only, who even claimed the right of spiritual jurisdiction in England, and hence the right of giving mission to exercise the office of a bishop in the Church of God!"-the Pope and the Queen! "The Pope, sustained in his authority by the whole Church in England; the Queen sustained by her parliament only. The Church, therefore, in England could not have commissioned and sent this archbishop." (p. 157.)

Now all this, we are perfectly aware, seems like sheer nonsense to a man who thinks with no shackles upon him, but the simple representations of the New Testament. Such a man has no care to enquire whether Mary or Elizabeth was canonical and regular in her appointment of bishops. And as such a doctrine as succession by lineal descent is not once hinted at in the New Testament, it is of no importance to him how these questions are settled. But to a High-Churchman, who inquires for the voice of the Fathers, and anxiously looks for a lineal descent from the Apostles in an external succession; who is trammeled up by cañons and rubrics, and all manner of ecclesiastical enactments; the subject speaks with some authority. Granting his premises, therefore, we think the argument of our bishop is logically correct. "Who sent Archbishop Parker?" The answer is, Elizabeth and the parliament of England. If the bishops who ordained him had an authority from the succession, it was an authority incapable of being exercised, and therefore good for nothing, without Elizabeth. They ordained him as her agents. If there is a distinction between their acting legally and their acting ecclesiastically, since the latter was null without the former, it is too minute for ordinary minds to perceive.

Whatever may have been the original state of the English Church before its amalgamation with Rome, it certainly was, in the time of Henry, a part of that Church. It is to no purpose to trace a descent in England, as High-Church writers do, from some other source before the domination of Rome. That domination grew up so gradually in England, as well as everywhere else, that it is impossible to mark the precise time when it gained its place. De minimis non curat lex. It is sufficient for all tangible argument, that the Reformation found England in the hands and under the authority of the Romish hierarchy. Its ecclesiatical rulers were part and parcel of that hierarchy. All succession, be it apostolical or otherwise, was so mixed up with Rome, that no real, well authenticated separation can be made. It is of no consequence, therefore, to inquire what succession existed before Rome's authority was acknowledged in England, because that succession, whatever it

was, became of necessity a component part of the Romish hierarchy. If you prove that the Romish Church has the succession, you prove that the Church of England has it not.

Be it remembered, we find no fault with Elizabeth and her parliament for shaking off the Church of Rome. They had a right so to do, for the same reason that Cromwell and his parliament had a right to shake off the Church of which Charles was the head. But when they had once denied the authority of the Church of Rome, why did they not stick to that denial? Why go back to beg of them an Apostolical succession? or which is the same thing, why attempt to claim that they had it themselves, independently of Rome, when all their history showed that they stood on the same foundation in this particular, with Rome? Cranmer and his associates knew better than to make such a claim. The freshness of their position led them to see the truth. To say that they remained in the Church from which they were breaking off, or that their succession from the Apostles, admitting it to be there, was something which could be picked out from the Church and separated from it, was an absurdity too glaring for any one, in their circumstances, to adopt. Even Henry, who thought he could make truth as well as bishops, dare not do it. They acknowledged therefore, that all their authority for ordination came from the king. But Bancroft lived later. A new generation had come upon the stage, and it was practicable to make an impression on them of reverence for the existing establishment. Hence he expected to strike terror into the dissenters, and to make some headway against them on the principle of authority-a principle better known in those days, than the principle of free and independent inquiry. The early Reformers in England did well. There was sufficient reason for leaving Rome; but when the English Church had left her, why attempt to dress up in the garment of her fooleries, and talk in her miserable jargon?

It has been our intention in this Article to show that HighChurchism in Episcopacy leads directly to Popery, by nothing more than carrying out its arguments to their legitimate results. This is the road which Bishop Ives traveled; and he has come out at the right spot. We do not say that mere Episcopacy leads a man thus. If Bishop Ives had been an Epispopalian, preferring that organization either as a matter of expediency, or as more agreeable than others, to the Scriptures, or even the Fathers, without adopting the High-Church views of exclusiveness, unchurching all other denominations for the want of a supposed Apostolical succession, rights of in

terpreting the Scriptures, &c., he might have been a consistent Protestant as well as other men. It is the exclusiveness of High-Churchism upon which we animadvert, not regular, rational Episcopacy. The usual doctrine of Rome, Popery or perdition, is believed and professed by Bishop Ives. If it gives offense to High-Churchmen in the Episcopal Church, we beg them to remember their own doctrine as it bears upon other Protestants. When Dr. Mason urged on Bishop Hobart the consequence of his High-Church doctrine as Episcopacy or perdition, the bishop, either out of respect for the public, or from kindness of heart for which he is said to have been distinguished, was induced to modify his doctrine in a manner that has been adopted by High-Churchmen ever since. who had no prelates could be saved, not indeed in the regular appointed way, but by uncovenanted mercy which God, he trusted, in his infinite goodness, would manifest. But it was shown that uncovenanted mercy is no mercy at all, because all God's mercies relating to eternal life, are covenanted mercies. They are promised or covenanted to the believing, to the penetent, to the holy, &c. No one, therefore, can be saved without being comprehended in the covenanted mercies of God. So that, after all, we must come back to Dr. Mason's charge, Episcopacy or perdition.

Those

How refreshing to turn from the narrowness of such sectarianism to the gospel;-from the husks of High-Churchism to our Father's house, where "there is bread enough and to spare!" To believe on the Lord Jesus Christ-to embrace with all the heart, the doctrine of justification by faith, and to be moulded by it in the moral character, is better than all church organization or lineage. Whether we worship the Father in Jerusalem or on this mountain, we must remember that "God is a spirit: and they that worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." We care not, therefore, to inquire any further. We are satisfied with the instructions of the New Testament, in regard to all things pertaining to Christianity. As we must stand for ourselves individually, and not in a mass before God; so we choose to think for ourselves. And we ask no questions of any church, as to what we shall believe or do. Our convictions, as well as our taste, are in favor of equality and not lordship, similarity and not official distinction in the ministry of Christ. We confide in the doctrine of the fathers of New England, as both scriptural and republican, "A Church without a bishop, and a State without a king."

ART. V.-ANOTHER VISION OF A WRETCHED ANDOVER STUDENT.

"WELL done," said our professor, as I read my first vision to him; "you are a better man in your sleep than you are in your vigilant moments. Pray continue your slumbers, you may possibly yet bring something to pass." I went home and took a bowl full of Valerean tea-nothing stronger, upon my word— and soon fell to my visions again.

I was in the boat with my old navigator. He sat there with his paddle, looking very grave, with a cast-iron countenance, and the boat was floating on slowly as before, just as fast as the descending current would carry it. I requested the old gentleman to stop the descent for a moment until I was seated, and give me a fair chance to see the whole prospect. "You make a pretty request," said he. "It is a thing I would not do for the best man on earth-not even for Professor Stuart himself. You must snatch your prospect when you can. This boat is bewitched, I believe. I have broken fifty poles in trying to push it on a little faster, and as to stopping it, not all the men on earth, not all the angels in heaven, not all the devils in hell united, could do that. It is like a Congressman's eloquence, when it once begins it must go on. You see, however, it moves with great uniformity. There is time enough; don't be in a hurry, and I can assure the boat will not. Here, take this opera-glass again; I have been rubbing the glasses and adjusting the focuses. I think you will see a little better this time." I took the glass, and began once more to survey the scene.

I found on examination that the people whom I before thought so pious, appeared on closer inspection to be very wicked; they were much more remarkable for professions than practice, and their faith was more pure than their morals; indeed their faith was hardly the right kind; their foundation was good, but their superstructure detestable. They had been unfortunate in their teachers, princes and governors, most of whom had been the greatest scamps in creation. They occupied a good land; there were some valleys very rich; some streams very beautiful; some mountains very high. Herds of cattle fed on their plains; vinyards were planted on the side of their hills, and the shepherd's pipe awoke the replication of the echo

from every grotto and grove. But, alas! vice was there, the progeny and the parent of a perverse faith. They had forsaken God, and God had forsaken them.

Yet not wholly. I observed that the man whom I had seen so furiously driving the sellers out of the temple was going about doing good. His first violence was by no means a specimen of his general character. He was the most patient teacher I ever heard. No long sermons, but pithy, weighty, impressive, short; as some one says, an ocean of matter in a drop of words. And then his manner too. O how simple and convincing. Such an eye-such tones-such an aspect-such a voice. He had a way of closing his hand and extending his little finger, and moving his arm with such a calm, collected air, as was more terrible than any violence I could imagine. His mode of pronouncing the word hell, damnation, the worm that never dies, the fire that never quenched, was very peculiar. Instead of collecting all the rage of vindictive justice into his eye, and pronouncing these terrible words in tones of harsh denunciation, he would clothe them in such melting notes of pathos and pity, that all his auditors would weep. O, said I, it is a reality; he believes every word he speaks.

I saw him take his stand on a knoll of ground, which ancient simplicity called a mountain, and his disciples gathered around him as if anxious to hear. One thing was remarkable, and that was, he opened his mouth before he spake. HE OPENED HIS MOUTH AND TAUGHT THEM. There are some very worthy clergymen who say very good things, that can hardly be said to open their mouths. They mumble and whisper, and speak inwardly like ventriloquists, whereas Plato says if you have got anything to say that it is worth saying, you should throw it out with a shout, and speak as if you were in earnest. This is preachingκηρύξατε τὸ ἐυαγγελιον. This divine man proclaimed it like a herald, so that all around the mount, to the very bottom, could hear his voice.

be

He told them in the first place what a fine thing poverty was-virtuous poverty-and how every one should consent to poor for conscience' sake. He said that mourning was not so bad a thing, especially for one's sins. He cautioned them against private and political controversies, going to war and fighting duels, which he said was not the best way to live in peace. He said when a man was tired of sin, and wished to be good, it was the first spark of a celestial fire lighted in his breast. He cautioned them not even to whip their horses, oxen, or mules, in a cruel manner, if they expected to be favored at last. But above all things he told them-the motive was most important