created the supreme honour due to God alone; and do we give this honour to wine and bread? The child at the breast would cry, we do not-the beams of the roof of the temple would answer, we do not. We give it to the Father and to the Son, who is consubstantial to him, and who was made man; to them, and to the Spirit who proceeds from them, we give supreme worship. What seems bread in the Eucharist, we value not. Those accidental qualities of bread and wine, which we distinguish from the substance, but which yet are tangible, and would suffice, like carnal food, to nourish the body, are not the object of our worship; but that impassible and immortal GOD made MAN, which they conceal-HIM we worship 1." Oh! how absurd and inconsistent are the ideas of our opponents, when they thus tax us with idolatry! Hear what the learned Dr Jeremy Taylor says: "Idolatry is the forsaking the true God, and giving divine worship to a creature or to an idol; that is, to an imaginary God. Now, it is evident that the object of their (the Catholics') adoration in the blessed Sacrament, is the only true and eternal God hypostatically joined with his holy humanity, which humanity they believe actually present, under the veil of the sacramental signs. And if they thought him not present, they are so far from worshipping the bread in this case, that themselves profess it idolatry to do so; which is a demonstration that their soul has nothing in it that is idolatrical 2." The reviewer is equally mistaken in his ideas of the honour we give to the Virgin Mary, and the invocation of Saints and Angels: but as the subject has been anticipated, I shall leave him to entertain any notions he pleases of the mother of our Lord, of her of whom it was prophesied that ALL generations should call her blessed. Before dismissing the subject of the mass, I must be allowed to mention an extraordinary fact intimately connected with it, which will startle many people, but no person will dare to deny it. It is this-THE SACRIFICE OF THE MASS WAS ABOLISHED BY LUTHER, AT THE INSTIGATION OF THE DEVIL, WHO CONVINCED HIM (as he says) THAT IT WAS IDOLATROUS. But let us hear the matter from Luther's own mouth: "I must now (says Luther) tell a little anecdote concerning myself, for which I trust you will, my reverend father, forgive me, though it may somewhat disgrace you. Awaking from a sound sleep, a few nights ago, the devil began to dispute with me, according to his custom: Listen to me, Master Doctor,' said he; do you consider, that for fifteen years you have said mass almost every day? What if all this while you have been guilty of idolatry, and, instead of adoring the body and blood of Christ, have adored only bread and wine?' I answered him, that I was a priest lawfully ordained by the bishop, and that having, from a principle of obedience, discharged my ministry with a sincere intention of consecrating, I saw no reason to doubt the validity of the consecration. True, (replied Satan,) but in the churches of Turks and Heathens, is not every thing done in an orderly manner, and in the spirit of obedience? Does that authorise their worship as orthodox, and perfectly correct? What if your ordination were null, and your consecration as vain and useless as that of Turkish priests in the exercise of their ministry, or of the false prophets under Jeroboam?' Here I was seized with a violent sweat, and my heart began to beat in a strange manner. The devil is very artful in adjusting his reasoning, and he also pushes his arguments with great force; he has & voice strong and rough, and is so pressing in his objections, one after another, as scarcely to allow you time to breathe. Hence, I can conceive how it has repeatedly happened that persons have in the evening been found dead in their beds. In the first place, he may suffocate them; he may also, by his method of disputing, cause such a trouble in the soul, as to render her unable to make any farther resistance, and thus she may be compelled instantly to leave the body, which has nearly been my own case more than once.” Luther then gives five reasons urged by the devil against the sacrifice of the mass, which he considered quite satisfactory, and he says to those who might 1 Defence by J. K. L., p. 46. 4th ed. 2 Liberty of prophesying, Sect. 20. Num. 26. blame him for following these suggestions, that "if they had heard the devil reasoning in the same forcible manner as he had done, they would take care not to appeal from his arguments, to the practice of the Church, and the usages of antiquity, which would never satisfy them!" Such, then, as explained, are those doctrines and practices of the Catholic Church which the enlightened and philosophical reviewer denominates, "not only anti-scriptural, but absurd!" It is evident, from the confused and mistaken ideas entertained by him of these, that his theological studies have been sadly misapplied. To advise him to begin a fresh and more comprehensive course of study may be fruitless; but he will, I presume, be now aware, that without this he can never expect to wield his pen either with credit to himself or to the cause which he supports. I am afraid, Mr Editor, I am making too great an encroachment upon your valuable pages, but justice to my own feelings, and, above all, my regard for my religion, will, I hope, excuse my diffuseness with liberal minds, fond of truth for its own sake, and regardless whether it proceed from the pen of a Protestant or of a Catholic. I shall conclude my remarks on the remaining topics handled by the reviewer in another letter; and, in the mean time, beg to subscribe myself, Mr Editor, Your very humble Servant, 1st September 1824. C. C. The Arab to his Horse. "The whole property of this Arab consisted of a very fine, beautiful mare. This animal the French Consul at Saïd offered to purchase, with an intention to send her to the King, Louis XIV. The Arab, pressed by want, hesitated a long time, but at length consented; and having arrived with his magnificent courser, dismounted, but appeared to be greatly agitated by contending emotions. Looking first at the gold, and then at his mare, he heaved a deep sigh, and exclaimed, To whom is it I am going to surrender thee?-to Europeans, who will tie thee close, who will beat thee, who will render thee miserable! Return with me, my beauty, my jewel, and rejoice the hearts of my children.' As he pronounced the last words, he sprung upon her back, and in a few moments was out of sight.”—Goldsmith. HA! seated on thy back once more, My swift-wing'd steed, hurra! My swift-wing'd steed, hurra! Now 'mong tangling jungles dashing, Now's no time for foam'd-bits champing, Pawing, backing, neighing, stampingWith gallop fleet and swift pace tramp. ing, On, on, my steed, hurra! As if bright faulchion met thy eye, At home, sweet food and rest shall bless Children, eager to caress thee, C. 1 De Missa Privata, Tom. VII., p. 469., Witt. Edit. P. 82, Jenæ Edit. Germ. per Thoms. Tom. VI., p. 86, Altenberg Edit. See also the Conference with a preface by Dr Lingard, the celebrated historian, published by Keating and Brown of London. The war-cry of the Arabs. TIME'S LIBRARY. An Extract from Travels in the Empyrean by Marcus Ærius, F.R.S. &c. WE were now shown into the library of Father Time, and, by good fortune, the old man happened to be there, arranging some volumes which appeared to have lately arrived. I was much surprised on looking round, to see the number of books so small; indeed, for magnitude, the library is surpassed by the sorriest modern collection. The whole room was not of great dimensions; about one half of it was filled with books, and the other was fitted up with shelves, for the reception of works as they came in. We found the venerable Librarian seated at a desk of adamant; he bore the marks of the greatest age of any being I had seen in my travels; his few scattered locks were bleached to a snowy whiteness; his face was indented with deep furrows; but there was a sparkling freshness in his eye, and his whole countenance indicated a great degree of youthful vigour, and uncommon penetration and sagacity. "With your leave, my good father, we have come to survey your library." He turned about, gave a quick stare, but uttered not a word. I advanced nearer. "A pleasant enough recreation this, Sir, for a leisure hour." "Pleasant, indeed! a plague on all such pleasures; 'tis such as these that have not left me the life of a dog. It is not enough that I should toil on from morning to night, and from night to morning, continually harrassed with one job or another-for every lazy lubber throws his burthen on my shoulders; but I must be distressed with this business also, which is every day getting worse upon my hands. Thanks to this pretty invention of printing, I have got more trouble in this department of late, in one month, than I used to do in a thousand years. It is not long since a few minutes in a morning, every twenty or thirty years, were sufficient to bring up my leeway. The host of writers were not so numerous in those days; and, besides, the difficulty of multiplying copies was so great, that all works of minor importance were allowed to sink into oblivion, and only a few of the best were thought worthy of sending to me, that I might make a selection but now I will have whole cart-loads of them at my door every year; and were I to admit all the productions of even half-a-dozen years, there would be more than sufficient to fill my whole library, even were I to throw its present contents to the dogs." "But," said I, "printing is now brought to such a degree of perfection, and the facility of the operation so great, that many volumes are produced, on local and passing subjects, which are never meant to go down to posterity; and it would be as absurd to pester you with these, as it would be to send you a hand-bill or a lottery-puff. In my humble opinion, then, you would be much relieved by having some faithful deputy to make a proper selection previous to your own final revisal." "That is what I have long had," replied he; "do you suppose that I would have patience to tease through their multifarious heaps of trash!-no; had I to do so, I would lose all patience, and very likely, some day, in a passion kick the whole out of my study door, and leave posterity to do their best without them. But I will tell you how I manage. You see that stream which runs into the cistern behind the study door, that is the stream called public opinion; it is of quicksilver, because the particles of which that metal is composed are individually, when disjoined, very unsteady and volatile, but, when united into one mass, form the steadiest and most equable fluid in existence. Into that stream, then, are all works thrown as they are published. Many sink to the bottom as soon as they are plunged in ; but all those which float down are received into this cistern. Sometimes, from the strength of the current, and from one book bearing up another, intruders will come down; but, as all are subjected to an inspection by me, such are not allowed to have a place on my shelves, but are thrown out, or put into a bycorner." I looked out from the window, in order to have a view of this ber on their backs. The next he took up were two thin volumes,—I read, Poems by T. Campbell. “This author," said Time, "ought to be held up as an example to all modern writers, whether of prose or poetry, but especially of the latter; he is indeed an ancient in this respect, and reminds me of the good old times; he never obtrudes any thing on the public without selecting and polishing his pieces with the most respectful care. I willingly allot a place in my shelves for him,-voluminousness is a great drawback to the fame of a poet; The best of things beyond their measure cloy,' as my good friend Homer used to say." I took up a parcel of volumes tied together, and marked on the back, "Waverley," "Tales of my Landlord," &c. "Do you admit these?" said I. "To be sure I do; and I have got them bound in the strongest and most substantial bindings, for many a tease will they get from the striplings of each succeeding generation: look up there, and see in what tatters are those books on that shelf, (these were, Tom Jones, Roderick Random, &c.); in a similar state will these be by the time they are as old." I expressed my surprise to see many novels of less note preserved here. need not be astonished at that," said he, "for a thousand years hence, when Civilization, and the ladies and gentlemen of her suit, getting tired of their old abodes, shall have taken up their residence in Otaheite or Kamschatka, when it will then be the fashion to walk on the crown of the head, and live at the bottom of coal mines, these works will afford some degree of amusement. People will then be gratified in knowing how their forefathers used to walk on their legs, and live on the surface of the earth,-how their grandmothers and maiden aunts used to sip tea, gossip, and coquette. Would it not have interested you to have heard how the mighty Cæsar delighted in sporting his four-in-hand,in what manner he set about shaving his beard,-how the grave, the thoughtful, stoical, and philosophic Cato, got into a passion with his wife for not mending a hole in his cloak,- -or in what manner a Roman famed stream. On the banks, I saw a number of people with poles and sticks in their hands, busily engaged in pushing off books from the shore. They tore out leaves from many, and sent them skimming down the current. To some they were tying inflated bladders of air, in order to make them float, while to others they hung large lumps of lead in a sly manner, by which I saw they were immediately sunk. "Are these people employed by you, Sir?" said I. Employed by me! that they are not, indeed, they are to me a continual annoyance, and the cause of much vexation and trouble in conducting this branch of my business. They very often sink works which would otherwise float down unmolested, and their bladders often support others a good way down the stream, to the great annoyance of the other floating volumes. But all their malice comes at last to nought; the feeble threads by which they tie on their lead gradually rot away, when the incumbered work rises again to the surface, and pursues its course with greater speed than be fore, and their inflated bubbles often burst, or silently waste to an empty skin, and down sinks the helpless volume, and sticks fast in the mud, never more to rise." I was proceed ing to say, that, although I thought such persons might sometimes do harm, yet, on the whole, they were productive of good; but I observed that, during our conversation, he had been busy in laying up some volumes, and I had missed the opportunity of ascertaining what they were. It was in vain that I begged him to take them down again, to see the titles ; what he had once done was irrevo cable; and, without a moment's delay, he proceeded to pile up others. The first book which I had an opportunity of looking at was a thin volume of a few pages, closely printed; it was Marmion, the Lady of the Lake, &c. On my expressing my surprise at seeing the fair creature so slenderly dressed, he told me that I was not to suppose he could admit every one in their court-dress; and be sides, said he, I could not stow that lady and her associates on my shelves with such a load of antiquated lum "You 66 nymph would whimper and whine when she supposed herself in love? Here," said he, taking up the celebrated works of a noble poet, are books which I must put on my shelves. Their poetical merit is undisputed. I say not so much for their morality, but I have a great variety of readers, and I must please all. To be sure, I have books which even angels might condescend to peruse, at the same time, I have others which afford special merriment to fiends." "Excuse me, Sir, but I think the binding of these is not so strong as will enable them to endure the handling which they will receive if their future fame shall continue to equal what it is at present." "Pooh!" said he ; "do you think the rage is to continue for ever? Many circumstances conspire to heighten contemporary fame,-novelty, eccentricity, birth, &c.; now-a-days, it is as great a miracle to hear of a poetical lord as of a poetical ploughman or sheepshearer." A few more poetical works, and also some volumes on other subjects, followed, but with such rapidity, that I was barely able to ascertain their names, and had no opportunity of getting his remarks on them. I observed Wordsworth put by carefully;"This is a poet," said the librarian," who will by no means be neglected by posterity, although he will perhaps be saved the rather disgusting preference of being bandied about in every clown's mouth, yet he will not want his admirers of a particular cast. Aye, aye, this is our Dutch poet! pah! I feel the smell of a fish dung-hill; well, well, he must go in; he has merit, but strangely applied. It is a pity I did not construct a second gallery, for such poets who delight in grovelling among the dung-hills of Parnassus, and diving amidst the mud of the pools of Helicon." "that "I perceive, Sir," said I, of the works which you are kindly storing up for futurity, a great proportion is of the poetical kind. Sure the present age has been wonderfully prolific in this department?" "Yes," returned he; "I have now in my possession a pretty mass of this immortal lumber. The labours of Hercules were but childrens' toying, compared to the toil of wading through my poetical shelves. It was a good turn that those Goths and Vandals did me the other day, in demolishing the greater number of my shelves of Greek and Roman compositions; I had not the heart to do it myself, and I confess I was a little vexed when I heard it was done; but it was a very good thing; it made those works which survived be more esteemed, and their merits better appreciated. I wish something of the same kind would happen to purge my modern shelves, otherwise I shall have to look out for a new house; and yet I am afraid this cannot be; that trick they have got, of printing by multiplying copies indefinitely, will baffle all attempts of this kind." I began to observe, that, though printing may cause trifling inconveniences, yet these are infinitely counterbalanced by its advantages; but he interrupted me-" It may be so; I have not leisure to consider the matter; all I can say is, I wish the man who first invented it had been at But I am trifling here, when my presence is required elsewhere. Good-morning, Sir !" and he darted away in an instant, leaving us in astonishment at so much agility displayed by such an aged and decrepid being. C. Sonnet. Is this a vision, or by Nature wrought? Do not the trees bend downward, as they sought To catch one passing glance of this their queen, (The desert-queen, for whom this scene was made) Amid her court of rocks and woods array'd, Through which she trails her robe of silver-sheen, While countless mellow throats rich music pour, And win gay smiles from every happy flower! • Crabbe. W. |