will do justice to the memory of a man, of whom the present generation was not worthy.

And he that forg'd, and he that threw the dart,
Had each a brother's int'rest in his heart!
Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbrib'd,
Were copied close in him, and well transcrib'd.
He follow'd Paul-his zeal a kindred flame,
His apostolic charity the same.

Like him, cross'd cheerfully tempestuous seas,
Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease:
Like him he labour'd, and like him, content,
To bear it, suffer'd shame where'er he went.

Blush, calumny! and write upon his tomb,
If honest eulogy can spare thee room,
Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies,
Which, aim'd at him, have pierc'd th' offended skies;
And say, blot out my sin, confess'd deplor'd,
Against thine image in thy saint, oh Lord!"

Ir appears from a little account book, wherein that great man of God, the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, minuted the times and places of his ministerial labours, that he preached upwards of eighteen thousand sermons, from the æra of his ordination, to that of his death.

66

DR. GROVENOR's first wife was a most devout and amiable woman; the Sunday after her death, the Doctor expressed himself from the pulpit, in the following manner: "I have had an irreparable loss, and no man can feel a loss of this consequence, more sensibly than myself. But the cross of a dying Jesus is my support; I fly from one death, for refuge to another.

SOME years ago, a friend of a clergyman now living*, said to him, "Sir! you have just as many children as the patriarch Jacob."-True, answered the good old divine: and I have also Jacob's God to provide for them.

A SPARK of red hot iron flew into a gentleman's eye, several eminent surgeons tried in vain to extract it; at last, a lady of the patient's acquaintance thought of holding his eye-lid quite open, and of extracting the grievance, by the application of a load stone. The experiment succeeded. How similar is the holy Spirit's virtue, in extracting the love of sin from the heart of a saint.

*The late venerable Mr. Moses Brown. EDITOR.

my

KING CHARLES II. once said to that great man Mr. John Milton, "Do not you think your blindness is a judgment upon you, for having written in defence of father's murder?"-Sir, answered the poet, it is true I have lost my eyes; but, if all calamitous providences are to be considered as judgments, your majesty should remember that your royal father lost his head.

THAT excellent man the late Rev. Mr. Joseph Hart, made it his inviolable rule, not to let an Arian, an Arminian, or any unsound preacher, occupy his pulpit, so much as once. His usual saying on those occasions, was, I will keep my pulpit as chaste as my bed.

MONSIEUR DE VOLTAIRE forgets all his infidelity, on two occasions; viz. when he is sick, and when it thunders and lightens. He is so particularly afraid of stormy weather, that, if he happens to be writing when the "clouds pour down their torrents, the air thunders, and the arrows of the Almighty flash abroad," he will call out, in an agony of horror, for a bottle of holy water, and sprinkle himself with it from head to foot, and plentifully bedew the floors and walls of his apartments into the bargain. Immediately after which precaution, he orders mass to be said in his chapel; and the masses go on briskly, one after another, until the thunder and lightening cease. But no sooner is the tempest hushed, than a clear sky and placid elements settle him into a laughing Infidel again; and, resuming his pen, he writes against Christianity with as much acrimony, zeal, and want of argument as ever. This behaviour reminds me of an old proverb:

"When the devil was sick,

The devil a monk would be;
But, when the devil grew well,
The devil a monk was he."

A SHORT time before the demise of queen Anne, as bishop Burnet was riding slowly in his coach, round that part of Smithfield, from whence so many blessed martyrs ascended to heaven, he observed a gentleman, standing on the distinguished spot, in a musing, pensive attitude, and, seemingly, quite absorbed in thought. His lordship ordered the carriage to stop, and sent his servant to the person, with a request that he would come to his coach side. He did so, and proved to be Dr. Evans, a very eminent dissenting minister, of whom the bishop had some knowledge; "Brother Evans" said the prelate, "give me your hand, and come up hither, I want to ask you a question." The doctor being seated, and the coachman ordered to continue driving round as before, the bishop asked the doctor, "what it was that directed his steps to Smithfield? And what he was thinking of, while standing there ?"-"I was thinking," answered the other, "of the many servants of Christ, who sealed the truth of their lives in this place. I came purposely, to feast my eyes, once more, with a view of that precious spot of ground. And as public matters have, at present, a very threatening aspect, I was examining myself, whether I had grace and strength enough, to suffer for the gospel, if I should be called to it, and was praying to God, that he would make me faithful even to death, if it should be his pleasure to let the old times come over again."-"I myself came hither," replied the prelate, "on the same business; I am persuaded, that, if God's providence do not interpose, very speedily, and alinost miraculously, these times will, and must shortly return. In which case, you and I shall probably be two of the first victims that are to suffer death at that place," pointing to the paved

centre.

But it pleased God to disappoint their fears, by giving a sudden turn to national affairs; within a few

weeks queen Anne was gathered to her fathers, and king George I. was proclaimed.

KING WILLIAM being once advised to take more care of his safety, and not to hazard his person too much in the field of battle, answered, "Every bullet has its billet; meaning, that not a bullet flew at random, but was directed by a particular providence, whom to injure, and whom to spare. So the preaching of the gospel is equally under divine direction. God's Spirit takes care that the word of truth shall be a savour of life unto life, to this man; and a savour of death unto death, to that.

AN ingenious foreigner was, this week, observing to me, That, "of all the nations of Europe, in which he had been, the English were the most afraid of death." I fear, the reason is, because the English have less religion than other nations.

ARCHBISHOP POTTER wrote a letter to lady Huntingdon, to this effect; and, as nearly as she can remember (for she repeated it to me by memory,) in

these terms:

"Dear Madam,

"I have been very ill since I last saw you. I hope soon to hear from you, that your health is better for your being at Bath. Continue to pray for me, until we meet in that place, where our joy shall be complete. I am, as ever,

Your affectionate friend,

John Cant."

After the good prelate had written the above letter, he was walking with it to his scrutore, and (as his son, Mr. Potter, acquainted lady Huntingdon), being seized with a sudden syncope, dropped upon the floor, and expired with the letter in his hand.