: pearance; for he was seized with a violent hiccoughing, which continued the next day, until it was somewhat allayed by musk draughts, administered by direction of his medical attendant. Whilst in the enjoyment of health it had been Mr. Howard's frequent, indeed his almost daily custom, at a certain hour, to visit his friend Admiral Priestman, who resided at Cherson, and who, on finding that he failed in his usual calls, went some few days after he had been totally confined to his house, to see him; when he found him weak and ill, sitting before a stove in his bed-room. On inquiring after his health, he replied that his end was approaching very fast; that he had several things to say, and thanked him for having called. The Admiral, concluding, from his answers, that he was in a melancholy mood, endeavoured to turn the conversation; imagining the whole, or the principal part of his disorder, might be the mere effect of low spirits. Mr. Howard, however, assured him that it was not; and added, in a very impressive, yet cheerful manner, Priestman, you style this a dull conversation, and endeavour to divert my mind from dwelling upon death, but I entertain very different sentiments. Death has no terrors for me it is an event I always look to with cheerfulness, if not with pleasure; and be assured, the subject is more grateful to me than any other. I am well aware that I have but a short time to live: my mode of life has rendered it impossible that I should get rid of this fever. If I had lived as you do, eating heartily of animal food, and drinking wine, I might perhaps, by altering my diet, be able to subdue it. But how can such a man as I am lower his diet, who has been accustomed for years to exist upon vegetables and water, a little bread and a little tea? I have no method of lowering my nourishment, and therefore I must die. It is such jolly fellows as you, Priestman, who get over these fevers:'-then, turning from that subject, he spoke of his funeral, and cheerfully gave directions where he would be buried. 'There is a spot,' said he, near the village of Dauphigny; this would suit me nicely: you know it well, for I have often said that I should like to be buried there; and let me beg of you, as you value your old friend, not to suffer any pomp to be used at my funeral; nor any monument, nor monumental inscription whatsoever, to mark where I am laid: but lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me be forgotten. Having given these directions, he was desirous that no time should be lost for securing the object of his wishes; for which purpose, the Admiral soon afterwards, though very reluctantly, left the house, and he had not been gone long, ere a letter was brought to Mr. Howard from a friend in England, who had lately seen his son at Leicester, and expressed his hopes that, on his return, he would find him considerably better. When this pleasing account was read to him by his servant, for he was too ill to read it himself, it affected him very sensibly; and his expressions of the delight it afforded him were peculiarly strong. Amongst other things, he repeatedly desired Thomasson, should his son, by the blessing of God, ever be restored to his reason, to tell him how much and how fervently he had prayed for his happiness, during an illness which he was now most firmly convinced would be his last. He also observed to him, in reference to the spot he had selected for his grave,-and which he probably was induced to choose, in preference to any other in the neighbourhood, from its being situated in the grounds of a French gentleman, who had shewn him many acts of kindness,-that he should be at the same distance from heaven there, as if brought back to England; adding, that he had long felt no other wish for life, but as it afforded him the means of relieving the distresses of his fellow-creatures. When his friend returned to him with the intelligence that he had exccuted his commission respecting the place of his interment, his countenance brightened; a gleam of satisfaction came over his face; and he prepared to go to bed. As the Admiral still remained with him, he gave him the letter to read which communicated the improvement in his son's health; and, when he had read it, he turned his languid head on his pillow, and asked, 'Is not this comfort for a dying father?'. He then expressed great repugnance to being buried according to the rites of the Greek Church; and begged the Admiral not only to prevent all interference on the part of the Russian priests, but himself to read the burial service of the Church of England over his body, which was the last request he ever made, and indeed nearly the last words his lips pronounced, as he was soon afterwards seized with a third fit, and ceased to speak for an hour or two previous to his deccase. Still, however, he was sensible for a while; as, on being requested to let the physician be sent for, who was then at some little distance from his residence, he nodded his head by way of as sent, though it was too late, as, before he could arrive, the rattling in the throat had begun, and he soon afterwards breathed his last, at about eight o'clock in the morning of the 20th of January, 1790.” pp. 586–590. Such, remarks his biographer, were the closing scenes of the existence of John Howard the philanthropist, who fell a victim to a humanity which had led him to a distance of 1500 miles from his home. Yet he died not among strangers. Every one esteemed and loved him; and the testimonies of respect which were called forth from all classes of the people among whom he died were only equalled by the general lamentation of his fellow-countrymen. His funeral was attended by every mark of respect; and Dr. Clarke says, that a small brick pyramid marks the spot where his ashes rest. The village church of Cardington contains the simple tablet and inscription which we noticed before as the special selection of Mr. Howard himself; but this did not satisfy the public, and accordingly the celebrated statue by Bacon was placed to his memory in the cathedral church of St. Paul, which was then first made a receptacle for the monuments of those whose heroism, benevolence, or distinguished attainments had earned for them their country's gratitude and love. Thus terminates the history of this extraordinary man. The laborious production of his biographer is completed by a comprehensive view of his habits, his person, and his general character. Of course, the well known and admirable sketches of the chief features in that character, those of coolness, intrepidity, zeal, and benevolence, from the masterly pens of Foster and Chalmers, have been incorporated into this survey. We do not know that much needed to be added to them, for the habits and character of the philanthropist are sufficiently developed by the facts recorded in the volume; but what might be wanting Dr. Brown has supplied, having delineated him in every relation, social or 'public, which he sustained through life. One concluding observation we visit which Mr. Howard paid to the cannot restrain, in reference to the thousands of prisoners in so many jails of so many countries. It may be an observation which the occur rences of more modern days may have dictated to us; but still Christian principle is the same in every age. It has occurred to us, then, as a matter of some surprize, that so much of effort should have been made merely for bodily comfort and advantage, and so much money expended upon the liberation of the imprisoned captive, and scarcely an effort of any kind, or a gift of any sort made, or at least mentioned, for the communication of the "liberty of the children of God." We hear of no Bibles given to the prisoners, no religious tracts or books, nor even a serious Christian admonition; and though we are quite aware that it has been only of late years that facilities have been multiplied sufficiently to meet, in. any adequate degree, the necessities of so many thousands faint and perishing for the bread of life, yet there were at all times means of this description to be procured in some way and some proportion; and we feel considerable surprise and regret that opportunities so favourable for the employment of these means should ever have been lost. ; Howard's life was, in the highest vicw, eminently felicitous, Full of pain and peril truly was it, and abundant in privation: but if "it is more blessed to give than to receive;" if it yields joy to be the instrument of materially diminishing the mass of human misery, and adding to the mass of human happiness; if the sentiment of Cicero be characterized as much by truth as elegance, "Nihil est tam. regium, tam liberale, tamque munificum, quam opem ferre supplicibus, excitare afflictos, dare salutem, liberare periculis homines;" then was Howard's truly a digni. fied and a delightful career. Great must have been his joy of whom it could be said, that "he never took a ride without having the satisfaction of learning that he had before his return contributed in some way to make a fellow-creature happy;" and the very object of whose accumulated toils and labours, in every part of Europe, was to pour comfort over the waste places of misery, and shed satisfaction and joy in the midst of suffering and grief; and who has acquired a more honourable name than the "just" or the "judicious," in that of "the Philanthropist." THERE are few persons, we believe, in the intelligent and Christian part of our population, who will not rejoice to hear of a new volume of sermons from the pen of Dr. Chalmers. Notwithstanding certain peculiarities in his style to which a southern taste has some difficulty in accommodating itself (but which, we are happy to find, are much less conspicuous in this volume than in the author's former publications); an occasional carelessness of expression which seems to indicate the want of careful revision, and an uncompromising assertion of sentiments which do not universally harmonize with those of many among his readers; there is, nevertheless, in this very able writer such an energy and strength, such a felicity of illustration, such a commanding view of his subject, and such impressiveness of appeal, that the man who, in perusing his discourses, can pause to fight with him frequent battles either of principle or of taste, may reasonably suspect himself of deficiencies more important than can be compensated either by nice taste or sensitive orthodoxy. The office of a critic must sometimes impose upon him a task which, in reading solely for his own improvement, he would instantly cast aside. Instead of suffering himself to be carried away by the magical influence of the writer, he is required to check the current of his feelings; to be cool and cautious when his emotions would otherwise be strongly excited; and to yield no point, contrary to the decision of his own judgment, however authoritatively maintained or vehemently and eloquently enforced. Greatly therefore as we are delighted with this excellent volume, and admirably as we think it calculated to serve the cause of true piety, we are not disposed to adopt the language of indiscriminate approbation; but whether our hesitation on certain inferior matters be well-founded or not, the great principles of Christian faith and Christian practice, will remain secure on either supposition; and few indeed, if any, among those who find it easy to object to Dr. Chalmers on particular and comparatively unimportant points, can address themselves with energy like his to the heart and conscience. The discourses in this volume amount to fifteen. We shall take some notice of each in its turn. The first sermon is entitled, The Constancy of God in his Works, an Argument for the Faithfulness of God in his Word. The text is Pɛalm cxix. 89-91. After a striking illustration of the wonderful constancy of nature in all her works, and pointing out the evidence thus afforded of the wisdom and beneficence, and especially of the truth, of the Creator, the preacher applies his argument to the stability of the word of God, with particular reference to the connexion between sin and punishment, and between faith and salvation. We subjoin two extracts. "The doctrine that nature is constant, when thus related, as it ought to be, with the doctrine that God is true, might well strengthen our confidence in him anew with every new experience of our history. There is not an hour or a moment, in which we may not verify the one-and, therefore, not an hour or a moment in which we may not invigorate the other. Every touch, and every look, and every taste, and every act of converse between our senses and the things that are without, brings home a new demonstration of the stedfastness of nature, and along with it a new demonstration both of his stedfastnesss and of his faithfulness, who is the Governor of Nature. And the same lesson may be fetched from times and from places, that are far beyond the limits of our own personal history. It can be drawn from the retrospect of past ages, where, from the unvaried currency of those very processes which we now behold, we may learn the stability of all His ways, whose goings forth are of old, and from everlasting. It can be gathered from the most distant extremities of the earth, where nature reigns with the same unwearied constancy, as it does around us-and where savages count as we do on a uniformity, from which she never falters. The lesson is commensurate with the whole system of things-and with an effulgence as broad as the face of creation, and as clear as the light which is poured over it, does it at once tell that nature is unchangeably constant, and that God is unchangeably true." pp. 31, 32. "But there is another succession announced to us in Scripture, and on the certainty of which we may place as firm a reliance as on any of the observed successions of nature-even that which obtains between faith and salvation. He who believeth in Christ shall not perish, but shall have life everlasting. The same truth which God hath embarked on the processes. There are many periodic evolutions of the bright and the beautiful along the march of his administrations ;as the dawn of morn; and the grateful access of spring, with its many hues, and odours, and melodies; and the ripened abundance of harvest; and that glorious arch of heaven, which science hath now appropriated as her own, but which nevertheless is placed there by God as the unfailing token of a sunshine already begun, and a storm now ended;-all these come forth at appointed seasons, in a consecutive order, yet mark the footsteps of a beneficent Deity. And so the economy of grace has its regular successions, which carry however a blessing in their train. The faith in Christ, to which we are invited upon earth, has its sure result, and its landing-place in heaven; and just with as unerring certainty as we behold in the courses of the firmament, will it be followed up by a life of virtue, and a death of hope, and a resurrection of joyfulness, and a voice of welcome at the judgment-seat, and a bright ascent into fields of ethereal blessedness, and an entrance upon glory, and a perpetual occupation in the city of the living God." pp. 48-50. The title of the second sermon is, The expulsive Power of a new Affection, from John ii. 15; and the main design of it is to shew, that by the very constitution of our nature, the love of the world is not to be displaced from the heart by demonstrations of the world's vanity alone; but "by setting forth another object, even God, as more worthy of its attachment;" and inducing the mind to substitute this new affection for the old one. The truth of this proposition is very satisfactorily established by Dr. Chalmers; and it proves at once the utter inefficacy of those pulpit disquisitions which aim at nothing more than to obliterate existing affections. The heart cannot remain unoccupied; and, in order effectually to remove the desires and regards which engage it, some new object must be presented which shall give them a new direction. declarations of his wrath against the impenitent, he hath also embarked on the declarations of his mercy to the believer. There is a law of continuity, as unfailing as any series of events in nature, that binds with the present state of an obstinate sinner upon earth, all the horrors of his future wretchedness in hell; but there is also another law of continuity just as unfailing, that binds the present state of him who putteth faith in Christ here, with the triumphs and the transports of his coming glory hereafter. And thus it is, that what we read of God's constancy in the book of nature, may well strengthen our every assurance in the promises of the Gospel. It is not in the recurrence of "This, we trust," says Dr. Chalmers, winter alone, and its desolations, that God" will explain the operation of that charm manifests his adherence to established which accompanies the effectual preaching of the Gospel. The love of God, and the love of the world, are too affections, not merely in a state of rivalship, but in a state of enmity-and that so irreconcileable, that they cannot dwell together in the same bosom. We have already affirmed how impossible it were for the heart, by any innate elasticity of its own, to cast the world away from it, and thus reduce itself to a wilderness. The heart is not so constituted, and the only way to dispossess it of an old affection, is by the expulsive power of a new one. Nothing can exceed the magnitude of the required change in a man's character-when bidden, as he is in the New Testament, to love not the world; no, nor any of the things that are in the world; for this so comprehends all that is dear to him in existence, as to be equivalent to a command of self-annihila tion. But the same revelation which dictates so mighty an obedience, places withîn our reach as mighty an instrument of obedience. It brings for admittance, to the very door of our heart, an affection which, once seated upon its throne, will either subordinate every previous inmate, or bid it away. Beside the world, it places before the eye of the mind, Him who made the world; and with this peculiarity, which is all its own-that in the Gospel do we so behold God as that we may love God. It is there, and there only, where God stands revealed as an object of confidence to sinners, and where our desire after him is not chilled into apathy by that barrier of human guilt which intercepts every approach that is not made to him through the appointed Mediator. It is the bringing in of this better hope, whereby we draw nigh unto God; and to live without hope is to live without God, and if the heart be without God, the world will then have all the ascendancy. It is God apprehended by the believer as God in Christ, who alone can dispost it from this ascendancy. It is when he stands dismantled of the terrors which belong to him as an offended Lawgiver, and when we are enabled by faith, which is his own gift, to see his glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and to hear his beseeching voice, as it protests good will to men, and entreats the return of all who will to a full pardon, and a gracious acceptance; it is then, that a love paramount to the love of the world, and at length expulsive of it, first arises in the regenerating bosom. It is when released from the spirit of bondage, with which love cannot dwell, and when admitted into the number of God's children, through the faith that is in Christ Jesus, the spirit of adoption is poured upon us; it is then that the heart, brought under the mastery of one great and predominant, affection, is delivered from the tyranny of: its former desires, in the only way in which deliverance is possible. And that faith which is revealed to us from heaven, as inindispensable to a sinner's justification in the sight of God, is also the instrument of the greatest of all moral and spiritual achievements on a nature dead to the influence, and beyond the reach, of every other application." pp. 72-75. The sermon thus beautifully concludes: "Conceive a man to be standing on the margin of this green world; and that, when he looked towards it, he saw abundance smiling upon every field, and all the blessings which earth can afford. scattered in profusion throughout every family, and the light of the sun sweetly. resting upon all the pleasant habitations, and the joys of human companionship brightening many a happy circle of society-conceive this to be the general character of the scene upon one side of his contemplation; and that on the other, beyond the verge of the goodly planet on which he was situated, he could descry nothing but a dark and fathomless un-, known. Think you that he would bid a voluntary adieu to all the brightness and all the beauty that were before him upon earth, and commit himself to the frightfuk solitude away from it. Would he leave its peopled dwelling places, and become a solitary wanderer through the fields of nonenity? If space offered him nothing but a wilderness, would he for it abandon the homebred scenes of life and of cheerfulness that lay so near, and exerted such a power of urgency to detain him? Would not he cling to the regions of sense, and of life, and of society?-and, shrinking away from the desolation that was beyond it, would not he be glad to keep his firm footing on the territory of this world, and to take shelter under the silver canopy that was stretched over it? "But if, during the time of his contemplation, some happy island of the blest had floated by; and there had burst upon his senses the light of its surpassing glories, and its sounds of sweeter melody; and he clearly saw, that there, a purer beauty rested upon every field, and a more heartfelt joy spread itself among all the families; and he could discern there, a peace, and a piety, and a benevolence, which put a moral gladness into every bosom, and |