 0/ Mrsi Nanny Ifhitahtr n/Stoekp^rL 267 

sorrowB) to reinain a while longel* below ) but in this he was sttbrniBsive to 
the Divine will. The neater he approached to hii latter end, he seemed, 
erery time I saw him, to be increasinglj resigned to the will of his Father 
in heaven. I sat up with him daring the last night but one of his life, and 
then foand him tnilj happy in the lore of Qod ; and thoujgh he complained 
of instances of personal unfaithfulness, his confidence of his acceptance with 
God, through the love and merits of Jesus Christ, remained firm and un- 
shaken. I asked him if, in this solemn testing time, he found die doctrines 
which he had preached to others strictly true P He replied with great 
earnestneas and delight, < yes^ and Christ is predous.* He also rejoiced 
to know that peace and harmony appeared to reign in the Church, and he 
said, 'Live to God, and try to help on the cause of Christ.* I visited him 
for about an hour during the last night of his life, and at the first sight 
of his death-stricken countenance, I thought that his dissolution was abeat 
to take place ; but he rallied again, and his soul being exceedingly happy 
he pronounced, with deepest emotion, that sweetest of names, Jbsus ! and 
lifting ap his hands he gasped, * Up ! up T His wife said, ' My dear, are we 
to tell them that you are going to Jesus P ' and he said, ' Yes ! yes ! ' At 
his own and Mrs. Qatenley 's request I enga^^ed in prayer ; and while we 
were engaged a blessed heavenly influence filled the room, and, as well as 
his fast faiUng- strength would allow him, he joined us in praising God and 
the Lamb. 1 then took my farewell of him till we meet where Siere is no 
more death." 

He died early on the following morning, caltnly reposing on the atone- 
ment of Jesus, having power given him to triumph over the last enemy. 
His death was' improved by the writer to yery lar^e conetegations at Stock- 
ton, Hartlepool, and Middlesbro*, from a text selected lay the departed^ a 
text embodying what is no doubt the wish of both writer and readers, 
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." 

Edmund Hbtwood. 



MEMOm OF MRS. NANNY WHITAKER OF STOCKPORT. 

** I beurd a voice from heaven saying unto me« Write, blessed are the dead which die 
in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the spirit^ that they may rest from their la- 
boan, aad thair works do follow them/^ Aev. xiv. 13. 

The estimable subject of this memoir, was bom at Burnley, in the county 
of Lancaster, on the 22nd of January, 1792, of poor but upright parents. 
Her father, Richard Lord, was a strict churchman. He departed this life 
when Nanny was about four years of age. Young as she was, she seemed 
to think that she was not too young to receive good adirice \ his dying 
counsel to her, was, " Be a good girl and do what is right, and good will 
come to yOu." This was not lost upon her, it was a nail in a sure plaoe, the 
impression made was indelible ; these words of her father often returned to 
her, and the remembrance of the solemn circumstances under which they 
were spoken, caused them to be more regarded, and gave tbem greater 
weight. Christian parent, in the morning sow thy seed. Embrace the 
earliest and most favourable opportunities to counsel and encourage the 
child of thy bosom. Earlv impressions are generally deep and lasting. If 
the blessed God shall be pleased to uphold thy reason in the solemn hour of 
death, and if physical sufibring do not prevent, then give to thy children 
who hang around thee thy last advice and blessing. The lessons which 
they may have failed to learn from the example and efforts of thy life, may 
not be imparted in vain from the bed of death. A parent's dying counsel 
w not soon forgotten. 

t2 



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268 Biography of Mrs. Nanny WhUaker of StockporL 

The mother of oar departed friend heing left with three childreDi all 
girls, in a oomparative state of poverty, uie was obliged to have them 
early trained to labour. Nanny had to be carried from her home to the 
mill, to learn to pull at the spinning-wheel before she was five years 
of M[e, and to begin her work every morning as early as five o*clock, having 
at the same time to fare hard with respect to food and clothing. In this 
way she continued to toil tUl she was twelve or fourteen years of age. 
Every philanthropic mind must greatly reioice that since that time the 
hours of factory labour have been shortened, and that now children may 
not be employed in this way at such an early age as they were then. 

When our departed sister was a child, the educational and religious advan- 
tages of the young were by no means what they are now. Sabbath schools 
were tJien scarcely commenced in this country. There was nothing of this 
Idnd in the neighbourhood where many resided, and having no one to care 
for her spiritual state, she wandered on the LordVday in the fields or other 
places as her inclination led her. But she soon began to think that this was 
not right, and her young heart was troubled. She was dissatisfied with her 
ways, and desired to do better. Thus the Holy Spirit early commenced his 
gracious operations within her, producing conviction and good desires. 
And great was the goodness of God to this fiEitherless child, in keeping her 
from many evils to which she was exposed, and which children in like cir- 
cumstances often practice. In after years she was unspeakably thankful to 
'* the God of all grace" for the restraining grace which was bestowed apoa 
her in childhood and youth. 

It appears that while labouring in the mill, she often thought that 
if she were in another situation, and her circumstances improved, she 
should be better able to attend to what was good. This thought she 
cherished, and frequently did she lift her heart in prayer to God that 
her station might be altered for the better. VVlien she was about four- 
teen years of age, she was offered a situation of service in a very respec- 
table family in her native town; this offer she accepted, and she en- 
tered upon her new duties in remembrance of her father's dying advice, 
and witJi a determination to endeavour to please and give satisfaction ; and 
there is reason to believe, from what she has been heard to say, that she 
sought help of the Lord in prayer. Her efforts and prayers were not in vain. 
She was enabled to resist temptations to which she was exposed, for which 
she has often expressed her gratitude to God, and by cheerfally and dili- 
gently doing her duty, she gamed the esteem of her master and mistress, 
and it was not long before tney appeared to place unbounded confidence in 
her. They were very kind to her, and for this she alwavs testified her gra- 
titude. It is too often seen that young females in such situations become 
vain and giddy, and display great weakness of mind in the love of fine 
clothes, but this was not the case with our deceased sister. She disliked 
useless and extravagant finery in dress, and as she grew older, this feeling 
increased. She had a mind which could not feed on pageantry. Her own 
condition being improved, she was considerate of her kmdred. Instead of 
consuming her wages upon herself, she gladly assisted to support her 
mother, and an afiiicted sister ; and she did this not for a short time, but 
according to her ability as long as they lived. This was no more tiian her 
duty, it was highly honourable to her, and she did not lose herieward. 
Verily, in no case shall such conduct go unrewarded. 

In youth our departed friend was thoughtful and frugal, and she so con- 
ducted herself in all matters, that she was beloved by the family in which 
she lived, and by a large circle of friends by whom she was surrounded. 
At that time she was accustomed to attend the Established Church on the 
morning of the Lord's-day in her turn, and she had the privilege of at- 
tending the Wesleyan Chapel in the evening. "WTien she embraced the 

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Biography of Mrs. Nanny Whitaker of Stockport. 269 

Saviour, and foiind peace with God is not precisely known. It is certain 
that she was a member of the Methodist Society, and enjoyed religion some 
time before her marriage. This event took place when she was about 
twenty-four years of age. She was married from the kind family whom she 
had faithfully served from her youth, and the object of her choice was her 
now bereaved partner Mr. John Whitaker. She did not take this impor- 
tant step without serious thought and earnest prayer. On both sides the 
union was believed to be providential, and our deceased friend determined 
to do her utmost to make the partner of her life happy and successful. To 
this determination she remained faithful, and she rejoiced in the accomplish- 
ment of her object. She looked wcil to h^r liouse, and had everything so 
arranged, that her husband always felt home to be an attraction and a 
delight. 

Soon after their union they removed from Burnley, and entered upon a 
new situation in the employ of G. Fishwick, Esq. or Scorton, a village near 
Lancaster ; here they founa a people fearing Grod, and working righteous- 
nes!^. Mr. Fishwick and his lady were both converted to God, and living in 
the enjoyment of religion ; and they took a lively interest in the spiritual 
welfare of our departed sister and her husband, so that by their kmd and 
pious efforts they were much encouraged and strengthened in the ways of the 

One evening, shortly, after their removal to this place, as they were sitting 
together after the labours of the day, religion was the subject of their conver- 
sation, and our dear sister was much interested, especially while conversing 
on the subject of family prayer ; such prayer was believed to be a duty, 
and its importance was felt and acknowledged ; and, after much reasoning 
and persuading, a deteimination was made, and the duty was performed 
that night in their home for the first time. After this family worship was 
ren^ularly performed twice a day, and with feelings of interest and pleasure, 
as well as from a sense of duty. When her husband was away from home, 
oar departed sister took his place at the altar of the household, and lifted 
her voice in thanksgiving and prayer. In their opinion unnumbered bless- 
ings were bestowed upon them in answer to their prayers at the family 
altar. While residing at Scorton, our sister made great j)rogress in the 
divine life, and became deeply pious. Her whole soin was in the work of 
the Lord, she was strongly attached to his people, and the means of grace 
were her delight, the class-meeting in particular, and no trifle could prevent 
her attendance. 

About that time her nearest neighbour was converted to God, and they 
became one in Christian love ; they met together in band, and were a sreat 
help to each other in the Lord. Nancy King, (the person here alluded to,) 
was a pious woman, and she long since departed this life in the triumph of 
faith. 

In the course of a few years our sister and her husband removed from 
Scorton to Stockport j this was a great trial to her, but in this as in other 
matters the Lord was acknowledged, and in his name the cross was taken 
up. After arriving at Stockport, she soon found a class-meeting, and kept 
as mnch as possible to the means of grace. In this town she experienced 
the greatest trials and the greatest blessings of her life ; she was led through 
fire and water, but was at length brought into a wealthy place. She might 
in the midst of her complicated trials have said with the Psalmist, *'Thou, 
^hich hast shewed me great and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and 
shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth. Thou shalt increase 
my greatness, and comfort me on every side." For awhile deep seemed to 
call unto deep, and billows and waves passed over her, her religion was 
closely tested. She suffered from temporal losses, ftx)m the conduct of un- 
reasonable men, and from long affliction in her family. The greater 



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2T0 Biography of Mm. Nanny Whitc^her of Sioekport, 

part of her children were heavily afflieted, and some of them were removed 
hy death, so that she had roaoh care and toil hoth hj night and hy day. 

There was another circumstance which ahout this time caused her con- 
siderable pain of mind, this was her husband's suspension as a Local 
Preacher among the Conference Methodists, for no other charge than at- 
tending a meeting held in Manchester by Dr. Warren and others. Soon 
after both our sister and her husband were entirely severed from that body ; 
this was a trial to her, but she knew it did not alter their relation to God ; 
and she told two of the circuit preaehera so when they called at her home 
to endeavour to persuade her husband to submit and retum. As if 
to sharpen her feelings, which were already too aeute, one of the Con- 
ference friends told her that her family afflictions and other troubles were 
judgments from God because she haa left the Wesley ans. Tho person 
who made this remark appeared to be sineepe, but it certainly was proof of 
great ignorance and bigotry. The Lord helped our sister to endure, an4 
soon gave her enemies to see that whom He loveth He ehasteqeth. Her 
trials were sanotified to her, she was led to view the things of this life in 
their own light, to attach greater importance to things spiritual, and to 
place less reliance on feeble man. And it was not long before the outward 
circumstances were reversed. Her husband, in reviewing the past, says, 
" I am constrained to cry out, * what hath God wrought for us ?' If it had 
not been the Lord who was on our side we should have been like thoee who 
go down into the pit. He has been our rock, a covert from the storm, he 
has been our helper. Halleluiah. Praise the Lord. Amen." During the 
latter part of our sister's life, her path was comparatively smooth and eas;f , 
she was blest with a competency, and enjoyed many comforts. In thu 
state she was thankful, but not proud. In prosperity, she was the same 
humble, plain, friendly, and kind-hearted Christian that she was before. In 
the character and conduct of our departed sister there were many excellen- 
ces. She WGUi remarkably conscientious ; and a pattern of industry, order, 
and cleanliness \ kind to the afflicted and poor, diligent in attendance on the 
means of grace, and strictly punctual to the proper time ; a kind iriend to 
the preachers of the Gospel ; a faithfVil and devoted wife, an affectionate and 
judicious mother, and a peaceable and worthy church member. Would that 
there were more like her. In her spirit and conduct there was an illustra- 
tion of the power and blessedness of Christianity. She lived to bless her 
household and all with whom she was connected. She did not seek to shine 
on great occasions, but she glorified God in common life ; unlike many, she 
improved upon acquaintance, so that those who knew her best esteemed her 
most. In general she was cheerful and blithe, and sometimes rather 
humorous. She was not a woman of many words, but when she did speak 
it was to purpose. She did not expose a weak mind ; and make herself 
disagreeable to her friends by egotism and self-laudation. Her works 
praised her, but not her lips, *' speaking in deeds, but deedless in her 
tongue." Though unassuming and retiring, she was a woman of sterling, 
worth. She lived well, and has left an example worthy of imitation. At 
home her influence was great, and her*s was the influence of kindneu. 
Her removal, therefore, is felt to be a great loss; Her husband was ^atly 
indebted to her for his success and comfort in life. In a letter which the 
writer has received ftom him, he says, ** It is nearly forty-two years since 
we were married, and surely no man ever had such an helpmeet as she has 
been to me. I believe our attachment to each other was stronger as we 
grew older." Her children rejoiced under her gentle sway ; even when 
arrived at maturity they readily obeyed her wishes ; and now that dbe is 
gone they think of her as « the best friend they had exoept the Saviour.** 
Her husband and children lay very near her heart ; she had long watched 
and laboured for their good, and if she desired to live longer it was for Uieir 



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Biography of 3(ri, Nanny Whitaker of Stockport. 271 

aakes. On the 4th of August, 1856, she experienced a heavy trial in the 
death of her youngest daughter, twenty-one years of age.* This was a 
great shock to her, and her health, which had been declining for some time, 
never rallied again. She spent some time on the sea co^st, but returned 
home without any apparent improvement. Her bodily strength gradually 
failed, but she did not seem to think that she was near her latter end. She 
kept to her household duties as muoh as possible, for while anything 
remained undone she seemed as though she oould not be inactive. Her 
love for reading became more ardent, especially in the Bible, which had long 
been her chief book. In family and private prayer she took increasing 
delight. Her affection for her husband and children, and her concern for 
their welfare, seemed to strengthen^ and she could not contemplate a 
separation without deep feeling. Her suffering at times was extreme, but 
she bore it with great patience and resignation. Eight days before her 
death she had a severe attack, and suffered the most excruciating pain. 
This paroxysm left her very low and confined her to bed. As she drew 
near her wd her mind became remarkably .calm. To those around her she 
remarked that her body was fast sinking, but that she was mercifully 
saved from the fear of death, and had no doubt of her safety. A few days 
before her death she seemed somewhat better, and her firienda indulged a 
hope of her recovery, but another severe attack of pain out off all hope, and 
she rapidhr flank into the arms of death. About two o'clock in the after- 
Qooo, twelve hours after this attack, she grow worse, and her suffering; was 
very great. While she was held up in oed her husband inquired if she 
thought Jesus would save her. She extended her hands, as if surprised that 
such ft question i^ould be asked, and with great emphasis said, " I have no 
doubt, X have no doubt,*' In the midst of her sufferings she anticipated 
the happinesa and glory of the saints in heaven, and exclaimed— 

'* Palms in our hands we all thai} bear. 
And crowns upon our head." 

Her agony being very great all around her seemed to desire her release. 
Her husband asked her if they should pray for her, and with great earnest- 
ness she urged them to do so. Prayer was then earnestly offered in the 
name of the Blessed Trinity. It was a solemn time, «nd all present were 
deeply engaged. The Lord answered their prayers, her pain appeared to 
be all gone^ and in about five or ten minutes she requested her son Thomas 
to raise hey on the pillow, and while he was in the act of doing so her 
spirit took its flight, and ahe gently fell asleep in Jesus on the latji of 
December, 1950. Ber death was improved by the writer in Wellington 
^»d Chapel, Stockport, on the evening of tord's-day, February 15th. 
lW7i to ft crowded congregation. How many of the first members and 
friends of U)o TTfdeyftn Association are gone. ** Friend after friend 
fcpwta," A goodly number who were united with us in prayer and effort 
ftnq \rith whom we tods sweet counsel, have finished their course. Ours 
^Iso, is hastening to its completion. The goal is not feir distant; The day 
of Mb i9 brief. "* The night cometh." 

« Traveller, see thy gracious day 

Swiftly drawing to an end. 
Mend thy paoe, pursue thy way, 

Ere the shades of night descend i 
F^ar to lose a moment's spaoe, 

Walk, advance, and hasten on ; 
And when death concludes thy race> 

Dying shout, * The work is dona.'" 

^ * A. HMQMir ef tiOs MesUest; TOtuig ^wm appealed la the <• Wtslsfan AssomiIim 
Magazine" for November^ 1866. 



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272 Platform Sketches. 



RECENT DEATHS. 

Mr. Brooke, of Hunslet, one of our Local Preachers, a modest, good man , 
fell asleep in Jesus, in the second week of this month. Also, 

Mrs. Abrah, of Leeds, who, with her husband, a retired exciseman will 
be well known to all our ministers for their hospitality and interest in the 
Connexion ; she died suddenly from paralysis, but she was " found 
watching." 



PLATFORM SKETCHES IN RELATION TO HOME AND 
FOREIGN MISSIONS. 

L Ireland and the Gospel. 

At a recent gathering of the Baptist Irish Society, the Rev. 
John AlLDIS, in allusion to the Gospel as the great lever for the 
moral elevation of the Irish people, said — , 

That the condition of Ireland socially is greatly improved, I take it for 
granted ; for I have not been there to see. It is testified in so many ways, 
and by so many persons, that I have no doubt at all about it. And it is 
testified without testimony ; a large people have ceased to gmmble, and 
the political portion of the community have ceased to employ, as political 
capital, the misery and the degradation which they had to a large extent 
produced. Ireland has been presented to our dull Saxon minds very often 
in an endless varietv of forms, and yet we are always brought, whatever 
the view we take of it, to the same conclusion— turned bacK to the good 
Gospel, and its kind and glorious Author, and to the spiritual power that 
can alone make it effective. Why, sometimes Ireland is represented as 
the gem set in the Western sea, with beautiful soil and matchless verdure, 
noble rivers, placid lakes, and glorious mountains ; but for its beauty to he 
complete there must be the rose of Sharon, and for its richness the pearl 
of great price. And sometimes one has had the vision of Ireland, when 
the ancient paganism became extinct, when the people were yet free from 
the yoke of Rome, when the inward feuds and commotions were oomposed, 
and, as it was said, too, all venomous reptiles were distroyed ; when it was 
the focal light at once of piety and knowledge; the land at once of colleges 
and of saints. If it ever were so, the Gospel made it — if it is ever to be so, 
it must be by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes, again, it is 
presented to us as the land of lavish hospitality, cheerful carefulness, spark- 
ling wit, ready eloquence, warm hearts, and bounding mirthfiilness ; but, to 
ffive elevation and sanctity to all these attributes of character, there most 
be the grace of Jesus ; and, with such elements of charadter, what may not 
be accomplished when the grace of Jesus is supplied ? Sometimes, a^ain 
it is represented to us as impulsive, improvident, a thing of brogue and bmn- 
ders, careless, distinguished by the shamrock, whiskey, riots, and broken 
heads. What can calm those passions, but the living love of Jesus ? and 
what turn them to a right channel, but the saving power of divine grace ? 
And sometimes it is presented to us as a land where epiritual tyranny has 
done its very worst, repressing free inquiry within, shutting all the light 
from abroad, hurling its thunders from the altar, and hounding on the 
deluded votaries to new crimes and deeper miseries ; but if the Son of God 
make them free, they will be free indeed. Sometimes it is presented to as 
as a land of crime ; and, consequently, of misery, indolence, mth, rags, mud- 
hovels, conflagrations, assassinations, evictions, pestilence, fiunme, till bun- 
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IHatform Sketches, 273 

dreds of thousands are swept into a premature grave, and hundreds of 
thousands more swept across the mighty ocean to distant lands ! Bat 
there is one hand that can touch poor Ireland, and heal her miseries, and 
stay her crimes, and but one, — it is the hand that was nailed to the tree. 
And take the position we now occupy : altered Ireland — industrious, thri- 
ving, diligent Ireland — almost Saxon, with broadcloth close-buttoned, I'e- 
solute, well-disciplined, what will become of it without the Gospel, without 
the grace of Him who gave it ]— Still, it will only be the substitution of 
one evil for another. It may be infidel instead of superstitious ; its impul- 
siveness may give way to new forms of character, sweetened over by some 
sickly sentimentalism ; but you must go to the core of the matter, the re- 
generation of the heart, and then Ireland's joy will come. 

2. The Difficulties attendant on Missionart Efforts. 

The Rev. C. Stovel on this subject, observed — 

As to the object you have in view, my impression is, that it derives its 
charm from that which gives import to the testimony of your message. 
The Gospel becomes glad tidings chiefly on this account, that it tells us 
that Qcoa loves us, and that by his great kindness, there is established a 
medium through which the love may be really enjoyed ; that we poor, rug- 
ged, guilty creatures— that we are really permitted to participate, to use, 
to bring down into every-day life, and to mingle with all the cares of this 
life, the blessings which flow from that love which is so proclaimed ; and 
not only bring down, but bring down to our use and enjoyment in this our 
mortal life, that blessing ; to walk with it down into the cold, dark grave, 
rest with it there, and then, with its sweetness augmented and expanded, 
with the enlarged consciousness of a disembodied spirit, alive to its festivi- 
ties in a better world. To say the thing is easy ; but to waken the con- 
science of man, and make him feel the thing, is quite another matter. To 
put it in printed letters before his eye is easy ; to make him commit senten- 
ces which expound its doctrines to memory, is easy ; and those who have 
voice may find it easy to put it in sonorous, pleasing, musical sentences,.to hang 
upon the ear, and make the hearer " hang upon the lip of him that pro- 
nounceth it ; " and yet the conscience which answers to it may be wanting. 
But when you have all the poetry of the Gospel, and all the elocution 
which it supplies, and all the wondrous illustrations of its action, and all 
that you can find within your resource, yet when these are all gathered up 
to your use, there is a strong fact that stares vou in the face, men some- 
how, or very rarely, are not easily to be convinced that God loves them. 
Nay, more, it is hard to tell why, but men do not like to hear that God 
loves them. Somehow or other, real, honest-hearted love is just that 
which, whether it comes from God or man, walks through this earth, but is 
never understood or scarcely ever, but always seems as though it had some 
under purpose that must be felt out, some splendid fraud to play off upon 
the poor, famishing, guilty, sons of earth. And this is the cniei difficulty. 
To understand the extent of the difficulty you have to place yourselves in 
a position where the practical operations of any church may be lawfully 
studied. Those who pass in are many of them — we will call them— sin- 
cere converts to the truth ; but how small a part of these there are who 
come from the rugged coarse masses, whose condition we deplore. How 
wnall a part are gathered in from those circles of polished vice which 
stand amidst the educated classes of society. There are instances enough 
to tell us there is hope in our employment, but they are so few that 
they should make us humble, very' humble, in the study of our 
services. And on the other side, walk through the range of our large 
families, indoctrinated with Christian truth, attended with all kinds o^' 



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274 Platform Skguhu. 

religtoutf iMlvaiiUffei whetbor male or female, and mark h6w maa^ there are 
who, near to the kiiigdom of heaveii} are found tripping on its verge, rolling 
baek into corruption, or oovering with a flimsy profession the moat obvioiu 
and fatal want of Christian character. The wrecks about our ohurchei, I 
think, amount to an awful agreement with the number of our ▼ietories—at 
least enough to tell us there is something to be studied, revised, and per- 
haps amended, in our operations. If I have this as a fact before me, 
there oomes at once the question, what shall mend it 1 And I eonfeN 
there is one sentence in your report^ I don't think I can quote it, for my 
memorv is gettingi in old age, vastly leaky-^it is in the beginning-** la 
general their operations are not of a naturo to warrant the expeotaftioa of 
anything brilliant and imposing." Well, that^s just precisely as jou b^ 
to calculate it, that's all. They say that an officer on parade, with bis fine 
feathers, his sash nicely arranged, his regimentals all on, is brilliant. Well, 
so it may be to some, but it is not to me. I had rather look at that fellow 
coming from the crash of the war, with his sword broken, his regimentals 
all slashed and spattered, and bearing on his person the marks S the des- 
perate struggle with whieh he held the breach or broke through the solid 
rank of an opposing foe. Then there is something brilliant in the man 
who snatches a laurel from the spot where every other spirit would be 
expected to faint. Now, I think that some brilliancy is found amongst our 
missionaries, and lies well within the ran^ of our sooiety. From Shotley- 
bridge in the north down to Land's End, it has been my privilege to nurse 
my tastes very much indeed among the sympathies of the hmly^borne 
struggles of our ehurches in adverSty. I don't know that I should com- 
pare my knowledge with that of any other man at all ; I cmly know it ii 
enough to make me admire them wondrously. I 

3. Cathedral Towns and Evanobucal Effort, 
Mr, Stovsl, in relation to this topic, eaid— 

And this affords an opportunity of illustrating the thought I was present- 
ing to you in respect to this sooiety, that there are bruliant operations 
in connection with it. Take Ely for an instant. It is worth your study; 
its old majestic cathedral, with little bits of its ancient plaster, just enough 
to tell you what it was j and those of you who love to study architecture, 
will thus catch a thin^ which may be illustrated and carried with joo. 
When you go to visit old establishments of this sort, you wiU have to r^ 
member the tremendous spirit of death that prevails there. Ig ikm 
cathedral towns, choked with wealth, you fiud solid cong)omeratio9l 
of religious corruption) so tenacious, ranklike, and massive, that they Qeem 
to despise the hammer of God*s word. Talk about India and Juggeraaoii 
and the diflcultlesof preaching the Gospel there, I tell you it is qoT b^^^ 
hard to beaj: the Gospel there as in the face of the castellated vicQ and 
criminality which stands rooted, built round, and barricaded by th« 
worldly interests of our land. Look at the long experiment at Weli>) 
which had the senius of a Mursell once, and many other able men since ; 
and he is a brilliant fellow who will hear the burden of that dreadfid toili 

4. Thp< Gospibl THE ONW Panaoba fo« Human Wok. 
The Bev. Thomas Hands, speakipg on this subject, said— 

Some spoke slightingly of the efforts of sodeties such as these, say- 
ing that society itself needed reoonstruetion ; and with some, political re* 
form waci everything. Well, they had now a new House of Gommeas,^ 
one that had beea re^ipped^aa ha heard Mr. Sidney Herbert deaoribe it--' 



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Plai/orm Sketches. 275 

re-dipped in an election. There had been loud cries for reform and entrench- 
ment ; and he traated that performance would be as extensive as profeg* 
sion, and that their new members would be as earnest and successful as 
their constituents hoped they would. He hopes they would soon as far 
outstrip their present selves in all that went to make the strength and 
goodaeas of a nation as they already outstripped all other nations. But 
le did net expect much from this quarter— they must look to something 
else. Yes, said some, you must educate the people. So said he. Let 
there be exhibitions, libraries, mechanics* iastitutes, amusements for the 
people, if yoa will— rcvery thing to soften and humanise them as far as you 
oan. But it did not seem to him that crime and immorality were confined 
to the unedueated portion of the people ; it struck him they should find 
quite as large a proportion of immorality and wickedness amongst men 
who had a &ir share of wealth and education as amongst those who had 
them net. To hear the advocates of education talk, they might suppose 
that poetry and sculpture, and painting and music, were just bom, and 
had never yet been tried in their effect upon the people. As if those 
things which they were so onxious that the masses should see in their 
Museum were not the very fragments of the art of bygone days \ the mere 
remnaets of that which was not able to save Greece from ruin, nor Borne 
from destruction, and whieh existed in all its perlbction face to face with 
vice and corruption, at which even an atheist would blush now. If there 
was nothing but cheap literature, nothing but cheap amusements, to which 
they could look to stem the torrent of iniquity, nothing that would go 
deeper than this, then woe, woe, indeed to this country. What do we 
want, then ? We want the grand old Qospel 1 that is the only remedy. He 
knew plenty of men who would sneer and cry *♦ fanaticism" at that, but he 
appealed to facts. They found that education increased the wants, enlarge 
ed the desires, developed the faculties of men ; it save cultivated taste, 
hut it implanted no principle ; and if they increased the number of suck 
men, they would have plenty of swindling Joint-Stock Banks, plenty of 
Agars, Redpaths, and Boosons, who would astonish them with the magnitude 
and olevemess of their crimes. Oh yes, they must give something better 
than m^^ secular education, they must find a remedy that would reach 
the heart ; something that would not only teach them truth but how to 
nae truth ; something that would call out love and gratitude, and so warm 
the heart that it should regard all around as brethren, and learn to act 
truthftilly in all the relations of lif)9. Nothing but the grand old Gospel 
vould do this — would even have ap abiding influence upon the masses, or 
d^n eorreet the evil principle in the human soul, or restrain evil passions, 
Md change the degraded nature into (me noble and pure. 

5. Missions aki) CiviUJiAxiQir. 

At the last Meeting of the Baptist Missionary Socie^, th© Rev, 
J(mK Grabam, of Craven Chapel, said— 

The topic that has been assigned me to speak to is, ^ Christian Missions 
the Harbinger of Civilisation." Christlsn missions take the very line of 
ftetlon that the blessed Bedeemer took ; and they fbllow his example and 
his spirit. ,Fe8us came into the world, and took little children into his 
^nns and blessed them. And missionary societies have gone out, and 
taken children that would have been slaughtered by the hands of their 
own parents, and have taken them into their bosom, and blessed them, 
M»d extinffuished infenticide. Jesus stretched out his hand to helplesi^ 
J^dowhood and to weeping sisters, and wherever your missionary societies 
have gone forth, they have extinguished widow immolation, have raised 



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276 Platform Sketches. 

the female character, and exalted it into its true position. So, likewise, 
as' to the bodies of men. Jesus fed them. Tour missionary enterprise 
developes the soil and feeds the bodies of men ; while it feeds their souls, and 
every were spreads the effects of civilisation. I have sometimes thoaght I 
should like a dialogue with a scientific philanthropist or a secular philaii- 
thropist, on this subject of the civilisation of the heathen. I should like 
to ask them what they would do that we do not do 1 As they look on the 
lands of the heathen, and see the savage, naked, and squalid, and wretched, 
and impure, I can conceive these scientific or secular philanthropists saying, 
** We must at once organise an association.'* Perhaps, they would get it 
incorporated by royal charter, and then they would call it sometMi^ like 
** The Boyal Philanthropic Society for Sanitaiy Reform in Heathen Lands, 
and for Cleansing and Clothing the Bodies of Men." We have been organ- 
isine such societies for the last fifty years, and we conceive they have 
woiHked a great effect among the heathen. I can conceive of these scientific 
and secular philanthropists saying, We must have a " Royal Philanthropic 
Society for Buildings among the Heathen," in which to feed, and clothe, 
and convert them. I can conceive them saying. We must have a " fioyal 
Philanthropic Society for the Development of the Industrial Resources of 
Heathen Lands ;'* it is a pity that the soil trodden by the savages, apd 
possessing so much fertility, should not be cultivated. I can eonceire 
them, as they look a little deeper, saying, the hearts of the men are as 
uncultivated as the soil,— we must organise a " Royal Philanthropic Society 
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge among the Heathen ;" for construct- 
ing their languages, and for writing them ; for pouring translations of oor 
own and the treasuries of other literature into theirs. I think I could go 
on enumerating some fourteen societies that would be required by these 
philanthropists for the civilisation of the heathen. But, as we look upon 
them, we say, '^ We have been doing all this ; and the only difference 
between your societies and ours is, that yours have no existence, and oars 
have." It reminds me of what an Irishman said to an Englishman. A 
number of Irish carmen were importuning him to hire a horse and car, and 
were expatiating upon the merits of their respective animals, when at last, 
one poor fellow shouted out, " Oh, sir, take my horse, he is a poetical, 
animal." The said horse was an old creature that could not, apparently, 
carry his own skin. " Well," said the gentleman, *• I will have your 
horse; "i 
the man, 

said the i , _ 
I hear a cry from many of the secularists, perhaps from The Eeasmer, o 
some other review, saying, **Take our chariot and drive into heathen 
lands." Like the Irishman's horse, I think it would go far faster in imagi- 
nation than in fact, for I see no means in the hands of philanthropists and 
secularists of carrying civilisation to the heathen. To give a more digni- 
fied illustration of the conduct of certain good philanthropists among us, it 
reminds me of what Hue and his companion tell us, in the memoir of their 
visit to Thibet, of a certain llama ; he was only the representative oi « 
lai^e class, he was a sreat philanthropist in his way. A dreadful storm 
arose, and he said to Mr. Hue, " I must go and send horses to poor travellers 
to-day." **That is a most admirable thing," replied the Jesuit missionary; 
" I hope you will have good speed in doing it." When he returned at 
night, after sending horses to the travellers, he brought back a few flam- 
pies of them. They were a number of slips of paper with the figures 
of horaes drawn on them. He had gone to one of the neighbouring nillsj 
and had thrown these papers to the winds of heaven ; and, having satisfied 
his philanthropy by this, he returned home, boasting how he had served 
the poor travellers, and sent horses for them. This appears to me very 




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Hints to Preachers. 277 

much like the philanthropy of these stay-at-home gentleman, who profess 
80 much sympathy for the heathen, and yet are doing all they can to 
undermine Christianity — the only thing which can benefit and civilise the 
heathen. Such men would curse the Puritans, and would slander John 
Bunyan. Ah ! were John Bunyan here to-day, he might come upon this 
platform, and speak under the se^is of British liberty — that segis which has 
been raised by the hands of sturdy, stalwart men, who were willing to give 
theu* life even unto death to erect the standard of liberty for us. I say 
the conduct of some of these would-be-philanthropists really appears to me 
as ridiculous as the philanthropy of that poor llama who served poor tra- 
vellers, as he conceived, by sending them these paper horses from the top 
of a hill in a storm. These philanUiropists do raise the wind a little, and 
they sometimes do send out their paper scraps at a great rate, and tell us 
that missions have done all but nothing ; that they are a failure ; that we 
had better give up the mission £eld, and come back. But we want to 
kuow who will take it in our place. It appears to me that there is no 
power at present in our community, or in any civilised lands, that would 
attempt to take the Gospel, or rather civilisation—for we leave the Gospel 
for the moment out of the question— except one spirit. I see there is the 
spirit of commerce— commerce will go to load itself with lion-skins and 
elephant tusks ; but how little does it care to sit down and busy itself 
among the obscure heathen, to teach them the art of civilisation ? I 
see there is the spirit of scientific enterprise ; but the men of scientific 
and speculative spirit, generally like to speculate at home, and to publish 
the result of their speculations to those who are better able to appreciate 
them than the poor tribes of Central Africa, or of the South Seas, or India. 
I repeat, it that there is no spirit but one that will attempt to take the 
Gospel of Jesus Christ, or rather civilisation, to the heathen. There is a 
spirit that can do it, and has done it ; the spirit that brought the Son of 
God from one world to another, from one nature into another nature, from 
one degree of suffering to another, until he reached the cross of a reputed 
malefactor, and went down into the grave and died for a perishing world ; 
the spirit that animated Europe's first missionary, when, in answer to the 
cry of Europe's helplessness and wretchedness, he crossed the Bosphorus 
and preached in Philippi ; preached salvation to the perishing Macedonians, 
and afterwards at Corinth and Home ; the spirit that animated the 
Moffats, and the Williamses, and the Livingstones, that are mentioned in 
this catholic report of this catholic society ; the spirit that animated the 
Knibhs, and the Judsous, and the Careys, and the others whose names are 
in the Book of Life. 



HINTS TO PREACHERS. 

BY FRANCIS WATLAND, D.D. 

It is a common remark, that preachers employ a worse delivery than 
any other men who address their fellow-citizens in public. How far this 
is just, it may be hard to determine. Suppose, however, a lawyer at the 
bar should read his plea, or the speaker at a political meeting should read 
his speech, as ministers often read their sermons, would they be at all 
endured? Or, suppose, that, in an ordinary evening party, any one 
should attempt to converse in the precise tone of voice which men use in 
the pulpit, would not the whole company stand amazed ? When men 
preach without notes, it is not commonly as bad, but here there is com- 
monly some evil habit or other which very much detracts from the 
effectiveness of the discourse. One speaks so rapidly that it is difficult to 



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278 Hinit io Preachers, 

follow bimi«-»aQoih6r drawk, — another has a ttoleifiA i&itiiflteHal toiie» to 
which aU his Beotencea are subJ6Oted,--0&e is nnmoTed while uttetibg the 
moat solemn truth, or speaks so low that but fetr can hear himt-— ^Kbother 
IB boisterous from beginning to end, and as much moved whUe ^tte^ 
ing the most common, plain remark, as in delivering the most solemn 
announcement. Now all this is tinfortunate. Whoever atteffipts to 
improve a brother minister, should pay special attention to these defects, 
and labour assiduously and faithfully to oorrect them* 

The great defect of all our speaking is the want of naturalness. Wlien 
we become confined to written discourses, this is almost inevitable. Me& 
cannot rsnd as they speak : the eitcitement of thought in extemporary 
speaking avrakens the natural tones of emotioui and it is these nataral 
tjues which send the sentiment home to the heart of the hearer. Any 
one must be impressed with this fact, who attends a meeting of clergy- 
men during an interesting debate. There is no lack of speakers on sacli 
occasions, and no one complains that he cannot speak without notes. It 
is also remarkable that tney all speak well^ for they speak in earnest, 
and they speak naturally. We have sometimes thought, if these rery 
brethren would speak in the same manner from the pulpit, how much 
more effective preachers they would become. In the pulpit We tend 
to a solemn monotony, which is very grave, very proper, veryminia- 
terial,-^but it is as wearisome to the vocal organs of the speaker, as 
to the ear of the hearer, and its tendency is decidedly soporific. We 
frequently hear a discourse delivered even with a good d^ of eafnestness, 
and not a single word has been uttered with a natural tone of the voice. 

The tones which lie at the foundation of all good speaking kre the tones 
of earnest conversation. Here we never drawl, or fall into tone, or sing- 
song, but speak out what we mean< with the patues and emphasis whleh 
most readily convey the sense, tnodifyif]| every sentence by the feeling of 
our own hearts, and the impression we desire to produce npon the hearer. 
This is the basis of all good speaking. If a man could carry these tones 
into the pulpit, rendering them somewhat niore grave, as becomes the 
solemnity of the subject, speaking more slowly, as he must do, if he woold 
be heard by a large assembly, abating somewhat of the suddenness of 
transitions, and rising, when the occasion demands it, to an impsasioaed 
and sustained earnestness, he could not fail to be a most attractive preacher. 
This, then, should be the great object of a preacher, to cultivate the 
natural tones of emotion, and learn to address an assembly in the tones 
and the manner which he would use iu earnest conversation. If we 6an only 
attain this excellence, every other will follow as a matter of course. If he 
once learns to stand up before an audience, and speak to them freely, 
withont embarrassment on the one hand or pompousness on the other, 
simply as any man might arise and address his fellow-men on a suhject of 
common importance,, he may proceed f^om this to the highest efforts of 
eloquence, or at least to as high efforts as have been granted to his parti- 
cular endowment. In order to impresslveness of delivery, however, it 
is essential that a man aim at immediate effect. No man can be eloquent 
if he be affirming truth which may be of use some ten years hsnce. He 
thus excludes au use of^ the emotions, for there is nothing for emotion to 
do. His discourse becomes a mere abstract disoussioUf addressed to the 
intellect, and having no blearing on present action. When Demosthenes 
closed one of his orations, the whole audience burst into a unanimous shont, 
uttenng simultaneously the words, " Let us march against Philip." If ^^ 
had contended himself with discussing matters and things in general, telline 
them what might be necessary to be done some time or other, they yrcm 
have gone awav quietly, remarking upon the beauty of his sentences, m 
the melody of his voioe, and have complinientod him upon ** tiie stfOOVM w 



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Foriruii Galhpy, 279 

his effort." ThMe days afterwAtds, hdrdlv any man in Ath^fia wotdd have 
been abld to gire aQ intelligible aocount of his discourfle. 

A word may be said reepecticg the length of sermonfl. Cecil remarks, 
that a written sermon should not exceed thirty, and an unwritten sermon 
forty-fire minutes. This is probably a judicious direction. As sermons are 
of l^equent occurrence, and as they had better be confined to a single topic, 
or to a phase of a topic, the length of time which they occupy may profit- 
ably he confined within these limits* It is of small benefit to an audience 
to be wearied out of patience with the length of a sermon. A preacher 
ihottld always bear this in mind, and by no means continue his discourse 
after his hearers have lost the power of attention. Sinners are rarely con- 
verted or saints edified when tney are half asleep. 

The nature of the sermon governs all the other exercises of public wor- 
ship. Hie object of the preacher is to produce a sinele impression. We 
all know how difficult it is to fix a religious truth in tne mind of a 
man, especially when the reception of that truth imposes the necessity of 
correspondinff action. We all know how easily the mind is diverted fhmi 
the Babject of discourse to every passing trifle, how soon a train of associa- 
tion arises and leads the mind far away from the words which are falling 
upon the ear. Now, of this the preacher should be aware. He should 
have every other part of the service so ordered as to co-operate with the 
sermon in producing one effect ; and every source of distraction should be 
carefully avoided. 

If we adhere to these principles, we shall of course select such scriptures 
for reading as are conducive to the main design. The psalms or hvmns 
Bhonld prepare the mind for the subject that is to follow. The tunes should 
express the emotion uttered in the words. For this purpose the old psalms, 
enriched by innumerable solemn associations, are greatly to be ]^referred. 
The more directly every thing bears upon the point to be attained, the 
greater will be the effect. And, on the contrary, ©very thing is to be 
avoided which would lead the minds of the audience in a different, especially 
an opposite direction. Music, which expresses no sentiment, but only 
exhibits the skill of the performer, especially music and music performers 
that awaken associations of the opera or theatre, are sufficient to destroy the 
effect of the most solemn dtscourse,--if, indeed, solemn discourses are ever 
found in such company. Notices, if they must be made a part of the ser- 
vice of Qod, should be put as far out of the way as possible, that they may 
not interfere with the unity of design which should govern a religious 
service. 



PORTRAIT GALLERY. 

CHAaACTEll OP JAHES 1. SKETCHED BT TWO DIFFERENT ARTISTS. 
Which %B the heat likeness f — the Sistorian^s sketchy or that qf the Bishop, 

Uacattlay, speaking of James' accession to the throne of Sngland, 
says, it should seem that the weight of England among European nations 
onght from this epoch to have greatly increased. The territory which her 
pew king governed, was in extent nearly double that which Elizabeth had 
inherited. His empire was also the most complete within itself, and the 
most secure from attack that was to be found in the world. The Plan- 
tagenets and Tudors had been repeatedly under the necessity of defending 
themselves against Scotland, while they were engaged in continental war. 
The long conflict in Ireland had been a severe and perpetual drain on their 
mources; yet even under such disadvantages, those sovereigns had been 



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280 Portrait GaUery. 

highly considered thronghoot Christendom. It might, therefore, not un- 
reasonably be expected, that England, Scotland, and Ireland combined, 
would form a state second to none that then existed. All such expectations 
were disappointed. On the day of the accession of James the first, our 
country descended from the rank which she had hitherto held, and began to 
be regarded as a power hardly of the second order. During many years 
the great British monarchy, under four successive princes of the House of 
Stuart, was scarcely a more important member of the European system 
than the little kingdom of Scotland had previously been ; this, however, is 
little to be regretted. Of James the first, as of John, it may be said, that 
if his administration had been able and splendid, it would probably haye 
been fatal to our country ; and that we owe more to his weakness and 
meanness, than to the wisdom and courage of much better sovereigns. He 
came to the throne at a critical moment. The time was fast approaching 
when either the king must become absolute, or the Parliament mnst 
control the whole executive administration. Had James been like Heniy 
the fourth, like Maurice of Nassau, or like Gustavus Adolphus, a valiant, 
active, and politic ruler ; had he put himself at the head of the Protestants 
of Europe — had he gained great victories over Tilly and Spinola — had he 
adorned Westminster with the spoils of Bavarian monasteries, and Flemish 
cathedrals— had he hung Austrian and Castilian bannei*s in St. Paul's ; and 
had he found himself, auer great achievements, at the head of fifty thousand 
troops, brave, well disciplined, and devotedly attached to his person : the 
English Parliamentwould soon have been notmng more than a name. Happily 
he was not a man to play such a part. He began his administration bj 
putting an end to the war which nad raged during many years between 
England and Spain ; and from that time shunned hostilities with a caution 
which was proof against the insults of his neighbours, and the clamours of 
his subjects. Not till the last year of his life, could the influence of his 
sou, his favourite, his Parliament, and his people combined, induce him to 
strike one feeble blow in defence of his fieunily and of his religion. It was 
well for those whom he eovemed, that he in this matter disregarded their 
wishes. The e£fect of his pacific policy was, that in his time no regular 
troops were needed ; and that while France, Spain, Italy, Belgium, and Ger- 
many, swarmed with mercenary soldiers, the defence of our island was still 
confided to the militia. 

James was always boasting of his skill in what he called kingcraft, and 
yet it is hardly possible, even to imagine a course more directly opposed to 
all the rules of kinscraft, than that which he followed. The policy of wise 
rulers has always been to disguise strong acts under popular forms. It 
was thus that Augustus and Napoleon established absolute monarchies, 
while the public regarded them merely as eminent citizens invested with 
temporary magistracies. The policy of James was the direct reverse 
of theirs. He enraged and alarmed nis Parliament by constantly telling 
them that they held their privileges merely during his pleasure ; and that 
they had no more business to inquire what he mieht lawfully do^ Tet he 
quailed before them, abandoned minister after minister to their vengeance, 
and suffered them to tease hini into acts directly opposed to his strange 
inclinations. Thus, the indignation excited by nis claims, and the scorn 
excited by his concessions, went on growing together. By his fondness for 
worthless minions, and by the sanction which he gave to their tyranny and 
rapacity, he kept discontent constantly alive. His cowardice, his child- 
ishness, his pedantry, his ungainly person and manners, his provincial 
accent, made him an object of derision. Even in his virtues and accom- 
pUshments, there was something eminently unkingly. Throughout the 
whole course of his reign, all the venerable associations by which Sie throne 
had long been fenced, were gradually losing their strength. During two 



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Portrait Gallery. 281 

hundred jears, all the sovereigns who had ruled England, with the single 
exception of the unfortunate Henry the sixth, had heen strong-minded, 
hi^h-spirited, courageous, and of princely hearing ; almost all had possessed 
abilities ahove the ordinary level. It was no light thing, that on the very 
eve of the decisive struggle hetween our kings and their parliaments, 
royalty should he exhihited |o the world, stammering, slohhering, shedding 
unmanly tears, tremhling at a drawn sword, and talking in the style of a 
buffoon, and of a pedagogue." 

The following is a character drawn of James, hy WiUiams, Bishop of 
Lincoln, then Lord-keeper, in a sermon that he preached at the royal 
funeral— 

" I dare presume to say you never read in your lives of two kings more 
fully paralleled amongst themselves, and hetter distinguished from all 
other kings hesides themselves. King Solomon is said to he unigenitus 
coram matre stta, the only son of his mother, Prov. v. 8 ; so was King James: 
Solomon was of a complexion white and ruddy, Cant. v. 10 ; so was King 
James. Solomon was an infant king, puer, ^arvu/tM, a little child, 1 Chron. 
xxil 5 ; so was King James a king at the age of thirteen months. Solomon 
began his reign in the life of his predecessor, 1 Kings L 3 ; so by the force 
and compulsion of that state did our late sovereign ^ing James. Solomon 
was twice crowned and anointed king, 1 Chron. xxix. 22 ; so was King 
James. Solomon's minority was rough through the quarrels of the former 
sovereigns ; so was that of King James. Solomon was learned ahove all 
princes of the east, 1 Kings iv. 20 ; so was King James above all the 
princes in the universal world. Solomon was a writer in prose and verse, 
1 £in^ iv. 32 ; so, in a very pure and exquisite manner, was our sweet 
sovereign King James. Solomon was the greatest patron we ever read of 
to the church, and churchmen ; and yet no greater let the house of Aaron 
now confess than King James. Solomon was honoured with ambassadors 
from all the kings of the earth, 1 Kings, iv. ; and so you know was King 
James. Solomon was a main improver of his home commodities, as you 
may see in his trading with Haram, 1 Kings v. 9 ; and God knows it 
was the daily study of King James. Solomon was a great maintainer of 
shipping and navigation, 1 Kings x. 14 ; a most proper attribute to King 
James. Solomon beautified very much his capital city with buildings, and 
outer works, 1 Kings ix. 15 ; so did King James. Every man lived in 
peace under his vine, and his fig-tree, in the days of Solomon, 1 Kings iv» 
25 J and so they did in the blessed days of King James. And yet towards 
his end, King Solomon had secret enemies, Eazan, Hadad, and Jeroboam, 
and prepared for a war upon his going to his grave, as you may see in the 
verse before my text ; so had, and so did King James. Lastly, before any 
nostile act we read of in the history, King Solomon died in peace when he 
bad lived about sixty years, as Lyra and Tbstatus are of opinion ; and so 
you know did King James. 

'^ And as for his words and eloquence, you know it well enough ; it was 
nre and excellent in the highest degree. Solomon speaking of his own 
Mcnlty in this kind, divides it into two several heads — a ready invention, 
^d an easy discharge and expression of the same. 

God hath granted me to speak as I would, and to conceive as is meet, 
for the things spoken of, Wisd. vii. 15 ; and this was eminent in our late 
sovereign, his iTi-ention was as quick as his first thoughts, and his words 
asr^y as his invention. Ood hath given him to conceive: the Greek 
word in that place is, that is to make an enthymem, or a short syllogism^ 
and that was his manner. He would first wind up the whole substance of 
Jifl discourse into one solid and massive conception, and then spread it and 
duate it to what compass he pleased (as Tacitus said of Augustus)— in a 
nowmg and prmcely kind of elocution. Those speeches of his in the Par- 

u 

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289 Review and Vritieim, 

liameat, Star Chamber, CouQoil Table, and other publick audienc^B- of the 
State, (of which, as of Tally's Orations, ea semper optima aua moxfrno— the 
longest still was held the best,) do' prove him to be tne most powerfal 
speaker that ever swayed the sceptre of this Idngdom. In his style you may 
oWrre the Ecolesiastes, in his figures the Canticles, in his sentenoee thje 
Proverbs, and in his whole discourse, Eeliguum verbonun, Salomonis, all 
the rest that was admirable in the eloquence of Solomon, 

" How powerful did he charge the prince with the care of justice, the two 
pillars (as he termed them) of his future throne ! how did he recommend 
unto his love, the nobility, the ders;^, and the commonalty in the general. 
How did he thrust, as it were, into his inward bosom, his bishops, his judges, 
his near servants, and that disciple of his whom he so loved in particular, 
and concluded with that heavenly advice to his son, concerning that great 
act of his future marriage, to marry like himself, and marry where he 
would ; but if he did marry the daughter of that king, he should marrj 
her person, but he should not marry her religion." 



REVIEW AND CRITICISM. 

The Ottoman Empire. London : Religious Teact Society, 56, 
Paternoster-row. 

This is an opportune publication. Proceeding from the press, al- 
most immediately upon the close of the war in the East, it will be 
likely to secure a considerable share of public attention, to the Sul- 
tan's territory and to the people of Turkey, all of which matters are 
treated in the compass of a nioderate sized volume. 

The author treats his interesting subject under the following heads. 
The Turks, Seljukian and Ottoman — ^Rise of the Ottoman Empire- 
Establishment of the Empire — Capture of Constantinople — General 
effect of the Ottoman Conquests — Greatest Power and Extent of the 
Empire — Reverses of. the Empire — Capital of the Empire— -Ter- 
ritorial and General View of the Empire— Population, Races, and Re- 
ligions of the Empire. In addition to the author's popular treatment 
of the matters above named, he gives his readers a table of all the 
ijmirs and Sultans of the Empire from the days of Ottoman I. down 
to those of Abdul Me(\jid, as well as a Map, on a rather large scale, 
showing the boundaries of the Ottoman Empire at the time of its 
widest extent in the Seventeenth Century. Our readers will not ftil 
to realise both interest and profit in the perusal of this excellent 
work. 

Historical Tales for Young Protestants. London: RsLioioos 
Tract Societt, 56, Paternoster-row. 

Another of those charming volumes which are constantly proceed- 
iag from the press of the Religious Tract Society. The work before 
us sketches with graphic power the sufR^rings which PtotestantB of 
various countries have cheerfiilly borne on account of their Faith. Ij 
is a work designed for the Protestant Youth of the country, and will 
be read with an interest almost romantic. 

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Review and CrUieUm. >. .88. 

The Annotated Pwragraph BibU. Part V. (the Four Gospels). 
London : Religious Tsact Society, 66y Fatemoster^row. 

This, we think, is the. cheapest and perhaps the best popular Com- 
mentftiy in this age of cheap publications* Instead of the arbitrary 
division of the Sacred text into Chapters, as in the Authorised Ver- 
sion, the Annotated Bible is divided into Paragraphs, according to the 
change of subject. So far as ^e have observed, the paragraphs are 
judiciously arranged. The Part before us contains the Four Gospels, 
with Annotations. It is illustrated by numerous parallel passages, 
and by a beautiful Map of Palestine as it was in the time of our Lo^d. 
The size is imperial octavo : the paper fine, the typography excellent, 
and the price 3*. The whole Annotated Paragraph Bible will be 
completed in six such Parts, illustrated with Maps, &c. This publi- 
cation has our unqualified approval. We heartily recommend it to the 
notice of our numerous readers. 

Exhibition Flowers. By Shirley Hibberd. London: Gboobibridob 
and Son, 5, Paternoster-row. 

A work on the History, Properties, Cultivation, Propagation, and 
Management of Flowers in all seasons. The author has chosen an 
interesting subject, and appears to treat it in a masterly manner. 

Early Grace with Early Glory. By the Bey. W. P. Lyon, B.A 
London : Ward and Co., 27, Paternoster-row. 

This is the title of a brief Memorial which Paternal affection has 
moved the author to publish of a deceased Daughter. It is a charming 
little work. 

Practical Hints on the Management of the Sick Room. London 
John Snow, 35, Paternoster-row. • 

A work by Dr. Bakewell, intended to supply a want which it is 
believed has been long felt, of " a short, cheap, and simple book on the 
management of the Sick Room.'^ The author, within a small compass^ 
manages to throw out to his reader a great number of highly valuable 
snggestions on the subject under consideration. There ought to be 
at least one such book in every family. 

Voluntary and Religious Education. Edited by W. J. Unwin, M. A. 
London : Wabd and Co.» 27, Paternoster-row. 

The pamphlet before us, consists of Minutes of the Proceedings of a 
Conference held at the Independent College, Homerton, in December 
last, Samuel Morley, Esq., in the chair, with a Preliminary Statement 
by the Rev. John Kelly, of Liverpool ; and Strictures on Sir John 
Packington's Borough Educational Bill, by E. Baines, Esq., of Leeds. 
We have only space to observe that this is an able production in sup- 
port of Voluntary and Religious Education. Through the kindness 
of Mr. TJnwin we have been supplied, gratis^ with a copy for each of 
<m Itinerant Preachers and Missionaries^ 

u 2 



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284 Tke Fruit of Magged Schools. 



PUBUCATIOHS BBCBITSI>* 



1. « Man in Earnest" By Robert Ferguson, DD, LLJ). 

2. " Who is Right, and Who is Wrong?" 

3. " Juvenile Crime, its Causes and Remedies." By John Honley* 

4. « Mr. Spurgeon*s Critics Criticised.** By a Churchman^ 

6, " An Answer to the Enquiry,— Why do you advocate a Maine law?" 



THE FRUIT OP RAGGED SCHOOLS- 

It may be interesting to those engaged in ra^ed schools, to hear of the 
happy death of a young woman "^om I visited a short time since, who 
had received her firat *'luiowle(k;e of truth*' through their instrumentality. 

When I saw her, a week before her death, she was so weak as to be 
able to speak but little, and was suffering very much. She was a pooft 
ignorant, voung creature, in the lowest and most degraded class of life; 
and married contrary to her mother's wish, and soon after the birth of her 
first child fell into a consumption, of which she died in her nineteenth 
year. Her sister, who was employed bv me occasionally, told me of the 
state in which she lay, said her mind had been very uuhappy, and that she 
had asked her to bring some person to read for her. When I visited her, 
she lay, without almost any sign of life (except that distressing effort to 
breathe so peculiar to her complaint^, on what could hardly be called a 
bed, without any covering except a thin patchwork counterpane and her 
own clothes* A basket, with an old gown folded on it, helped to support 
her in an upright position. On a few rags imder her table lay her poor 
babe ; her mouier, an ignorant but kind-nearted old woman, nursed and 
tended her, and took care of the child. 

I approached her bed, and asked how she felt. She replied, " Yerr 
weak indeed." I asked her if her mind was happy. She said, ^ Yes." 
'^ But why is it happ^ Y' I inquired. Her reply was beautifully simple. 
** Because I am forgtven.** ^ But," I said, " how do you know you are 
forgiven T ^ Because," said she, " 1 have prayed for it." As she had not 
strength to speak more, I did not remain long at that time ; but I went to 
see the poor creature almost daily until her death, and her faith never 
seemed for a moment shaken. 

She could seldom speak more than a few words at a time ; but one day 
that her strength seemed almost to give hopes of her recovery, I took 
the opportunity of asking her how she had been led to see her sinful state. 
She told me that for some time she had gone with other idle d.rls to the 
ragged school in High Street, Deptford (as she said), to play and do mUehief, 
Wiiat she learned made little impression at that time; she grew up a bad, 
wicked girl, told lies, and disobeyed her mother, and mixed with the worst 
company. But when she lay on a sick-bed, what she had been taught 
came back to her mind, causing her to become miserable on account of her 
mns, knowing how soon she must appear before God ; and she begged 
of her sister to bring some person to read for her. Meantime she waa 
enabled herself to ask God to nave meray on her for the sake of Jesus, and 
she felt assured she was a pardoned sinner. She then repeated to me 
several verses of Scripture, and some simple hymns she had learned at the 
ragged school ; and she told me, whilst she lay apparently insensible, her 
mind was dwelling on them. 

One day I asked her if BhefeU she was a sinner, as I feared her taking 
it only in a general sense ; but her answer convinced me of the contraxy. 
" Oh, yes," she said, ^ and a wicked sumer too." I then said to her, **lfjoa 



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lie Fruit of Bagged Schools. 285 

were permitted to ohoose life or death, which would you prefer V* She 
replied, ** I should rather die." " And why ?" I asked. " JBecawe I know 
IshaUhe happy ^^ 

She delighted in hearing the Bible read to her ; and when in too much 
paiato listen, a Terse or two repeated slowly, or a little hymn, would 
comfort her.. She seemed particularly struck with that beautiful one, 
<< There is a fountain filled with blood," &c. 

Ejiowing how ignorantly she had been brought up, and the great distress 
she wa^ in, I felt anxious to know what her iaeas would be of the 
happiness she anticipated in heaven, expecting her answer to be, ** Ease 
from pain and suffering ;" but how often her short but touching answer 
comes to my mind, when I think of that blessed state ! — it was, ^ Walking 
along the paths of righteousness ** 

Her body was racked with pain and suffering, and she was devoid of all 
external comfort ; but a sinful heart was a greater burden, and it was the 
unsullied holiness of that happy land which filled her soul with such 
joyful anticipations. . 

A few hours before her death I visited her again. Her mind wasr quite 
gone ; her voice was stronger than I had yet heard it, but her only cry was 
to take her out of her bed, or to the workhouse. Her mother had occasion 
to go to the doctor's ; and I said I would stay with the poor sufferer while 
she was away, and mind the babe if it awoke. The poor young mother 
had fallen into a stupor, and I took out my Bible ^which she was no longer 
able to listen to), expecting never again to hear ner voice in reason ; but 
she turned round and asked for her mother, and said, *' 1 am going , I can 
going! I want t9 see my mother!** **No, my dear," I said, "you are not 
going just yet ; your mother will be here soon." " Oh, yes," she said, " I 
feel I am, and I should like to see her first." I said, ^ Wel^ dear, do you 
feel you are going to God 1" *' Yes," she replied ; " I am quite happy," 
"Then, while you still have life, will you lift up your heart and say, " O 
lord, pardon a poor sinner, for Jesus* sake !' and try to keep your mind 
£xed on him in your last moments !" She turned her dying eyes to heaven, 
and sud, in a strong and fervent voice, '^O Gk>d, forgive a poor sinner for 
Jesus' sake !" I a^ed her if she knew me. "Yes," she replied; ''you 
are the lady who reads for me, and mav God bless you." She then seemed 
msome trouble about an untruth she had told previous to her illness, and 
begged we would tell the person she had attempted to injure how sorry 
she felt. I was obliged to leave reluctantly, and I parted from her, to 
meet no more on earth ; she died in a few hours afterwards. The person 
who lodged in the adjoining room told me she fell into a stupor again 
after I had left, but, after sOme time, turned round, and lifting up her 
Wds (as I had seen her do), said, << I am coming^ I am coming ! my 
l^rd has called me. Oh, what a beautiful place !" She then ae^ed for 
her babe to be put near her ; called repeatedly for her husband, and, a few 
i^utes after he entered the room, blessed him, and breathed her last 
without a struggle* 

This is a simple and true account of a ;^oung woman who went to the 
^a^ed-school to laugh and do mischief with other idle girls ; but had it 
not been for the instruction she there received, she would probably scarcely 
have known that she had an immortal soul, such was the state of degrada- 
tion and ignorance in which she had been brought up ; and I do not think 
Bne was ever inside a place of worship. Her mother had been a Boman 
Catholic, but, as she said herself, ^' for many years she did not follow any 
religion." 

Our work may be often discouraging ; but " he that goeth forth and 
weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, 
bnnging his sheaves with him."— 2^new% Visitor. 

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.286 

AMALGAMATION, AN ACCOMPLISHED PACT. 

Our readers will be clad to learn that Union has at length taken 
place betwern the Weslejan Reformers and the Methodist Association. 
The following Report will be found to detail the proceedings in con- 
jiezion with the Union :^ 

The two Committees have to Report that thej met at Exeter Hall, 
on Wednesday and Thursday, the 13th and 14th of May, IS57 ; at 
which were present on the part of the Weslejan Methodist Associa- 
tioD, the Revs. M. Baxter, T. A. Bajlej, W. Dawaon, R 
Eckett, A. Gilbert, J. Molineaz, J. Peters, W. Patterson, W. Reed, 
6. Smith ; Messrs. C. Cheetham, E. Darke, W. Dixon, W. Howe, 
J. Petrie, W. Binder, J. Thompson, and B. Thorp ; and on the part 
of the Weslejan Reformer, the Revs. Everett, Griffith, Mann ; Messrs. 
Benson, Child, Chipchase, J. Cuthbertson, A. Goold, Hanson, 
Harrison, H. Kay, Lawes, Massingham, Moxon, Nichols, Schofield, 
Unwin, and Whitelej. 

The United Committees were <m the first daj presided over by the 
Bev. M. Baxter, President of the Association, and on the second, 
lyy the Bev. J. Everett 

The list of Preachers, who had been examined by the special Com- 
mittee of the Reformers, and certified as provided by the Besolation 
of the last Delegate Meeting, was read and considered. It appeared 
that there were 32 Reform Preachers proposed to be received into 
the Itinerant ministry, either as in full connexion, or as {vobationen, 
while there were oi^y 19 Circuits that had then consented to take 
Itinerant Connexional Ministers, and some of them had said tbej 
could not at present fully comply with all the Connexional arrange- 
ments regarding Preachers'-houses, &c. 

It was also stated that several of the Preachers proposed for 
bdndssion into the Itinerancy, had engaged for the present to remain 
in Circuits which had not as yet consented to receive Itinerant 
Ministers appointed by the Annual Assembly. Various suggestions 
were made and a revised list was supplied to tiie Association Brethren, 
who after maturely considering the same 

1. Resolved, That this Committee consents to adopt the amended list of 
Preachers prepared by the Reform Committee, with the status indi- 
cated in sudi List ; it being understood that there will be no con- 
nexional allowance to any at the Preachers on the said List for chil- 
dren born before the admission of such Preaehers into foil Connexion, 
except the representatives of the United Churches shall in any case 
otherwise determine. 

N.B, — The latter part of the preceding Resolution accords with what has 
ever been the practice of the Wesleyan Methodist Association. 

2. Resolved, That as the Reform Committee are of opinion, that in 
addition to the Brethren who are to be placed on the list of Preachen 
to be now recognised as Itinerant Ministers of the United Churches, 
there are twelve other Brethren who are eligible to be admitted 
into the Itinerancy who at present are engaged to supply Circuits that 
have not as yet consented to receive Itinerant Ministers, and whose 
services as such are not at present available, this Committee is willing 
that the said Brethren shall be recoffnised in the Minutes as Ministers of 
Churches, belongiog to the Connenon ; and that the said Ipthren be 

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Report of the Special Committee. 287, 

MimiMed into the Itinerancy of the United Churches, as additional 
Beform Circuits consent to receive Itinerant Ministers to be appointed 
by the Annual Assembly, and in accordance with the Connexional 
regalations as to the Itinerancy. 

The Reform Committee agreed to the preceding Resolutions. 
The following is the accepted List of preachers — 

Itinerant Preachers in Full-Connexion. 
Everett, James, Supernumerary 
Kowland, Thomas 
Hirst, John 



Garside, Joseph 
Barlow, Thomas 
Browning, Edward 



Hirst, Henry 
Mann, John 
Myers, John 
Eawson, George Robert 
Sarvent, George 



Itinerant Preachers on Probation, with the periods for which they 
are to be regarded as having been on Probation- 



Bell, Robert 3 years 

Davis, Stephen 3 „ 
Smith, William 2 „ 
Bainbridge, James 3 i, 



Alien, Gteorge 1 year 

Beayan, Samuel 2 years 

Bentley, Christopher 2 ,, 

Pennell, D. W. 2 „ 

Hayward, Henry 2 „ 

Preachers who are in Circuits, not agreeing at present to tale Con- 
nexional Preachers, and whose services are not at present available 
for the Itinerancy— 

To be in Full-ConneJdcm, when recognised as belonging to the 
Itinerancy — 
Griffith. William 
Bashell, Robert 
Boydon, William 
Kirsop, Joseph 



Laxton, Thomas Monld 
Macfarlane, Samuel 
Storey, Parker 
Woods, William 



To be regarded as Itinerant Preachers on Probation (who have 
been on Probation for the time affixed to each name,) when recognised 
as belonging to the Itinerancy— 

Haywood, 6eorge 2 years I Kennard, James 3 years 

Hopkins, John 3 „ | Maud Robert Daniel 2 ^ 

It was deemed desirable, that some arrangement should be entered 
into with regard to the right of the Representatives of Circuits 
taking Gonnexional Preachers to speak and vote on all questions rela* 
^ing to the Ministry, and it was therefore, by both the Committees 

3. Resolved that at the next Annual Assembly the Representatives of all 
the Circuits, of the United Churches, which have consented to take 
Connexional Ministers, to be appointed by the Annual Assembly, be then 
entitled to speak and vote on all questions relating to the Ministry, but : 
that at succeeding Annual Assemblies only the representatives of Circuits , 
consenting to receive Connexional Ministers, subject to the then existing 
Connexional Regulations, shall be entitled to take part in discussing or 
deeiding any such questions ; according to the twelfth Article of the 
Bifiig of Union. 

With regard to the two Book-Room establishments, it was mutually 

4. Resolved, That it is desirable, that, as soon as practicable after the 
pToposed amalgamation has been effected, there should be but one 
Book-room for the United Churches ; and it is mutually agreed, that, 
uitil measures are adopted by which this shall bjS. effiocted, tne arrange- 

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28t' Report of tfie Special Committee. 

menf s wliioh shall be made by the present Connezional Committee ot 

the Aasociation for the management of the Book-room, now belonging 

to the Wesleyan Methodist .AjBsociation, and for the appropriation of its 

profits^ shall be oontinned. 

The Wesleyan Methodist Association haying several fands, which 

were raised for special Connexional objects, it was considered equitable 

that the present Connexional Committee should be empowered to 

deal with such funds as they might determine, and it was therefore, 

by both the Committees 

5. Resolved, That the capital of the Wesleyan Methodist Association 
Sunday Schools' Fund, the Local Preachers' Fund, the Preachers' Bene- 
ficent Fund, and of the Connexional Chapel Fund, raised previous to 
effecting the proposed amalgamation, shall be placed under such 
management and control as the present Connexional Committee of the 
Association may determine. 

The Committees having made the preceding arrangements, were of 
opinion that the time had arrived when they should pronounce the 
Union eiOfeeted, and accordingly it was unitedly and unanimously 

6. Eesolved, That subject to the Basis of Union, and the other arrange- 
ments that have been mutually adopted by the Special Committee of 
the Methodist Beformers, and of the Wesleyan Methodist Association, 
the said Committees mutually declare, that the proposed Amalgamation 
of the Churches represented by the said Conunitteeshas now been efiBected. 

7. Resolved, That the aforesaid Special Committees shall severally appoint 
four of their Members to constitute unitedly a Sub-Committee, to deter- 
mine how the Union which has been effected shall be celebrated, and 
also to settle the number of the Bepresentatives that may be sent by 
the Beform (Xrcuits or Churches, to attend the first Annual Meeting of 
the Bepresentatives of the United Churches, according to the 18th Sec 
of the Basis of Union. 

The Sub-Committee referred to in the last Resolution have been 
elected, and have met, and arrangements are being made to celebrate 
the Union ; but the Committee deem it advisable at once to issue this 
Report for the information of the Churches. 

It is understood, that as arrangements have already been made for 
the next year, between Reform Circuits (intending after that time to 
takQ Connexional Itinerant Preachers) and Reform Preachers who are 
on the list of Reform Preachers nominated for the Itinerancy, such 
arrangements should not be interfered with by the Annual Assembly) 
except with the consent of both the Preachers and Circuits ; that for 
the next year such of the Reform Circuits as have made their own 
arrangements as aforesaid, shall not be required to contribute for the 
next year to the Preachers' Children's Fund, but that any Circuit 
applying to the Annual Assembly for an Itinerant Preacher wiXL be 
expected to contribute its fair proportion, according to the number of 
its members, to the said Fund. 

Signed on behalf of the Joint Committees, 

ROBT. ECKETT. 
T.H. RICHARD. 
Secretaries to the United Committees, 

8, Exeter Hally London^ 
May 22, 1857. 

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289 
THE CASKET. 

WAITIKa FOR BEAYVir.— BT THS BSV. BIU GUTHRIIS. 

Home to be home is the wish of the seaman on stormy seas and lonelv 
watch. « Home is the wish of the soldier, and tender visions mingle with 
the trouhLed dreams of trench and tented field. Where the palm-tree 
wares its graceful plmnes and birds of jewelled Instre flash and flicker 
among gorgeons flowers, the exile sits staring upon vacancy ; a far away 
home lies on his heart ; and borne on the wings of fancy over intervening 
seas and lands, he has swept away home, and hears the lark singinff above 
his father's fields, and sees his £ur-haired boy-brother, with li^t foot 
and childhood's glee, chadng the butterfly by his native stream. And in 
his hest hours, home, his own sinless home, — a home with his Father 
above that starry sky, — will be the wish of every Christian man. He looks 
within him ; the world is full of suffering ; he is distressed by its sorrows, 
and vexed with its sins. He looks within him ; he finds much in his 
own corruptions to grieve for. Txl the language of a heart repelled, 
grieved, vexed, he often turn his eye npwaids, saying, ^ I woidd not live 
here always.** No. Not for all the gold of the world's mines, — ^not for all 
the pearls of her seas,— not for all the pleasures of her flashing, frothy cup, 
—not for all the crowns of her kingdoms, — would I live here luways. 
like a bird about to migrate to those sunny lands where no winter sheds 
her snows, or strips the grove, or binds the dancing streams, he will often 
in spirit be preparing his wing for the hour of his flight to glory. 

Tda holier the chad of God becomes, the more he pants after the per- 
fect image and blissful presence of Jesus ; and dark although the passa^ 
and deep although the river may be, the more holy he is, the more ready 
WO] he be to say;, *'Itia better to depart, and be with Jesus." '< Tell me,'* 
said a saintly minister of the Ghurdi of England, whose star but lately set 
on this world, to rise and shine in better skies — '^ tell me," he said to his 
physician, '* the true state of my case ; conceal nothiug ," adding, his eye 
lindled, and his face beamed at the very thought, ** if you have to tell me 
that my dissolution is near, you could not tell me better or happier news." 
Paul said, '* I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and 
to be with Christ, which is far better ; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is 
more needful for you." He judged it best for himself to ^o, but for others 
he judged it best to stay. And there are few nobler sights than to see 
that man, with his foot on the doorstep of heaven, return to throw himself 
into the very thick of battle, and be spent in his Master's work. The crown 
of martyrdom often within his reach, he drew back a hand that was eager 
to grasp it. He took as much of life as the coward-guilt that is afraid to 
die. He was not impatient of the hardships, wounds, and watchings of the 
warfare, so long as he could serve the cause of Jesus. It was sin, not 
Buffering, that he felt intolerable, and which wrung from him the bitter 
<^i '^ wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me from this bodv of 
death 1" His Saviour's spirit^ he chose rather that Christ shoula be 
glorified through his labours on earth than that he himself cdiould be 
glorified with (%rist in heaven. And so long as he had tonffue to speak 
tor Jesos, and an arm to hold high above the battle's tumidt uie banner of 
the faith, he was willing to work on, not imi>atient for death and his 
^ischam. His was a higher and more heroic Tnsh than to get to heaven. 
He wi^ed to make a heaven of earth ; and persuaded that nothing could 
senarate him from the love of God, or, finaUy, from heaven, believing that 
aU which God had said of him he would do for him, and knowing that 
though the vision tarried, it would comoi he possoBsed his soul in patience 
and peace, waiting for the Lord. 

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290 The. Casket. 

It is a cowardly thing for a soldier to seek his discharge so long as bis 
country's banner flies in the battle-field. The Christian should he aheio, 
not a coward ; and with such faith as all may get, and many have enjoyed, 
God's people, while they look to heaven, will with patience wait for it. 
Oil hitf way home the saint will prore himself a good Samaritan, reidr to 
stop even on a heavenward joamey, that he may raise the fallen, bina tip 
the wounds of humanity, and do all the work that meets him upon the 
road. Nor shall this go unrewarded. '*The sleep of a labouring mania 
»weet." And| oh, heaven shall be sweetest to him who has wrought 
through the longest day, and toiled the hardest at his work. Now and 
then he will be fifting up a weary head to see how the hours Wear by.-^'if 
there be yet any sign of his Maater coming. But upborne under the neat 
and burden of the day by the oonfldence that '' He who shall come will 
oome, and will not tarry,'' he works patiently, and he sufiers patiently. 
The moat importunate and urgent prayer he ventures on^ is tiiat of one 
who, trembling lest patience should fail and religion suffer dishonour, cried, 
when her pains deepened into agony, and the agony became ezcmdatiiiiK, 
« Come, oh, come, Lord Jesus ! come quickly.'' 

HE SHALL APPEAR IK HIS OWN QLORT, IN THE OLORY 07 HIS VATHXB, 
AND IN THE OLORT OF HIS HOLY ANGELS. 

Full in the midst, reiled in transcendant rays, 
Jehovah all his glorious beams displays, 
In Christ revealed, the Father's power divine^ 
And all his manifested splendours shine. 
High on his throne in majesty adored, 
Aloft he wields the sceptre and the sword. 
Seven starry crowns his legal brow adorn, 
Like mountain summits gilded by the mom $ 
While o'er his head a radiant rainbow glows. 
And o'er the scene its varied lustre throws. 

In radiant groups, arrayed in light they fly, 
Like beauteous clouds that gild the western sky, 
AVhile streams of dazzling splendour round them play, . 
Bright as the sun, yet far less bright than they. 
• ••••• 

The signal given, Heaven's pearly gates unfold 
Kesplendent with celestial wealth of gold ; 
While tenfold radiance from those portals streams 
Bright as from clouds the bursting sunlight beams. 

The trumpet sounds. Angelic chiefs are seen 
Speeding their flight celestial ranks between. 
Their squadrons forming, marshalling th^r train, 
And spreading, in vast phalanx, o'er the plain, 
Till that long column, broken up and changed. 
Appears in mighty circle re-arranged : 
Christ in the centi'e, throned ; while round Him stand 
Of cherubim a bright, majestic band ,* 
Then seraph choirs, with minstrelsy divine, 
And highest archangelic legions shine ; 
Princedoms, dominions, thrones, and heavenly poweHi, 
And angel-hosts, fresh from celestial bowers ; 
With tbose who-^in created worlds abode-^ 
Planets and stars which with their presence glow'd ; 



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The Casket 291 

Unnumbered hoeta of every rank and race, 

All bright and fair and decked in heayenly grace ; 

In circles vast extending far and wide, 

Yet spreading still like ocean's boundless tide ; 

While bordering the whole, a tuneful band 

Of harpers from all worlds united stand ; 

And chernbe tall sustaining banners bright 

The mighty circle fringe with dazzling light : 

Before the throne their crowns archangels fling, 

And, prostrate, Heaven's high hosts adore their king. 

Seraphic choirs take up the grateful song, 

And all assembled wonds the strains prolong. 

Till from the centre to the utmost bnound 

Of that vast circle, notes of worship sound. 

THE WICKED, TERROR- STRICKEN IN THE TERRIBLE DAT OF THE LORD. 

Pale Horror walks the earth and lifts on high 
His blazing torch, which glimmers through the sky, 
And shows his features wane, his hair erect, 
And wildly rolling eye-balls which reflect 
His spirit*s inwam gloom and dark dismay, 
As he from house to house pursues his way. 

AWAKE, TS DEAD, AND COICB TO JUDGMENT! 

Those strains that hoeit now stop with one aceord, 
When, lo J the great Archangel of the Lord, 
Arrayed in fire, in living fflory drest, 
Magnificent, in front of aU the rest. 
Advancing nearer, and yet nearer still, 
Sounds forth the trumpet, long, and loud, and shrill, 
Besonnds the blast, and while the nations quake. 
He cries with mighty voice, '< Awake ! awake ! 
Arise and come to iudgment all ye dead.*' 
That awful voice these trumpet echoes spread 
From east to west, while from the earth and skies 
Loud pealing echoes ring, ** Awake \ arise ! '* 

A BEAUTIFUL ALLEaORT. 

A traveller, who spent some time in Turkey, relates a beautiful parable, 
^hich was told him by a dervish, and which seemed even more beautiful 
than Sterne's celebrated figure of the Accusing Spirit and Beoording 
Angel. ** Every man,'* says the dervish, " has two angels— one on his right 
shoulder and another on the left. When he does anything good, the angel 
on his right shoulder writes it down, and seals it, because what is done is 
done for ever. When he has done evil, the angel on his left shoulder 
writes it down. He waits till midnight. If before that time he bows 
down bis head, and exclaims, ' Gracious Allah ! I have sinned, forgive me ! 
the angel rubs it out ; and if not, at midnight he seals it, and the angel 
upon the right shoulder weeps." 

PRAT HUCHy FRAY WELL. 

Felix Neff onoe made the following comparison : -^ ** When a pump is 
frequently used, but littUe pains are necessary to have water ; the water 
pours out at the first stroke, because it is hiffh. Bat if the pump has not 
oeen used for a time, the water gets low ; and when you want it yon must 
pump a long while, and the water comes only aJfter great efforts. It is so 
with prayer ; if we are histant in prayer, erei7 little circamstance awakens 



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292 ReUgum InielUgence. 

the disponiion to pray, and demres and works are always ready. Bat if 
we neglect prayer, it is difficult for ns to pray, for the water in the well 
gets low." 

rras HIND Aim the dare lantxrn. 
What surrounds us, reflects more or less that which is within us. The 
mind is like one of those dark lanterns which, in spit^ of ererything, throw 
some light around. If our tastes did not reyeal our characteri they would 
be no longer tastes but instincts. 

LITTLE THINGS* 

Drops make the boundless ocean, and particles lift the ererlasting hilk 
little Jdndnesses and attentions are the sugar of life. 

THE LIFE OF A HAN. 

As the rose-tree is composed of the sweetest flowers and the sharpest 

thorns— as the heayens are sometimes orercast and sometimes fair, aW ] 

nately tempestuous and serene— so is the life of man intermingled with I 

hopes and fears, with joys and sorrows, with pleasures and pains. ' 



RELIGIOUS INTELLIGENCE. 

ST. MARTIN'S, OVERTON CIRCUIT, 

We are making some little progress here. The Chapel in which we have 
worshipped for many years, having gone very much out of repair, it became 
a source of anxiety to the friends ; it was a rented building, and being so, 
it was deemed unwise for us to undertake the repairs ; and, in addition to that, 
it has been for some time upon sale. A meeting of members was convened, to 
consider what steps ought to be taken, for in a snort time we might be without 
a place to worship in. The question of purchasing the premises was first 
discussed, but one difiiculty after another arose* and it was at length resolved 
to erect a new one. if land suitable for the purpose could be obtamed* Land 
beinff procured, the building was at once commenced, and now we are 
regularly worshipping within its walls. The opening services were commenced 
on Lora's day, April 12th, by three sermons being preached : those in the 
morning and evening, by the Rev. H. Breeden of Rochdale, and that in the 
afternoon, by the Rev. J. D. Thomas, Independent minister of £llesmere. It 
was a Sabbath that will be remembered by a goodly number for some time to 
€ome« An influence pervaded the meetings, which we sincerely wish would 
always attend the preaching of the Word, both here and elsewhere, whenever 
it is preached. 

On the following day we had a public tea-meeting, and notwithstanding the 
very unfavourable state of the weather, and the distance the people had to 
come, there were nearly 300 persons sat down to tea. 

As is customary on such occasions, after tea we held a public meeting, the 
Rev. S. Massie, Minister of the Circuit, took the chair, and plain, practical, 
and soul-stirring addresses were delivered by the Revs. H. Breeden, T. Guttery 
(Primitive), and Messrs. D. C. Daries (Independent), and J. Moyan (Wesleyan 
Reformer). 

The services were resumed on the following Sabbath, when two sermons 
were preached by the Rev. D. Crumpton, Baptist minister ef Oswestry. The 
congregations at all the openinpr services were excellent, and at some of them 
many had to return without being able to gain admission, and we are happy 
to say that ever since they have contiuuecTvery good, nearly all the seats in 
the (;hapel are taken* and we are hoping to see at no distant period, the arm 
of Jehovah revealed among us. The entire buildinx consists of a Chapel 
twelve yards by eight, with a School-room undemeaw, of nearly the same 



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ReUgiom JnielUgence^ 29S 

dimensioDfl, and alsa a neatCottag^ei whicli is adapted for the service of a 
Bcboolmaster. It is a neat and comfortable building, and those fHends of 
oun from a distance are very much pleased with it. We cannot as vet exacdv 
state the entire cost, but as nearly as we can ascertain, it will be 30o£» 
exclusive of all the drawing of the materials, which has nearly all been 
eiven by the fanners in the neighbourhood. It is placed upon trust, and we 
nope in a short time to have it in veiy comfortable circumstances. The 
prayer of our heart is ** Establish thou the work of our hands, yea, the work of 
our hands establish thou it. 

C. O. 
CARLISLE CIRCUIT. 

You will be pleased to learn that we are alive to the interests of Christ't 
kingdom. 

Endeavouring to maintain those interests, we have had our Circuit Anniver** 
sary. On Easter Sunday, two sermons were preached in the Tabernacle* 
Lowtber-street, by the Rev. Wm. Jones, our esteemed minister, and on the 
following day the annual tea meeting was held. The trays were gratuitously 
fumishea, and the proceeds, together with the collections on the Sabbath, were 
given to aid the Circuit Fun£ The Rev. Wm. Jones presided at the tea 
meeting, the attendance at which was very encouraging, and addresses were 
delivered by the Revs. R. Shields (Primitive Methodist), W. A. Wrigley 
(Independent), and Witson (Evangelical Union), and Professor Paulding, of 
Rotherham College. The Rev* Professor is a pleasing example of earnest 
Christianity, sanctified intelligence, and genuine Catholicism. He was attend- 
lug a Tea-meeting of the Congregationalists here on Good Friday, when be-^ 
coming aware that ours would take place on the Monday after, he volunteered 
to serve us. And such was the character of his speech, that we were led to 
thank God that such a man is found in the position which he occupies. 

I will only further trespass on your space by saying, that we are about 
largely to alter our' Chapel in Carlisle. Plans have been agreed to, and tendera 
are being received for the completion of the works. 

The alterations, there is no doubt, will be real improvements, and will make 
the place more worthy the noble cause with which it is connected*. 

Carlisle, May 11, 1857* 

WORKSOP. 

On Sunday and Mondav, the 26th and 27th of April, the Anniversary 
Services of our Sunday-scnools were held at Werksop. On the 26th, two 
Krmons, beautifully illustrated by historical references, were preached by the 
Rev. M. Baxter, of^London, to deeply interested congregations. On the 27th, 
the annual tea-meeting was held in the school-room. The children were first 
treated with tea and buns ; then their friends and other visitors took tea* 
The collections after the sermons were larger, and the attendance at the tea 
more numerous than on any similar occasion for several years. At the 
public meeting, the chair was kindly taken, and ably filled by Mr. J. 
Cheethtm, (Wesleyan). Appropriate selections of poetrv, &c., were recited by 
the children of the school, and sung by the choir ; after which followed the 
^t of the evening, a speech from the Rev. M. Baxter. He showed us, 
from the history of the Anglo- Saxon race, and from the history of our own 
^untr^, how Christian education raises and ennobles communities as well 
as individuals. ** Righteousness exalteth a nation." The only thing to be 
regretted was, that he had not more time, as it is not often we in this rural 
^i^tnct get such an opportunity. 

The anniversary has been the best in every sense that we have had for 
some years. May the teachers of our school, be enabled to thank God, and 
»ke courage* They are exemplary in their perseverance under discou* 
Y&gements. 

S* SUZTB* 

WORLE CIRCTTIT. 

On Good Friday, apublic tea-meeting was held as usual in the Weslejraii 
Association Chapel, Worle, it being the twentieth Anniversary of the opening 



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294 ^ Bttigioui Ini$lUg$nve. 

of that place of wonhip. About 220 penoiM aat down to tea with verv peat 
zesti not to much for the obiect of feasting themielves, as for the Tiieasure 
arising from the ffood fellowship of the roeetmff, which was truly sociable. 

The number of kind friends m attendance has not been eaualled for yean 
past. After tea, an old and esteemed friend* Mr. Derham of Wrington, wa« 
called to the chair. The meeting was addressed by the Rev. W. Griffitb, 
Messrs. Peters of Bristol ; Yutt of Ban well ; and Price of Weston. Mr. Derbam 
of Yatton, gave out a hymn, and closed the meeting with prayer. The friends 
have great cause for thankfulness to God for His blessing upon their efforts, 
and are resolved to persevere in the great work of advancing the Kingdom 
of Christ. 

.Also tbe friends worshipping in the Wesley an Association Chapel at 
Palmer's Elm, for a long time have thought it desirable to nlace an instrument 
of music in their neat little chapel, to assist the singers in the worship of God, 
and, accordingly, the congregation and others have liberally ijpsponded to the 
call ; a new Harmonium has been purchased, and was opened on Sunday, 
April 19th. The Rev. W. Griffith preached two excellent and impressive sermons 
on the occasion. 

At our March quarterly meeting, Mr. Griffith was cordially and unani- 
mously invited to remain a third year in this Circuit ; after all it is a source of 
^rief to our minds, that the work of God in the salvation of precious souls 
IS not making that progress among us as we judge it ought, we trust however, 
that the spirit of prayerful, active concern, will be awakened among us ; that 
we shall renew our covenant to be the Lord's faithfully and for ever, and that 
from a strong and clear conviction of the value of souls bought by the '^precious 
blood of Christ," our purpose and resolve ever be, ** For Zion's sake I will not 
rest, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not hold my peace, until the righteousness 
thereof shall go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that 
burneth." 

W. Gbhtith. 

OLDHAM CIRCUIT. 

Last Sunday was our Sunday-school Anniversary. We were favoured vith 
the valuable services of Mr. J. Kirkham of Manchester, who preached two 
excellent and profitable sermons. The attendance was much as usual, the 
collections were upwards of 6/., which fully met the expectations of the 
friends. 

Several important improvements have lately been made in our school, such 
as a new stove apparatus, bringing the gas-lights into the vestry, &c The 
school has just been whitewashed and painted throughout, and cleaned. 

When our present minister, the Rev. A. Wolfendeo, came into our Cireoit, 
we had a standing local debt, of about ten pounds, which has all been paid off; 
all the other expenses incurred by the improved condition of the achool hare 
been paid also, and we have several pounds in the treasurer's hands to help ui 
for the future. We have also got a new library into our school, to be 
opened on the 24th instant, comprising 120 volumes : a valuable privilege 
we have long desired, but never before obtained. When Mr. Wolfenden vtf 
appointed to this Circuit, we had only about nine or ten members in the 
Society at HoUinwood, but now we nave nearly thirtv members. The 
Missionary contributions from this place did not formerly amount to more 
than about six or seven shillings per year. But by extra efforts, and those 
efforts being again and again most vigorously renewed, even with our small 
means, during each of the last three years,, our Missionary contributions 
have been nearly so many ]^ounds, and there is a stability in our Schools and a 
firmness in our Society, which is said by those best able to judge, never to have 
appeared before. But to the Almighty God of all our mercies and blesaiiigi 
we offer our humble and united tribute of praise. 

Samuel Yonoub. 
Oiaham, May 14, 1857. • 



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Religious Intelligence. 295 

NANTWICH circuit; 

Od Mond^, March 30th, the foundation-stone of tlie Wesley an Alio elation 
Cbapel of Nantwich vas laid. The friends met in Barber-street Chapel, 
(where they are now worshipping) at three o'clock, and formed in procession, 
and preoeeded to the site of tlieir new Chapel, in order to lav the foundation 
stone. The procession was headed by the Rev. T. A. Baylev, and the Rev. 
E. L. Adams, the Congregational minister, who were followed oy the Trustees, 
Leaders, Local preachers, Superintendents of the Sabbath- school* and the 
Scholars. Upon arriving at the ground, the Rev. £. L. Adams gave out 
hymn 747, Mr. Bateman read Psalm Ixxxiv., the Rev. T. A. Baylev engaged 
in prayer. The Rev. Geo. Robinson then stated that the bottle he held m nis 
hand was about to be placed at the foundation of the Chapel, and contained 
a member's ticket and Preacher's plan for the present quarter, some small silver 
coins of Her Majesty's reign, ana a paper, containing the following statement 
of our origin, and a declaration of the doctrines we hold and teach* 

"The foundation-stone of the Nantwich Wesley an Association Chapel, was 
laid on Monday the 30th day of March, 1857, by Mr. Richard Horton, shoe- 
manufacturer. 

This section of the Church of Christ was founded in 1835, being a secession 
from the Wesleyan Methodist Conference Connexion, in vindication of New 
Testament principles of Church order and government. The doctrines 
believed and taught, not as mere speculative matters, but as realities of infinite 
moment, are— 

1. Man's ruin by sin, involving the wreck of the immortal soul — its debase- 
ment—pollution, enslavement, and perdition. 2. Man's redemption by Jesus 
Chriat— a work effected by the interposition of a Saviour, divine, incarnate. 
atoning — involving his proper divinity, his true humanity, his sacrificial 
death. 3. Man's regeneration by the Holy Ghost, an inward spiritual and 
moral cbauffe, effected in the heart of man by the Spirit of God, through the 
instrumentality of truth, and not through the sacramental virtue of 
ordinances. 4. Man's justification by faith. 5. The eternal happiness of the 
righteous. 6. The eternal misery of the finally impenitent 7. That the 
sacred Scriptures are given by the inspiration of God, and contain a perfect 
rule of faitn and practice. 8. The inalienable rites of conscience, and the 
obligations of brotnerly love towards the whole Catholic Church. 

Signed by The Rev. Geo. Robinson, Minister." 

T:Ko"ck.} Circuit stewards. 

After the reading of this paper, the bottle was handed to Mr. Horton, who 
proceeded to lay the stone, and then gave a very interesting account of the 
introduction and progress of Methodism in Nantwich, after which the bene- 
diction was pronounced, and the companv retired to the Congregational school* 
room where arrangements had been made for a public tea. 

After tea, the meeting was opened by singing and prayer, and Mr. Horton 
called to preside. He stated that he felt himself honoured in being called 
UDOQ to preside over that meeting, and could assure them that the work in 
which they had been engaged this day had given him great joy ; he rejoiced 
that he had lived to see the foundation-stone of a new Wesleyan Association 
Chapel laid in Nantwich, at the same time he must say he would rather that 
the honour of laying the first stone of the new Chapel, and presiding over that 
meeting, had fallen to another Brother, and then called upon the Rev. Geo. 
Robinson to address the meeting.. He said we all expected that John Petrie, 
Esq,of Rochdale, a highly esteemed and liberal friend to our beloved Connexion, 
would have been present with us this day. The Building Committee, on the 
motion of our Chairman invited him to lay the foundation-stone of our new 
Chapel, and preside over this meeting, and he would have done so had he not 
been prevented by very important local business, and though I am glad to see 
you occupy that place, I very much regret the absence of John Petrie, Esq. 

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296 



Poeiry. 



but ai an evidence of bit lore to onr Zion, and bit dedra for our profpertty,lie 
bas sent me \QL to preient to onr fiailding Committee. In bmlding bere a 
aanctuary, our principal olgeet it tbe extension of onr common sidTttioii; 
tbougb not indifferent to Churcb government, and our own dittinedTe 
prineiplesy we are far more solieitoni about tbose grand tmtbs which tre 
held in common bv the Chnrcb universal, by all evangelical and ipiritiul 
Christians. Man ■ ruin by sin— bis redemption by Jesus Christ— nu re- 
generation by the Holy Ohosb These are the great cardinal truths for which 
we contend, and for the promulgation and defence of which we Isy tbe 
foundation of a new sanctuary, and all minor questions must give place to 
these. On proper occasions we are ready to avow and vindicate our prindplei 
as Methodist Reformers, and Nonconformists ) but ordinarily we teach do 
truths but such as are essential to man's salvation and Christian sanctifieation. 
We devoutly and fervently pray that the congregations worshipping in onr new 
Sanctuary may be ever favoured with Pentecostal seasons, signaUsed by tbe 
Spirit's efiusion ; that within its walls the wonders wrought on Calvarv may 
ever be proclaimed, and the hallowed name of Jesus ever be glorified ; that 
many a smner may be here rescued from hell and converted to God, that the 
widow's heart may be cheered and the mourner's tears chased away; that bere 
many a spirit may be prepared for the great battle of life, the conflict of death, 
and the triumph of heaven. The meetiug was likewise addressed by the Rot. 
T. A. Bayley ; F. Hemnaing ; £. L. Adams ; Messrs. T. Wood and Bateman. 
All expressed their desire for our prosperity in very warm and eloquent 
speeches. At the conclusion of the meeting a very handsome Bible was pre- 
sented to Mr. Horton. 

The ladies gratuitously fbmished the trays. After all expenses were paid, ve 
realised the sum of 19/. 8«. 9dL which the ladies presented to the building 
Committee. 

Nantwickf May ISih, 1857. 



POETRY. 



LIVES 



prumMhfkimtojBtWir^ 



JHUe 



O Inspiration t fhoa iUastrions page, 
Thoa dost the truth rereal from age to age. 
And aa thou dostth78elfiuifold,Iueeemliraoe, 
And gladly haU thy beatific f aee. 
Uy heart Borrendering to thy powerfal sway, 
Feela chain'd by links of love I can't gainsay, 
Becanse unlike to those which haugh^ tyrants 

bind, 
Thine draws my soul from death to life 

sublime. 

Kay my dear wife, to whom I give this gilt» 
By thee in mystic fellowship be bless'd 
And into secret places may she oft retreat, 
To feel the Joys thy lov'd embrace create. 
In wrestling prayer may her power be strong, 
'Twill not weary though she tarry long, 



The saToury inflnenee to my soul she viQ 

impart, 
It will with peaoe and Joy enrieh ay hsfft. 

Dear wife, accept this gift so freely given, 
'Twill brighten up thy pathway unto hesTen, 
'Twill teach thee to endure the muneroas ills 

of life. 
And how to triumph in the frequent strife, 
Between the world's spirit and the gxaee of 

God, 
Through life in death under aillietlon's rod, 
'Twill teach thy hea?enbom soul to wing iti 

flight on high. 
Through blood diTine, to Joys eternsUy f 



OUugow^ 



P.F. 



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WESLEY AN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 
JUNE, 1857. 



The friends and supporters of our Missions will be glad to learn 
that ''the Connexional Committee" have determined upon sending 
oat, with the least delay practicable, our beloved brethren Sayer and 
Middleton, as Missionaries to Australia. This will of necessity 
involve the expenditure of a considerable sum of money. Let us 
therefore, hope that our friends throughout the Connei^ion will do 
their best so to increase the Funds at the disposal of the Committee, 
that the Missionaries shall be sent forth without any diminution of 
the means ordinarily available for the support of existing Missionary 
Stations, at Home and Abroad. 

The following deeply interesting communications, from the Bre- 
thren in various parts of our Mission-field, have come to hand since 
we issued our last "Missionaby Notices." 

IRELAND— CARRICKFERGUS. 

To the Editor,— Dear Sir, 

It is with feelings of devout gratitude to the Giver of all Good, that I pro- 
ceed to give you some account of the Lord's dealings with us in our Mission- 
ary labours at this place. I am hapi)y to be able to inform you, that notwith- 
standing the difBcult and discouraging circumstances in which this Station 
was placed a few months ago, a decided change for the better has taken 
place, things are now in a more hopeful and promising condition. After a 
succession of storms we are enjoying a peaceful calm ; and after a long dreary 
winter, the sun of prosperity is beginning to shine upon our Irish Mission. 

Since my last communication we have had indications of good. Our con- 
gregation on the Sabbath continues large ; our prayer-meetings are well at- 
tended, a few have been added to the Society, and a gracious influence per- 
vades our various means of grace. 

Our cottage services present a field of extensive usefulness, the average 
attendance is as follows :— Clippers Town, 20; Bonnabefore, 24; Scotch 
Quarter, 40. Our prospect at the latter place is very cheering. It is a green 
spot : by the way, a number of boys and girls are beginning to meet in class, 
and we are praying that they may grow up to be pillars and standard-bearers 
m our little church. God has given me the affections of the young people, 
aod latterly I have been trying to enlist their sympathies and call fortli their 
active energies in the Mission cause. A few weeks since I gave them a 
number of Missionary Cards ; they willingly accepted of them, and waited on 
their friends for subscriptions, and by this means they have raised a very hand- 
jome sum. Being thus encouraged, to crown the whole, we thought we had 
better have a Juvenile Missionary Meeting, and have a number of young per- 
Mns to recite interesting pieces oearing on the Missionary theme. We suc- 
ceeded in getting seventeen of them to take part in the meeting. Miss Hay 
&mdly assisted in training them for the occasion* 

X 



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298 WISCONSIN. [1857. 

Ob Tuetday, the Srd of March« vc held oiir first Juvenile MiifionaTy Meet- 
iilg, the Rev. W. Dugan was in the chair. The Rev. J. Bickardhite, of Belfeit, 
came to assist, and rendered us good service, and thank God our Httle chapel 
was crowded; fiitbers andmotbers came to hear their childien* and brought 
their neighbours and friends with them s and the dear young people ssid their 
pieces remarkably well; and the singing of the Negro hymn tended to enliven 
the hearts of all present ; everybody was pleased. The meeting was ooe of 
unusual interest, and will be long remembered. The old members say it vu 
one of the most agreeable and comfortable gatherings they have ever witneised 
in the Back Quarter chapeL 

You will be glad to hear that our young friendly with their cards and Jave- 
nile Meeting, have raised 4/. 1«. 6d, 

On Wednesday, the 4th February, for the first time we held a Misiionary 
Meeting at Bennabefore, Mr. J. Weatherup, presided ; and the meetisg wai 
addressed by Brother Simma. and myself » all present ivere fluuch deligoted, 
and the collectioa was liberal. 

Praying that our prosperil^ may abound yet more and more, I remaio, 

Yours affectionately, 

March lllhtlS67» ioa« CaLLUOS. 



WISCONSIN. 
To the EniTOK,— Dear Sir, 

Mamt of the readers of the Magazine will probably remember that our 
Mission at Wisconsin was commenced by a number of Leaders, Local- 
preachers, and others from MuUion, in the Helston Circuit From letters 
recently received, some information of a cheering character haa been obtained, 
and as nothing respecthia the Mission has appeared in the Magazine for eome 
time, 1 thought it woula gratify many of your readers to learn what ii the 
state of this Mission, and therefore I forward the following extracts of letters 
for publication, if you deem them of sulBcient intererest Both the letten 
were addressed to Mr. Joseph Thomas, of Trevitho Mullion, who has kindly 
consented to the publication of these extracts. 

I am, yours truly, 

C. Edwasds. 

(From3£r. T. W. FoxhiU, dated Ycrkcille, 11th June, 1856.) 

" I mentioned in relation to the revival (that you wrote about) to my brother 
John and sister, Mrs. Moyle, whom 1 met in Racine a few days ago, and they 
rejoiced with me to hear the glad news, and, glery be to God, we can also send 
you an account of a revival of religion among us here in Wisconsin. God has 
poured out his Spirit upon our Circuit $ especially at Yorkville we have experi- 
enced a shower of heart-reviving love, a bttle over three months ago, underthe 
ministry of Mr. Mitchell, who is a friend of Mr. Turner, one of the Local-preach- 
ers, and at whose recommendation he was called out to labour as an idoerant 
minister a little over six months siiice. Both Mr. Turner and his friend Mr. 
Mitchell came from Manchester or its neighbourhood. At our last quarterly 
meeting the number of new members added to the church at Yorkville amounted 
to nearly &0 ; some of tbem were reclaimed backsliders—some old members 
awakened to trim up their lamps, but far the greater number were fresh con- 
verts, young men and women, boys and girls, and some staid peraons. 
English, Welsh, Irish, and Americans, most of whom witness a good 
confession. Some religious persons of otiier denominations who Arom time to 
time attended our experience meetings, declared they had never witnessed any 
thing like what they then witnessed, and owned that it was the hand of 
God. Others, (Americans,) said they bad seen ^uch revivals in the Eastern 
States but never in the Western ones. It seems at all events the best that 
has ever occurred in Wisconsin. The work seems to be deepening and spread- 
ing, there are great hopes that good will yet be done in the name of the Lord. 
The >oung cunverts are full of flaming zeal, visiting from house to house, &c« 



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1857.] AUSTRALIA. 299 

Here I ask if yon will interest yourself in onr behalf, and procure for us from 
fifty to seventy-five Wesleyan Methodist Association Hymn-books. We need 
them very much, there are none like them in America. If you send them, or 
see that they are sent, the money will be speedily remitted. Let the friends 
know what the Lord is doinv for us in Wisconsin. I sometimes think they 
pray for us, and if so God has heard their prayers. In a letter recently 
received from Mr. Samuel James, in Oregon, he speaks of a revival of religion 
there also ; some of Mr. James's children have been converted." 

{Extract of a Letter from Mrs. 8. Moyh, dated Yorkvtlle, Uth Dee. 1856.) 

'* About ten months since a glorious revival broke out here ; there were 
many brought to God, old and young. They are holding fast. Our 
congregations have increased so fast we are about to i^uU down our old 
chapel and build a new onob The Spirit of God is working mightily with 
the people. Our quarterly meeting was held at Yorkville, December 6tb. 
Uncle James Harrv preached to us in the evening ; there was a good feeling 
amongst the people. On^ Sunday morning he preached again from these 
words, ' The Son of man is come to seek and to save that wnich was lost.' — 
Luke xix. 10. Again we had a very good feeling. In the afternoon we had 
a lovefeast, and it was a glorious time. In his characteristic manner, Mr. 
Harry gave his experience, his face glowing with love to God, and his heart 
yearning for his fellow-men. We have an excellent Sabbath-school here ; 
all the teacbera are members of society, and many of the children too. We have 
a good school library ; we have Carvasso's Life, and Wesley's, and Fletcher's, 
and Mr. Willidms' the Patagonian Missionary. The last I have felt greatly 
interested in. When I read of what they suffered it makes me weep. My 
husband has been some distance to preach f while away a snow-storm came 
on— he was in great danger^-hehad to purchase a spade and dig his way back. 
After an absence of four days he returned home all safe* He bad a glorious 
time with the peo^le^ and felt abundantly compensated for his toil and expo- 
sure. The work increases,— we want more help; dmb willing to suffer and 
endure all things for the cause of Christ" 

As illustrative of the state of piety in our Church at Yorkville, the 
following may be read with interest and profit, from the pen of the 
writer of the last extract. 

" It is more than twelve months since I have felt an earnest desire for full 
salvation. I felt I could give up the things of the world but there was a 
strong warring within — the flesh warring against the spirit. I often mourned 
before God, and my pillow was wet with my tears. One morning I awoke 
with these weirds, as if a voice had spoken to me, 'You must give up your own 
will. Can you do that Y 1 said, * is that all. Lord T It appeared to me that I 
could give up my life to be delivered from the burden which I felt Immedi- 
ately such peace flowed into my soul that it was beyond description.*' 

AUSTRALIA.. 

To the Editor, — Dear Sir, 

Since my last communication the work of the Lord has delightfully ad* 
vanced on this station. 

Last week we held a series of special religious services in our chapel at 
Ashby, Geelong. The following is a copy of the handbills by which we an* 
Bounced these services to the public :— 

'* Special Bdigunia Services. — The inhabitants of Ashby and Rildare are 
hereby affectionately informed that it is intended (d.v.) to hold a series of 
Special Religious Services, in the Chapels belonging to the Wesleyan Associa- 
tion Methodists, situated in Ashby and Kildare. The order of Services are as 
follows;— 



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300 AVSTRAJLIA; [1857. 



" PRESTON STREET CHAPBL, ASHBT* 

'* LordVday, Nov. 16, at 11 B.m., the Rev. M. W. Bradney will preacb. 
Subject, — • Revival of God's work.' Hab. iii. 2. 

" LordVday, Nov. 16, at half-past 6 p.m., Mr. Booley will preach. Subject, 
— * Character and Effects of Infidelity.' 

•• Monday, Nov. 17, at 7 p.m., Mr. Mowbray will preach. Subject,—' Lost 
Souls past Redemption.' Psalm xlix. 8. 

•* Tuesday, Nov. 18, at 7 p.ni., Mr. Fausey will preach. Subject,—* The Pro- 
digal Son.' Luke xv. 11 and 32. 

" Wednesday, Nov. 19, at 7 p.m., the Rev. Mr. Hocken will preach. Sub- 
ject, — * Immediate Decision urged.' 1 Kings xiii. 21. 

** Thursday, Nov, 20, at 7 p.m., Mr. Stonemau will preach. Subject,— 
• The certainty of Death.' 2 Kings xx. 1 . 

'* Friday, Nov. 21, at 7 p.m., the Rev. M. W. Bradney will preach. Sub- 
ject,—' The Blessedness of True Piety.' Psalm L 1—3. 

" ST. ANME STREET CHAPEL, KILDARE. 

•• Lord's-day, Nov. 23, at 11 p.m., Mr. Pausey will preach. Subject,— * The 
Deception of Jeroboam's Wife.' 1 Kings xiv. 6. 

" Lord's- day, Nov. 23, at half -past 6 p m., the Rev. M. W. Bradney will 
preach. Subject, — 

** Monday, Nov. 24, at 7 p.m., Mr. Pausey will preach. Subject, — *The 
Rich Fool.^ Luke xii. 16—21. 

** Tuesday, Nov. 25, at 7 p.m., Mr. Mowbray will preach. Subject, — * Gospel 
Invitation.' Isaiah Iv. 1. 

*• Wednesday, Nov. 26, at 7 p.m., a Stranger will preach. Subject, — 

" Thursday, Nov. 27, at 7 p.m., the Rev. M. W. Bradney will preach. Sub- 
ject, — *The Retrospect.' Deut. viii. 2. 

** Friday, Nov. 28, at 7 p.m., a General Band Meeting. 

'* On Sunday, the 16tb, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, an Open-air Service 
will be held on the space of ground, opposite the chapel in Preston-street, 
when Mr. Bradney, and others, will preach ; and on Sunday, the 23rd, Mr. 
Bradney and others will conduct Divine Service in the open air, on the ground 
adjoining the chapel at Kildare." 

At these meetings the power of God was signally realised by our own 
people, and several poor sinners were admitted to the liberty of the children 
of God. This week we are holding similar services in the chapel at Kildare, 
Geelong, and the hand of the Lord is with us. I may just say these special 
efforts are not put forth to save a declining interest, but to give additional im- 

Setus to a progressing church. We are frequently called to rejoice over evi- 
ences that the Gospel is the power of God unto salvation. ^ We are steadily 
increasing in numbers and influence, and are taking a stand in Geelong, alike 
useful to souls, creditable to our Connexion, and honouring to Christ, and if 
we had but a numerous and competent agency, we could take a similar stand 
in every part of the colony, and in the adjacent colonies likewise. It is 
to be regretted that we cannot enter the many doors that open before us. 
Other bodies are working vigorously to establish themselves permanency, 
and if additional Missionaries are not soon sent out by our own denomination, 
we shall find impediments to our establishment and progress peculiar to those 
last in the field, and of this we have surely had enough at home. If the friends 
of Methodist doctrine connected with a liberal church polity, really wish to 
see their principles take root and spread, allow me to say there is no part of 
the world so favourable to the accomplishment of this object as the Australisn 
Colonies, and in my opinion a time more favourable than the present will 
never present itself. I pay an occasional visit to the Diggings, but little good 
can be effected without a regular agency ; and unless help be sent shortly, I 
think it will be best to discontinue those visits altogether ; we want ministers 
.to organize and take the care of ehurehes. Some of our own people 



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1857.] .AtrSTRALIA. JOT 

keep aloof from otber communities whose privileges would suit their neces« 
sitous circumstances, and therefore be useful to their souls. I shall not feel 
justified in being the means of keeping them out of Christian fellowship much 
longer, and if i would, I shall not be able much longer to continue those 
visits, as my duties at Geelong are becoming too numerous to admit of my 
doing so. ** Come over and help us.*' 

On Lord's-day, August 24, we opened a new place of worship on Heme 
Hill, a pleasant elevation, tolerably populated, situated about two miles west 
of Geelong market-square. The opening services were well attended. On 
the following evening we had an excellent tea-meeting ; the movement looks 
promising. The building is a weather-board cottage, fitted up in chapel style ; 
we have hired it for twelve mouths, and if it answer we intend to make an 
effort to get up a chapel. 

On Thursday, November 6, we liiid the fQundation-stone of a new chapel, 
within a mile south of Geelong market-square. In the absence of his worship, 
the mayor of Geelong, who had kindly consented to perform the interesting 
ceremony of laying the stone, but was prevented, by being called away to 
Melbourne on public business ; Charles Read, Esq., one of our newly-chosen 
Representatives for Geelong, performed the duties. After laying the stone, 
the friends adjourned to a commodious room in the neighbourhood, and par- 
took of an excellent tea; after which Mr. Read occupied the chair, and called 
upon the following gentlemen to address the meeting, viz. — Messrs. Bradney, 
Hocken, Mowbray, and Balding. We Expect the building will be opened early 
in January, 1857. The edifice, which is of brick, measures 20 by 25 ; the design 
is neat, and the building will be substantial ; the cost, including the land (free- 
hold), will reach about 220/. The conveyance is executed according to the pro- 
visions of our Model deed. When this place is opened it will make the fourth 
in the immediate vicinity of Geelong that we shall have to supply with minis- 
terial agency. This will be no easy task, judging from present appearances. 
"May the Lord of the harvest send forth ]al>ourers into His harvest." 

I am anxious to get into the heart of Geelong, and as soon as we have 
strength, the attempt will be made. 

Our cha])el at Ashby, which we opened about seven months after my arrival, 
was erected on land of which we only had a four years* lease ; this was the 
hest we could do at the time, though 1 must say, I often mourned after we had 
taken tlie step, lest at the end of the four years we should have to commence 
our work again. But prayer was made, and God has already interposed, and 
things have been so graciously brought round that we have been enabled to 
secure the freehold to the use of the congregation. The purchase includes 
the land on which the chapel stands, the house in which I reside, and a corner 
piece of ground, an excellent site for a commodious place of worship. The 
chapel and house stand on the same allotment of which the reserved site is a 
portion. The premises are very compact, and very eligible for our purposes. 
We have a debt of something over 500/., including what remains on the cnapel. 
We intend to aim at reducing it to 400/. the first year, and to sweep the 
entire debt off as soon as possible. 

God is with us, to His great Name be praise. Missionaries ! Missionaries! 
do let us have Missionaries ! 

Mark Wilks Bradnet. 

wesleyan methodist association at}8traltan annual assblfblt. 

The Annual Meeting of the Representatives of this body was held in 
George-street Chapel, on Friday, the 2nd instant. The proceedings through- 
out were of a deeply interesting character. After the preliminaries were dis- 
posed of the Assembly proceeded to the election of officers for the ensuing 
year. The President and Secretary were re-elected, and — Bryant, Esq., was 
appointed Treasurer. The operations of the past year were carefully reviewed, 
and the results were of an exceedingly encouraging character. Several new 
chapels have been erected in Melbourne and Geelong, and the surrounding 
districts, and in all those places the foundation of a work has been laid, which 
It is hoped will, under tne blessing of the Great Head of the Church, con- 



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302 HAXBURas. [1857. 

ttnne widely to extend and exercise a mighty moral inflaenee in our com" 
munitiet. 

The Sabbaih-schoolfl of the hodj haTe been in active operation daring the 
past year. Several additional schools have been commenced, and from tlie 
reports presented, those engaged in this noble enterprise have abundant resson 
to take fresh courage and apply themselves more energetically and hopefiiUy 
to the aecomplisfament of the grand objects at which they are aiming. 

The Rev. M. W. Bradney gave some account of several minialerisl toan, 
which daring the past year he has made through the various gold fields of the 
Western Districts, from which it appears that the spiritual neeeasities of the 
inhabitants of the gold fields are indeed urgent, and the feeline of deep regret 
was expressed by the members of the Assembly, that from their inainlity to 
procure suitable ministerial agency, it was not in their power to take immedi- 
ate steps to supplv this lamentable deficiency, but the hope waa confidently 
entertained that before long they would be able to avail themselves of men 
fitted in every respect for so great a work. 

An important correspondence has been carried on durin^r the last twelre 
months, between this body and the Wesleyan Free Church m Hobart Tovn, 
V.D.L., relative to the union of the latter Church with the Wesleyan Asso- 
ciation Churches in Australia. After the correspondence was read, and the 
subject fully discussed, it was resolved that the proposed union should be at 
once cemented, on the same broad principles as those under which the Wes* 
leyan Association and the Wesleyan BLeformers in England have lately 
united. 

During the present ^ear the Rev. Joseph Townend, President of the As* 
sembly, will be the resident minister of the Geelong Circuit, the Rev. M . W. 
Bradney will labour in the CoUinffwood Circuit, and it is expected that the 
Rev. J. Fielding will take charge of the Mission in Hobart Town. 

The numerical increase of church members during the past year is very ea- 
couraging. The finances are in a healthy state, ana the general aspect of the 
afiairs of the Connexion engender bright hopes for the future. 

After votes of thanks to the Connexional officers for their services dnring 
the past year, and to those friends who had so kindlv entertained the Repre- 
sentatives from a distance during their stay in Melbourne, the proceedings 
were closed by the usual exercises. 

HAMBURGH. 

To the Editob,— Dear Sir, 

On Mondav, the 15th of October, we held our annual tea meeting. Tes 
was on the tables, according to previous arrangement, precisely at half-past 
five o'clock, at which time a very respectable company of residents and seamen 
sat down, numberinff upwards of one hundred and forty. The tables were 
furnished gratuitously by the friends of the Mission, in a manner which did 
credit to the providers, and satisfied the wants of the provided. After they 
had refreshed themselves to their heart's content, the cnair was taken by Mr. 
Jackson, who gave out a hymn, and called upon the Rev. Mr. Van Andle to 
pray. This done, the following were called upon to address the meeting— 
Kev. Mr. Becker (Missionary to the Jews expelled from Warsaw at the com- 
mencement of the present year); Rev. Mr. Van Andle (Episcopal Methodist, 
Missionary of the American Board of Missions), and mjself. 

The interest of the meeting was well sustained, and, if the countenance be 
an index of the heart, the people were evidently well pleased. Most of what 
was said by the speakers had reference to seafaring men, particularly to their 
usefulness as a class of people. Special notice was taken of the services of 
the Naval Brigade in the Crimea, bringing into prominence their devotednesi 
and self-deniaL in forsaking the comforts of home, and enduring perils by 
sea and by land, for the defence of our country and the ^lory of Great Britsinu 
Many of our luxuries are brought to us by these men* it was said. Mention 
was also made of the impression which foreign nations received through the 



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[1857, HAMBUBGH. 803 

conduct of our seamen, of the character of the English people, and that that 
fact alone is sufficient to induce all Christian men to do their utmost for the 
erangelization of the sea's population. As an evidence of the good resulting 
fiom the efforts of this Mission, it was observed that an individual, who was 
brought to God in the Bethel, and formeriy interested himself in lighting the 
lamps, &&, is now a suceessfid City Missionary in London. One of the 
speakers (Rev. Mr. Van Andle) said he owed his present position in society 
and the Church to the instrumentality of this Mission, inasmuch as he re- 
ceived his first impressions here some years ago. 

The day was a most rainy one, the wettest, in fact, that we have had for 
8ome time, which prevented many from coming who otherwise would have 
done ; indeed, it was so splashy, that some who had bought tickets did not 
make their abearance. The weather here, of late, has been exceedingly 
Btoraiy and boisterous s some days the wind has blown a perfisct gale, and the 
rain fallen in torrents, which has occasioned many disasters at sea. On Friday 
evening, the 5th, the Sir John Franklin (English collier) was stranded on Sand 
Itland, off Helgoland, and became a complete wreck, but the crew were 
saved, and brought up to Hamburgh, on the steamer the Sabbath following. 
The nukte is a religious man, and comes to the Bethel always when in port : 
he came to Bethel on the Sabbath evenine referred to, having escaped a watery 
grave. Last week, another English collier was lost off Heligoland, but, by 
the mercy of God, the crew of this ship were also saved; besidet diese, many 
schooners and small craft, belongins to different nations, have been lost A 
great proportion of the ships wnicn came up last week had suffered more 
or less from the atorm, eome having lost their biilwarks« others with their sails 
split up, and some with their boats smashed. 

0, then, how ira^^rtant it is that sailors should be prepared for every 
event of God's ^ovidenee, seeing that disasters and sudden deaths throng 
their path on every hand, and how necessary to lay hold of the great truths 
of the Gospel, and preach them in all their weight and power to these men 
of the sea. I never in my life saw more clearly the necessity of laying hold 
of the fundamental principles of religion, and impressing them upon the 
minds of my hearers, and of overlooking all sectarianism, than I have done 
since I came here. 

The Sabbath previous to kiat, I was called upon to perform the funeral 
ceremony over Captain Maginnes. He was taken poorly on the Tuesday 
previous, and died, 1 believe, the same day. The cook of the ^ip was attendr 
mg his master, and had occasion to lean over him to render him some 
assistance, and while doing so caught his breath, which took effect upon him 
immediately, he was taken ill at night, and died before sunrise next morning. 
On Sunday, August 31st, three of the crew of this ship' (the Sunbeam, from 
West Hartlepool), were at the Bethel, and all engaged in prayer at the meet- 
ing after the evening service. The Sunday following, two of their comrades 
were oo more. In the afternoon* at three o'clock, they followed the remains of 
their captain to the grave, when I read a portion of God's Word, and delivered 
a short address to a Targe assembly of people, remarking how suddenly death 
had overtaken this man, and said that ere another Sabbath dawned some of 
them might be in Eternity, which proved to be true. Capt. Maginnes has been a 
member of a christian Society, 1 am informed, for eighteen years, and, I be- 
lieve, was prepared for his change. I improved his death in the evening to a 
large and attentive congregation from Rev. xiv. 13. The carpenter of the ship 
was there and engaged m prayer. Last Sabbath morning, just before I entered 
the pulpit, I was informed that this man had died on Saturday, at one o'clock, 
he stood on the grave side, at my right hand, the Sabbath before, and held 
m^ hat while I addressed the people. Thus, the captain, cook, and carpenter, 
of the same ship's company, in two short weeks were called into £temity. 
How true it is that we know not what a day may bring forth. 

HttmburgK Jno. Baron. 



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804 BATH CIBCUIT. [1857. 



CAMELFORD, WADEBRIDGE, AND BODMIN CIRCUIT. 

On Good Friday last, the foundation stone of a new Chapel, in connection 
with us, was laid at Edmonton, a villag^e about two miles distant from Wade- 
bridffe, whieh has been lately built, to afford accommodation to the vorkoiea 
employed in the Camel and Penguin Slate Quarries which are near. The site 
for the Chapel, as well as the stones for building the same, were kindly given 
by Edmund Hambly, Esq., solicitor, who built the village. By special invitation, 
the Rev. James Cleave, of Wadebridge, who is now stationed in the Redruth Cir- 
cuit, preached a very appropriate and useful sermon on the occasion, in the afte^ 
noon, to a large numoer of persons who were present, although the weather 
was very unpropitious. And after « public tea, which was provided by the 
friends in the neighbourhood, a meeting was held, when several excellent 
addresses were delivered by the Revs. J. W. Gilchrist, James Cleave, and 
Messrs. Freethy and Rogers, Local Preachers. The collections were liberal, 
and all present were highly gratified, and, it is to be hoped spiritually edified. 

A LOCJLL FABA.CHUL 

BATH CIRCUIT. 
In a letter to the President, Mr. Robinson writes ;— 

Dear Sir, — 

You will be pleased to learn that our cause here is now in a flourishing state. 
Our congregations have been very good from the time of our union with the 
Reformers, but for some time past they have been improving. Sometimes, 
everv available seat is occupied, and almost every week additional seati 
are being let. The classes are now well attended, and the spiritual 
state of the Society is, I am happy to say, much improved. Vie have 
already bad indications of Divine approval, in the conversion of one soul 
and the awakening of others. Our friends are all in one spirit, and united 
in effort. From the time of the union we have had uninterrupted peace. We 
are now praying for, and expecting, the outpouring of the Spirit. Our united 
prayer is that the showers of heavenly grace may descend upon our little Zion. 
Two of our country places are also in a very encouraging state. Contrasting 
the state of the Batn Society now with what it was a few months aso, we 
are constrained to exclaim, " What hath Grace wrought This is the Lord's 
doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes." 

In a letter to the Corresponding Secretary, he says ; — 

I was greatly encouraged on Sunday last, especially in the evening. The 
Chapel was crowded, and a better feeling I have not observed since I came to 
Bath. The Word was, indeed, with power. To God be all the praise. 

Mt^ 6th, 1857. J. RoBiNsoir. 



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THE 

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION 

MAGAZINE. 



JULY, 1857. 



PULPIT ELOQUENCE. 

The question has often been asked, — Does the Bar, the Senate, or 
the Pulpit, supply the best field for the exercise of Oratory? We 
propose, in the following Paper, to suggest a few thoughts that may 
assist the solution ; but in order to this, it will be necessary that we 
should determine the nature of Oratory and its varieties ; — that we 
should survey its history, and consider the nature of the material 
which the Bar, the Senate, and the Pulpit, respectively supply for 
the practice of the art. Then as to the signification of the term, we 
may observe that Webster, following some of the Cyclopaedists, has 
defined it "the art of speaking well, or of speaking according to 
the rules of Rhetoric, in order to persuade. To constitute oratory, 
the speaking must be just and pertinent to the subject ; it must be 
methodical, all the parts being disposed in due order and connection, 
and it must be embellished with the beauties of language and pro- 
nounced with eloquence.*' 

Such is the Art to which this question relates. In its essential cha- 
racteristics it is the same wherever you find it, but in its secondary 
qualities it differs according to the theatre on which it is exercised. ^ 
Hence the division of Eloquence into a variety of kinds, as for 
instance, the eloquence of the Bar, the Senate, the Pulpit, the Stage, 
and the Hustings. To the first, second, and third of these theatres 
the question before us has relation, and the object of this discussion is 
to determine which of them supplies the finest arena for the exercise 
of the Oratorical art. 

First, then, with respect to the Bar, it would appear that with one 
exception — that of addresses to Juries — it supplies no field for impas- 
sioned eloquence at all. What would be the effect of an impassioned 
address in the Court of Chancery upon the Lord High Chancellor of 
England ? Would it not be the excitement of contempt for the man 
who could think to triumph thus over the cool judgment of a Chancery 
lawyer? Nor would pathos be more effective in the other Courts of 
Law. The practice of the Judge being, in the case even of Juries, to 
caution them against that kind of jugglery by ^hich the Barrister so 
often attempts to cozen the Jurors out of a Verdict. Accordingly, we 
find the Bar has been exceedingly deficient in oratorical qualities of 
the highest order. While the English Bar has produced numerous 
judges of first-rate powers— numerous pleaders of the highest ability in 
^^J argumentation — we are not aware that any members of the Eng- 

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806 Pulpit Eloquence. 

lish Bar, except Brougham and Erakine, have been able to maintain a 
first-rate reputation for powers of impassioned declamation^ which, 
after all, is the perfection of the oratorical art. Sir J. Macintosh 
once bid fair to rival these eminent men in this department Bat 
he was early called to labour in another field, and with this perished 
the early promise of success in the higher walks of eloquence. It is 
possible, however, if he had continued at the Bar, that he might never 
have excelled greatly in impassioned declamation. His mind was 
probably of too logical a mould, and too philosophical in all its tastes 
and tendencies, to have achieved great triumphs in the region of 
the passions. At any rate, his dawn was full of promise. The 
Edinburgh Review, vol. ii. p. 476, alluding to his defence of 
Peltier, in 1803, for libel on the First Consul, says, " those prin- 
ciples of the Freedom of the Press, have never been illustrated with 
such force of historical painting, such extent of philosophical re- 
flection, and such warmth of oratorical diction, as in the passages 
which Mr. Macintosh has bestowed upon this noble subject." 

Nor has the Bar in other countries and times been a better field 
for the exercise of this art than it is now in our own. The elo- 
quence of the Bar in France has never amounted to anything; 
and in ancient Egypt and Greece the pleadings were written, — ^a 
very obvious reason why, in an oratorical point of view, they must 
have been of the lowest merit. 

The Senate having greater interests to consider, and disposing of 
questions in which popular sympathies are more deeply involved, has 
in all ages surpassed the Bar in all the higher specimens of the orato- 
rical art. One is exceedingly apt to conclude favourably of those 
pmeient theatres of Oratory, which could supply such masters of the 
art as we have in the persons of Demosthenes and Cicero, more espe- 
cially the former, who stands at the head of all the mighty masters oi 
speech in ancient times, and so much above them as to put all rivalry 
out of the question. It must never be forgotten, however, that some oi 
the most powerful incentives to the cultivation of this art among th( 
statesmen of Antiquity no longer exist in nine-tenthe of the States 
of the Civilized world. We refer to the openness, even approaching 
to facility, of those ancient assemblies to the magic influence of the 
speakers. Brougham, speaking on this point says — Demosthenes al- 
ways addressed an audience perfectly open to persuasion. The people, 
themselves legislators, if convinced by what they had heard, manifested 
their conviction by instant adoption. The power of the orator was 
confessed— the effect immediate, — his triumph complete. But when 
Fox, the greatest orator of modern times, arose in the British House 
of Commons to deliver his Demosthenean harangues, how difierent 
were the circumstances ! He had an audience whose decision wa-} 
in ninety -nine cases out of a hundred, taken before the first sen- 
tence of the debate was uttered. Their opinions might be de- 
posited in the Head of their Honourable selves, or in the Pockets 
of the Minister, or in some other place, but one thing invariably 
occurred, namely, that they were deposited in places where the 
eloquence of that great master never could penetrate. Accordingly, 



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Pulpit Eloquence. 307 

it is a notorious fact, that wben Fox appeared on one side of the 
question and Pitt on the other, their powers respectively were 
exerted without producing the slightest result on the division. The 
well turned periods of the latter had no charms for the Opposition, — 
the powerful declamation of the former was steadily resisted by the 
Honourable men that crowded the Ministerial Benches. Than these 
orators none ever had to deal with questions of graver import : none 
ever threw themselves more heartily into the arena of discussion, and 
none, except in one or two memoi'able instances, ever found more 
completely, by experience, how useless was the war of words in an 
assembly, where each member had indissolubly bound himself to his 
foregone conclusion. So the inference clearly is, that if in modem 
Senates two or three great orators have arisen, they have become great 
not hy the facilities which the Senate House supplies for the display 
of Oratory, but rather in spite of obstacles which it presents to the 
exercise of that fascinating art. 

The only remaining theatre for the display of oratory which this 
question involves is the Pulpit, which must, we will venture to affirm^ 
present the finest field for the practice of the art, whether considered 
with respect to the objects which it aims to achieve, the peculiar aids 
which are available to it, or the matchless sublimity of the topics it 
touches on. 

Never did objects so truly noble as those of the Pulpit occupy the 
attention and inspire the ardour of an orator. " Human suasion," as 
Robert Hall has admirably remarked, " can operate only on principles 
which already exist. When Demosthenes, by his powerful eloquence^ 
excited the Athenians to combat, he only called into action, by a 
skilful grouping of motives and an appropriate exercise of his genius, 
principles already existing, but which had lain dormant. He created 
nothing new ; he transformed them not into new creatures, but only 
roused and stimulated those principles which had animated the bosoms 
of nations in resisting tyranny in every age." But when the Christian 
orator preaches faith in Christ, he enforces, he demands, if we may so 
speak, a state of things perfectly novel and unexampled. He proposes 
to revolutionize the aSfections': his purpose is to galvanise, by the battery 
of Truth, ^' the dead in trespasses and sins " into a condition of 
spiritual vitality ; he seeks to communicate impulses to the human 
soul, which, by the law of sympathy, shall extend to all the virtuous 
beings of the universe, and be propagated by successive shocks of 
this moral electricity onward throughout eternity ! 

We shall be told that these are noble objects, and, if attainable, 
worthy of an eloquence incomparably superior to the noblest speci- 
mens of the art which antiquity has handed down to us ; but that, 
unhappily, those objects are above any powers of achievement 
possessed by the human mind. This is admitted, if the powers of the 
Christian orator be viewed abstractedly from the aids which are 
supplied by the dispensation of the Spirit to the successful practice of 
Christian Oratory. But this is an essential part of the case, and any 
estimate of the ix)wer of Pulpit eloquence is essentially defective 
which overiooks the aid which the orator derives from the influence of 

t2 



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808 Pulpit Eloquence. 

the Spirit. Hear what one of the great orators of Christian anti- 
quity says on this head — " Paul planteth, Appollos -watereth, God 
givetb the increase/' So that while orators at the Bar and in the 
Senate are confined to the exertion of merely human powers, ilie 
Christian orator, while availing himself in common with others of all 
merely human aids, is seconded in his efforts, hy the power of the 
Holy Ghost, The eloquence of the Christian Pulpit, therefore, when 
exemplified most perfectly, has a character decidedly preternatural. 

But any view of the superior facilities which the Pulpit supplies for 
the practice of Oratory would he exceedingly defective, which should 
not take into account the matchless sublimity of its topics. OdIj 
think of the Immortality of the Soul—the Resurrection of the Dead— 
the Conflagration of the £arth — the Last Judgment — Heaven and Hell 
•—the Death of Christ — the Miracles of the Jewish cuid Christian Dis- 
pensations — ^the touching incidents — ^the chivalrous deeds — the mag- 
nanimous characters of Scripture History, and tell us where you will 
find anything to compare with them as materials for the very loftiest 
displays of oratorical power ? But the sublimity of the topics on 
which the Christian orator discourses is not the only thing remaining 
to be noticed, for there are these peculiarly exciting considerations 
to stimulate his efforts ; first, that the speaker is himself the ambassador 
of God to the people, and, second, that the interests of the people 
to all eternity hinge, in an eminent degree, on the ability with which 
his address is delivered to them. We shall be told of eloquence at the 
Bar and Senate having its aids also, derived from the consideration that 
the interests of a man or a country are pending on the success of the 
Orator's effort. That there are such aids no one will deny. We, for 
one, cheerfully admit their influence, and we will even add, that but 
for such considerations operating on the minds of such men as Erskine, 
F0X9 and Brougham, in perilous times, they never could have been 
inspired to make those magnificent displays of their power and skill 
which have placed them in the first rank of Orators. But while admit- 
ting tliis fact, we demand of you, that it should be^ist applied where 
it is most eminently applicable. The greatest interests at stake among 
mortals are not those of a prisoner at tlie bar : nor even those political 
interests which are jeopardised by stretch of prerogative, on the one 
hand or tendencies towards revolution, on the other. No. The greatest, 
the most enduring interests of Man, are those of the Immortal Mind: 
interests so incomparably momentous that, when sacrificed, they consti- 
tute the greatest calamity that can befal man ; the most awful and ex- 
citing event that can happen in the Universe of Being. Take these two 
fects, then — first, that the Christian orator speaks under the practical 
belief that he stands in the immediate presence of his Master ; and, 
second, that interests greater than ever moved the sympathies of a 
Demosthenes or a Cicero depend upon his eflTorts, and you will be shut 
up to the admission that the Pulpit is incomparably superior to every 
other place, as a theatre for the display of impassioned eloquence ! 
In nothing is this auperiority so obvious as in the motives to action 
which are urged in this great field for the display of Oratory. Those 



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Pulpit Eloquence. 309 

motives are drawn from eyery portion of the spiritual universe, and 
they are adapted to exert an incalculable amount of force. The 
temporal motives of the Advocate and of the Statesman are not suffi- 
ciently penetrating to reach the inmost recesses of Humanity ; they 
are not sufficiently refined to act upon the highest and noblest elements 
that enter into that mysterious compound which we designate Man ; 
but what is wanting in the Forum and in the Senate to operate on the 
most sublimated susceptibilities of human nature is abundantly 
supplied in the Pulpit by the oracles of God ! 

Let us compare the eloquence of the Senate with the eloquence of 
the Pulpit, and see whether these opinions are justified by the 
specimens which the greatest masters in both departments have 
supplied. With this object we shall put Hall against Demosthenes 
—and those two mighty masters of the moving art, be it observed, 
spoke in circumstances as nearly parallel as possible. Both spoke 
against mighty conquerors— the former against Napoleon : the latter 
against Philip of Macedon. Hall addressed an ecclesiastical demo- 
cracy at Leicester — ^Demosthenes, a civil democracy at Athens : the 
former spoke in behalf of Europe and the Human Race — the latter 
on the side of all Greece. 

The illustrious orator of Athens, in order to inspire an intense hatred 
of the great Macedonian Chief, described him "in the Chersonese " as 
being "the enemy of every creature within the city, and of those too who 
most flatter themselves that they enjoy his smiles. Do they deny it? 
Let them look at the fate of those Olynthians,. Lasthenes, and Euthy- 
crates, who, to all appearance, were his particular favourites, and no 
sooner betrayed their country into his hands, than they perished by 
the most miserable of deaths." This description is enlarged in the 
fourth Philippic by an allusion to his implacable enmity to both the 
gods and the men of Greece, " He is the enemy of the gdda themselves 
who guard us, — may they utterly destroy him ! " Such is one of the 
finest efforts of the greatest of ancient orators to turn the feelings of 
the Athenians against a sworn enemy of their state. Let us see how 
Hall attempts, two thousand years afterwards, to turn the feelings of 
his audience against the greatest enemy to mankind which modern 
times have produced. This great orator describes Napoleon as " a 
man bred in the school of ferocity, amidst the din of arms, and the 
tumult of camps, — ^his element war and confusion ; who has changed 
his religion with his uniform, and has not spared the assassination of 
bis own troops ; it is easy to foresee what treatment such a man will 
give to his enemies, should they fall into his power ; to those enemies 
especially, who, saved from the shipwreck of nations, are preserving as 
in an Ark the precious remains of civilization and order, and whom, 
after destroying the liberties of every other country, he envies the 
melancholy distinction of being the only people he has not enslaved. 

Recollect for a moment his invasion of Egypt, a country which 
had never given him the slightest provocation ; a country so remote 
from the scene of his crimes, that it probably did not know there was 
such a man in existence, (happy ignorance, could it have lasted I) but 
while he was looking around, like a Vulture perched on an eminence. 



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810 Pklpii Eloquence. 

for objeets on which he might gratify his insatiable thirst f<Hr rapine, 
he no sooner beheld the defenceless condition of that unhappy 
conntrjy than he alighted upon it in a moment. In vain did it struggle, 
flap its wings, and rend the air with its shrieks i the cruel enemy, deaf 
to its cries, had infixed his talons, and was busy in sucking its bkK)d, 
when the interference of a superior power forced him to relinquish his 
prey and betake himself to flight. Will that Vulture^ think jou, ever 
forget his disappointment on that occasion, or the numerous wounds, 
blows, and concussions which he has received in a ten years' struggle ? 
It is impossible, it were folly to expect it. He meditates, no doubt, 
the deepest revenge. He, who saw nothing in the blood-bought 
liberties of the Swiss to engage his forbearance, nothing in proclaiming 
himself a Mahommedan to revolt his conscience, nothing in the con- 
dition of defenceless prisoners to excite his pity, nor in that of the 
companions of his warfare, sick and wounded in a foreign land, to 
prevent him from despatching them by poison, will treat in a manner 
worthy of the impiety and inhumanity of his character, a nation which 
he naturally dislikes as hemgfree^ dreads as the rivals of his power, and 
abhors as the authors of his disgrace J' (P. 188, 189, vol. i.) 

We proceed now to give you the much-admired peroration of one 
of Demosthenes' celebrated Philippics, along with the celebrated pas- 
sage of Cicero, in the conclusion of the first oration against CatiUne, 
and to place the immortal Hall's peroration to the ^* Sentiments pro- 
per for the present crisis," before you, as decidedly superior to either. 
Demosthenes concludes thus : — " Never, never, O all ye gods, may 
any of you sanction their endeavours I but rather, may ye infuse 
into them a better mind and disposition ! If, however, they be thus 
incurably perverted, — send them, themselves by themselves — to utter 
and swift destruction, both upon land and sea ! and vouchsafe to us, 
who remain, the speediest deliverance from our impending dangers, 
and lasting security." It is probable that Cicero had this passage 
in his eye when he drew up the peroration to his first oration 
against Catiline. Certain it is, that in the most important particu- 
lars the Roman very much resembles the Athenian. Cicero concludes 
the oration referred to, in these words : — " Then thou, Jupiter, who 
has been established by Romulus, with the same auspices with which 
the city was established, whom we may name truly the Stator of this 
City and Empire, wilt ward ofi* this Catiline and his companions 
from thy altars, and from the other temples ; from the roo& and the 
walls of this city ; from the lives and the fortunes of all the citizens; 
and thou tvilt sacrifice all enemies of the good, enemies of the country, 
the robbers of Italy, united among themselves by a covenant of crimes 
and by nefarious society, alive and dead, with eternal punish- 
ments." 

From these most splendid passages, of the two most distinguished 
of all the Oi*ators of antiquity, we turn to the celebrated peroration 
of Hall, just alluded to. He was addressing his congregation at 
Leicester, on the 19th of October, 1803, while the invasion was 
hourly expected, and at the close of his sermon, turning firom 
his ordinary congregation, he addressed himself to a company of 



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Pulpit Eloquence. 311 

Yolimteers tbat were present.* The Orator said, '* Go, then, ye 
defenders of your country, accompanied with every auspicioas omen ; 
advance with alacrity into the field, where God himself musters the 
hosts to war. Beligion is too much interested in your success, not to 
lend yoa her aid: she will shed over this enterpcize her selectest 
influence. While ye are engaged in the field, many will repair to 
the closet, and many to the sanctuary; the faithful of every name 
will employ that prayer which haa power with God; the feeble 
hands which are not equal to any other weapon, will grasp the sword 
of the Spirit ; and from myriads of humble, contrite hearts, the voice 
of intercession, supplication, and weeping, will mingle in its ascent 
to heaven, with the shouts of battle, and the shock of arms. 

While you have everything to fear from the succesa of the enemy, 
70U have every means of preventing thai success, so that it is next to 
impossible for victory not to crown your exertions. The extent of 
your resources, under God, is equal to the justice of your cause. But 
should Providence determine otherwise, should you fall in that struggle, 
should the nation fall, you will have the satisfaction (the purest 
allotted to man) of having performed your part ; your names will be 
enrolled with the most illustrious dead, while posterity to the end of 
time, as oflten as they peruse your memorials, will turn to you a reve- 
rential eye, while they mourn over the freedom which is entombed in 
your sepulchre. I cannot but imagine that the virtuous heroes, legislators, 
and patriots, of every age and country, are bending from their elevated 
seats to witness this contest, as if they were incapable, till it be brought 
to a favourable issue, of enjoying their eternal repose. Enjoy that 
repose, illustrious immortals ! Your mantle fell when you ascended I 
and thousands, infiamed with your spirit, and impatient to tread in your 
Bteps, are ready to swear by Him who sitteth upon the throne and liveth 
far ever and ever, they will protect freedom in her last asylum, and 
never desert that cause which you sustained by your labours and 
cemented with your blood. And Thou, sole Ruler among the children of 
men, to whom the shields of the earth belong. Gird on Thy sword most 
^hly% go forth with our hosts in the day of battle ! Impart in 
addition to their hereditary valoui*, that confidence of success which 
springs from Thy presence I Pour into their hearts the spirit of 
departed heroes I Inspire them with Thy own ; and while led by 
Thine hand, and fighting under Thy banners, open Thou their eyes, to 
behold in every valley, and in every plain, what the prophet beheld 
by the same illumination—chariots of fire and horses of fire I 
* Then shall the strong man be as tow, and the maker of it as a spark, 
and they shall both bum together, and none shall quench them.' " 

Nor let it be thought that because Hall was a poor Baptist Minister 
it is ridiculous to speak of him as rivalling Demosthenes, Cicero, and 
the greatest of the Ancients in the highest walks of Eloquence. If this 
question be one which must necessarily be determined by authority, 
we know no higher authorities than can be cited in his favour. His 

• Our readers will understand that wc here pronounce no opinion on the "War 
daestion. We limply regard the passage as a great display of Oratorical ikilU— 

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312 Pulpit Eloquence* 

eloquence was the admiration of Bnch judges as Deiiman, Madntosb, 
and Brougham. Indeed, the last named of this illustrious triad, pro- 
nounced Hall " the most eloquent of orators," and requested an intro- 
duction through Mackintosh. At the interview he could not refrain 
from complimenting the orator on the high merits of his discoarse. 
But Hall, with characteristic devoted ness to the Christian cause, in- 
terrupted him thus — "But what of the suhject, Sir? What think 
you of it, Sir? Was it the truth of God, Sir?" With respect to 
the peroration from which we have made these admirable extracts, 
it is recorded that Pitt (than whom, probably, no better judge in 
modern times could be cited), said, on reading the sermon in which the 
passages occur, " that the last ten pages are fully equal, in genuine 
eloquence, to any passage of the same length that can be selected from 
either ancient or modern authors." — (Dr. Gregory's Memoirs of Hall, 
p. 69, V. 1 . of Hall's Works.) 

But we shall be told that the spirit of Eloquence pervades every 
passage in Demosthenes, while only one or two passages of transcend- 
ant merit can be cited from Hall, and these the cumulative results of 
a life-time. This, however, is a great error. Hall's eloquence was 
the wonder of all who heard him on nearly all occasions. Dr. Gre- 
gory, alluding to this particular, says, " I am persuaded that if Mr. 
Hall could instantly have impressed his trains of thought on paper, 
with the incorporated words, and with the living spirit in which they 
were conceived, hundreds, if not thousands of passages, would have 
been preserved, as chaste and polished in diction, as elastic and 
ENERGETIC IN TONE, as cau be selected from any part of his works."— 
(Memoirs, p. 59.*) The testimony of Dr. Gregory is supported by that 
of Mr. John Scott, formerly Editor of the " London Magazine," and 
one of the most eloquent writers of the age. Speaking of Hall, he 
says, '^ The plainest and least inspired of his discourses are not with- 
out elegant gleams of imagery and felicitous turns of expression. 
He expatiates on the prophecies with a kindred spirit, and affords 
awfiil glimpses into the valley of vision. He often seems to conduct 
his hearers to the top of the " Delectable Mountains," whence they 
can see from afar the glorious gates of the eternal city. He seems 
at home among the marvellous Revelations of St. John ; and while 
he expatiates on them, leads his hearers, breathless, through ever vary- 
ing scenes of mystery far more glorious and surprising than the wildest 
of Oriental fables. He stops when they most desire that he should 
proceed — when he has just disclosed the inmost dawnings of the im- 
mortal glory to their enraptured minds, and leaves them full of imagi- 
nation o/*<Aiw^s not "made with hands," of joys too ravishing for 
smiles, and of impulses which wing their hearts " along the line of 
illimitable desires." — (London Magazine, No. 14, Feb. 1, 1821.) 
' And if Hall's sermons are justly celebrated for the eloquence of the 
style and the beauty and grandeur of the conceptions, they are not 
less remarkable for their immediate effects upon the auditors to whom 
they were delivered. We are told, by Greene, in his "Remini- 
scences," that when this great orator delivered a discourse on " Be- 
* Large paper edition of Hall's Works.— jB(?«7or. 



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l^lpit Eloquence. 813 

loved, now are we the sons of God," <Sbc., a clerg3rman who had never 
heard him before, observed to his friend at the close of the service, 
that he had never heard anything like it ; and that he conld hardly 
tell whether he was " in the body or out of it." He adds, " Several 
persons were taken ill from the extraordinary excitement ; and a 
physician acknowledged that he had not got over the impression at 
three o'clock in the afternoon of the following day. It was a sort of 
religious crisis on the spirits, something like that which animal mag- 
netism is said to produce." 

Grinfield, a clergyman of the Church of England, alluding to this 
discourse, fully corroborates the statement of Greene. He says, 
"It was remembered as pre-eminent in sublimity of thought and 
eloquence." The preacher is said to have appeared as one almost 
" out of the body," — as one who had been favoured with a glimpse of 
the "beatific vision !" 

The annals of Pulpit Eloquence contain another great name which 
it would be unpardonable to omit. We regret, however, that we have 
only space for a scene or two in the brilliant career of that illustrious 
man. We refer to George Whitfield. He was preaching in the open 
air to thousands upon thousands of people. A minister, an eye- 
witness, has thus described the scene. Meantime, says he, I could 
think of nothing but the last day and the wrath of God. You see 
that young man yonder ; he has come he thinks to mock — in reality 
he has come to be converted, and to be made a minister of the New 
Testament. I heard Whitfield afterwards, and for a long time held 
out. He described the Sadducees, that touched many, but it did not 
touch me. He described the Pharisees — that did not touch me. 
Suddenly he broke off, burst into a fiood of tears, and lifting up and 
wringing his hands, he cried with a loud voice, " Oh I my hearers I 
the wrath is to come ! the wrath is to come ! " Those words followed 
me, they haunted me wherever I went; I could think of nothing but 
these awful words. The wrath is to com^ / — the wrath is to come ! 
Those fashes, like sudden lightning in a cave, seemed to illuminate all 
parts of the vaults of a sinner's soul. Just at this very moment, 
clouds, which had been for some time gathering, covered the sky, and 
swept in dull, shadowy masses over the wonderful scene, — ^he seized the 
figure — there was a shadow over the field — "Look !" said he, as it 
veiled the brightness of the sun ; " Look ! your lives are like that 
cloud — as swift and short and dark ! You must aU appear before the 
judgment-seat of Christ ! — all this vast assemblage will behold the 
Judge." His eye gradually lighted up as he proceeded, till towards 
the close it seemed to sparkle with celestial fire. ** O sinners ! " he 
exclaimed, " by all your hopes of happiness, I beseech you to repent. 
Let not the wrath of God be awakened. Let not the fires of Eternity 
he kindled against you. 8ee there^^ said he, pointing to the light- 
ning which played on the corner of the Pulpit^ " *tis a glance from the 
angry eye of Jehovah I Hark I" continued he, raising his finger in 
a listening attitude as the thunder grew louder and louder, and broke 
into one tremendous crash over the crowd. " It was the voice of the 
Almighty as he passed by in his anger." As the sound died away, 



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314 The Masiard'Seed Era. 

he coyered his face with his hands, and knelt beside his j^dpit 
apparentlj lost in inward and intense prajer. The stonn passed 
rapidly awaj, and the sun, bursting forth in his mighty threw acrots the 
heavens a magnificent arch of peace. Kistng and puintixig to &« 
beautiful object, he exclaimed, '^ Look upon the rainbow, and praise 
Him that made it. Very beauti&l it is, in the brightness thereof. 
It eompasseth the heavens about with glorj; and the hands of the 
Most High have bended it ! " On another occasion, he was illQ»- 
trating some spiritual subject by a poor old beggar, led by a dog, in a 
dark night, throu^ cold, rain and tempest^ '^ the po(Mr wanderer^" said 
he, " wends his way till at last he reaches the edge of a fearful cliff. 
He does not know of the danger beneath ! He does not know that 
death is there ! His dog is not faithless but he is lost. He does not 
know his way. The night is very dark, and the dog has taken the 
false step. He is over the cliff! But this poor man holds on. 
Another step — another step." At this moment up rose a Rustic in 
the congregation, crying in a scream of distress, " Good heavens I 
He* 8 gone I Save him, Whitfield/" Does not this far surpass 
Sheridan's great effort at the Impeachment of Warren Hastings ? 

The time would fail us, to record the triumphs of Massillon 
in this field. To Saurin, the Protestant minister of the Hague, of 
whom it is said, that when he was preaching on one oecusioD, a 
military officer rose up and inquired whether it was a god or a mortal 
that he heard, we can only just allude ; as also to Philip of Namine, 
of whom we read, that when he preached in the pulpit of Home, his 
hearers when going from beneath the sound of his voice, audibly 
exclaimed, as they passed along the streets, '^ Lord have mercy upon 
us I " The immediate effects of that Minister's eloquence were such, 
that two thousaud crowns are said to have been expended in one 
week, in the purchase of ropes for the formation of whips to infiict 
the laceration of a self prescribed penance. Nor were the effects of 
this great master's eloquence confined to the lower orders. When he 
preached before the Pope, to the Cardinals and Bishops, he repre- 
sented the evils of non-residence, in so frightful a manner, that from 
thirty to forty Bishops immediately betook themselves to their neg- 
lected dioceses, and when he preached before the University of 
Salamanca, his eloquence moved 800 students to renounce the plea- 
sures, pomps, and honours of the world, for the monasteries that 
were open for their reception. How grand a display of oratory must 
that have been which was signalised by such prodigious e£^ts? 
What equal number of cases can be cited from the Bair and Senate, to 
be compared in their effects with the cases now brought before you ? 



THE MUSTARD-SEED ERA. 

Professor Hackett tells us that, when crossing the plains of Akka in 
Palestine, he saw before him a little grove or nursery of trees. On coming; 
nearer they proved to be a grove of mustard ! Some of the trees were fall 
nine feet high, with a trunk of two or three inches in oircnrnference, 
throwing out branches on every side. He wondered whether Ihey were 



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The Mustard-seed Era. 315 

strong enough for the birds to ^ lodge in the branches thereof." Ja6t then 
a bird stopped in its flight through the air, alighted down on one of 
the limbs, which hardly moved beneath the weight, and began to warble 
forth a strain of sweetest music. Professor Hackett was delighted at the 
incident. His " doubts were charmed away." The ''least of all seeds" was 
actaally grown into a substantia] tree. 

Reading this pleasant incident in Professor Hackett's Eastern Travels not 
long ago, we fell to thinking how the Church of Christ, and every noble 
enterprise of Christian love, has had its mustard-seed era. Small begin- 
nings — mighty results ; this is the brief epitome of God's kingdom on 
earth. We look into an upper-chamber in Jerusalem. A little band 
are gathering. They are mostly obscure people from the out-of-the-way 
portions of the city. There is not a grandee, or millLonaire, or a high 
official among them. Some of them have just been out to Olivet, to bid a 
sorrowful adieu to their ascending Master. And now they gather in — a 
bereaved band — to a chamber which may have been the very one in which 
the Last Supper had been eaten a few weeks before. There they plant the 
seed of the Apostolic Church. Peter is there, with his rash, intrepid spirit ; 
and incredulous Thomas, and sagacious James, and the beloved John. The 
"women are there too, not a few. For where was there ever a good enter- 
prise launched without female voices to cheer it, and female hearts to give 
it aid ? Among them is Mary, the mother of the departed Christ. 

The first thing they do is to pray. They get the influence of heaven as 
the pervading element into their souls. Hand in hand they gather round 
the mercy-seat, and continue with one accord in supplication. Here they 
knit their souls in fraternal love. Here they plead for the promised Spirit 
to consecrate the movement. Here they lay the foundations of that church , 
which will yet plant its outposts at the farthest limits of a redeemed 
world. What a tree has sprung from that " mustard seed !" Its boughs 
have gone out over oceans ! Its leaves are bright biographies of Christian 
lives ; its flowers emit the fragrance of the King's garden ; its fruits are the 
myriads of the white-robed in Paradise. 

So it is with every holy undertaking since the Apostolic age. An " upper 
room" can hold the germ ; but a whole nation or continent cannot contain 
the outcome of it. The Sixteenth Century Keformation was at one time 
" the least of all seeds," to human appearance. When Borne was at its 
highest and its worst, a hooded monk was studying, praying, groping, and 
struggling in Erfurth Convent. Young Ulric Zwingle was musing over the 
Scriptures among the waterfalls of Wildhaus. Luther and Zwingle were 
humble seeds to grow such a giant tree from. But it did grow nevertheless^ 
a magnificent Banian, striking its branches downward, and sending its 
roots beneath the seas, to spring up on distant shores ! All manner of 
singing-birds have made music " in the branches thereof. 

The Puntan movement for colonizing America was once a mustard-seed, 
floated over in the hold of the Mayflower, and planted under a freezing sky 
among rocks and ice. At Henry Thornton's house on Clapham Green, Wil- 
berforce and Clarkson nursed the germ of African Emancipation ; from that 
prayer-consecrated dwelling they went forth with the watch-cry of Liberty, 
to arouse a stiff-necked Parliament and gainsaying people. 

Every individual church has a mustard-seed era. It was at first small. 
Perhaps it was born (under God) in some one devout loving heart ; or in 
two or three hearts fired with zeal for Christ. It began in anxiety for 
souls. It began with prayer and self-denial. It grew by hard work. It 
drew its life from heaven. It spread forth its boughs. The conference of a 
few warm hearts expanded into a church. That church gave birth to other 
churches, which in turn will drop their mustardnseeds into new soil, and 
germinate. What an incentive this is to church-extension, and to aggres- 



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816 Godliness viewed in eonnecHon with Temporal Things. 

wve work for God and humanity ! Beader ! you never know what may be 
the after history of the mustard-fieeds your holy zeal may plant 

A traveller through a dusty road 

Strew*d acorns on the lea^ 
And one took root and sprouted up. 

And grew into a tree. 
Love sought its shade at evening time, 

To hreathe its early vows, 
And age was pleased, in heats of noon, 

To hask heneath its houghs. 
The rohin loved its dangling twigs, 

The hirds sweet music bore. 
It stood a glory in its place, 

A blessing evermore. 

So, a thinker dropp*d a fruitful thought, 

'Twas old and yet was new — 
A simple creature of the brain. 

But strong in being true ; 
The thought was small — its issue great— 

A watch-fire on the hill, 
It shed its radiance far adown, 

And cheers the valley still. 
O germ ! O light ! O word of love ! 

O thought at random cast ! 
Ye were but little at the first. 

But mighty at the last ! T. L. C. 



GODLINESS VIEWED IN CONNEXION WITH 
TEMPORAL THINGS- 

No. II. 

We have seen that Godliness is a preservative of that which is an 
important accession to human happiness, viz : good health. We have 
found that by enjoining upon us conformity to the physical laws, under 
which we are placed, it promotes our welfare, physically. 

We intend now to view the influence of Godliness under another aspect 
We shall endeavour to show its value in promoting our welfare. 

Mentally. We ought to remark, that we use this term in a limited 
sense. It is not our intention now, as might be supposed, to refer to the 
stimulating and beneficial influence which it exerts upon those faculties of 
the mind usually designated " the intellectual powers." 

The reader will perceive, as we advance, that we simply refer to the 
state, and not to the powers, of the mind. We do this, because rightlj to 
estimate the value of Godliness in connexion with temporal things, it is 
necessary that we should view its influence in this aspect. For in order to 
enjoy temporal things, as we are all aware, it is absolutely necessary that 
the mind should be free from anything like anxiety, doubt, or fear. 
Without a peaceable mind we could not retain the former blessing of good 
health (the connexion existing between it and the body being so intimate). 
Supposing however that it was possible to do so, we £ould remain 
strangers to happiness and full enjoyment. Clothe a man in " purple and 
fine linen." Let him " fare sumptuously every day." Grant unto him every 
temporal blessing that the earth could aflbrd, except the one we have 
named, and in vain would be your attempts to make that being a happy 
man. Many a crowned head with a disturbed mind, would willingly have 

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Godliness viewedin connection with Temporal Things, 317 

changed places \rith the most menial of his subjects, with a mind at ease . 
Does Godliness then bless its followers with this inestimable boon ? Does 
it 80 affect the state of the mind as not only to allow us freely to enjoy 
temporal things, but also actually to increase the happiness which we may 
derive from themi We feel no hesitation in asserting that it does. 
There may be, — there undoubtedly are, often great mental disquietude and 
anguish, when the first rays of its pure light dart into the soul enwrapped in 
moral darkness. Nevertheless, in its own good time it whispers to the poor 
distressed mind, '^ peace, be still," and invariably there follows a great calm. 
Godliness brings to its possessors "a peace which passeth all under- 
standing," wholly unlike the so-called peace of ungodly men, the world 
can neither give it nor take it away. Those that walk in the paths 
which it points out (as numbers can testify) have *' great peace." Those 
beautiful ways into which it leads, are to those who enjoy it, " ways of 
pleasantness " and " paths of peace." Men often have their minds disturbed 
by the recollection of past sins. It is only the most hardened that can 
quell that " still small voice," which ever and anon reminds them that 
" sin will not go unpunished." Godliness however exempts its followers 
from suffering continually the lashes of a guilty conscience ; they have no 
gloomy forebodings about sins past. They have believed on the " Lamb of 
God who taketh away the sin of the world," and although when looking 
down the vista of their past life, they behold that their ^ sins have been 
many " yet relying on the meritorious sacrifice of that Redeemer in whom 
they have been taught to trust, they feel that they are all forgiven them. 
The peace of their minds is not disturbed by thinking of their Creator 
as their inexorable Judge, for Godliness teaches them to regard him as 
theur reconciled Father. With such a mind the reader will readily 
conceive how much greater will be the pleasure they derive from 
temporal things. Behold the godly man rallying forth to behold the 
beauties of nature. He gazes upon the michty mechanism of the universe 
with tenfold more interest than he would do, if he was not taught to 
regard the Almighty ruler of all, as his reconciled Father. With what 
interest does a mind at peace with God gaze upon the rising and setting 
Bun. With what delight does it watch the lovely moon, as alone in her 
glory, she pursues her midnight track. How delightful for the mind to bo 
at peace with that Beixig whose omnipotent arm bowled yon little worlds 
above us into space. The possessor of Godliness 

Looks abroad into the varied field 
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps compared 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy 
With a propriety that none can feel. 
But who, with filial confidence inspired 
Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, 
And smiling say, my Father made them all ! 

Innomerous ways (as the reader would find by a more minute examination 
of the subject) does Godliness protect the mind from being disturbed. So 
long as we yield to its beneficent sway, the mind retains a sweet tranquillity 
only known to those alone who have experienced it. Who then will say 
that the Christian is not prepared to be as cheerftil and happy as those 
around him? We have heard professing Christians talk as though 
Crociliness so affected the mind as to unfit us for enjoying lawful temporal 
blessings. Many worldUngs imagine that to embrace Christianity you 



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318 Godliness viewed in ^connexion with Temporal Things, 

xnust bury yourself in gloom. No smile mast ever cross your features. 
Sombre must be the aspect of your brows. With a sad eountenance, like 
the Pharisees of old, must you wade your way through this earth as a dark 
howling wilderness. We must confess that we long kept aloof fromeoming 
under the influence of Godliness, because, from the appearance, conduct, and 
ocmversatiou of many of its professors, we had thought its influence was to 
depress the mind and make us unhappy. At last we were persuaded, bj 
the Superintendent of the drcuit (the Rev. M. Baxter) we resided io, to 
join a class of possessors of Godlioess, ^nd we feel profoundly grateful lliat 
Almighty God thus led us to And out our mistake. 

We would not be thought to advocate an easy religion. We do not be- 
lieve that the glories of heaven are gained without having battles to fight ; 
notwithstanding this^ we are persuaded that Godliness, with all the crosses 
and the suiferings which follow in its train, exerts such an influence upon 
the mind and heart as to justify a learned author in asserting, that 
*' a gloomy Christian is an anomaly.*' It is a matter of deep regret that 
the men of the world appear to have an impression that the reli^on of our 
blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ has a tenden<7 to make us mentally 
uneasy and even miserable. 

We charge two classes of persons with deepening and confirming the 
unffodly in this impression, the hypocrite and the formal professor. 

The former class generally endeavour to make those that surround them 
believe that they are posseasors of godliness by putting on ^ a sad coun- 
tenance,'* and whining in a very solemn and, as they think, sanctimo- 
nious manner. The latter are often indeed as unhapp^ in mind as the? 
appear. The mental uneasiness and misery which often distress the 
mere professor of godliness is easily accounted for. He has not suffi- 
cient religion to give up his sins — not suflicient to make him happy. 
He has, however, too much to remain comfortable, destitute of it. He 
18 genei*ally punctilious in his attendance at the house of Crod. He 
has all "the form of godliness,*' though destitute of the power. Sab- 
bath after Sabbath does the ambassador of God place vividly before 
him the horrors of hell, and the joys of heaven. Without the power 
which godliness gives, he cannot ^ trust in the Lord with all his heart," 
he *' leans to his own understanding." Understanding keeps remind- 
ing him that all his formalities will never save him from the former, nor 
gain for him the latter. Such an one often appears mentally more mise- 
rable than he, who bounding from all religious restraint whatever, cries, 
« let us eat, drink, and be meriy, for to-morrow we die." The world, 
never exact in its distinctions, attribates to godliness what is in reality 
the result of the want of it. The world, blinded by prejudice and pa»' 
sion, does not distinguish the hypocrite and fbrmsd professor from the 
real possessor. Thus, by the way, we see how the hypocrite with his hollow 
dissembling, and the formalist by his asoetic formality, may damn souls by 
keeping them out of the church. Many rob themselves of the peace and 
unspeakable joy which godliness grants to its possessors by not giving all 
diligence to make their "calling and election sure." By not "pressing 
forward toward the mark of their high calling in Christ Jesas." Godliness 
enjoins upon its followers the necessity of progression. Their course must 
be onward and upward. ^' The holy to the holiest leads." As sooe as ever 
we disobey this injunction, and say in effect, to our spiritual life, ^'thos far 
shalt thou go and no further,** we soon become surrounded with dark clouds 
^ doubt and fear, and unless we seek the assistance of that Holy Spirit 
which godliness hath taught us to seek, we are found groping about in 
this darkness " seeking rest and finding none." Such ought ever to re- 
member that the world will attribute all the mratal gloom they appear 
to have to godliness^ and not to the want id it. While we avoid appearing 



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Godliness viewed in connexion with Temporal Things. 819 

light and giddy, let ns take care that we do not make the world believe our 
godliness makes us gloomy. 

We onght not to omit reminding the reader of the value of true godli- 
ness in those hours of affliction and bereavement which come to all. Then 
the mind is most likelv to be fluttered and distressed. However bright our 
promise of temporal things may be, the brightness of that promise will one 
day be darkened. We have promises bright as the sun m the morning, 
darkened ere night had wrapped around the earth his sable mantle. We 
hear daily the cries of distress set up by our poor humanity. We hear 
numbers who have had their bright promises of temporal things nipped by 
some untimely blast of misfortune or bereavement. Man, from the depths 
of his heart, seems to be crying. Who will do me any good in such 
moments ? Who will bring us a halm to heal this wound from which we 
all must suffer.^ Godliness comes to him like some angelic messenger 
offering relief. It will do for man in such moments what nothing on earth 
can do. Offer to that wife, bereaved of her beloved hasband, all the wealth 
of Golconda*8 mines, and do you console her ? Would not the offer be 
considered as an insult, and the wealth spurned from her in painful dis- 
gust ? Offer to that father who has lost his lad, the pride of his old age, 
worlds on worlds, and do you effectually console him ? No ; as experience 
has shown, to the ungodly as well as to the godly, religion is the only 
true balm for this wound. Godliness teaches us to regard ** these light 
afflictions " as *^ enduring but for a moment, and working out for us a far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." The possessor of godliness 
regards these Mictions as coming, not from the dust, but from the skies. 
He knows they are all for the promotion of his well-being. Godliness 
trains him to the belief of this. It assures him the blow is inflicted by 
One who is too wise to err, and too good to be unkind. Does death snatch 
away a beloved one ? Godliness assures its possessor that the departed is not 
lost to the system of being, but only gone before. If those who have been 
thus snatched away, have also possessed themselves of this great gift of 
God, he is led to look forward to that time when he ehall again meet with 
those dear departed ones, and on a happier shore, and in a brighter clime 

" They shall meet to part no more." 

Thns the mind is supported in affliction. However severe the storm, the 
good man has his anchor cast within the vail, and when it passes over he 
is still found riding majestically on the ocean of life with a mind prepared 
to enter again into its vtarious duties. The prospect before him in the fu- 
ture enables him to pursue his journey through life in peace, and full of joy. 
It only remains for us now, ere leaving this part of our subject, to con- 
trast the state of the ungodly with the state of the good man which we 
have endeavoured to bring before you. Having, however, already occu- 
pied space enough for the present, we must leave this for the reader to do. 
We Ventura to i^rm, that the reader will flnd that the disturbed mind, 
which invariably is the lot of the ungodly man, will prevent him from 
enjoying to the full extent these temporal things, which are by a bountiful 
Oreator given us to enjoy. You will find that in spite of his merry laugh 
and jovial song, he suffers, mentally, much more than those whom he so 
often pities. You will find but few among ^ the lovers of pleasure more 
than Qod," that have not the peace of mind essential to the enjoyment of 
temporal things, marred und destroyed by the lashings of conscience, and 
the fearful foreboding that they wUl one day be called into account ** for 
the deeds done in the body.'* You will find that in times of affliction and 
hercavemrat, they are " like a wave of the sea driven about by the wind 
•ad tost." You will find them scattered on the ocean of life, by the storms 
thereof, like so many wrecks, without pilot, without anchor, and no proa- 



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320 Domestic AsaocicUions, 

pect of any haren before them. And as yon gaze npon the sad spectacle, 
yon will feel the tmth of that declaration of the Deity himself — ^There is 
no peace for the wicked. You will discover that even the individual whom 
the world designates " a moral man/* is unhappy, having not come to the 
•* Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world." WiUiout the 
new birth, we affirm that von will find him, moral as he appears to the 
world, destitute of that calm and tranquil state of the mind which vital 
godliness alone bestows. When nature heaves, when thunders roll and 
lightnings flash, you will behold him unprepared to look up to that Ood 
"who sitteth on the heavens," and **who thundereth marvellously with 
his voice.*' You will discover him unprepared to say, 

'^ Howl on ye blasts, to me ye bring no dread.** 

Happy is he who has embraced that Gospel which brings life and im- 
mortality to light, which strips death of its terrors, and secures to its 
possessors even on earth an abiding peace. Rejoice, ye sons of men, who 
have secured a footing on that Rock which will stand immovably, 

When earth's foundations melt away. 

Reader, if thou art destitute of this peace of mind which passeth all 
understanding, our prayer to God is^ that thou mayest have no rest until 
thou has found it in Him, whose mission on earth was to bestow upon thee, 
an unworthy child of dust, this inestimable boon. 

March 10, 1857. P. 



DOMESTIC ASSOCIATIONS. 

RESCUB OF THE OUTCAST. 

Standing on the steps of a house one evening, I was struck with the 
countenance of a young woman who was passing. She was in company 
with several females, who, it was easy to see, were of a vicious class, and 
yet her countenance was not wholly despoiled of its natural modesty. It 
evinced a good disposition, and I could not but feel that such a woman, 
in her heart, must loathe a life of vice. Instantly there flashed through 
my mind a strong desire to save her from her wretched course, and I ven- 
tured to speak to her. 

" Do you prefer this kind of life 1" I asked. "Not by any means," was 
her answer. " Would you rather live a decent, honest life 1 " " Yes, I had 
much rather." " How long have you followed this course Y' " Three 
months and a half." She remembered the evil day. It was the first of 
April ; a dark, rainy day, fit beginning for a life of such gloom and misery. 
She had been betrayed, and as soon as she awoke to a consciousness of her 
situation, she plunged into this course in a fit of despair. She spoke freely 
of her dreadful fall, and I was convinced that she was honest in her story, 
and sincere in her wish to be reformed. I looked at her wiih. unutterable 
sadness and pity. She was " so young and so fair." Only nineteen years 
of age, and already on the road to de&Sn and hell ! She felt all the horrors 
of her situation. She was not without religious feeling, for she belonged 
to a cood family, and had been religiously educated ; and she trembled at 
the thought that her soul would be lost if she kept on her present course. 

Until the one wrong step, a few months before, she had led a virtuous life, 
and now she detested and abhorred the course into which she had been en* 
snared. But how to escape from it was the difficulty. I proposed to her 
to go to a House of Industry, as a place of refuge, until we could find her 
a home in the country. To this she gladly assented, and I promised to call 
for her the next evening. 



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Domestic Associations, 321 

At the hour appointed I went, but could not find her. Three times I 
called, but each time was deceived by the vile woman who kept the den of 
infamy. At last I left word, so that it should get to her, and the next 
evening I succeeded in finding her. I took her to the House. I then wrote 
a request for her clothes, which she signed. As it seemed best to obtAin her 
effects as quickly as possible, I hurried to the Police Station, and at once 
made known my errand ; a police-officer was ordered to accompany me. At 
the house, we procured the baggage ver}' readily by presenting the paper, 
going to her former room, and unlocking it with a key which she had fur- 
nished us. The trunk was a heavy one, and no porter to be had ; so I took 
it on my own shoulders and carried it away. 

In the street I found a boy to help me with the burden ; and we did not 
stop till we had placed it in safety. A week after, I called to see this 
young woman. She manifested the greatest j oy at her rescue, and was happy 
in her present home. She took delight in the exercises of the school, and 
especially in the services of the Sabbath, and expressed her firm resolve to 
live hereafter a Christian life. I impressed upon her the importance of 
aiming, not only at a life of purity and virtue, but also of piety and prayer. 
Soon after this interview we procured for her an excellent situation, and 
she now removed to the country. No one will ever know anything of her 
former history, only that she was destitute, and obliged to seek for some 
means of support. 

I would not be too sanguine of the permanency of such a reformation, 
but there is everything to hoi>e. Her natural disposition is not vicious, 
and she is now surrounded by a circle of refined and Christian influences 
^vhich will keep her in the light way. I believe that she is savedy and 
instead of being a poor, blighted, lost creature, passing through a swift 
decline into an early grave, she will ripen into a virtuous, noble, Christian 
woman,--only the more humble, aud patient, and meek, from her first sad 
experience. Are there not hundreds of such young women, who might be 
saved by kindness and perseverance, that now float by us to ruin without 
one arm being stretched out for their rescue 1 H. 

THE ANGELS OF THE CHILDREN. 

" Their angels do always behold the face of their Father which is in 
heaven." Precious words ! But how doubly comforting this assurance to 
those mourning hearts, from whom death has snatched their dearest trea- 
sures! Their tears are, perchance, still watering those fair, early- withered 
flowers which, happily escaped from our ungenial clime, are already bloom- 
ing in the new Eden, fair, fadeless blossoms of immortality. The prayer, 
scarcely lisped by those infantine lips on earth, is changed for ever into 
ceaseless praise ; and the little hands which, had we kept them here, would 
have felt toil and weariness, would have been often clasped in sadness, or 
wrung in hopeless grief, now grasp the victorious palm, or strike to seraph 
voices those golden haips once displayed to the enraptured gaze of the dis- 
ciple " whom Jesus loved." 

I knew a mother blest with these dear and too often idolized possessions. 
One, a sweet child who, like that infant priest of old, seemed consecrated 
even from his birth— among many other treasured stories that memory 
fondly retains of his infant years — was wont, led by his own sweet inspira- 
tion, to kneel by that mother's side and join the prayers of infancy to her 
maturer and maternal pleadings. Once, when the hour was passed, and his 
pure oiisons had not ascended in that double prayer — when the mother had 
interceded alone for the child, and his earnest eye had not gazed into hers, 
as with the rosy lips moving in unison his infant supplications were wont to 
follow hers — that lovely babe, incapable of comprehending the cause, lisped 
with inquiring earnestness the words, " You pray God 'fore you go." That 

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822 Domestic Associatumt. 

little evangeliBt was spared to gild with the siinshine of his infant pre- 
Bence that mother*8 world, hot her first-hom was called, in the early 
morning of his young life, into a day which shall never know any night. 
Heayen called for its little citizen, and the summer flowers that hailed his 
birth bloomed, in their return, on his new-made grave. In the quiver of 
death are many arrows for the little children, but none that are ever shot at a 
venture. The one that struck this dear one contained no poison ; and though 
her choicest treasure was laid low, that mother could say, with the resigna- 
tion of the pious Shunamite, " It is well with the child.** 

'^ *Twas an angel visited the green earth. 

And took the flower away." 
As he lay before her, looking so cold in his long sleep, with a smile playing 
on those pale lips like a sunbeam on a bank of snow, what thought could 
prove so healing to the wounds in that maternal heart, as that the precious 
infant soul was for ever removed from the woes of earth, and that his angel- 
spirit would always behold the ^ face of his Father." Oh ! mother, who 
readest these words, foe this thy faith and the faith of thy little ones. Such 
duties as thine are indeed responsible, but thy privileges equal them in 
weight. Though ceaseless thy cares, yet there is grace sufficient for thee. 
Lead them, then, in those fair fields of infant piety where they, the precioas 
lambs of Ohrist^s fold, may go in and out and find pasture, so that living 
they may brighten thy path and quicken the souls of their earthly parents 
— and that dying thou may est say, while the flowers wave over the little 
graves, ** In heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father 
which is in heaven." Vespeb. 

A WOBD TO BEREAVED MOTHERS. 

** It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feast- 
ing." I have ever found it so ; and one viait especially, which I made at no 
distant period to a bereaved mother, was the means of most important in- 
struction. I cannot forget the les&on, and would record it for the benefit of 
mothers " refusing to be comforted.*' This mother was mourning the death 
of a sweet, fair-haired girl of six, " who," as she said, " had been sent to her 
as a ray of joy and light in a dark hour." She had died but a few weeks 
before my youngest son, a lovely child of the same age, was called away. 
"We were both mourners. While bowed down by sorrow myself, my heart 
was drawn out in sympathy with another similarly afflicted. 

When I entered this house of mourning, I saw that the arrow had fixed 
itself in the soul of that mother, and I perceived in her, as it were, a picture 
of myself, and was startled. This mother, bv refusing to acquiesce in the 
will of God, was bringing herself to an untimely grave. It was evident, 
from the efiects apparent, that Nature was taking revenge on the outward 
frame for the disorder within. I put to myself the question, " Am I not fol- 
lowing in her footsteps ? While Grod has left me other duties to discharge, 
can I be right in giving way to grief, which must unfit me for their per- 
formance, by undermining health, while it cannot restore to me the heloved 
one ?" The impression was salutary. I determined, by God*s help, to malie 
an effort to moderate sorrow, and the help sought was obtained. 

A few mcmths after that visit, I stood by the dying bed of that sorrowing 
mother. While still refusing to be comforted, another blow had fallen apon 
her ; her husband was cut down in a moment. Then, with sorrow, her want 
of Bubmission under her former trial was acknowledged. But disease was 
rapidly doing its work on the mourner, and within a few months, child, 
husband, and mother, were all slumbering beneath the same turf. Mothers! 
beware of cherishing a rebellious, unsubmissive spirit. Our children are 
blessings only lent, and when recalled, though with bleeding hearts, let us 
meekly breathe forth the prayer, " Father, not my will but thine be done." 

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Domestic Associations, 323 

HEN OF BUSIXESS: THEIR HOME BESPONSIBILITIBS. 

We Anglo-Saxons speak of the true idea of home as peculiarly our own. 
Whether this be true or not, we cannot well exalt too highly the value of 
home, nor watch too tenderly over its character and interests. 

Home ! it is a little world ; it has its own interests, its own laws, its own 
difficulties and sorrows, its own blessings and joys. It is the sanctuary of 
the heart, where the afifections are cherished in the tenderest relations — 
where heart is joined to heart, and love triumphs over all selfish calcula- 
tions. It is the training-school of the tender plants which in after years 
are to yield flowers and fruits to parental care. It is the fountain whence 
come the streams which beautify and enliven social life. 

If any man should have a home, it is the man of business. He is the 
true working man of the commuiiity. The mechanic has his fixed hours, 
and when these have run their course, he may, ere the day closes, dismiss 
all anxiety as his labour ends, and seek the home circle. Comparatively 
little has been the tax on his mind, and not much more on his physical 
system, as he learns to take all easy. But the man of business is under a 
constant pressure. His is not a ten-hour system, with an interval of rest ; 
but he is driven onward and onward, early and late, without the calcula- 
tion of hours. He must be employed. In the earnestness of competition 
— in the complexit}' of modern modes of business— in the fluctuations 
which frequently occur — in the solicitous dependence on the fidelity and 
integrity of others — he has no leisure moments during the day. With a 
mind incessantly under exciting engagements, and a body without its 
appropriate nutriment, he may well pant for home, and hail the moment 
when he may escape from his toils to seek its quiet, and its affection and 
confidence. 

The man of business should have a home ; not a mere dormitory, Alas ! 
what an abuse it is to call the mere lodging-place, which a man reaches 
after dark, and which he leaves after a breakfast taken often by candle- 
light, a home. Mr. X. L. M. has a superb property, eight miles from town, 
on the main thoroughfare out of the city ; every passer-by admires it. But 
what is it to, him, as he scarcely sees it by daylight, except on Sabbath? 
To what does all his outlay in garden statuary, and beautiful flowers, and 
picturesque rivulets, amount in his case ? It is his own, it is true ; this 
gives him a feeling of independence ; but what delight does he drink in, 
and what participation has he with his family, in that which should be a 
common source of enjoyment ? To them there is little of real enjoyment, 
as the feeling of loneliness mars all ; while he is very much as the man 
who puts up for the night at the house opposite, called ^* The Traveller's 
Home." They both tarry for a night. 

It is a very grave question whether a man in all this is doing himself 
justice, either mentally or physically — whether he is meeting, or is in a 
condition to meet, the claims wtich the members of his family have on him; 
and, especially, whether be thus meets or can meet his responsibility to 
God, who places the solitary in families ; or to society, which must receive 
its controlling influences trom hi% and similar circles. It is to be feared 
that we are degenerating in our ideas of home, as we are growing in wealth 
and multiplying our luxuries — that just so far as we depart from the views 
of home which our fathers cherished, so are we removing from our true 
interest, and throwing ourselves on what is superficial and ephemeral. 



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324 
KNOWLEDGE. 

**Tbat the soul be witfaont knowledge is not g^ood.*' Prov. xix. 2. 
** Many shall run to and fro, and kaowledge shall be increased.*' Dan. xn. 4. 
" Wisdom and knov ledge shall be the stability of thy times." Isa. zxuii. 6. 
"Giving all diligence, add to your virtue knowledge." 2 Peter L 5. 

The man of knowledge lives eternally after his death, while his members 
are reduced to dust beneath the tomb ; but the ignorant man is dead even 
while he lives upon the earth, he is numbered with living men and yet 
existeth not- An Arabian Author. 

Every branch of knowledge which a good man possesses, he may apply 
to some good purpose. C. Buchanan. 

Wisdom of itself is delectable and satisfactory, as it implies a revelation 
of truth and a detection of error to us. It is like light, pleasant to behold, 
easting a sprightly lustre, and diffusing a benign influence all about; pre- 
tsenting a goodly prospect of things to the eyes of our mind, displaying 
objects in their due shapes, postures, magnitudes, and colours; quickening 
our spirits with a comfortable warmth, and digiposing our minds to a cheer- 
ful activity ; dispelling the darkness of ignorance, scattering the mists of 
doubt, driving away the spectres of delusive fancy, mitigating the cold of 
euUen melancholy ; discovering obstacles, securing progress, and making 
the passages of life, dear, open, and pleasant. We are all naturally 
endowed with a strong appetite to know, to see, to pursue truth; and with 
a bashful abhorrency from being deceived and entangled in mistake. And 
as success in enquiry after truth, affords matter of joy and triumph; so 
being conscious of error and raiscaniage therein, is attended with shame 
and sorrow. These desires, wisdom, in the most perfect manner, satisfies, 
not by entertaining us with dry, empty, fruitless theories, upon mean and 
vulgar subjects ; but by enriching our minds with excellent and useful 
knowledge, directed to the noblest objects, and serviceable to the highest 
ends. Dr. Barrow. 

Knowledge, and ^especiaiy spiritual and religious knowledge^ is a sweet 
and copious spring of joy« Warm affections without knowledge can rise no 
higher than superstition. 

Happy they who delight in being instructed, and who take a pleasure in 
Btoring their minds with knowledge. Wherever adverse fortune may throw 
them, they always carry entertainment with them, and the disquiet which 
preys upon others, even in the midst of pleasures, is unknown to those who 
can employ themselves in reading. JFenelon. 

The I^rd has taught us to know, and has opened to us tho felicity of 
knowing, a felicity to which the pleasures of sense — though they also are 
proofs of his benevolence— bear no comparison, either in loftiness, or dura- 
tion. In th^ one we have a pleasure in common with ail animal natures, in 
the other we share the felicities of angels, and the blessedness of God 
Himself. Richard WaUon. 

I held it ever. 
Virtue and knowledge were endowments greater 
Than nobleness and riches : careless heirs 
May the two latter darken and expend ; 
But immortality attends the former, 
Making a man a god. Shakspere. 

Ignorance is the curse of God, 
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. Ibid. 



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Siography of Mr, John Foster, of Sunderland. 825 

What is it tbat mainly distinguishes a man from a bnite ? Knowledge. 
What makes the vast difference then between savage and civilized nations P 
Knowledge. What forms the principal difference betwen men as they 
appear in the same society ? Knowledge. What raised Franklin from the 
humble station of a printer's boy, to the first honours of the country? 
Knowledge. What took Sherman from his shoemaker*s bench, gave him a 
seat in the American Congress, and there made his voice to be heard among^ 
the wisest and best of his compeers ? Knowledge. What raised Simpson 
from the weaver's loom, to take a place among the first of mathematicians ; 
and Herschel from being a poor fifer boy in the army, to a station amon