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of man, when he would know how taset a proper value upon the pure principles of the gospel, without the use of any of those extraordinary exertions that were now indispensably necessary for the least gleam of hope to bo entertained of even the smallest degree of success, when the present degraded state of knowledge among the multitude is considered, combined with the exertions of a set of men whose interest and practice it is to keep it at as low an ebb as possible to suit their vile purposes.
Clairmont remained unmoved, being firmly persuaded that the use of proper methods, by an energetic and active mind, would produce effects totally beyond the power of human foresight to calculate : and even admitting the probability of a failure, no injury could be done, but much good, as it would enlarge his knowledge of the nature of man, than which nothing is more essential to either the Christian or philosopher. Barnard continued equally unchanged and unchangeable; his constitutional bias being strongly averse to those exertions that a Theological reformer must prepare to meet with, in the first onset of an attempt to stem the torrent of popular superstition. In the publication of their religious opinions, there is a striking contrast between him and Clairmont, so much so that his tenants and nearest neighbours are ignorant of his professed principles; and even 'Squire Dashwood, who happened to meet him on the road several times, has been heard to lament the company he keeps, for fear he should be made a man of na religion. Mr. Barnard is also a member of a philosophical society at York, and occasionally delivers lectures both in tha moral and experimental departments; he is allowed to be the most able they have, being possessed of a forcible com» manding eloquence, and compleatly master of his subjects, combined with the most enlightened views of the government of God; so that he has a decided superiority over mere philosophers, whose enquiries do not exceed the boundaries of their sciences, therefore lose the advantage of an enlarged application of their studies. In private company he bus none of the disagreeable stiffness of the pedant, and can with the greatest facility " pass from grave to gay, from lively to severe." He possesses the rare talent of applying any part of his greatly varied knowledge to illustrate the
Joint in hand, and by a peculiar dryness of remark, he ren-
hej)ut them too in providing for his reception, he was looking out fur some place in the neighbourhood where he might have a temporary lodging. The good-natured Farmer hearing of his views, had huiltassoon as possible an additional wing to his house, insisting upon his always residing there when became to see them. He had every thing made to match for furnishing it, and suffered no person to occupy Barny's corner (as he called it) in his absence. Barnard was highly pleased in seeing his friend merry, and bad the power of making him so almost whenever he chose, with his dry singular remarks, that exactly suited Allen's taste, being quite delighted to hear himself laugh from the xery bottom of his soul (as he termed it), using the word in a careless manner, without intending to give the least sanction to the absurd popular opinions of its immortality, and all the connected chain of dangerous consequences, the whole being so cdmpleally unsupported by reason and Christianity.
When Mr. Barnard was on his journey to his two friends, he usually walked a great part of the way, for the purpose of remarking on every thing worthy of observation that might occur on the road, and always carried pen, ink, and paper, in his pocket. He was always taken on his travels for an extraordinary character, from his conduct, which wu reserved, and his travelling dress, which was singular, consisting of a pair of loose trowsers, a jacket of the same kind, a cap to match, and a bag thrown over his shoulders, all of the same colour. He considered these were attended with many conveniences.
Not living many miles distance from Mr. Clairmont, I frequently take a ride over to see him, and was one day greatly astonished on discovering our common friend Barnard sitting in the middle of an old castle, musing over its ruinous contents; when he had recovered from his reverie, he turned round, and was equally pleased and surprised with so unexpectedly meeting me in such a place: but his chief satisfaction seemed to arise from viewing the mutual benefit that would arise from our both joining in his favourite pursuit. Bui as I did not enter so heartily as he expected into the examination, he sharply exclaimed, I always took you for a virtuous man. I replied, that I hoped he had no cause to alter his opinion. Not change my opinion, said he? why you have no taste. What follows then, I asked very innocently; have I less virtue? Certainly, replied Barnard; for don't you know there.is a most intimate connection between taste and virtue? I expressed my ignorance upon the subject, and how I felt at a loss (o discover what the examining half heads and broken arms had to do with the principles of virtue. lie told me that a most intimate connection could be o-ade apparent to exist, from an examination of the construction of the human mind; but as an entrance into thissubject would divert his mind from its present employment, I proposed its being deferred to another opportunity, and with much difficulty prevailed upon him to proceed on his journey, which he complied with very reluctantly. He seemed so intensely engaged upon the subject, that 1 thought it might do him a service by lightening him of some of his weight of thoughts, and rather anxiously asked the reason of his getting into the situation I had found him in. He entered upon the detail, by informing me that early in the morning, as he travelled along the road, the ruins of ancient walls and broken pillars attracted his attention; he made directly for them, but was some hours crossing ponds, ditches, Sec. before he reached the desired spot, having missed theright path; but when he arrived he was paid a thousand fold tor his pains, for here were strewed in all directions the valuable, and, he regretted to say, neglected remains of ancient architecture, displaying the noblest exertions of genius, which had given life to the marble, and conveyed existence to inanimate substances: in proof of which, he pulled out of his pocket the greater part of a foot that he had taken away as a specimen, in which the most exact proportions had been well preserved between the different toes, their joints, and nails. He eloquently described the superior workmanship that was exhibited in the forming a bunyon on the joint of the great toe, which he considered a master-piece of art.
Proceeding on our journey, and ascending a hill on the road, from the top of which Barnard, with longing eyes, took leave of the enchanted ground, I rather diverted his attention by proposing that Mr. Allen should accompany him to the castle upon his return home, and no doubt greatly edify him with his scientific remarks. By degrees he got the better of the serious mood into which he had fallen, and proceeding on our journey we came to a cross road, in •which 1 was obliged- to separate on account of business, promising to meet again within a mile and half of Clairmont's, where the roads again join.
Just at our parting, it struck me be must want something to eat: I put the question to him, which seemed to bring 4 new train of thoughts into his mind; his appearance confirmed my suggestions, and he quickly asked if there was a public-house near. I directed him to the first, about a milo off, up a narrow lane. He agreeably stated to me that his taste had in some degree cooled, and the wants of nature forcibly painted on his imagination the pleasure of taste employed, in devouring a beef-steak.
I met him according to appointment, when he highly entertained me with an account of his adventures since we had parted. Upon his arrival at the public-house,, and culling for what he wanted, they were at first scrupulous of serving him, from the singularity of his appearance ; but Ly paying before hand, he obtained all that he desired, and «ut down in their only public room, among some farmers' men that were drinking. After having satisfied his appetite, he pulled out his pen and ink, for the purpose of easing his mind of some more of the load of taste it groaned under. Theoddness of his dress and conduct caused general notice. They all seemed anxious to discover what' he could be; some whispered across the table that he was king of the gipsies; some, that he was melancholy mad; and others, that he Tvas a conjuror. One of them, more audibly than the rest, said he was certain that the stranger Was no better than he should be, as they had seen him (from behind a hedge) steal something out of the old castlo (the foot). Barnard going out for a few minutes, was informed by one of the men that the landlord confidently expressed himself that he was a conjuror, and could raise the devil. This suggestion was strengthened by the statement of one of the men that had seen him walk for a long time in a circle when in the old castle, and was sure he was then holding converse with Old Nick (as he termed it)—they all lost something, or wanted some secrets unfolded, and collected together five shillings for the purpose of paying Bnrnard to raise his black majesty. Upon his coming in again, they put the question to him; he smiled; they supposed giving consent, but in reality at their ignorance and credulity. He took out pen and ink to make observations they supposed to form his usual arrangements, and that it was necessary to send a letter to the regions below, requesting immediate attendance. They were actively engaged in doing their part of the business, by darkening the windows, and stopping all the holes of every description, drawing a circle with chalk on the floor, and agreeing to leave the house to Barnard and his friend. As they were all going out, he took the liberty of accompanying them, and considered it prudent to take no steps for the purpose of shewing the ignorance, folly, and wickedness, of believing in the existence of an invisible being, that
waj continually counteracting the laws of the universal Cre-» ator, Governor, and Director, of all things.
We soon reached Clairmont's, and were agreeably surprised to see Allen in his favourite corner, enjoying a pip« with high satisfaction. Clairmont received us in a most friendly way, with with his usual dignity and good manners. After the disturbance which our arrival was the occasion of had ceased, and we were all comfortably settled, Mr. Barnard politely requested that our presence should not further interrupt any topic of conversation which they might bave been engaged in previous to our coming. They agreeably complied with his request--the substance of which, and the after-conversation, shall form part of my next letter; for the present remainingyour sincere (though unknown) well-, wisher,
Roosby Hull, Dec. 1812. Claudius Hamilton.
To the Editor of the Fretthinhing Christians'1 3Iagazine. sia, '*
1TAKE the liberty of troubling you, with a design to shew that your two last numbers on Politics do not meet my approbation, and for this reason, that you hav© more to do in your own province among the churchmen, than you can we'll manage; for believe me, vou have not yet even seen one-tenth of either the strength or number of the enemy. The wolf is not yet roused, though you may bear him growl; therefore do not turn away for fresh adventures, till yon have made sure of one victory!
The priests you see will not write for you—there is no profit in it; hut they expect better by the Protestant Advocate, though it may prove like some other of their advocates, and1 cost them two hundred per cent.—Friend Lancaster roused them, and yon see what a stir they made, though it will not answer their purpose if you back him out properly; for when people are taught to read, they will think, in spite of priests, and think for themselves too. Therefore, Mr. Lancaster's exertions have been a double good, for let who will teach, so that we are taught, we wiil read and think; and the priests are supporting our cause, even against their will. But I only say thus much to prove, that as they have been once alarmed, they may be so again, and we may reasonably suppose this Advocate is a kind of advanced guard;