driac. The two last are irresistibly comic. Not less humorous are the scenes where Wildgoose is consulted on several points of casuistry, and the scrapes he is continually involved in at taverns. There are two or three chapters of a rather warm description, and verging on coarseness In general, notwithstanding, the humor is as pure as it is caustic, and the satire vigorous and well applied.

It is impossible to convey a fair impression of the book by occasional extracts; so we will advise, at once, a perusal of it, which will well reward a judicious reader. This novel, with Southey's life of Wesley, will give one a pretty accurate view of the two sides of Methodism; in which sect there is much to praise, and a good deal to censure.

It is open to censure, among other reasons, for its sectarian spirit, to say nothing of its presumption in dissent. The distinguishing beauty of the Church, is its liberal tolerance of mere diversities of opinion, and in its including the elements of all true theological doctrine. Now, the Methodists, Baptists, etc., select some one or more dogmas of faith or practice, and pamper that, or them, out, into an exclusive system, making the whole of Christianity to consist in but a portion of Christian doctrine. They slight other and more valuable truths, perhaps, to give prominence to one. The first Methodists were only stricter Episcopalians, endeavoring to revive a primitive simplicity of life, and corresponding purity of faith. But in the body of the Church they left, were to be found sincere, good, and wise men, seeking the same object, and only differing from them, in possessing greater prudential sagacity, and a truer, because less exacting and less arrogant piety. Pride and stubbornness led to a separation, most causeless reasons for dissent.

Even now, the Methodists can return to the bosom of

the Church with a better grace than any other class of dissenters, for they have borrowed the Episcopal office, and we understand, sometimes employ part of the Liturgy.

The leading doctrine of those who followed Whitfield in preference to Wesley; of the party that held of faith, not only as superior to, but as independent of, outward actions, altogether; which teaching, not only refrained from making a merit of works, but even did not sufficiently insist on the necessity of works as fruits of the Spirit, is often placed in a ridiculous light in the Spiritual Quixote. This division among the Methodists, (we know not to what extent it now ́exists,) affords of itself, a fact sufficient to warrant a prophecy of their final extinction. Dissenting sects, if not perfectly united among themselves, must fall to pieces, since they want a conservative principle of union. It is so with the Unitarians, every preacher of which denomination frames a creed of his own. It is so with the Quakers, and Presbyterians, and Baptists, who are divided into parties numberless. So, in all probability, it will be with the Methodists. And so, we trust, in time it may come to pass, that they too, may be gathered into the Church, and again united, one fold under one shepherd.

With all their extravagances, the absurdity of some members and the wickedness of others, Methodism may point to many brilliant exemplars of piety and talent united. But we have laid most stress on the corrupt parts of the system, as there is no fear that the really good portion will be overlooked by candid inquirers.

Apart from the soundness of the theological opinions advanced in the Spiritual Quixote, it is impressed with a deep, though simple moral lesson. The hero, after his extravagancies and follies, finally settles down into a rational

and sincere Christian, with an enlightened zeal and a spirit of liberal piety. The tendency of the work is most decidedly on the side of virtue and religion, though we fear occasional scenes may mar its real value, and lead an idle reader to regard it as a work of mere entertainment, without any idea of its admirable end, in point of religious instruction. For our own part, we can praise it highly for both qualities, neither of which is more inimical to the other, than a hearty laugh and cheerful spirit are adverse to the possession of the warmest heart, or the living up to the strictest principles.

· XVI.

SATIRE AND SENTIMENT.

SATIRE and sentiment represent the extreme opposite poles of conversation and authorship; the tendency of the first being to bitterness, and of the second, to affectation. The love of scandalous gossip is the offspring and bond of fashionable society, as weak sentimentality results from an unnatural refinement of the feelings. In their natural and healthy state, both of these faculties are of the utmost importance to society as well as to individuals; but we oftener find the instinctive appetite for both depraved, rather than indulged to a proper and satisfactory limit. As the virtue of censure may soon become debased into the vice of lampoon, and delicate generosity gradually descend into ephemeral sensibility, some line of distinction appears necessary to mark the province of each.

Honest satire, from a writer or speaker of worth, provoked by meanness or inflamed by dishonesty, serves as one of the strongest checks upon folly and crime. Without it the world would run mad. Next to religion, it offers the surest moral restraint on the absurd conceits and wild passions of man. Nay, many who affect to despise religion, dread the sharp pen of the satirist, when he has truth and justice on his side. Even the virtuous who are not endued

with strength of will or intellectual courage, are too often deterred from praiseworthy actions by the dread of personal ridicule. Pope says of himself as a satirist-and the world has never seen a better-that they who feared not God, were still afraid of him; and this was written without presumption or hastiness. But is satire always honest? Is it so, generally? We suspect the answer would be decidedly in the negative. Instead of correction of abuses, we meet abuse itself; in place of truth, we hear scandal; for general censure, we read personalities; we find bigotry where we should enlarged views.

The same holds true with regard to sentiment. By dwelling too much on the kind impulses that prompt to friendship and love among equals, and to compassion and assistance towards inferiors in fortune and station, the sensitive part of our natures overlays the practical. We write pathetically or talk like Howard, but refuse the aid common humanity expects us to bestow. Excessive indulgence of feeling paralyzes the active powers, and frequently unfits one, however charitably inclined, for the offices of charity. The moral influence of satire, pursued to more than an ordinary extent and without just intentions, is to embitter the heart. Few satirists have been kind-hearted men. The pen of the satirist is dipt in gall, and his fierce denunciations flow too often from a malicious disposition. Even light, airy ridicule, may come from the depths of a sore and wounded spirit, and of which it may serve as the cloak. Most writers of satire-those eminent chiefly for that peculiar talent-have been disappointed men, or somehow unfortunately placed in the world. A crooked back in Pope, a club-foot in Byron, and even slighter personal defects, have fretted many a noble spirit. Poverty, too, first animated