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titude of authors there appeared, who, while living, would scarce have come within a street's length of each other. Inadvertently I said to myself, there you repose the personifications of the living men-their very spirits bottled as securely and harmlessly as the bitter and wholesome or poisonous drugs on a chemist's shelves, or as peacefully as the ashes of friend and foe sleep in contiguous graves. Not so would have met the several prototypes, nor thus amicably, while human passions dwelt in their breasts, could they have been reconciled to rank side by side, and join hand in hand.

You will not wonder, Gentlemen, that, with a propensity thus to moralize on the collected results of many a hard-fought conflict, both in science and theology, I should have felt much interested and amused in the " Battle of the Books," which a few months since appeared in your pages. I am not surprised that the fervid imagination of your correspondent with the warlike name, should have given face and stature to every volume, and that for arguments and sentences he should have seen flesh and sinews, swords and artillery, and that instead of logic and system he should have dreamt of array and tactics; for the several classes of writers were identified in his mind, with all the struggles of the times in which they lived, and which struggles supplied a too real representation of the conflicts of their pens. The skill, I had almost said the general-like address, with which your correspondent arranged the wings and divisions of the hostile bands, and led them on to battle, made me suspect that there might be a little too much either of the martial or of the controversial spirit in him. He reminded me, by his allusions, that ink and gunpowder are both black and fatal compounds, and that if the one is "villanous salt

petre," the gall and copperas of the other are very justly called bitterness and venom; and that the one is, in its effect, far more deadly, corrosive, and permanent than the other. However, being somewhat less a man of war than your correspondent MILES, I thought the contrary view of the subject, if it proved less amusing, might not be less edifying to your numerous readers, and in consequence I began to give my library life and motion under a different impression.

Here, said I, are great men's works, which stand widely opposed to each other; who, while they lived, waged almost perpetual war; how quietly now they stand upon these shelves, and, with undeviating composure, face me from day to day. There is nothing now of tumult and clamour-none of those angry passions which, while they give strength for bodily conflicts, unfit men for intellectual struggles. There Nominalists and Realists, Papists and Protestants, Churchmen and Dissenters, Arminians and Calvinists, stand side by side, all ready indeed for conflict, like greyhounds "straining upon the start," or like bundles of ballcartridges, neatly packed, and harmless, while secured from the fatal spark. There are Prelates and Mar-Prelates- Bishop Hall and the Smectymnuans, Baxter and Stillingfleet, Bishop Taylor's folio of polemics between Owen's still more ponderous tomes, and Sidney on Government. Here again I see a collection of Archbishop Parker's works and Andrew Marvel, Dr. South in the company of Hugh Peter's Last Legacy, and John Howe, Milton's Prose, and Lord Clarendon's Rebellion, Warburton's Alliance, with Graham on Establishments, on the one side, and Pierce's Vindication of Dissenters on the other. But I need not give you a catalogue; let the fact merely be realized of the hostile spirits which hover over

On the one side are the breastplates, among which you may trace the service they did the wearers, by the ball-dents they still retain; and over them, in mock array, the helmets droop their dusty plumes, and show the gaping notches cut by hostile swords. What a triumph the man of peace enjoys, when he can look around upon the sleeping stillness of all these terrors! So I look upon the mighty controvertists of other times, and say to my friend, here is the sword of Achilles-and this the armour of Æneas-like ancient warriors, these chiefs have hung up their arms, side by side, and Greek and Trojan here have dedicated these memorials of their prowess, not to a Jupiter Capitolinus, but to the goddess of Peace and Truth. Now the men themselves are reposing in their graves; the stir they once made on earth, the feelings of anger or exultation their respective works produced, have all died away, and we can look upon their books, as upon pictures of battles, where much terror is represented, but no blood spilt, and no wounds felt. I have sometimes conjectured what would be the feelings of these several controvertists, could they all pass through the room which contains so many of their works. Some would find the flush of youth, and the heat of controversy return again for a moment to their cheek, while they hastily ran over the labels of their opponents' works. Milton's blind eyes, could they but open, would flash republican fire upon that elegant copy of the Eikon Basiliké, and John Owen would be ready to spurn from the side of the " Glory of Christ" that copy of Arminius's Works, while the mouth of Vincent Alsop could scarce withhold its wonted curl of wit, when he saw his Antisozzo on the same shelf with Sherlock. All the hero would mantle in the face of the learned, the nervous,

these volumes, and, as the ancients said, still inhabit them; let the opposition of the sentiments, and, too frequently also, of the men while they wrote them, be conceived, and then let us congratulate ourselves, that we can so calmly survey all the strife without mingling in it, and avail ourselves of the victories of the men, without the emotions of hostility and anger. Here I can walk about, and go from shelf to shelf, from side to side, and my peace is never disturbed: the rural retirement in which I have accumulated these relics of various campaigns, is invaded by no din of arms, no shouts of victory. Here all the champions are calmed, as if a blast of petrifying breath had suddenly blown on the field of battle, and turned them all into stone, in their various attitudes of conflict, and I had transported them, as so many statues to ornament my gallery. I cannot, indeed, avoid the perception of their hostility, nor forget that many of the best among them were engaged in sharp conflict; yet here I seem to have brought them to a happy reconciliation, and they stand upon my shelves, as I have seen quivers full of arrows, and bows no longer bent, bestowed as embellishments to the interior of the very castle against whose exterior sturdy arms had plied them. I can peace fully question and examine each. I can survey their skill, and count their hosts, and judge of their prowess,--but still all is sweet peace. So I have gone through an old armoury, and marched amidst ranks of muskets and spears, once dreadful in battle, now quiet in disuse-thick on every side of me, like the stalks in a ripe corn field; and I have gazed upon the quiet swords and pistols arranged above, into fanciful ornaments, or suspended in harmless opposition, point to point.

the distinct, the mighty Ames, at the sight of his Bellarminus Enervatus but half a dozen volumes off from the Ouvres de Bossuet; nor could the amiable Pascal refrain a significant smile, when he saw his Les Provinciales just opposite to the Christian Directory of the Jesuit Persons.

Now, Gentlemen, though I by no means think that all the respective authors who once appeared in the field of theological conflict, are reconciled in another world; yet, it is to the Christian a most pleasing reflection, that vast numbers of them are resting together in as perfect peace in the kingdom of heaven, as their volumes are upon my shelves. There they know nothing of the angry passions, which too often disfigured their countenances on earth -they can look at each other, though of many opposite parties, as all one, and they can, with the most perfect readiness, acknowledge the errors into which prejudice, partial knowledge, or habit, led them on earth, while without jealousy or fear of shame, they can both see and confess what was true and valid in the opinions and reasonings of their opponents. So completely there are they all enamoured of truth, for its own and its author's sake, that the low feelings of party and of selfishness are quite subdued. Now it is their ambition not to defend all they had embraced, but to admire the beauty, and feel the force of all the truth as it is in Jesus. There they see the Saviour's image in each other's face, and he sees his own workmanship in them all.

When I have viewed the controversial writings of the great men of other times, I have wished to peruse them as the works of men now reconciled to each other -now having their mental vision purified from every cloud, and the full mirror of truth displayed before them-the mere parts and frag

ments of which they were here employed in collecting; while we are left to track the light through many a weary maze, and to sift the grain of gold from many a heap of rubbish, they have attained both to a personal reconciliation, and to an active and cordial admission of some truths, which on earth they could not receive. It is certain, some had more of truth, and less of error, than others. Perhaps the writings of each have something of truth which another wants. But not less certain is it, that all have had something to unlearn, something to regret, and much to acquire. Methinks, while we moralize thus, a lesson should be engraven upon our hearts-let each religious controvertist, and each party, here remember, it is not the perfection of knowledge, or the nearest approach to truth, or the most generally correct system, which will constitute a title to heaven-nor is it such errors of judgment as we are apt to magnify, that will exclude from that company of good and great men, who are all one, though on earth they differed so widely. All, it may be admitted, have more or less of error, which hereafter they will have to regret and forsake, and this should make each one patient, candid, and forgiving. Of the company, which I have conceived at times to surround me, among my books, I have been anxious to ask many questions, but I have found it difficult to say, in character, what I have supposed each one would answer; and, therefore, I shall only add, that I have frequently imagined the best and the wisest of all parties thus to address me:-'Judge not too harshly of those that differ from you, nor magnify minor points of difference in doctrine or practice into grounds of hatred or jealousy

this is what we have all had most to regret.'

ULYSSES, JUN.

THE PASTOR'S RETROSPECT.

No. X.

The Young Apostates. Ir is necessary, in introducing the following affecting statement to the attention of your readers, that I should assure them of the strict regard to the simple truth, which is rigidly observed in the whole narrative. Here is no fiction, no colouring. The whole is furnished from a series of letters written to a friend by the surviving party, and in which many of the circumstances here related, are depicted with much more feeling, (as coming from one of the party,) than they can have when presented in that abridged form, which they must necessarily assume, to obtain a place within your pages.

Some years ago the providence of God brought to the metropolis, from the retirement and simplicity of a country village, a young female of respectable connexions, who at the age of fifteen, had experienced some religious views and feelings from the ministry of a pious clergyman in the neighbourhood where she lived. Her father, from an unfortunate attachment. to company, and fondness for drinking, had reduced his family to penury, and in reference to this circumstance, she thus writes to her friend :"At the age of fifteen, I left my dear indulgent mother, which was a great trial to her and me; but a gracious Providence, which had called me from my father's house, watched over me to do me good: six months I continued with a friend, and afterwards went to live with an aunt, sister to my father. With this dear friend and relation, I spent some years, in the course of which, I was variously tried, but found a growing attachment to the means of grace." Her religious views were now much strengthened under the preaching of the Rev. Mr. A. About this time, through the medium of a third

person, she formed an acquaintance with another young person, whom I shall call Miss F., who was the first professor of religion in London with whom she had cultivated any intimacy. This young person had enjoyed the privilege of a religious education, was of a pleasing and insinuating address, and from her first interview, our Mary felt a partiality for her, which she never lost. The result of this acquaintance was a growing attachment to each other, founded, as she then thought, on the fear of the Lord. Their religious sentiments appeared to harmonize; they walked to the house of God as friends, and in their retired moments seemed both equally to enjoy the blessings of the truth. But this attachment laid for Mary the foundation of many and most severe future trials. Her relations were soon displeased with her, for her partiality to this young friend, and, in consequence, she resolved rather to forsake her relatives, than relinquish her friendship for Miss F. She therefore left her aunt's house, and took up her residence with her new acquaintance, whose business she learned, and with whom she continued for a time to enjoy much happiness. At length these two friends incidentally became acquainted with a third young person, about their own age, who happened to be an attendant upon the ministry of a clergyman in Westminster, at that period remarkably popular. It was in going from the city to the place of worship, where this celebrated minister preached, that Mary first became acquainted with the person whom I shall name Belinda. She was a young lady of very superior abilities, of great personal attractions, and excellent education. At this period, these three young professors appeared zealous in their attachment to the Gospel, and interested in each other's society. Had they, indeed, been all

equally sincere, and in earnest, they might have been helpers of each other's faith and love. But circumstances soon arose, which put their characters to the test. About this period, Mary writes thus, respecting her connexion with Miss F." A wise providence was pleased to disappoint my wishes in every directionour business fell off, and our relations were altogether offended; not indeed for the same cause; my relations were displeased with me for leaving my aunt, and Miss F.'s for having renewed an acquaintance with some gay persons, well knowing that the consequences might be fatal to her; nor were they mistaken, for soon she made no scruple to frequent every place of public amusement." This alteration in the conduct of her friend, was at first a source of great grief to Mary, and she was not backward in using her importunities with her, to desist from a course of life so inconsistent with a Christian profession. "But," she says, "not thinking of the baneful effects of bad example, or the weakness and depravity of my own heart; I concluded, like Peter,-though all shall forsake thee, yet will not I; but, alas! such was the imbecility of my mind, that finding my entreaties were of no avail, I resolved to walk with her, at once declaring the base idolatry of my own heart-loving the creature more than the Creator. One night in our way with a party to the playhouse, I felt the most awful conviction. I thought my Saviour seemed to expostulate with me in these words, how shall I give thee up.'-This sensation of the divine mercy almost broke my hard heart, and I would gladly have returned. I communicated my feelings to my friend, who declared her mind was very unhappy, but refused to return. I then endeavoured to divert my mind from religious subjects; such was my NEW SERIES, No. 1.

attachment for the unhappy object of my affections, that I again resolved to go on in her path. However, these scenes afforded me no enjoyment; by sad experience I found,

The tumults of my thoughts did but enlarge my woe,

My spirit and my heart were desolate and

low.""

Their pleasing prospects were very soon overcast by an unexpected turn in their business, and after living upon their little fund until it was exhausted, the idea was suggested to them of going abroad. By intelligence which they received of some ladies, who were going to the East Indies, being in want of attendants, they were induced to make application to attend them; but their application was too late, the ladies having previously engaged their servants. They were, however, still determined to cross the sea, and with this view made another experiment. They agreed to wait upon a foreign merchant, to whom they proposed to sell themselves, for such was still the attachment of Mary to her young friend F., that she resolved to adopt her plans, however romantic and absurd. The merchant entertained their application; but another interview was fixed upon as necessary to settle the agreement. They accordingly went at the time appointed, and, as if blind to the mad act they were about to commit, and utterly ignorant of the misery into which they were about to plunge, would actually have sold themselves into bondage and exile; but God interposed in his mercy to prevent their rash undertaking. They were met by a man of polite address and genteel appearance, who insisted upon knowing their business with the merchant, which they, after some hesitation, were induced to tell him; he appeared much concerned at the information, and wished to be acquainted with their

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