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Aspland, from whom he received the most friendly advice and encouragement. His next step was to establish a school for boys on a more comprehensive plan than had been usually adopted. This school was opened in St. James's, Westminster; but the house which he had taken being required for the formation of Regent Street, he removed to another in the same district. Here the number of pupils rapidly increased with the increasing reputation of the school; and among those who there received instruction are many now in high positions in the learned professions as well as in commerce. After a while, owing to long-continued and excessive labour, his health began to suffer, and this, with some other reasons, induced him to give up his school and retire into private life. It is singular that, after leaving the Church, he never again entered any pulpit; but we are told that his sermons were impressive, and that his discourses in French were remarkable for the beauty of their style. Desirous of being useful where he could, he gave much of his time and attention to various institutions or societies with which he became connected. As a Trustee of Dr. Williams's Library, and as one of the Committee of the British and Foreign Unitarian Association, his judgment and counsel were greatly respected and valued. As a member of the Council of University Hall, he took an active part in its proceedings, and in the erection of the building his practical talent was of great service. He also interested himself in the establishment of the Ladies' College in Bedford Square, and rendered to it important assistance. In 1832, he had the misfortune to lose his wife, an amiable and estimable woman, to whom he was most warmly attached. This bereavement was felt by him as one of his severest afflictions. Two of his daughters, very dear to him, died at an early age; and his youngest son after a successful career in South America, where he had spent about twenty years of his life, returned to England with health so impaired as induced him to take up his residence at Torquay, in the hope of receiving benefit from its mild climate. This hope, however, was not fulfilled; and in a few years he also was taken away, leaving his father, his widow and others of his kindred, to mourn his departure from them. The surviving children of the subject of this brief memoir are two daughters and one son. The latter was married to Anna Letitia Aikin, the daughter of Mr. Charles R. Aikin, granddaughter of the late Rev. Gilbert Wakefield, and grandniece of Mrs. Barbauld, after whom she was named. His eldest daughter is the wife of H. W. Busk, Esq., of the Equity Bar; and the youngest, the only one left in his home, was his companion and comfort to the last.

As a sequel to this short outline of the history which we have been tracing, we are enabled to add the just tribute that was paid to the memory of his friend by Rev. T. Madge, at EssexStreet chapel, on Sunday morning, the 18th of November:

Though, " said the preacher, “ funeral eulogiums are often vain, sometimes even hurtful, I feel, and I am sure it will be felt by all of you, that one possessing the virtues of our departed brother should not be allowed to pass from among us without a word expressive of the high estimation in which his character was held by us and by all who had the opportunity of observing it. This is the last occasion on which it would become me to indulge in idle and unfounded praise, and I will therefore speak of him with the truth which he loved. It is, then, I should imagine, scarcely possible for any one who enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance not to think often and again of the admirable and beautiful qualities both of mind and heart by which he was distinguished. There were no false appearances about him. He lived the life of sincerity and truth. "Conscience and duty were his only guides. In all important concerns he acted from the inspiration of his own soul. This was especially manifested when, as a minister of the Established Church, having been led by serious inquiry to reject as unscriptural some of its most prominent doctrines, he at once resigned his rectory, with all the higher preferment that awaited him, and cast in his lot with that religious community, so much misunderstood and misrepresented, whose principles he had for the most part adopted, and which he continued to hold, and by his consistent conduct to illustrate and adorn, to the close of his life. You can well understand how, in the view of a beneficed clergyman, there could be little inducement to profess Unitarian principles, except that which sprung from the pure, simple, unsophisticated love of truth. There was everything, on the score of mere prudential calculations, to prevent such an one from quitting the favoured regions of orthodoxy, and passing over to the unpopular side of what is called heresy. The strongest appeals were made to him by relatives and friends to dissuade him from taking a step involving apparently such hazardous consequences to his family and himself. And, no doubt, in resisting such appeals he must have felt some little anxiety, some meltings of human sorrow at the pain and disappointment which he was thus giving to those whom he loved, and also at withdrawing from a post which had the promise of much public usefulness as well as personal comfort and advantage. It is not in our nature to part with endeared associations and to separate ourselves from the paths in which we had been accustomed to walk, without wishing that, if possible, the trial might be spared us. But his noble devotion to the convictions at which he had honestly arrived overcame all difficulties, prevailed and triumphed over every worldly consideration. Costly as were the sacrifices which he made at the call of conscience, I never heard from him even the slightest allusion to them. Far from claiming any merit on account of resigning his station in the Church, with all the bright prospects of future advancement that were held out to him, he seemed to have looked upon it as if it had only been the discharge of a simple, common duty. So humble and modest was he in performing an act which reflected upon him the highest honour. He might, no doubt, have remained in the Church, could he, like many learned divines of the present day, have satisfied himself with putting new meanings into old words, and giving to the articles and creeds which he had subscribed an interpretation directly opposed to their obvious signification and that intended by their framers; but to subterfuges like these he could not descend, and therefore followed the plain, straightforward course which his conscience dictated. Such firmness of principle combined with so much humility, such strength of will united with so much tenderness of heart, as were displayed by him, are qualities rarely to be found in the same person.

For the space of forty years and upwards, he regularly attended in this chapel, a sincere and faithful worshiper of his God. And now that we shall see his face no more, it may be well for us all to cherish a memory so worthy of our veneration, and which some of you now present have, I trust, especial reasons to pronounce blessed. In all the relations of life he was most exemplary, always affectionate, self-forgetting and thoughtful of others. His religion manifested itself, as it always does when pure and genuine, not unseasonably and impertinently, but simply and naturally, as flowing spontaneously from the heart. Cheerful piety, readiness in doing good, unwavering rectitude of purpose and unwearied kindness of conduct, were marked features of his character. In the midst of all his devotedness to the principles which he had conscientiously embraced, he ever preserved a catholic spirit towards those who differed from him, and was as remote from uncharitableness as he was from indifference. His benevolence was at once a principle and a feeling, and was expressed by affectionate sympathy and true generosity, by the kindest attention to those who had any claim upon his friendly notice, and, according to his means, by a liberal support of useful institutions. His Christian faith, which was always firm and enlightened, gave him fortitude, patience, hope, amidst the many severe trials and afflictive bereavements which at various periods of his life he was called to endure. But his trials and conflicts are now over. He has finished his course and has entered into his rest. For himself, therefore,- on his own account, - no regrets need be indulged. But to the many who respected and loved him, and, more than all, to those who were bound to him by the dearest ties of nature, his removal from this world, quiet and peaceful as it was, can hardly appear otherwise than as a grievous loss. Still let us be grateful to God for having given us such a friend, and for the example which he has left behind him." PAULINE HISTORY OF CEPHAS. We are now prepared to enter upon firm ground, inasmuch as, by the correction of the readings in the Galatians by the MSS. mentioned in Conybeare and Howson's note on Gal. i. 18, we have in a former part (see C. R. for November) produced evidence that Cephas, not Peter, was the name of the Judaizing teacher who opposed Paul at Antioch and Galatia; also that it was Cephas who, following Paul into Greece, opposed him at Philippi, Thessalonica and Berea. And having, moreover, shewn that we have probability on our side when we assume (see p. 696) that Cephas followed Paul from Berea through Athens to Corinth, we have the certainty of this fact established by the evidence of these same MSS., as pointed out in the last portion of Conybeare and Howson's note, which tell us " that Cephas, not Peter, is the reading all through 1st Corinthians," -the same reading, namely, as that of the English translation of the same Epistle in our New Testament, in which the name of Peter is nowhere to be found, while that of Cephas is therein mentioned four times (see 1 Cor. i. 12, iii. 22, ix. 5, xv.5). I was prepared, therefore, with proof drawn from many passages in this Epistle, to shew that Cephas was really and truly the only opponent of Paul at Corinth, -Apollos, Paul's friend and assistant (see Acts xviii. 26—28), having left the field, and being with Paul at Ephesus (see 1 Cor. xvi. 12) while this Epistle was being penned. I was the more especially anxious, to prove this, because Belsham and Locke (who are most properly regarded by Unitarians with respect) have in their expositions assumed, in ignorance of these MSS., that Cephas and Peter were identical, and have therefore "corrected” our Authorized Version in the four places I have mentioned, by the substitution of Peter for Cephas, contending that Paul's opponent at Corinth was a Sadducee not named in the Epistle (see Belsham on 1 Cor. i. 12).

But as it would spoil my proofs to reduce them “to a very brief outline,” as you, Mr. Editor, have requested under your “Notices to Correspondents” in the last No. of the Christian Reformer, I shall refrain from the attempt; and shall here close my “Pauline History of Cephas” hy remarking, that we of the nineteenth century, equally with the Jewish Christians of the first century to whom St. Peter's two Epistles are addressed (see 1 Peter i. 1), are still looking forward to a greater progress than has yet been made in the advancement of that happy period which this apostle describes (2 Peter iii. 13) as “a renovated heaven and a renovated earth wherein dwelleth righteousness;" even as Paul (2 Pet. iii. 15, 16),--whom Peter designates his "beloved brother,"_hath, in accordance with the wisdom which has been given him, written, for us as well as for these Jewish Christians; "and not only in this Epistle to them, but in almost all his other Epistles," " wherein," Peter tells us (and his saying is true now as then), " are some things” which, “being hard to be understood” (i.e. not easily apprehended and received) by those who were “dull of hearing” (Heb. v. 11), viz. Jews “unlearned” and “unstable" converts (2 Peter iii. 15, 16), like Cephas,"wrest as they do” (and many still do) “the Scriptures of the Old Testament to their own disadvantage.”

May we hope that the key furnished by Conybeare and Howson for opening and explaining these still “mysterious" or not universally understood passages of Paul's writings to the “unlearned" and "unstable” of our day, may be taken up by abler hands than mine; and that, through such hands, "the looking forward to and hastening of the coming of the day of God” (2 Peter iii. 12), the spread of Christ's reign upon earth, may be promoted, by the sweeping away of those foggy cobwebs which the power of orthodoxy, falsely so called, has interwoven with Christianity through false interpretations of Paul's Epistles. Such, Mr. Editor, was the object of him who, in now taking leave of you and of his Pauline History of Cephas, begs to subscribe himself your obliged Nov. 1, 1860.


ENGLISH PURITANISM CANDIDLY WEIGHED. [THE following admirable estimates of one of the most remarkable movements of the human mind recorded in modern history, we take from Mr. Sanford's able and deeply interesting volume, entitled, "Studies and Illustrations of the Great Rebellion," a work which well deserves the general attention of all students of English history.]

“Puritanism was essentially spiritual in its conception, and only so far material in its religious agencies as seemed compatible with an entire subordination to the original idea. Resting on simple and immediate relations between God and man, it was at once anxiously and entirely obedient to what it believed to be the revealed will of God, and self-reliant and critical so far as respected the mere authority of man. It was therefore at once conservative and uncompromising. If it tore down with no gentle hand the overgrowth of tyrannical and superstitious innovation, it did so under the paramount idea of the restitution of the pure temple of God upon earth. If occasionally austere, it was always manly. If sometimes narrow, it was always earnest. If not always clear-sighted in its objects, it never limited its vision to passing events, but looked out boldly into the wider future. If intolerant of some approved English tastes, it was so in the interests of a true English spirit; if it prohibited them for the time, it rendered them innocuous in all future time. If too grave for ordinary events, it harmonized in its temper with the extraordinary work to which it believed itself divinely called. If it overthrew a church, it preserved the morality and spirit of Christianity among the nation. If it executed a King, it laid the foundation for a reconciliation between monarchy and liberty. If its errors were theoretically and practically not a few, it at least dealt with questions which would task the genius and the conscience of the ablest and noblest. We have benefited by many of its successful solutions, and have rarely ourselves added to them. It carried the philosophy of the divine and the scholar into the work of practical statesmanship, and the morality of the Bible into the court, the workshop and the camp. It reconciled the duties of public and private life by placing them both under the dictation of one common authority. It perished in its outward structure from the convulsions which it provoked, but its spirit still lives in the institutions which it rescued from destruction, and in an undemoralized national character.”—Pp. 101, 102.

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