double caution in the case of a Jew; because his profession of Christianity subjects him instantly to the loss of all things. The tender parent, the affectionate brother or sister, with every friend of his youth; yea, even the wife of his bosom, disappear at that moment. Then comes persecution, in place of tenderness; hate hurries forward, to cast out affection; and, "Lord, what is man?" the friend is resolved into an enemy, implacable; and those conjointly hurl vengeance on the head of this apostate, who, in their estimation, has renounced his God, and become an outcast from the sons of Abraham. Under such a fight of afflictions, who can endure? Not a novice. It is those only who are strong in faith, that endure such a conflict, abide in the truth, and glorify God. W. COLDWell.

King's-square, January 20th, 1831.

THEOLOGICAL REVOLUTION IN FRANCE.

[We give the following article as it has reached us, without vouching for its authenticity.-EDIT.]

"DEAR SIR, "32, Sackville-street. "The subjoined extract of a letter, just received from Paris, I am sure will be read by you with great pleasure:"

Our chapels are overflowing-300 children are attached to them. We know not what to do to get accommodation for the numbers who wish to attend. If we had £10,000 to provide chapels, we could have congregations of a size, and schools of a number, to astonish Europe!

'A remarkable circumstance has just occurred. A large body of reformed priests have applied for means to separate themselves from the church of Rome. They affirm that there are two thousand five hundred priests of their body affiliated with them throughout France. They have just drawn up a confession of faith almost analogous with English episcopacy. Application has been made to the English bishops. Already many parishes have sent for priests of this body. One has been sent to Montaign. This day the celebrated Dupin has applied for one for Nevers, (a place of 30,000 inhabitants,) where the national guard has taken possession of the church, declaring that they will have no Jesuits for cures. The confession of the reformed body of priests, is this No Pope! no infallible church-no Latin -no celibacy of priests-no injunction to regular confession -but the Word of God as the only rule of faith.

mass two sacraments

This day a Royal 'ordinance has appeared, suppressing the Catholic missions, and taking its funds, and abolishing all holidays, but those of Easter, Christmas,

and Pentecost. You see that the highway is politically opening for the grand march of gospel truth.-' Paris, Jan. 9th, 1831.'

"Trusting that you will give the above the widest circulation, I beg to remain, yours truly, "R. E. RHIND."

"To Mr. Billingsley, Bermondsey Terrace."

EUROPE IN THE WINTER OF 1830-1.

THE year 1830, recently closed, was fraught with events which live in their consequences, and, in all probability, will thus live through many years yet to come. The effectual humiliation of the Grand Turk beneath the Christian arms, and the independence of Greece, proclaimed by the great leading powers, relieve the east of Europe from a bondage, of long continuance and intolerable severity, beneath the tyranny of the haughty Crescent. The conquest of Algiers, and the states subject thereto, on the north of Africa, adds another wreath to the laurels of the Cross, and opens the way to a better order of things in that fine country, long the seat of Christianity and of the arts; a country which has for ages called, but called in vain, to Christendom, "Give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out."

A system of incendiary conflagration, commencing in Normandy, spread over the north-west of France, crossed the British channel, raged in Kent, extended to the adjoining and midland counties, and dealing huge alarm, reached the most distant parts of England, and even Wales; and glad should we be if we could say, this mania has ceased from the earth. For what, but a species of madness, can prompt men to destroy that corn and provender, which the bounty of Divine Providence has given to man and beast for sustenance, and which, when once destroyed, cannot be restored ?

The late monarch of Great Britain has expired, and his royal brother reigns in his stead. The King of Naples, Pope Pius the eighth, and the Grand Duke of Baden, also died. An awful revolution suddenly took place in France; the reigning monarch was driven from his throne, amidst seas of blood, and the Duke of Orleans is placed thereon. A similar revolution, somewhat less bloody, took place in Belgium; the Orange family were excluded from the throne, and the national congress, at Brussels, proclaimed the independence of Belgium. Anthony of Saxony and Charles of Brunswick ceased to reign; and the Dey of Algiers, that potent plunderer, was driven from his tyrannical sovereignty.

The swellings of that awful ocean, revo

lutionary France, continue to roll, with a voice of thunder, upon the shores of Europe; and even mountains and plains far inland feel the successive shocks of this tremendous surf, and shake to their very foundations. To Brunswick, Saxony, and Belgium, we now add to our list of revolutionary states, Hesse, many of the lesser principalities of Germany, nearly every canton in Switzerland, and the important kingdom of Poland. Blood has already flowed in Warsaw, and scenes of awful daring yet await that city.

Responsive to their parent, France, these states heave with kindred tempests, and the swellings of their sanguine billows roll thunder to thunder upon the distant ear. A tempest, portentous in its onset, and frightful in its rush upon Paris, on the trial of the ex-ministers, held Europe in alarm during the concluding weeks of the year; and wonder was outwondered that so awful a storm terminated without a single wreck, while every eye was intensely bent over its waves, looking, amidst its turbulence, for the ruin of the state. But there is a Providence, even amidst storms, which serenely awards life and death, according to that precision of wisdom, which is equally infinite in its action as in its being.

On surveying the positions of the powers that are upon the platform of Europe, we behold Great Britain, with her Norman Isles on the west, her Mediterranean possessions on the south, and in junction with independent Greece on the east, and the Principalities, Russia, Poland, Prussia, Sweden, Denmark, Saxony, Hanover, the Hanse-Towns, and Holland, on the north, forming lines of circumvallation around the seat of the beast; while France occupies an advanced position in the very heart of his dominions. This position, being central, cuts off the Iberian from the Italian peninsula, and bars all military communication between Iberia and Rome; while the irruptions of the French on the coast of Africa open to her resources, on the south, a vast maritime country to the east and west of Rome and Spain. It is from the advanced position, France, that several of the northern portions of these lines of circumvallation seem to receive their impulses: and, responsive to her movements, these move like portions of the same body. But the seat of the beast, hitherto a stranger to these impulses, with all its potentates, rests secure ; apparently conscious of its own strength; and whatever attempt is made to disturb this repose, is repelled with ease.

Yet numerous defections from the rites of Rome swell the ranks of infidelity in France, and add somewhat to the reformed churches.

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Gladly would the mind dwell upon the future, in glorious anticipations. It would paint France, aroused from the apathy of ages, following, yea, united with the efforts of Great Britain and her free-born Transatlantic sons, in the great work of civilizing and christianizing the whole world. At how many points, at home and abroad, are the Man of Sin, Antichrist, and the Great Dragon, vulnerable, under Divine grace, to her efforts and in none more so abroad, than in that vast extent of coast, and that yet more vast interior with which her recent possessions on the north of Africa have brought her into immediate contact. There dwell the superstitions of Rome; there, rampant in insolence, domineer the institutions of Mahomet; and there the great Dragon yet holds his seat, and hosts of pagans fall down before, and worship the works of the hands of men.

But the views of France, at this moment, are the reverse of these; the military mania of the age has possessed her altogether. No formidable enemy thunders at her gates, nor has even the sound of distant artillery reached her frontiers; yet she springs up, as if conscious that she has aroused Rome, and occupies an advanced position in her domains, in huge alarm, and takes the attitude of a besieged nation. Volunteers after volunteers flock, in troops too numerous to be enrolled, beneath the tricoloured flag. These march, with the Marsellois hymn upon their lips, in full chorus, while the very peasants make the manual exercises their pastimes; and France reckons up her hosts at four millions strong. The announced positions of these hosts are, a formidable army upon the Rhine, a second upon the frontiers of Italy, a third at the feet of the Pyrenees, a vast army of reserve, a mass of moveable national guards, and a yet huger mass of stationary national guards, whose duties arise out of a consciousness that France has foes within her, and needs this mass to preserve peace at home.

What will these millions of men under arms achieve? Will they enslave France? Will they liberate the world? Will they massacre each other? Or will they demean themselves like peaceable citizens, giving and enjoying rest? Let us make an effort to lift up the veil.

In the midst of a profound peace, which pervaded the whole world, when the restless turbulence of Rome, then in the zenith of its power, was hushed into quietude, and all nations were in full expectation of a change favourable to the interests of mankind, then, in the order of Divine Providence, and in the richness of Divine

mercy, a Prince, a Saviour-the Messiah became "Emmanuel-God with us." He then set up His kingdom amidst this sphere-a reign which shall shine brighter and brighter, even to the perfect day, and which the consummation of time alone will terminate on earth. Thus, in the midst of a profound peace, which pervaded Europe and lulled the world into rest, after distractions, distresses, and slaughters, universal and long continued, when the na tions were in full expectation of a change favourable to the best interests of mankind, came, in the order of Divine Providence, "The time of the end,"-the last scene of the first portion or series of Emmanuel's reign amidst this sphere, viz. A.D. 1816. Of this last position we adduce the following proofs.

This time is called by Jacob, "The last days," Gen. xlix. 1. By Moses, "The latter days," Deut. iv. xxx. By Isaiah, "The last days," ii. 2. By Jeremiah, "The latter days," xxiii. 20. Dy Daniel, "The latter days," ii. 28; and also, "The time of the end," xi. 35. Of this time Daniel says, chap. xii. "And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great Prince which standeth for the children of thy people; and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation, even to that same time and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book." And further, of this time he speaks, ver. 7. that it shall be a half time-for he names in order, "A time, times, and an half;" therefore, this being the last in succession, must be the "half time." The answer of Emmanuel, the great Prince, to the inquiries of his disciples, Matt. xxiv. "When shall these things be? what shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?" most fully establishes the words of Daniel, by all but quoting them, as to the shortness of this time of tribulation, or "the last time;" for he says, "There shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time; no, nor ever shall be. And except those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved; but for the elect's sake those days shall be shortened."

Without going into an elaborate discussion on the various opinions of commentators, as to the periods noted by Daniel and the other prophets, for which our limits afford no scope, we may say thus much, that by almost general consent, in these prophecies, a day is put for a year; and that in the Jewish year there being 360 regular days, a time is 360 years. Thus a

time is 360 years, times are 720 years, and a half time 180 years, making a total of 1260 years. This total is rendered so familiar to us in the prophetic books of Daniel and St. John, that we may refer our readers to these books, and the commentaries thereon, without fear, and conclude, that "the last time," or "the time of the end," is, the half time, or 180 years of duration from its commencement to its close.

According to the general consent of the learned, in their commentaries on the sacred volume, that the ages of the world are distinguished by three great and equal periods, viz. the Patriarchal, consisting of two thousand years prior to the giving of the law; the Legal, consisting of two thousand years under the law; and the Kingdom of Heaven, set up upon the earth, consisting of two thousand years under the Gospel; then the beginning of "the time of the end," would fall in the year of Christ 1820; for, deducting 180 from 2000, leaves 1820. But as the era of Emmanuel's birth is post-dated in the common reckoning four years, A.D. 1816 answers to the beginning of the prophetic "time of the end : but as the year 1816 is only the beginning of the "time of the end," all the prophetic events which will be accomplished therein, have the full scope of its one hundred and eighty years, from its commencement to its conclusion; and it I will call for all the wisdom of the wise to place each in succession in its proper year. Yet we have great encouragement herein for if "the words are closed up, and sealed till the time of the end," at or in that time we may with fairness conclude, "the wise shall understand,” Dan. xii. 9 and 10.

That terrible leader, Buonaparte, gendered in, the cruel instrument of, and eventually the fierce lord and master over, revolutionary France, and, in their turn, over almost every nation of Europe, was cast off by Divine Providence, and his power departed from him upon the plains of Waterloo, A.D. 1815. A sudden and universal panic on the close of the day seized his whole army, and the watchword in a moment became, "Save himself who can!" one general rout threw soldiers of every description into one mob of men; and the army, which had that day con tended for the sovereignty of Europe, fell into dissevered ruin, to rally no more for ever; and he who in the morning led to victory the power of France, in the evening became a fugitive; and erewhile of him was it said, "Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake king

doms; that made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities thereof; that opened not the house of his prisoners?" He himself became a prisoner, and he beheld his land no more. Then did Europe know peace and rest—then did the world cease to slaughter and destroy-and thus has Europe enjoyed peace during fourteen

years.

St. John informs us, "The angel poured out his vial upon the sun," Rev. xvi. 8. We have already noted, that the sun indicated France: pursuing this idea, we beheld, from the year 1789 to the year 1815, this awful visitation upon that people in its sanguinary progression. Blood flowed to blood throughout that populous nation the blood of its citizens shed by the hands of citizens, as one party arose and overpowered the then constituted authorities; and as these in their turn fell beneath the newly-acquired powers of a third party, who also in succession were sacrificed by the overwhelming force of new authorities, raised, like the billows of the ocean, amidst this storm of revolutionary mania, to wreck the flower of her children, and leave France, like a hulk upon the strand, shorn of all things. Amidst this terrible infliction of wrath, France, in the delirium of her torments, impelled her sons to vindictive action upon the nations, inflicting, as upon her was inflicted, the scorching of wrath— for the nations of Europe, in common with France," have shed the blood of saints and prophets; and blood was given them to drink, because they were worthy," Rev.

xvi. 6.

The vision goes on to say, "Power was given unto him to scorch men with fire; and men were scorched with great heat," Rev. vi. 8 and 9: power was given to the beast, Rev. xiii. 5 and 7; and it appears that the power given here, viz. Rev. xvi. 8. is the next power in succession, in point of time, to the beast; and the power here given appears to continue in force until "another angel comes down from heaven, having great power, saying, "Babylon the great is fallen." Of these more hereafter. In the mean time, we behold a nation clothed with power, which, in a few short months, has called forth four millions of its people to arms. How awful is this lightning-like power, even in precinct. Four millions of men under arms!

The question recoils upon us, Marshalled for what? Do they know, themselves? Do we know? Alas! No. Yet whatsoever He who sways the earth has determined, this terrible engine of power will bring to pass; and what are we, that we

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should stay His hand? He who will teach us to know," that the Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will," Dan. v. 28. A lesson which the present age needs to be taught, seeing all its governments leave the King of kings out in all their acts, and rule without referring to his kingdom and gracious laws. W. COLDWELL.

King Square, Jan. 15, 1831.

A FEW FRIENDS.

"And what is Friendship but a name?"

EVERY thing that Cicero has said in his Treatise De Amicitia is very fine, and very good, and very true; but he does not seem to have been altogether aware of the fulness of meaning contained in the word friends.

A man invites a few friends to dine with him. They come, they eat, they drink, they talk, they criticise, they depart. They have praise and blame for the cook, and they speak learnedly of the wine; and, in nine cases out of ten, somewhat censoriously of the host. For either he has been too ostentatious in his liberality, or too niggardly in hospitality; and he seems almost required to ask pardon of those whom he has fed, for the manner in which he has fed them. Then the entertainer becomes, in his turn, the entertained, and takes his turn also in the delights of culinary criticism and friendly censoriousness. These are friends by the table, cemented by the various combinations of fish, flesh, and fowl, closely adhering so long as that lasts which holds them together; but that failing, they fail, and depart, and separate.

A man writes a book, prose or poetry, as the case may be. He, of course, thinks it very fine, but he is not quite satisfied that all the world must of necessity be of the same opinion; therefore, he shows it to his friends, and asks their candid opinion-and they read it, and give him (excuse the pun, gentle reader) their candied opinion. They advise him, by all means, to publish itthey are sure it must succeed. It is published, and it does not succeed; and then these friends wonder that any man could be so simple as to imagine that such a thing ever could succeed; and they wonder that he did not see that what they had said was not their real opinion; but, being his friends, how could they do otherwise than praise the book?

A man grows rich, and rises in the world. Thereupon all his neighbours and acquaintance congratulate him upon his

fortune, and are ready, in the plenitude of their wisdom, to teach him how to spend his newly-acquired wealth. And he, who before his prosperity, scarcely knew that he had a friend in the world, is now informed how delighted his countless friends are to hear of his success.

A man grows poor, and sinks in the world. Forthwith he hears, or he may hear, if he have patience to listen to them, sage lectures upon prudence, and many edifying dissertations upon discretion. He receives many a humiliating lesson, and observes many an altered look; he has a great deal of pity, and very little help; and he is recommended, in the most delicate manner imaginable, not to spoil the pleasures of his prosperous acquaintance, by his unprosperous presence; and, while he fancies that he has not a friend in the world, he is given to understand that his friends are very sorry for him, and his friends, as all his friends say, ought to do something for him; but, unfortunately, he has tired his friends all

out.

A man, just beginning life, marries a woman whose family is not so good as his own. Thereupon, father and mother, and uncles and aunts, and brothers and sisters, and cousins, first, second, third, and fourth, put themselves into a unanimous passion; co-operate in a system of unanimous sulkiness; insult the young woman, and eschew the young man, more especially if the newly-married couple are in need of any assistance or countenance. And then, when the persecuted couple are suffering under the pangs of poverty, and the mortifications of desertion and solitude, the world saith, with a most edifying gravity, "The young gentleman's friends did not approve of the match."

A young man comes to his fortune as soon as he becomes of age. He buys horses and dogs, and runs races, and lays bets, and plays at cards, and sometimes wins and sometimes loses; he gets into scrapes, and fights duels; he finds himself none the richer for his winnings, and much the poorer for his losings; and if he cannot spend or lose his money fast enough himself, he has myriads of friends who will borrow it of him, and do their best to assist him in dispersing it. Then at last he smashes, or is done up; and then all the world, with its long, moral phiz, says "What a pity it is that his friends led him into such extravagance!"

At midnight there is a noise in the streets -women are shrieking, and men are hallooing, and some are calling for help; and there is a well-dressed inan swearing at a constable who attempts to hold him, which

well-dressed man has obviously been rolled in the dirt; his hat is as flat as a pancake, his eyes are as red as herrings, his tongue is like a weathercock in a whirlwind, and he must be trussed like a boiled rabbit before he can be managed; and all the account he can give of himself the next morning is, that he had been dining with a few friends.

Warwick, in his "Spare Minutes," thus describes common friendship :-"When I see leaves drop from their trees in the beginning of autumn, just such, thinke I, is the friendship of the world. Whiles the cap of maintenance lasts, my friends swarme in abundance; but, in the winter of my neede, they leave me naked. He is a happy man that hath a true friend at his need; but he is more truly happy that hath no need of his friends."

CURSORY REMARKS ON A WIFE.

"Of earthly goods, the best is a good wife; A bad, the bitterest curse of human life."

THERE is reason to rejoice that those early ages of society are past when a man purchased a woman to be his wife, as a butcher purchases an ox or a sheep to be food; and valued her only as she contributed to his gratification. Innumerable instances might be collected from the early history of various nations, but the following will be sufficient.

Abraham obtained Rebekah, and gave her to his son Isaac for a wife. Jacob served Laban fourteen years for two wives. When David had Saul's daughter given in marriage, it was said, "The king desireth not any dowry, but an hundred fore-skins of the Philistines." In the Iliad, Agamemnon offers his daughter to Achilles for a wife, and says that he would not demand for her any price. By the laws of Ethelbert, king of England, a man who committed adultery with his neighbour's wife was obliged to pay the husband a fine, and to buy him another wife. But those days are past, and wherever such practices have prevailed, men could not have for the fair sex that tender regard and esteem which constitute so essential a part of the genuine affection of love.

In this age matters are different: the feelings are wrought upon,-the man beholds the object of his affection with a longing wish to claim her for his own,-he observes in her that capital article, sweetness of temper, which manifesting itself in mild looks and gentle manners, is perhaps the first and most powerful inducement to esteem, in a cultivated mind.