and, being unacquainted with swimming, he was immediately in imminent danger. The boys who were going to bathe in company with him, became dreadfully alarmed, and, as none of them could swim, they feared to venture after him, accordingly they ran to the village, with the greatest possible speed, to gain help. I was absent, at that period, from home. Some neighbours ran immediately to the spot, and the whole village was in consternation. A friend plunged at once into the water, and, after diving for some time, succeeded in bringing my dear boy to the bank of the river: but, alas! animation was gone; life was extinct; the spirit had departed. Every effort was immediately made, to restore existence; but all was fruitless.

"My disconsolate and distracted partner heard of the calamity, and, in a state of desperation, almost of madness, rushed to the spot; when she reached the place, they were endeavouring to re-animate the body. She burst through the crowd, and, with a convulsive shriek, fell over the corpse. 'O, my poor son! she cried, in agony-is this your end? Have you thus left me, and your poor unhappy father? How will he feel when this news is carried to him! Ah! it has given me my deathwound. I feel the stroke at my heart, and not long after thee I shall be buried in the cold grave !' The crowd endeavoured to remove her from the body: but all was in vain; at length, a friend forcibly tore her away, and conveyed her, shrieking, home. She never recovered from the shock sustained. She appeared to sink at once; like a flower broken by a gust of wind, so she drooped and fell. In less than a week she was a corpse, in the same room with my poor drowned boy.

"I need not tell you how I felt on my return, on finding myself so awfully bereaved-to perceive that I had no son-no wife-no home-no comforter-no friend! I was overwhelmed by my sorrow, and, for a long time, I could scarcely think, or speak. My situation, however, compelled me to do something. I began to resume my former employment. I tried hard to go forward but all was fruitless. I could not labour without weeping, and, when I looked around, I saw nothing but desolation and wo. To stop in the village, I found impossible, I therefore, gave up my business, and left it with a broken heart. Never shall I forget the day when I said farewell.

It was like the dart of death

piercing my vitals. I had scarcely any money, and was obliged to walk, by gentle stages, to London. There, for a time, I

gained employment. I continued there, however, for many years, acquiring scarcely enough to support me; for my energies, in consequence of my heavy afflictions, appeared to have departed from me. I spent in the metropolis the prime of my days; but never could I succeed, for the contemplation of my sufferings drank up my spirits.

"Things, for years, were getting worse with me, when I was visited with bodily suffering. Providence, however, was kind to me: I was graciously restored. But my necessities deprived me of all my scanty earnings. For some time after this, I gained parish relief, but my heart always rose against it. Some friends in the west of England, hearing of my pitiable condition, and wishing to alleviate it, wrote to me, requesting me to spend my last days with them. They stated that they would give me a small neat room, with a clean bed, and endeavour-heaven bless them! -to make my last years comfortable. This invitation I determined to accept: however, I had no resources; and a journey of one hundred miles, to a poor, infirm, old man, like myself, is very trying. I was resolved, however, if I died on the way, to embrace the offer so kindly given, and I have come as far as B on my way to my des tined abode. By soliciting occasional help from those who are generous and benevolent, I have been supported yet, and expect very shortly to get to the spot where I hope to die in peace. My friends know not that I am coming, nor where I now am; but I shall soon reach them, and may they close my eyes peacefully in death!"

The old man sobbed exceedingly, and, when his narration was closed, the big tears coursed themselves down his cheeks. I was powerfully affected by his statement. It was indeed a weeping history: but one which real life often furnishes. I tendered him as much as I could bestow, and I had the satisfaction of hearing, that he arrived at his intended habitation, where his wants were supplied, his difficulties removed, his comfort secured; and, though his deep sorrows will never be forgotten, yet, it is hoped, he will be able to apply the beautiful sentiment, "They who sow in tears, shall reap in joy."

Petworth, Oct. 15, 1832.

T.W.

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF A PEACEABLE

DISPOSITION.

EVERY one who reads the New Testament scriptures, with any degree of attention, must recollect innumerable instances, where

the virtues of peace and love, gentleness and candour, are earnestly and frequently inculcated, with an urgency proportioned to the duty and necessity the writers felt, under a consciousness of the incalculable good that their general adoption, and universal prevalence would produce. That charity, which, under various forms of expression, is so highly eulogized by St. Paul, in his Epistles to the primitive Christian churches, and which holds so conspicuous a place amongst the cardinal virtues, can never be excluded from the Christian life, without committing a sacrilegious act of outrage, without deranging our system of belief, without an incongruous amalgamation of the elements of discord, with the pure and peaceable religion of the Son of God.

The importance of a peaceable disposition is emphatically taught, and is a plain, unvarnished exemplification of the great doctrine of Christian charity, repeated in these words, "If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.' This precept, or injunction, implies that, we should refrain from giving any unnecessary provocation, should abstain from inflaming the prejudices, even on minor points, or irritating the passions of those with whom we are compelled to associate, either by the commerce of the world, or the relations of life; but that by mutual forbearance we should endeavour to extinguish latent animosity, and to expel contention and strife from every department of human society with which we are connected.

It ought to be an invariable rule, a determinate law, never to give offence, if possible, but rather to conciliate regard, and sustain the spirit of concord, uninvaded by dissimulation and strife, and unimpregnated by those darker passions, which human nature, even on trivial occasions, too readily encourages, by all available means, in our intercourse with others. The extension of peace, and the advancement of unanimity, ought to be held inviolably sacred, without the least deterioration of its sanctity, or the minutest infringement of its rights. It should not be exclusively limited by the narrow circle of private intercourse, but rather be extended to a much wider sphere of influence, so as to embrace those of every rank in life, whether indirectly associated, or more intimately connected by the laws of nature, and the institutions of man.

The obligation of living in peace extends even to those commonly accounted bad men, whether notorious for flagrant crimes, or for having imbibed heretical opinions, and who are the violent partizans of an unsound theology, and a vicious faith. 2D. SERIES, NO. 24.-VOL. II.

Though these external marks of courtesy are not inconsistent with that deep abhorrence and righteous indignation, which we ought on all suitable occasions to evince against their criminal practices and deleterious opinions; it is certainly not incompatible with the strict principles of moral rectitude, to live in a peaceable manner amongst such, as recorded instances, were it necessary to refer to them, would sufficiently testify, without entering into any close conjunction of interest, or any blameable participation with them, so as to contract any serious defilement from the moral contamination, which characters of this description, who are literally the bane of society and the troublers of mankind, too often disseminate to surrounding minds. For the present state of the world, and of the characters who inhabit it, is so confused and ill assorted; and our knowledge, as we are principally compelled to judge from external appearances, is so imperfect and limited, that it increases the difficulty of all attempts to discriminate with any approximation to accuracy and precision, between the two great classes which stand out in bold relief, the religious and the impious, of which it is diversified and composed.

It will readily suggest itself to most persons, as a bond of union and peace, and tend strongly to recommend its practice, from the natural relation which subsists among them all as men, sprung from one Father, as the legitimate source of their existence, co-equal as the sharers of the same common nature, united by fellowship in the same sympathies, necessities, and wants; and as Christians, the connexion is strengthened and consolidated, by a participation in the illustrious blessings of redemption, and our feelings are exhilarated by that glow of animation, which the sublime hopes of the gospel is indubitably capable of imparting.

If it thus clearly appears to be our duty to promote peace throughout the various gradations which subsist in the great brotherhood of mankind, of course there are narrower limits within which it ought to be more strictly cultivated, and pertinaciously observed. Those, "whom love has knit, and sympathy made one," certainly have a paramount claim on us, to manifest a peaceable and amicable behaviour, in all cases, where, on the contrary, a harsh and turbulent demeanour, without any good effect, would most probably compel us to enter the arena of strife, and disquiet us with noisy clamour and profitless discourse; especially amidst the strong ties of friendship and affection, of kindred and relation, and the range of endearments circumscribed 168.-VOL. XIV.

4 B

by the closer barriers of domestic and family connexion. Here we ought to guard, with the most punctilious exactness, against every occasion of provoking or offending, to display a uniform spirit of candour and forbearance, and not to judge harshly, either of their preconceived opinions or actions, but to interpret the words which they utter, if they should happen to be repugnant or obnoxious to us, by the most favourable construction which the integrity of a generous mind can allow in their application. For the nearer men are brought into contact, the more easily are imperfections discovered, and weaknesses descried, which before were supposed not to exist, but which afterwards are gradually elicited by the concurrence of accidental circumstances, or unintentionally unfolded by the warmth of discussion, and the fierce contest for intellectual supremacy.

For the further sustenance and preservation of peace, on some occasions it requires that we do not rigidly and obstinately enforce our own opinions, or rigorously demand our strict right; but rather occasionally concede some points of difference, as far as we can conscientiously succumb to the prejudices of our associates, so as to prevent unpleasant altercation, to allay the risings of incipient anger, and abate the gathering storm of turbulent passion. We, however, by no means wish to inculcate or insinuate, that a tame submission to injuries and wrongs-that an unresisting compliance to the capricious will and arbitrary inclination of others-in every instance, is either required or enjoined by religion. We are not to imagine that the love of peace is merely a subterfuge for cowardice and imbecility, like the labyrinthine cavern to which the untutored savage retires for security and a place of retreat, when pursued by the wild beast of the desert, some few degrees wilder than himself, insatiable with hunger, and eager for blood; or that it suppresses and disavows every proper exertion of a virtuous and manly spirit. Pusillanimity is not a virtue, but a weakness. A modest courage is both eminently useful and importantly necessary; but unblushing effrontery is destitute of merit, neither can it be palliated nor extenuated.

The sentiment of our natural connexion with each other as men, should induce reflections on our common failings, should annihilate all crude opinions of self-conceit, which dispose us to be quarrelsome and contentious, when we ought to make mutual allowances, and foster a reciprocity of kindness towards their imperfections and failings, as such are necessarily in idental to the pre

sent constitution of our nature. For there is probably not a man to be found in the world, who has not, at some time or other in the course of his peregrination through life, been misled by passion, or erred through ignorance; therefore this should make us less impatient of contradiction, and moderate our notions of fancied superiority. But what numbers there are, who, having once engaged in a controversy, or espoused a side, no matter whether right or wrong, are determined to abide by it, let the ultimate consequences be what they will, whether prejudicial or beneficial to their interests, with an inflexible obstinacy and a deliberate pertinacity, that sets at defiance the dictates of prudence, and demolishes the mounds which peace has erected on her territories, to exclude the din of strife, and elude the tumult of violence and discord. Pride, an unequivocal symptom of a haughty and contumelious spirit, and an ill-regulated mind, will not allow them to resign the least iota of the point in dispute, or to make the first advances to reconciliation and peace, when true honour and magnanimity would have led to generous acknowledgments, and gratuitous condescension.

These are usually haughty in their claims, dogmatic in their opinions, and supercilious in their behaviour; require great submission, and demand the most abject servility from their opponents, before they can be satisfied or appeased. The lover of peace regards men and manners in a different light, he approaches them in a calmer attitude, and a more chastised mood. Fully conscious that he himself has been often in the wrong; sensible how trifling and inconsiderable, for the most part, are the causes of contention and discord among mankind; aware that all men are liable to be prejudiced and misled by false reports and unfounded assertions, into unjust suspicions of the motives of others, he is eminently qualified for maintaining a philosophic calmness; he can look, without disturbance or emotion, on many of the events, occurrences, and discussions, which propel more sanguine tempers into the vortex of passion, where they become disordered and convulsed by fierce anger, and irascible revenge. THOMAS ROYCE.

Leicester, Feb. 21, 1832.

OBSERVATIONS ON STYLE IN WRITING.

"Ir is not easy," says Blair, “to give a precise idea of what is meant by style: the best definition which I can give of it is, the

peculiar manner in which a man expresses his conceptions by means of language." Assuming the correctness of this defininition, style is the transcript of the mind, and, by a natural consequence, will generally partake of the prominent features of thought in which either individuals or nations are prone to indulge.

The character of the writings of some of the most distinguished authors of the age, when taken in concert with their avocations and general demeanour, are highly illustrative of this truth. The productions of John. son, for instance, are distinguished by fulness and stiffness; of Addison, by elegance and perspicuity; of Hall, by nervousness and chastity; and those of Jay, by simplicity and force. Who does not at once recognize in these productions a transcript of the haughty lexicographer, the polished spectator, the eloquent defender of the press, and the inimitable portrayer of Christian character?

How strongly are national characters stamped upon the language, and displayed in the style, of a people. To such an extent is this carried, that you may generally consider the style adopted by any country at different periods of its history, as a fair index to its improvement or degeneracy, its prosperity or adversity.

It would require but a limited acquaintance with language or society to determine that, the American Indians were in state of comparative ignorance from the highly figurative and poetical style which they adopt, or that the French were light and volatile, the Scotch sombre and acute, the Irish poetic and excitable, and the English brave and generous.

We must not, however, suppose that there is any thing approaching to uniformity in the style of those nations to which we have referred. No. The various important pursuits in which their respective inhabitants are engaged, give rise to a style which is peculiar to the avocations in which they are engaged.

In our native land, for instance, what a marked contrast there is between the subtle and technical style of law, and the open and unfettered eloquence of the senate; what a striking difference between the wild and fictitious style of the stage, and the sober and abiding oratory of the pulpit.

Yet while these professions have prescribed certain limits to their style, beyond which it is deemed imprudent to advance, as the language which they speak is the same, so there are some general rules laid down, by the judicious application of which, all may

66

a

be aided in attaining that most important requisite in a good writer or speaker, good style." The great design of public speaking, under whatever circumstances or in whatever capacity, being either to instruct, convince, or refute, it is highly important that perspicuity, precision, and natural illustration should be principal elements in a good style. The absence of these properties may often cast the appearance of fiction over truth, while their presence on the other hand has too often arrayed vice in the garment of virtue, rendered religion ridiculous, and made the sinful pleasures of life appear the very source of present and future good.

To the special pleader, how highly important is the cultivation of a perspicuous and easy style, for often on the right adjustment of the different points of law, and their clear and vivid representation to the court, depend the most important decisions. It is a duty which appears imperative in the patriotic senator, on the result of whose pleadings the welfare of the land to a great extent depends. Both the successful writers and performers of the drama, being assured that their only success depends on effect, have adopted the most effectual way to secure it, by allowing nature to speak for herself in her own beautiful and simple language.

To those who are the religious instructors of the people, it appears to be a study of the first importance, seeing that the temporal and eternal welfare of their hearers depends, as far as they are concerned, in the clear representation of truth to the mind.

It should be their endeavour to press into the service of so holy and important a cause, all the beauties and force of language. It should be their object to cull the excellencies of style from every profession, in order that their style may be so much superior to those of the lower professions, as the cause in which they are engaged is noble and holy, when contrasted with every other earthly employment.

The instructions of the pulpit, to be effective, should be distinguished by precision and perspicuity, by simplicity and dignity, by liveliness and strength. These should be combined with familiar illustration from real life, and a minute dissection of the different forms which sin assumes to allure the unwary.

It is to be regretted that this subject has not engaged more of the attention of eminent divines. By its neglect, many of their best works are rendered both uninviting and unintelligible to the majority of readers, while others are so verbose and ambiguous

as to confuse the most sagacious. Not only does it display itself in the works of the dead, but in the acts of the living, with this difference, that the rough and unpolished style of the fathers is exchanged for the prim and mawkish style of the academician; and the unmusical sentences of the rigid non-con., for the half-versified prose of the polished dissenter; and the studied paucity of words in the one, is changed for the multiplied verbiage of the other.

It is very manifest that many who are classed among evangelical dissenters, and whose abilities and education might enable them "to afford to be simple," have been gradually accommodating themselves to the fastidious taste of this peculiar age; too often clothing the beautiful language of divine truth in smooth and poetic diction, and thus depriving it of its powerful ener.gy too often sacrificing the force of truth to the prevalent spirit of a latitudinarian liberality, and, by their lofty and pedantic style, sacrificing the interests of the many to the momentary gratification of the few.

This evil has of late been rendered more evident by the increase of evangelical ministers within the pale of the Establishment, whose principal characteristic is sensibility combined with learning, and deep feeling with ardent piety. May that day speedily arrive, in which the ministers of Christ shall universally imitate in their ministrations, that illustrious example which is set before them in the Saviour, in whose addresses we can discover all that is sublime united with all that is simple; the affectionate in address, the severe in reproof, combined with the highest order of dignity, in connexion with the more familiar occurrences in life. Adopting his style, animated with his spirit, preaching his truth, may they be the instruments of converting sinners from the error of their ways, directing the saint to the immortality of the just, and, like the Saviour in the days of his flesh, constraining those to acknowledge the force of that truth they would fain deny, and, having completed their work, be received to the mansions of God, and commence, in the style of the ransomed, the perpetual song of heaven.

Oct. 12, 1832.

GENUINE SIMPLICITY.

δουλος.

A little pastoral address, sent to the Sunday Scholars

saw him when I was preaching, sitting in the pew with his mamma, and aunts, and little cousins. Now he is dead! It was Hobart Atkinson's cousin, little Thomas W. Hills. He was only about as old as Hobart, six years. He was a very precious child-a good child; and his mamma thinks he had learned how to die, in the Sunday school. One morning, when he was very sick, he waked up, and his aunt was sitting by the bed. And when he opened his eyes, he said: "Aunt Mary, I dreamed that I was in heaven!" "And who did you see there?" his aunt asked him. Little Thomas answered, "I saw Jesus Christ, and he said to me 'Come, thou blessed little child!" Think, my dear children, how beautiful this was. "Come, thou blessed little child." I should think his dear mamma would want it written on his grave stone, shouldn't you?— Don't you suppose little Thomas remembered those precious words of our Saviour that he learned in the Sunday school? How very beautiful they are! "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven!" When Thomas had told his aunt about thinking (in his dreams) that he was in heaven, he said, “Aunt Mary, God loves Christians, and Christians love God." His aunt asked him if he thought he was a Christian, and he said, "I hope I am." He seemed to be praying very often, and one day, the day before he died, he prayed aloud in these words: "O God, forgive all my sins. O God-O God, forgive my sins, for Jesus' sake: forgive my sins, for Jesus' sake." He seemed to be thinking a great deal about Jesus, and said once to his aunt, when she was sitting by him, "Dear aunt, have you found Christ?" He wished every body to see and know what a precious Saviour he had found, and how the Saviour had kindly taught him how to die. He thought, very soon after he was taken sick, that he should not get well, and it made him very happy indeed, to think that when he died he should go up and be in heaven. He prayed about it, and talked about it a great deal. And just before he died, when he seemed to be growing weak very fast, he lay quiet, and still, and peaceful, as if he was going to sleep in the arms of Jesus. So this lovely child died. And how happy his dear parents, and grandmamma, and aunts, and Sunday school

"

the Rector, Rev. Chauncey Colton.

"Because I have you in my heart."-St. Paul. THERE was a little boy at church only three weeks ago to-day, that is dead now! I

how safe and happy little. Thomas was, going to sleep, sleeping the sweet sleep of death, in the arms of Jesus; and how happy it must make them, to feel so sure,