at, for nothing short of this can afford satisfaction, or shed that sacred peace upon the mind, which passeth all understanding. It may be, that this has sometimes been sought after in seasons of religious impression, and it has, for a time, afforded relief to the unsatisfied mind; yet, the impression has gradually worn off, and the world and worldly feelings have regained their influence. This, perhaps, has been attempted often, and as often has failed of permanent success. And why is this? It is, because the same fatal principle, of which we complain, has operated even in prayer. There has been an insincerity of utterance before God; the heart has belied the tongue. For, though "the Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him," yet it is ❝ to all that call upon him in truth."

Insincerity and double-mindedness in prayer, render every petition void; for they can be nothing less than solemn mockery. The lips acknowledging the majesty of God, and the heart refusing him homage: the lips confessing the heinousness of sin, and the heart cleaving to it; the lips supplicating sanctifying grace, and the heart resisting its influence. These are some of the inconsistencies of indecision in religion, once professed with sincerity, but now with formality. When such a character feels this coldness of affection continually influencing him, let him humbly pour out his prayers before God, and, bewailing the carnality that wars against bis happiness, with humility, but with fervency and faith, solicit the purifying Spirit of God; and truly he will answer his prayers, as he has promised in his holy word.

There can be no consolation, no peace of mind, until full reconciliation is made between the soul and God, and the film of worldly affection is removed. Then may he possess a stability of character, which will render him at once happy and estimable; and as his frequent errors and backslidings teach him to be more humble, so will they teach him to be more vigilant; and well will it be for him, if the valley of humiliation conduct him at last to the mansions of the blessed. Beaconsfield.

J. A. B.

and devout feeling to be able to look towards an estimable, intelligent, gifted, and pious minister of Christ, and say "This is my affectionate and beloved pastor, whose ministrations, for a series of years, I have highly enjoyed; on whose luminous and impressive discourses I can reflect with gratitude and delight; from whose fervid prayers-wholesome counsels-and enlightened admonitions, I have reaped permanent and inestimable advantage; whose affectionate and uniform endeavours to direct and fortify my mind, to benefit and bless my heart, have awakened my liveliest admiration, and whom I profoundly revere as the man of God, as the man of warm sensibility, as the man of deep experience, and of sterling and superior mind."

With this privilege and enjoyment, the writer of these passages was favoured, for a considerable period; and, as he derived material aid and improvement from the minister to whom he was devoted, it may not be uninteresting or unprofitable, to fix on some of those prominent features, by which his pastor was distinguished; that the recollection may stimulate him in the performance of duty, and be cherished with unaffected gratitude and lively affection, amidst all the deception, coldness, and pride of an evil world.

I commence, then, by remarking, that the disposition of my pastor was exceedingly kind and affectionate. There was no distance maintained, no repelling coldness indulged. He was bland and affable in his demeanour, and uniformly kind and engaging in his adddress and deportment. He was peculiarly fond of young persons; remarkably attentive to their feelings and habits; ardently desirous of subserving their best interests; and ever ready to concert, and carry into effect, any plan by which their purity of character, fitness for life, preservation in the world, and happiness amidst all the changing scenes of existence, might be secured and augmented. Now, this feature of character appeared to me at once interesting and beautiful, and engagingly, yet powerfully, attracted me towards him.

My pastor was, unquestionably, a minister of talent. If his intellect were not marked by its depth and originality, his gifts, especially in connexion with his office, were obvious, bold, and striking. He was a man of thought, quick observation, and accurate knowledge of character. His qualifications for the ministry of the gospel were of a high and superior order. There was something about him which would infallibly command the attention

powerfully interest the feelings-and effectually impress the heart. He was a man to whom the religious public never would be indifferent, and whom they could not possibly disregard. Wherever he laboured, he attracted a large and animating auditory-would fix their attention very closely, and engage their hearts,-and if any minister could maintain a numerous congregation, keep it united, and materially augment its numbers, he was the man to accomplish it. While the writer continued in association with his church, he preached the gospel to a large, affectionate, and devoted congregation-who followed him with eagerness and delight-who listened with profound attention to the announcements of mercy flowing from his lips-and who were uniformly ready to arouse and concentrate their energies in his service. He had only to express his wish, and, if possible, his wish was immediately gratified.

As a preacher, my pastor was simple. His illustrations, remarks, and appeals, were all exceedingly plain. There was nothing recondite, abstract, or involved; nothing in the phraseology he employed, or the sentiments he advanced, which might not be at once comprehended and appreciated. He designedly accommodated his ministrations to the capacities of all who heard him, so that the most unlettered individuals who composed part of his audience, might understand the subject which he discussed, and form a clear and precise conception of the point he was desirous of establishing. Nearly allied to his simplicity, was his clearness. His language was pointed and luminous, and the sentiments he illustrated, as well as the mode in which he exhibited them, were obvious to all. There was no glare-no meretricious ornament-no bombastic efforts, but a simple and unaffected exhibition of the truth as it is in Jesus. He dwelt principally on the most apparent, but important subjects, and unfolded them with admirable clearness. Indeed, so solicitous was he to be fully understood by all, that I sometimes thought he laboured and simplified too much; however, if it were a fault, it was an excellent one, for, in this respect,

"Ev'n his failings leant to virtue's side."

My pastor never ventured out of his depth : he kept rather where he had sure and solid footing. He knew his subject intimately, and he made vigorous and successful efforts that all his hearers should know it too.

The most striking and characteristic excellence of my pastor, as a preacher, consisted in his boldness and fidelity. He

never seemed to fear his hearers, or to have any restraint imposed on him. He stated, most unequivocally and fearlessly, the danger in which they were involved while without Christ, and the misery into which they would ultimately be plunged, if they lived and died rejecting his mediation and atonement. My pastor never preached to please men, by dwelling exclusively on those themes which were in unison with their predilections, nor by philosophising "with grace and prettiness," to attract and and amuse the ear. He exhibited the great truths of the gospel-those on which our security, happiness, and salvation essentially depend, with uncommon faithfulness. He never equivocated, nor did he make garbled and imperfect statements of divine truth. He unfolded, clearly and impressively, the whole counsel of God; and this was, perhaps, the prominent reason why he was so much esteemed and valued.

I never had cause to affirm once that he delighted in precision and elegance of language-in striking and original thoughts-in beautiful and glittering similes and comparisons-in an affectation of intellect and philosophy, rather than in the simple and affectionate exhibition of Christ, and him crucified. He was an extremely plain dealer with men's consciences, and it was almost impossible for a careless and insensible sinner, not to feel deeply when hearing him.

The preaching of my pastor was also characterized by great animation. He was all life and energy. His feelings glowed ardently, and sometimes he was quite impassioned. Not unfrequently, there were misplaced and unnecessary ebullitions of feeling, but, generally speaking, there was a holy and a heartfelt earnestness for the salvation of men pervading his discourses, exceedingly interesting to the devout mind. His appeals, also, were peculiarly just and powerful, and produced a deep impression on his auditory. The discourses of my pastor abounded in striking and impressive remarks. Originality was not their distinctive character, but they were often extremely pointed and searching. They struck-they arrested--they penetrated — they abode with us. Who would not be impressed with the following observation?

Probably, the very wood is now preparing, by which my body shall be encompassed-probably the very web is now woven, in which my body shall be shrouded-the very grave may be partly dug, in which my corpse shall be deposited !"--Such expressions tell powerfully, and cannot easily be forgotten.

My pastor was peculiarly distinguished as a preacher to children. He was just the minister to arrest their attention-interest their feelings and engage their hearts. His gift for addressing and instructing children was remarkable. His discourses to them were exceedingly simple in their structure and design; perfectly natural and artless in their style; abounding in striking questions; interspersed with lively and instructive anecdote; and delivered in the easiest and most attractive manner, so that the attention of children was irresistibly engaged and riveted. I have seen an assemblage of children, to the number of three or four thousand, gazing on the minister in the most fixed and attentive manner, and receiving what he uttered, with the great est possible eagerness and delight.

These are the honest sentiments cherished, with regard to a valued and beloved pastor, from whose kindness and urbanity I realized peculiar enjoyment, and from whose faithful and animated ministratations I have reaped, I hope, permanent advantage. Long may he exhibit Christ Jesus in all his commanding and peerless glory; long may he labour among a devoted and an estimable people; long may he be continued in existence, to prove an inestimable blessing to many who, through him, will be directed to the Saviour, and made partakers of the ineffable glory and blessedness of heaven; and, eventually, may he experience that immortal happiness, which shall constitute the portion and the crown of the devoted minister of Jesus Christ above!—

"Where, harboured all, life's billows sink away, And the bright spirits bask in heaven's immortal ray." Omnipresence of the Deity. Petworth, Nov. 16, 1832. T. W.

many the direct occasions which it becomes to arrogancy and falsehood, would be scarcely possible to state, although to pursue the inquiry would probably be both amusing and useful.

The simple idea of a person's becoming his own biographer, of telling his own pedigree, that is, such portion of it as he chooses to tell,-to make known his own worth, for every thing beside is generally concealed,-and of sounding forth his own all-glorious fame, and few will do otherwise, is perfectly revolting. How few know themselves, and how few of that number whose knowledge is most correct and extensive, are willing that others should know them. To be applauded or admired,

ergo, to become beacons to their fellows of folly and of weakness,-are the objects chiefly kept in view, by such as goodnaturedly favour the public with a sketch of themselves. Nevertheless, -(to employ a common-place observation, instead of argument, which is often resorted to by profound scholars, because more easy and convenient,) "to every rule, there is an exception," and as all antique and popular sayings are held to be truisms, it may be fairly presumed, that special occasions may exist, when this species of composition may be both allowable and useful. I assume that this is an axiom, and therefore may be permitted, without the charge of vanity, to indulge in the conceit, that occasion is furnished for me to proceed, in favouring the world with an impartial, although brief history of myself.

There will be, I am aware, one powerful drawback from the courteous reception which my memoir would otherwise receive, that is, in my youth; but even this I presume can furnish no substantial ground upon which to defend the rejection of such advantages, as a careful perusal of some of the scenes of my life will afford. Length of days, and brevity of existence, are comparative terms; hence, while the insect, whose being is limited to a few hours, would be considered old, were it to live for a week or a month;-such animals as usually number centuries in their existence would be spoken of as young, although twenty or thirty years had passed over their heads. 'Tis true, indeed, that a "multitude of years should speak wisdom," yet with too many, it is far more true, that years bring folly rather than knowledge, while truth and wisdom furnish the corroborative declaration, that "the child shall die an hundred years old."

Before, however, I proceed to speak of myself, I wish it to be known to all and

every one who may feel interested in my history, that the numerous documents relating thereto, and which I have placed in the hands of my faithful amanuensis, are not, either as a whole, or in fragments, upon any pretence, or assignable reason what ever, to be made public, until those who hate, and those who love me, shall have demonstrative evidence of my decease. Not doubting that my wish, in this particular, will be attended to, I shall proceed to favour the world with the sketch proposed.

I am the last of a numerous and ancient progeny, being able to trace my ancestry in an unbroken line, up to the period, "when the foundations of the earth were laid, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy," when

God spake! and what is, instant came to pass,
From out a shapeless, indigested mass.
Chaotic gloom, and wild confusion heard,
And light and order followed at his word.
Time's long duration then began to be,
Winding its egress from eternity!

Respecting the precise time of my coming into being, there have been and still are a variety of opinions, as upon all important, and sometimes upon unimportant subjects, there are. To attempt to convince those who are obstinately bent upon holding fast their own preconceived opinions, has ever been found to be " pains without gains," as poor Richard says; or,

"If convinc'd against their will, They hold the same opinion still;" and, to trouble my readers with the various speculations and arguments which have arisen on this head, would not comport with my present plan. I shall not, therefore, perplex them by their enumeration, but, taking for granted, as on all disputed points we should, that the people of England are wiser than all other,-shall follow their present generally adopted opinion, which is, that I was born on the first day of January, and at the very moment the deep knell of Saint Paul's clock tolled the solemn requiem of my predecessor's death. If any inordinate lovers of geographical minutiæ, whose craniological protuberances of locality are peculiarly prominent, should insist upon being furnished with the name of the parish, or county, or even country in which I first knew existence, I must be seech the choler of such gentlemen may be kept in proper subjection, although I am compelled to confess, that I cannot award the honour connected with my birth-place, to any particular country; yet that I am a real existence, and not a non-entity, themselves I am certain will not deny.

My predecessor, as I have hinted, ex

pired at the very moment I was born; indeed, the circumstance of his death, was the cause of my life. Had it been possible that he could have retained his existence until now, and many would have been happy it should have been so,-I should not even now have had a being. Those, however, who were expecting my entrance into the world, were in full possession of the knowledge of the time when that important event would take place; and hence, numbers were busied in making arrangements to greet my appearance. Poets strung afresh their lyres, musicians their instruments, and vocalists tuned their voices. Hundreds and thousands in various parts of the world, hailed the period, but in such a diversity of ways, as, were it not that my veracity is most unquestionable, might be doubted when named.

Some, for instance, paraded towns and cities with various pieces of instrumental music, from which, loyal and sprightly tones were sent abroad upon the winds of heaven; or from thence, horrible discords, accompanied by voices yet more discordant, broke upon the solemnity of the season, as if possible, to drown the expiring groans of my brother, as well as to welcome my entré. Others were engaged in silent watching in the temples of God, confessing, in the depths of their humility, their frequent abuse or rejection of the bestowed or proffered blessings of my forerunner, until my arrival was announced, when with acclamations of gratitude, and fervent prayer, they acknowledged the favour they had received in myself, and sought help from above to improve such mercy;while others, again, surrounded the bacchanalian board, and as they poured poisonous draughts down their calcined throats into their distended bodies, they roared out in semi-insanity, the foolish or impure song, demonstrating most awfully, that neither sorrow for outrageous abuses of past blessings, nor rational joy for my birth, possessed them. I cannot now look back to that period, without trembling for such individuals; for although I have been additionally kind to them, furnishing advantages which they never before enjoyed; yet I feel assured that no benefit has resulted to themselves, from mercies which have crowded upon them;-no sentiment of gratitude possesses their hearts for my services, nor feeling of regret, for their neglect of them ;-nay, I feel assured, that they are even looking forwards with anxiety for my decease, that they may again meet with their dissolute companions, (if themselves do not die before me, and, in all proba

bility, not a few of them will,)—and shout anew the demoralizing and degrading yells of animal glee, as I draw my last breath, resigning my presidency into the hands of

my successor.

I have now lived nearly twelve months, and sensibly feel the intimations of my approaching dissolution. The gay banners of nature, which waved gracefully in the winds, and glanced in ten thousand beautiful beams of the meridian sun-rays, or that sang notes, soft notes, such as might have delighted the sylphids of the groves, beneath the gentle breath of perfumed zephyrs, to greet the prime of my being, the meridian of my existence,— -are now fast falling to their mother earth, while such as remain, send forth sounds, mournful sounds, like funeral lays, or wails of the wretched. Already, too, hoary hairs are here and there seen thick upon me, and all the mementos of the approach of the day of death, surround and press upon me.

A life so brief, as I have always known mine would be, should have been an active one; and to such honour, I conceive I may righteously lay claim. Some, perhaps, may have thought me too tardy in my movements, and would, had they possessed the power, have terminated my existence soon after it commenced; while others, again, have accused me of too hasty despatch. If either party, however, would allow rightly regulated reason to preside and give judgment, it would be evident, even to themselves, that the faults which, with unmerciful asperity; they condemn, arose from themselves, and not from me.

Evanescent as my being has been, I have, nevertheless, been witness of scenes and circumstances, both in reference to individuals, families, kingdoms, and the world, such as none of my predecessors ever knew, and such as will be emblazoned on the pages of history, and be chaunted by the master-spirits of song to the latest ages, and such as through eternity will never be forgotten.

The short time that I have to continue, forbids my entering into any thing like a minute narration of the numerous, and deeply exciting facts which have come under my notice, or I might,

Such tales unfold, whose lightest word
Would harrow up the soul, or cause credulity
To stand wide-mouth'd in strange amaze,
As if less able, than unwilling to believe,
The statements fell of wonderment and lore.

A few, only, of the most notorious events, must therefore, circumscribe the limited pages of my communications. The reverend and fair readers of my history, may pursue their perusal, nor fear that I shall

draw aside the veil to common observation, or make an exhibition to the world of those acts which, under virtue's guise, have been committed ;—such painful and ungracious task I leave to my successor, who, perchance, may do it; unless a reformation deep and wide, as occasion calls for, stay his hand.

The first moments of my life were involved in affairs on which, not merely the population of Europe, but of the world, was looking with sensitive anxiety. The question well nigh appeared to be, shall ENGLAND continue to be a mighty, an independent, and a free country; or shall anarchy, confusion, and bloodshed, the precursers of ruin, spread their appalling influence around the vitals of her constitution? A violent commotion ran through the land; fierce spirits of discord were abroad; and from the head, through all its members, even to the meanest fibres in the system, a nervous-like tremor existed. REFORM filled every mouth, and the panting_impatience of the multitude, for a speedy and more equitable representation throughout the kingdom, seemed to increase with the protraction and delay which marked the conduct of the debaters on the subject. I had just entered the sixth month of my existence, when this second Magna Charta passed the House of Lords, and shortly afterwards received the seal manual of WILLIAM THE FOURTH, and thus the long delayed, and fiercely opposed Reform Bill became the law of the land.

So greatly had the attentions of the people of England been engrossed by the measure, as to allow it to absorb every other consideration. My days, however, like their own, continued to move on with unslackened celerity, while other circumstances of less magnitude, but of great importance, almost every week transpired. The slaughter-hand of death was hurled furiously and widely round. Various parts of the world languished beneath the awful visitation of the Judge of the whole earth, and heaps upon heaps fell victims to the virulence of a disease, which baffled all the efforts of art, either satisfactorily to account for, or to check the progress of its operation. Like the genius of destruction and death, it rose sullenly and fiercely at Jessore, not far from Calcutta, on the verdant banks of the river Hoogley, and after traversing, in a variety of directions, commiting ravages of the most dreadful nature, and on the most extensive scale, both in India, and on the continent of Europe; it lingered awhile, as if to gather fresh energies, at Hamburgh, and then, after passing