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result of repeated practice, which never disappoints expectation; but the complicated organization, the fine machinery, the invisible springs, on which success in oratory depends, make the instances rare indeed, of persons so gifted as at all times to answer with certainty the demands upon the intellect, and to satisfy the sudden exigence of the hour; on Mr. Fox the dependence was always certain: sick or well, losing or winning, he was sure to accomplish the expectations of his party, and to deserve the admiration of his op ponents.

His abundance was inexhaustible; and though the same subject was perpetually recurring, as was the case in all the great struggles between the ministers and himself in the war with America and revolutionary France, every stage of it found him recruited with fresh supplies of matter, new topics of illustration, and more interior views of the subject. He rolled perennially along like a clear and rapid stream, at once displaying its deep and pearly bottom, and reflecting from its surface all the chaste varieties with which simple nature had adorned its margin.

But was there nothing to regret in Mr. Fox's oratory? Most certainly there was something wanting; and that something not a mere external grace: the great constituent, the living principle, the soul of eloquence, was wanting, Man has in a peculiar sense been called a religious animal. His indigent nature requires the consolations of religion, and leans upon its support. Without it life is inexplicable. Nothing is in order, or has a proper place or destination, beginning or end, but with reference to this connecting, disposing, vivifying, exalting principle. Mr. Fox's oratory was without it. Its deep tone, and solemn swell, was wanting. The scope, the rule, the reward, the glory, the consummation of human actions, lay beyond the limit to which his morality was bounded. On the subject of religion his lips were cold, his head was ignorant, and his heart unfeeling. In the temple of his worship the statue of Jove might have stood without polluting the sanctuary. The Atheistical prostration of France, her savage desecra tion of society, her spoliation of the houses of God, her massacres of his servants, her self-idolatry and murderous creeds, provoked no indignant elevation in Mr. Fox's oratory, no vehement sorrow for suffering humanity, no pomp, no pathos, no manly horror. In this respect, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Burke, and Mr. Windham, had a prodigious advantage over him.

The eulogy upon the Duke of Bedford, pronounced by Mr. Fox in the House of Commons, has been highly extolled. It had certainly the merit of graceful and perspicuous language; and, without doubt,

it spoke the sincere sentiments of friendship; but as to the portrait itself, it had scarcely sufficient warmth of colouring to give it the appearance of flesh and blood.

Of the life of this nobleman, of whom it was said by Mr. Fox, that "he had scarcely ever seen an equal," we might naturally expect the concluding scene to be peculiarly touching—that he, who had scarcely an equal among his fellow-men while moving among them, would have disclosed, when on the verge of the last great change, a something almost superhuman. That the late Duke of Bedford did not die as a Christian ought to die, with thoughts full of eternity, trembling for himself, and forgiving others, we would by no means be thought to insinuate; but that Mr. Fox has not given these colours to the parting scene is very clear. "In moments," says Mr. Fox, "of extreme bodily pain and approaching dissolution, when it might be expected that a man's every feeling would be concentrated in his personal sufferings-his every thought occupied by the awful event impending even in these moments he put by all selfish considerations; kindness to his friends was the sentiment still uppermost in his mind; and he employed himself, to the last hour of his life, in making the most considerate arrangements for the happiness and comfort of those who were to survive him."

Now really in so small a compass it was scarcely possible to put together more harsh things, kindly meant, than these observations with which Mr. Fox wound up his eulogy on his friend. Undoubtedly it becomes every prudent, feeling, and just man to make provision, according to his wealth and means, for those who are to survive and represent him; but are these considerations to be uppermost in his mind at such a season? are the "thoughts of the awful event impending" to be branded as selfish? was there no earlier and fitter opportunity of settling worldly affairs? is religion to have no property in any portion of life, not even in the last sad hour? But why should we be affected with any surprise at this laudatory description of the mode of his friend's departure? Alas! what was his own? According to the sentimental Mr. Trotter, no awful misapprebensions of another state, no misgivings for his conduct in this, filled up the fleet. ing irrecoverable hour, that short suspense of fluttering life and reason, of which who can compute the value? Another life seems scarcely to have occurred to the dying statesman-Philosophy might have suggested some tribute to the unknown God; but even the philosopher's tribute was wanting. There was nothing equivalent even to the sacrifice of a cock to Esculapius. The evening set in night,

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without the appearance of a single ray from the one bright solitary source of life and joy.

The chasm which the want of devotion leaves in the fine arts, whether of poetry, eloquence, or music, but especially of that eloquence which comprehends the fortunes of an empire, is not to be sup plied by any substitute. No man can feel the beauties of the Bible without the sober enthusiasm of piety: and to be without the knowledge and love of the Bible, is to be without that source of the sublime which enriched the compositions of Milton and Burke. It has been truly said, that "there is genius in all religious thoughts;" every thing seen through this medium has the impress of the Godhead upon it. All the works of nature receive an enlargement when religion enters into the contemplation; the arts and sciences are at once exalted, expanded, and corrected by its influence; it is, in short, that alone which can raise the practice and habits of reason, as well as the thoughts of the heart, above selfish objects, and

sordid contentions.

SUNDAY.

(Abridged from the British Review.)

THE two great principles which in point of fact have been more or less assumed by all sound and judicious writers, as well as maintained in the public acts and decrees of the Church, have been these: that a cessation from our ordinary labours, one day in seven, is profitable to man; and that a dedication of the same portion of our time to devout exercises and religious meditations, is respectful to God. The first of these principles, we fully believe, might be proved beyond the possibility of contradiction, by a plain reference to experience, and a fair deduction from the evidence of facts. There is no question that some considerable intermissions are necessary in great exertions, whether of the mental or bodily faculties, in order to their continuance in a due state of action and healthful energy. And even had not infallible Wisdom designated the exact period of every seventh day, we should be glad to see the data on which any person would undertake to prove either a greater or a less portion of relaxation than this, to be that which is most

exactly suitable to all the varieties of human constitutions and human actions..

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Nor does it appear less reasonable that the same portion of time should be dedicated also to the service of our Creator, and the cultivation of the religious feelings. That some portion, and a distinct portion, of our time is requisite to the formation of any habit, and more especially of a religious habit of mind, can require but little proof; and the worship that is unquestionably due to the Great Artificer from the works of his hands, we may, on known principles, be assured will, if left to any time, soon come to be performed at no time. Hence there cannot be a doubt but that the time so appropriately left vacant by the weekly labour, should be had recourse to for the other purposes, avowedly important, here proposed. And if, as Mr. Locke we believe some where observes, a man has only to attend to two things-his trade and his religion, there can be no difficulty in filling up the whole void left by one, with the pursuits enjoined by the other. But then, if man has likewise a playing as well as working principle, where and when is this to be indulged? To this we can only reply, that whatever time is chosen for it, Sunday ought not to be; and for this reason, that to common sense it is most obvious and clear, that such indulgence, at such a time, is perfectly inconsistent with the acquisition of the religious habit; and that a day spent partly in this, and partly in so very different an employment, will, on the whole, lead to such a dissipation and distraction of mind as can be favourable only to the lighter principle. If the outward act of devotion were the whole sum and substance of religion, then lengthen the services as you please, and for the rest, "let us keep holiday to-day." Or if the religious system of faith you profess and wish to establish, be of so friable a nature that a more attentive handling, or even closer inspection of it,

would crumble it to pieces, then again divert with spectacles and sports the mind already half revolted by its devotion. But if the mind is to be rationally worked upon and soberly influenced by a sober and rational religion, we should again be glad to see the man who would tell us, that one afternoon in the week, of retired meditation and domestic or friendly converse, would be an over-grant to such an object.

The foregoing observations may lead us to some conclusions respect ing certain phenomena in the practical history of the Christian Sabbath in this and other countries, both at present and in former periods of modern history. The Roman Catholic religion became, in process of time, more or less a religion of forms; and what recompense, what coaxing was not necessary to keep its misguided votaries within the pale of open profession and cordial attachment? Hence by degrees arose the Roman Catholic Sabbath; partly because the Church itself, restricting the practice of religion to the Church ceremonies, let loose her votaries, like so many schoolboys, to play after their lesson was done; and partly because the body of the people willingly accepted such an agreeable return for the comparatively small payment of matins, mass, and vespers. Infidelity appropriately concluded what superstition had begun; and the Sunday of Christian nations fast hastened to its acme of desecration.

Extremes generally produce each other; and to the ancient abusers of the Lord's day we doubtless owed the Puritan Sabbath. Here every thing was on the principle of Jack in the tale, "Tear away, brother Martin; for the love of heaven tear away!" We could not recede far enough from popish abuses: their very antipodes were too near neighbours. In the observation of the Lord's day, as in other institutions, something of a Jewish leaven, which secretly worked in the heart of Christendom, now began to make its appearance; and adherence to the letter

of the law, often took the place of that "liberty wherewith Christ had made us free." We need not recur to the relentless severities, the sixhours' sermons, the "crassa et carnalis superstitio," condemned even by Calvin himself, of those strange times. Suffice it to know that these have passed away; and with them, also, let the recollection pass of that most absurd measure of policy intended to counteract them, the Book of Sports.

That grave divines, and a religious court, should have set forth and commanded to be read in all parish churches, such a true libel on the Sabbath, as a book prescribing the use, and maintaining the lawfulness, of Sunday sports, which was the case in the reign of James and Charles, is sufficient to stamp the madness of that period, and to prepare the mind for the worst mischiefs which could happen as the reward of downright fatuity. Out of the ruins of Church and State arose at length, after many struggles, in subdued but sound and stable majesty, the genuine Sunday of the Church of England.

This, as might be expected, taking the exact medium between opposite extremes, has found a place equally distant from Jewish scrupulosity, Roman laxity, and Puritanical severity. It has vindicated its own ancient and firmly established rights, as the great weekly festival; and has learnt how to minister at once to the honour of the Creator, and the best interests of his creatures. The Church of England, conscious of having a religion to impart to her children worth learning, and, at the same time, requiring, like "truth" herself, to be "the offspring of silence and unbroken meditation," has wisely seized this "holy restful day" for such a purpose. Though she forbids the superstitious retention of certain ritual formalities, which having served their end, are done away; yet, as she speaks in her own Homilies, "whatsoever is found in this commandment, appertaining to the law of nature, as a thing most godly,

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most just, and needful, for God's glory, ought to be retained and kept of all good Christian people. There fore by this commandment we ought to have a time, as one day in the week, wherein we ought to rest, yea from our lawful and needful works." And again: "God's obedient children should use the Sunday holily, and rest from their common and daily business, and also give themselves wholly to heavenly exercises of God's true religion and service." same plain-spoken Homily is equally explicit in condemnation of Sunday sports and pastimes: and the intelligent reader cannot fail of observing the application of its remarks to all parts of the day alike. In short, our venerable Church takes her stand upon this divine institution, as upon the last refuge of the Christian faith in a licentious world. Her spirit rises with indignation at the slightest attempt, at the very look, that would threaten it with insult." She considers it an ordinance as stable as the day and night itself, and established for the very same purpose, that of perpetuating with almost vocal energy the glory of the Creator. On that day she summons her hardy sons of labour into the presence of the great Supreme; and having bid them kneel in suitable equality with those who, for the best of purposes, are for a time placed above them in rank; she dismisses both to reflect in secret, and with profit, on the period when all distinctions, but those of virtue alone, will be extinguished for ever. On the other hand, she admonishes the higher classes to show an example worthy of imitation to the lower and the less instructed. She enjoins for a while "the mirth of tabrets to cease," and the roll of the "unnumbered idle" vehicles of pleasure to give place to the silence of meditation, and the repose of wearied nature. She acts upon the truest and best understood principles in man's economy, in forbidding the impressions of the morning to be worn out by the thoughtless gayeties of the evening, She gives time for

acts to engender habits of devotion, practice to settle into principle, and the allotted task, now no longer a task, to take possession, as a new nature, of the soul. After the public acts of religion in the day, she places the children of the family in orderly arrangement around, their natural instructor, and conveys from father to son the inestimable treasures of Christian instruction, the wealth of a thousand generations. The lessons so acquired she bids descend to other members of the household; and like the fertilizing dew which, first attracted by the mountain of Hermon, afterwards visits the peaceful vale beneath, "she would shed the spirit of her holy and restful day" in regular gradations from the station of command to the lowest in the. house, and the poorest in the field. She inculcates in very plain terms the responsibility which attaches to masters for the conduct and principles of their servants, and in general to the higher ranks of society for the dispositions of the lower and it is impossible not to feel the necessity of strict consistency, in order to give to example, or even to authority, its due influence on the minds of inferiors. Half-observance, half-profanation of sacred ordinances, are a sure method of destroying all their sanctity in the minds of the illiterate and indiscriminating majority of mankind.

Once establish the duty of keeping the Christian Sabbath in moral and preponderating evidence, and the duty then stands in its full force, like revelation itself, notwithstanding all the possible or even plausible suggestions which may be brought to invalidate it. And further, let it appear to be obligatory on a Christian, as such, to observe this holy day, then he is equally bound to do so, as long as he retains the name and hope of a Christian, in every soil and climate,

"Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wand'ring Po:” nor will he refuse to hail it even as his best friend, in terms resembling

the address of the home-loving
"Traveller" to his brother:
“Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee."

Religious Education.

In the Schools of the National Education Society, and in those of the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge in England, the children are instructed in the principles of religion as professed by the Church. An objection sometimes. made to this mode of education, is for cibly answered in the following extract from a British publication.

We are wearied in refuting the hacknied objection, that this is to trap the mind in favour of a particular system of religion. True; but that system we believe to be the system of the Gospel; and if there be harm in this, we are content to plead guilty to the charge. We believe that we are consulting the best interests of the rising generation in so doing, with the hope, that He who commanded little children to be brought unto him, will approve and assist our work. But let us suppose a child sent to school with many others, with a Bible in his hands; a strict charge is given to the preceptor to teach only its general doctrines; injuction is laid upon the parents to keep any particular system out of his sight, (for unless this be done, why send him to such a school, and not to one whose plan accords more with the parents' own ideas?)—when he comes out into the world, can it be supposed that they who are stirring heaven and earth to gain one proselyte, would leave this child to foliow its own inclinations, and not set before it the peculiar excellencies of their own creed? It may be, the person who first gets hold of him is a Churchman; but whoever it be, it comes to a particular system at last, and it may come to one which we do not think so good as our own.

Let those who dissent from us educate their children in the way they think best. We blame them not for it; all that we require of them is to be conscientious and consistent. But let them permit us to do the same.

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my extravagancies of my youth, my mad follies and wild jollities, come see my guilt began to make approaches towards Saviour yonder, how he swoons when him! and can I make myself merry with nothing else but that which made him, die? tickle, cheer, and heighten myself with agonies? You, my intemperate draughts, my full bowls and the riotous evenings I have passed, look yonder what a sad night do these make Christ pass! look what a cup he, holds, which makes him fall lower to deprecate, than ever my uries, fulness of bread, and idleness, whereexcesses made me lie. You, my lazy luxby I have controlled God's curse, and only in the sweat of others faces eat my bread, and in that dew drank up the spirits of those multitudes that toil to faintings to maintain my dissolute life, see how he is forced to bear the whole curse for me: how the thorns grow on his head, and how he sweats all over! You, my supine devotions, which do scarce afford my God a knee, and less a heart, not when I am deprecating an eternity of all those torments which killed Christ; look yonder how he prays, behold him on his face petitioning, see there how he sweats and begs! You, my little malices and my vexatious angers, that are hot and quick as fire itself, and that do fly as high too, that are up at heaven strait for the least wrong on earth; look how he bears his, how his patience seems wounded only in a wound that fell upon his persecutors! and when one that came to apprehend him wrongfully was hurt, as if the sword of his defence had injured him, he threatened, and for ever cursed the black deeds of that angry weapon, and made restitution of what he had not taken, made his adversary whole whom he had not hurt! See how with his cruel judges he is as a sheep, that not before his shearers only, but before his butcher too, is dumb. You, my scorns, and my high stomach that will take no satisfaction but blood and soul for the faults of inadvertency, for such as not the wrong, but humour makes offences; look how they use him, they buffet, and revile, and spit upon him! Ye, my dreadful oaths and bitter imprecations which I use to lace my speeches with, or vent against any one that does offend me in the least. making the wounds and blood of God, and other such sad words, either my foolish modes of speaking, or the spittings of my peevishness; there you may see what it is I play with so; you may behold the life of Christ pouring out at those wounds which I speak so idly of; and what I mingle with my sportive talk is agony, such as they that beheld afar off struck. their breasts at, and to see them only was a passion. Ye, my atheisms and my irreligion-but, alas! you have no prospect

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