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wisdom. Every declaration of scripture in which this attribute is referred to, maintains that it is absolutely and essentially a part of the nature of the Deity, insomuch that God could as soon cease to exist as cease to be merciful. The inference from this doctrine to which we should attend, is, that the mercy of God can never be exercised without the concurrence of His other attributes; while, at the same time, it no less proves that mercy and truth may meet together. It seems to me that much importance is attached to these considerations; for I conceive that if it could be proved, that the mercy of God is merely a disposition of mind occasioned by exterior circumstances, there is but little ground for sinners to place their confidence in it. That justice is an attribute of Deity none can doubt: is there not then every reason to suppose that the inexorable demands of this infinite perfection of the Deity would sway His conduct more forcibly than all the prayers we could put up, if it were not that His mercy is as much disposed to save sinners, as His justice is to punish them? Let us hear the description which Jehovah gives of Himself, "The Lord, the Lord God merciful and gracious, long suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty." Now you will observe, that in this passage, the unbounded mercy of the Almighty is represented as compatible with His justice: in short, it is clear from this quotation, that God possesses the ability "to punish sin, and at the same time forgive the sinner." How this could be effected will hereafter be shown.
Now, from the remarks above made, I think it appears that the misery of the creature is not the cause of the mercy of God. This attribute of the Deity existed before man had sinned, and, consequently, before there was any need for its manifestation; and all that the misery of man has done is to furnish an object upon which mercy can work. Neither is it any merit or deserving in the human species which has been effectual in rendering God favourable towards them; for all the misery which man endures has been occasioned by sin, and thus all possibility of claim on the part of the sufferer is quite done away. Neither was it the death of Christ which made God merciful. Unhappily, there are many who entertain false and repulsive views of God the Father, on the supposition that nothing could move Him to stretch forth the hand of mercy to His suffering creatures, but the death of Christ. The contrary of this is the truth. Our blessed Saviour, before He left the mansions of eternity and assumed the form of man, had conferred with His Father on the subject of man's redemption, and had offered to work out an atonement for his sins, and open a channel for mercy to flow to the rebel tribes of earth. Now there was not the slightest necessity for God to accept this sacrifice and offer of His Son; and it was, therefore, nothing but mercy, and that in its greatest and mightiest manifestation, which could induce Him to listen to the proposals of a propitiation, and to suffer those proposals to be carried into effect at so dreadful a price as the sufferings of His own Son. Had not God been disposed to be merciful, had He not longed to receive His longlost children back again to His paternal embraces, had He not desired that the banner of unbounded lovingkindness should float over the rebellious regions of earth, He would never have consented to the death of His Son, and would have told Him, when making preparations to descend upon this world of ours, that all His labour and sufferings would be of no avail. Adore then the mercy of God, not merely as a disposition of mind, given rise to by some exterior cause, but as an inherent and inseparable attribute of His nature.
2. Moreover, when contemplating the mercy of God, we should be careful to bear in mind, that it could only be exercised on miserable beings. Those bright and glorious angels who surround the throne of God, and tune their golden harps to notes of never-ending praise, were never the subjects of God's mercy. Spotless and pure as when first they proceeded from the hand of their Creator, He has ever looked on thein with the benignant smile of eternal goodness. The joyful anthems of the morning stars, and those shoutings of the sons of God, which resounded through all the celestial regions when the Deity contemplated the structure of the universe, and declared His production to be very good, were far different from the songs of the angelic choir when the birth of the Redeemer was the subject of their verse. In the former case, joy was occasioned by the new fields of delight opened by the goodness of the Deity, and the display of His unbounded benevolence, which took pleasure in creating new forms of beings, in order that He might make the channels of happiness flow farther and wider; but in the latter, it was peace that had to be declared to beings who had long been at enmity with their Maker, it was good-will that had to be announced to those who had no reason to expect any thing but the pouring forth of Divine indiguation. Well, therefore, did the angels declare that their message was good tidings of great joy, which should be to all people. Most probably, therefore, some distinction will be made in the abodes of blessedness, between the happiness of those who never sinned, and that of those whose only title to a place around the throne of God is the blood of a Redeemer; and though doubtless the pure and spotless inhabitants of heaven will join with the redeemed in magnifying the inconceivably great mercy of God, yet their feelings on the subject must in a great degree be different from ours. We are too apt to confound the mercy of God with His goodness and benevolence; and it seems to me that the only way to secure ourselves from error, is perpetually to keep in mind, that mercy is manifested only in connection with misery, superinduced by disobedience and guilt. B. Z.
(To be continued.)
LONGEVITY OF THE ANCIENTS AND
"WERE the years of the patriarchs, Adam, Methuselah, and Noah, equal to those by which we now compute our time?"
Inconsiderate persons have repeatedly objected to the statements of the Holy Scriptures, relating to the longevity of the antediluvian patriarchs. Such objections are unreasonable and without foundation. As we cannot imagine that our Correspondent is a sceptic, but a sincere inquirer after the truth, we have great pleasure in devoting a column to his inquiry.
The years of the patriarchs before the Deluge were doubtless not lunar, but solar, as accurately calculated, it is probable, as our computation of time. Should any one imagine that they were lunar years by which the patriarchs computed their time, he will suppose that Enoch became father of Methuselah when he was less than six years old, and several of the others mentioned by Moses in Gen. v, which we presume will render the apparent difficulty still greater.
Moses states, that many, whose names he gives, lived before the Deluge to the age of between 900 and 1000 years. Nor is this in the least unreasonable to suppose, when the world was to be peopled by only a single human pair. It seems perfectly rational that the Cre
ator would ordain, that many at least should live in health and vigour to so great an age. Such is the tradition of the most ancient nations, as well as the testimony of Moses. Josephus, the Jewish historian, says on this subject, "Let no one, upon comparing the lives of the ancients with our lives, and with the few years which we now live, think that what we have said of them is false; or make the shortness of our lives at present an argument, that neither did they attain to so long a duration of life; for those ancients were beloved of God, and (lately) made by God himself; and because their food was then fitter for the prolongation of life, they might well live so great a number of years; and besides, God afforded them a longer life on account of their virtue, and the good use they made of it in astronomical and geometrical discoveries, which would not have afforded the time of foretelling [the periods of the stars] unless they had lived six hundred years; for the Great Year is completed in that interval. Now I have for witnesses to what I have said, all those that have written Antiquities, both among the Greeks and Barbarians; for even Manetho, who wrote the Egyptian History, and Berosus, who collected the Chaldean Monuments, and Mochus, and Hestiæus, and besides these Hieronymus the Egyptian, and those who composed the Phoenician history, agree to what I say; Hesiod also, and Hecatæus, Hellanicus, and Acusilaus, and besides these, Ephorus and Nicolaus, relate that the ancients lived a thousand years."
On these authors cited by Josephus, Dr. Collyer, in his "Lectures on Scripture Facts," remarks, These men either were in possession of traditions relating to this fact, or they borrowed them from Moses: and in either case our purpose is answered. For, if they received them from prevalent traditions, it will be granted that these traditions had originally some foundation in fact; and they correspond with the sacred history. But if they borrowed them from Moses, two points are gained on our part. It is proved that such a man as Moses did really exist; that his writings were then extant; that they were in substance what they now are; and that they bear an antiquity more remote than these, which are allowed to be the most ancient of the heathen writers. It is proved further, that his history was highly esteemed, and that it was supposed by these writers to contain facts. Whether they drew from Moses or from tradition; either way, the Mosaic account of these early ages is corroborated by the oldest fragments of antiquity."
Immediately after the Deluge, when there were only three couples to stock the world, their age was reduced, and none of those patriarchs, but Shem, arrived at 500. In the second century we find none that reached 240; and in the third none but Terah lived 200 years. The world, or part of it at least, was by that time so well peopled that they had built cities, and they were cantoned out into distant nations. By degrees, as the number of people increased, their longevity dwindled, till it was reduced to the average of about 70 or 80 years, about 3500 years ago, in the time of Moses. Abraham lived 175 years; Isaac 180; Jacob 147; Joseph 110; Moses 120; Joshua 110.
Human life during the last 3000 years has continued about the same as in the time of Moses; and instances are found even in the British Isles, of those whose term of life considerably exceeded his years.
From the list of births and deaths published by the synod in St. Petersburgh, it appears, that in 1825 there died eight hundred and forty-eight persons above 100 years of age, thirty-two above 120, four between 125 and 130, and four between 130 and 135 years of age."
A recent St. Petersburgh Gazette states, that there is
John Richardson William Sharpley.. John M'Donough. John Fairbrother Margaret Patton Thomas Dobson. Mary Cameron. William Loland
William Edwards.. Henry Jenkins Louisa Truxo...........
175 fucomea, S. Am.
THE SACRIFICE OF BREAD AND WINE.
THE ancients held the oblation of the Eucharist to be answerable in some respects to the legal sacrifices: they believed that our Saviour ordained the Sacrament as a rite of prayer and praise to Almighty God, instead of the manifold and bloody sacrifices of the law; that as the legal sacrifices were types and shadows of the great Sacrifice on the cross, and had a relation to Christ that was to come; so the Christian sacrifice of bread and wine looks back, and has a relation to Christ that was crucified. There was also among the Jews an ancient tradition, as has been observed by learned men, that in the time of the Messiah all sacrifices should cease but that of BREAD and WINE.-Nelson's Christian Sacrifice.
Letters to a Mother, upon Education.
On Pronunciation and Reading.
Dear Madam, THE subjects of this Letter are connected with those observations upon grammar which you lately received from me; for as grammar is the science which teaches to write our language correctly, so lessons upon pronunciation and reading teach the correct mode of uttering it.
And first with regard to pronunciation, it is requisite that some standard should be acknowledged. The standard which persons have agreed upon, is the way in which words are called in the court of any nation, upon the supposition that the court is an assemblage of the classes of society who are best educated. Still it is plain that the highest class among the courtiers themselves, that is, those whose education has been most liberal, and which has comprehended a due attention to this subject, should be regarded as the standard; it being no uncommon thing to hear provincial accent, and even provincial pronunciation, from some persons who would certainly be included among the general name of the court.
The next standard is the mode of pronouncing our language adopted by members of the learned professions. Still, as the same provincial varieties may often be heard even from these persons, the same limitation is applicable to them also, as to those orders constituting the standard previously alluded to.
If a written authority be required, perhaps Walker's Pronouncing Dictionary may be considered as embracing a pronunciation sanctioned by the greatest number of the most approved speakers, and freer than any similar work from fancy and caprice.
The perfection of pronunciation is then only attained by a speaker, when it is impossible for the most discrimi nating and practised ear to tell by his mode of speaking in what county he was educated. This, however, is a most rare acquisition.
In this as in most other respects, you are the model which your child will imitate. In proportion then as you are attentive to the subject, will be the purity of your child's pronunciation. Nor will you deem the subject unworthy of much attention: you are aware, that the higher we ascend in the scale of excellence in this respect, the more beautiful are our tones, and the more musical are our words.
Besides, the cultivation of refinement in any branch of education or knowledge, has a reflex action upon the mind, rendering its mode of thinking exact, and communicating an exalted state of feeling to all those inward perceptions, with whose purity and correctness even rectitude of heart itself is not remotely connected.
A loose, slovenly, inaccurate method of pronouncing our words, is generally the index to a similar state of our mental perceptions. One of the multitude of excellent inaxims to be found in the Apocryphal Books is the following: "A man's language, dress, and gait, show what he is." In whatever station your child is to move, if he were to be a menial servant, he will find even a worldly advantage in having been habituated to a correct pronunciation of his native language. It will infallibly be recognized by all classes around him. His inferiors will treat him with the respect which the lower orders instinctively pay to superior education: his equals will feel him worthy of their respect: while his superiors, from the same cause, will feel a greater interest in his welfare. He will be able to present himself, as it is called, to persons of every class, without that feeling
of conscious inferiority, which multitudes have experienced to be the bane of their happiness and success.
The rules for a correct pronunciation are few and simple.
1st. Let attention be paid to your child's pronunciation and your own, that no provincialism of accent clings to the vowels. It is in the proper enunciation of the vowels, whether single or in combination, that purity of speech greatly consists.
2dly. Let every letter of a word have its due pronunciation, as distinctly though not so prolonged, as it would have in the recital of the alphabet.
3dly. Let the letters, whether vowels or consonants, which terminate a word, be distinctly pronounced.
Closely connected with pronunciation is reading, upon which you will perhaps allow me to offer you a few observations.
Books abound with a variety of directions as to the art of reading well, and dilate considerably upon tone, emphasis, pronunciation, manuer, &c. All these rules, however, appear to me to be practically comprehended under the following, which are all that are necessary to be attended to, at least during the first years of education.
1st. Endeavour to communicate the habit to your child of reading slowly. This rule is exhibited in those well-known words:
Learn to read slow: all other graces
Will follow in their proper places."
The philosophy of this rule is this: that under the method of reading slow, there is time for the reader to remember and to keep in view all the other directions as to good reading with which his mind has been furnished. Besides which it is to be remembered, that reading has reference to other persons rather than to the reader himself. The use of the eyes is all that is needful to the solitary reader; but as reading aloud has regard to other persons, who may be situate at distances more or less remote from the reader, the habit recommended in those lines is the best adapted that can be imagined to secure his being heard and understood of them all. This rule, of course, ought not to be carried to an extreme; nor will it, if the following be attended to in conjunction with it, namely,
2dly. That the reader, whatever may be the composition which he is to enunciate, should make it his first and most imperative rule, to understand most thoroughly what he is about to read to others; — then let him put himself into the mental attitude (so to speak) of the writer; and the more he observes these two rules, and the more he disregards all attention to tone and manner, the more natural, and therefore the more pleasing and forcible will his manner become.
Observe too most carefully to instil into your pupil's mind, that he is to transfer his mode in conversing into his reading. Never, under any circumstances, allow him to believe, that an assumed manner can be half as good as that which is natural to him. Thoroughly disgust him with the idea of putting on a different manner when he is about to read, from what he would have in conversation on the same subject. Let it be your cardinal rule with him, that the more truly natural he can be, the more truly excellent his manner will become. Let him however be taught not to think about being natural. He will become unnatural, if he strives to be natural. The best plan, for him and for every one, in reading, is not to think at all about manner, but to begin; - to force, to cultivate, to affect nothing. If he should not succeed, it is because his mind is not so active as at other times: he is tired, sleepy, out of health, &c. &c. He will do better at another time, when these circumstances are different.
(To be continued.)
ILLUSTRATION OF JOB IX, 33.
'Neither is there any daysman betwixt us." "MARIANNE" has imposed on us a very agreeable task in soliciting an explanation of this significant passage in the book of Job: and we beg to assure her, that we shall have great pleasure in complying with the wishes of our readers, and especially of young persons, in affording illustrations of difficult texts of the Holy Scriptures.
The remarkable word in this verse means an umpire, arbitrator, or mediator; and the ancient Greek translation adopts the word mediator. Many truly pious readers of the Bible, ignorant of Greek, in meeting with this passage, would think only of Jesus Christ, our blessed and almighty Daysman, the only "Mediator between God and man ;" and such an ingenious application would be not only harmless to the individual, but might be the means of much spiritual enlargement and delight. That afflicted saint, however, did not complain, "Neither is there any daysman betwixt me and GOD." Divine teaching had graciously prepared him to say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth;" and thus he could rejoice in the soul-inspiring fact, that there was a DAYSMAN betwixt him and God; so that his infinite holiness, his inflexible justice, and his terrible majesty, did not overwhelm him in guilty despair.
Fully to understand the meaning of Job, and clearly to perceive the beauty of the passage, it will be necessary to consider the condition of the venerable sufferer, and the peculiarity of his circumstances.
Job was an extraordinary character, designed for the instruction of the world: his wisdom, piety, and uprightness, equally with his elevation in society and his riches, had been celebrated throughout the East; but a sudden stroke of a mysterious providence had stripped him of his property, bereaved him of his children, and plunged him into the depth of personal affliction. His noble and pious friends, respectable chiefs of Arab clans, came to minister to their esteemed superior the balm of consolation: but on witnessing his calamities, they were struck with astonishment, and in their fleshly wisdom rashly concluded that their venerable friend must have been a hypocrite-a deceiver- a wicked man: they therefore severely reproach him, and urge him to seek reconciliation with God by immediate and sincere repentance.
Eliphaz, the elder, commences the uncharitable attack upon the sincerity and integrity of the afflicted saint. Job answers the accusations in an address apparently sufficient to soften and melt the hardest heart: but Bildad continues the censure, with an equal or increased measure of severity. Job replies to Bildad in a most instructive speech, in which he expresses the most exalted ideas of the infinite purity and glorious majesty of God; so that no creature, or creature holiness, could stand before him, or be pure in his sight. "For he is not a man as I ain," says this humble saint: he is a spirit, infinite, eternal, immutable, invisible, holy, just, and true; but I am dust and ashes, a feeble, worthless, sinful mortal. It cannot therefore be imagined "that I should answer him, and we should come together in judgment. Neither is there any daysman between us, that might lay his hand upon us both."
Job is here not speaking of the grand affair of eternal salvation, respecting which he entertained no doubt: he knew that his state was safe, having an interest in his living Redeemer, his glorious Mediator. But he referred to the present dispensation of providence, and the clearing of his character for innocency and uprightness to the satisfaction of his friends. And since God did not judge it proper, at least for a time, to change the scene, there was no one to interpose in his favour;
and it was in vain and criminal to contend with God. This passage is rendered in Greek, "O that there were a inediator between us;" and this favour was granted, for the honour of God, for the benefit of Job, for the reproof of his mistaken friends, and for the edification of the church of God in all ages.
Elihu seems to refer to this expression of Job, chap. xxxiii, 6, 7; where he invites the attention of the afflicted patriarch to listen to his observations. We beg to recommend our readers to consider the character and language of Elihu in illustration of this passage.
Herodotus, the most ancient uninspired historian, mentions a custom among the Arabians, which is thought to have been common in the time of Job. He says: "When they enter into covenant with each other, another man stands in the midst of both, and with a sharp stone cuts the inside of the hands of the covenanters near the larger fingers, and then takes a piece out of each of their garments, and anoints with the blood seven stones that lie between them; and whilst he is doing this calls upon a deity; and when finished the covenant-maker goes with his friends to an host or citizen, if the affair is transacted with a citizen; and the friends reckon it a righteous thing to keep a co
GRAND SCENERY OF PERU.
PERHAPS there is not in the world more singular and extraordinary scenery, than what I passed through to-day for forty or fifty miles. One of the places where I changed horses appeared as if enclosed in an immense volcano, at the bottom of which the road lay, and in its serpentine turning in the valley no opening appeared either before or behind; all round was a rampart of rocky mountain of most fantastic form, sometimes awfully impending over our heads, sometimes rising in craggy turrets to the clouds, grand, terrible, and sublime: the whole presenting indubitable attestation of some dreadful convulsion of nature, either of violent volcanic action, or of a resistless flood of waters that had swept over the face of the earth at some remote period, either at the formation of the world, or at the time of the universal deluge. Either or both of these events must have contributed to produce the chaos which there existed. "Yet it is with astonishment we reflect, that a work of such apparent disorder and desolation should produce objects of the grandest character of beauty, and become sources of the sublimest sentiment to mankind." So says the author of the " Comparative Estimate of the Mineral and Mosaical Geologies;" and it is in truth impossible to view these astounding productions of nature without entering into the feelings of that learned writer. And there is no man who views the creative wisdom and power of Almighty God in the wonders of nature in this portion of the globe, where they are represented in a majesty of character so peculiarly imposing, but will readily subscribe to the opinions of that writer, "that the earth derives a far sublimer and more profoundly stamped moral physiognomy from its inanimate features. its naked spires of granite, and its awful tokens of convulsions and revolutions, than it can possibly derive from all the united productions and memorials which man's power has yet been able to achieve."-Travels in various parts of Peru.
ON OUR BLESSED SAVIOUR. We often read our blessed Saviour wept, But never laugh'd; and seldom that he slept : Ah! sure his heavy eyes did wake and weep For us that sin so oft in mirth and sleep.-QUARLES.
MY SCRAP BOOK.
"The Bee that wanders, and sips from every flower, disposes what she has gathered into her cells."-SENECA. REMARKABLE ANECDOTE OF THE REV. JOHN ROGERS. (Concluded.)
MRS. TOOLY listened with uncommon attention to Mr. Rogers's story, and when he had ended it, said, “And are you that Mr. Rogers's son?" He told her he was upon which she replied, "Well, long as I have been acquainted with you, I never knew that before: and now I will tell you something which you do not know: I was the very little girl your dear father blessed in the manner you have related; and it made an impression upon me which I never could forget." Upon this double discovery, Mr. Rogers and Mrs. Tooly felt theinselves bound to each other by an additional tie of affection; and then he and Mr. Bradbury expressed a desire to know how she, who had been brought up in an aversion from the Dissenters, and to real religion, now manifested such an attachment to both. Upon which she cheerfully gave them the following narrative.
After her grandfather's death she became sole heiress to his estate, which was considerable. Being in the bloom of youth, and having none to control her, she ran into all the fashionable diversions of the age, without any restraint. But she confessed that when the pleasurable scenes were over, she found a dissatisfaction both with them and herself, that always struck a damp to her heart. Having contracted some slight illness, she thought she would go to Bath, especially as she heard it was a place for pleasure and diversion, as well as health. When she came thither, she was providentially led to consult an apothecary who was a very worthy and religious man. When he inquired what ailed her, she answered, "Why, Doctor, I don't ail much as to my body, but I have an uneasy mind, that I cannot get rid of." Truly, Miss," said he, "I was so till I met with a certain book, and that cured me." "Books!" said she, "I get all the books I can lay my hands on; all the plays, novels, and romances I hear of; but after I have read them my uneasiness is unabated." "That may be, Miss," said he, "and I don't wonder at it. But as to this book I speak of, I can say of it what I can say of no other I ever read, that I never tire in reading it, but can read it again and again as if I had never read it before; and always find something new in it." "Pray, Doctor, what book is that?" "Nay, Miss," answered he, "that is a secret I do not tell every one." "But could I not get a sight of that book?" said she. "Yes," replied he, "if you speak me fair, I can help you to a sight of it." "Pray then get it me, Doctor, and I'll give you any thing you please." "Yes," said he, "if you will promise me one thing, I will bring it you; and that is, that you will read it over carefully, and if you should not see much in it at first, that you will give it a second reading." She promised faithfully that she would. After coming two or three times without it, to raise her curiosity, he at last took it out of his pocket and gave it to her.
This book was the New Testament. When she
looked at it, she said, with a flirt, "Poh! I could get this at any time." 'Why, Miss, so you might; but remember, I have your solemn promise to read it through carefully." "Well," said she, "though I never read it before, I will give it a reading." Accordingly she began to read it, and soon felt herself much interested. She saw something in it wherein she had a deep concern; but her mind now became ten times more uneasy than ever. Not knowing what to do, she
returned to London, resolved to try again what the diversions there would do to dissipate her gloom. Nothing, however, of this kind succeeded. She lived at the Court end of the town, and had with her a female companion.
One Saturday night she had a remarkable dream, which was, that she was in a place of worship where she heard a sermon, of which, however, when she awoke she could recollect nothing but the text. Still, this dream made a deep impression on her mind; par. ticularly as the idea she retained of the place and the minister's person, was as strong as if she had been long acquainted with both. On the Lord's day morning she told her dream to her companion, and said, that after breakfast she was resolved to go in quest of the place, though she should go from one end of London to the other. They accordingly set out, and went into several churches as they passed along, but none of them' resembled the place she saw in her dream. About one o'clock they found themselves in the heart of the city, where they dined, and set out again in search of this place of worship.
Being in the Poultry about half-past two, they saw a great number of people going down the Old Jewry, and she resolved to see where they went. She mingled with the company, and they conducted her to the meeting-house in that street, where Mr. Shower was then ninister. As soon as she entered the place, she turned to her companion, and with some emotion said, "This is the very place I saw in my dream." In a short time she saw Mr. Shower ascend the pulpit, when with still greater emotion she said, "That is the very man I saw in my dream; and if every part of it hold true, he will take for his text Psalm cxvi, 7, Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." When he rose up to pray, she was all attention, and every sentence went to her heart. Having concluded his prayer, he took for his text the very passage she had mentioned; and God was pleased to make the discourse founded upon it, the means of her saving conversion; and thus she at last found what she had so long sought elsewhere in vain, rest to her soul. And now she obtained that blessing from God, the fountain of felicity, which pious Mr. Rogers, so many years before, had so solemnly and so fervently implored on her behalf.
The above extraordinary narrative was communicated by the late Mr. Davidson of Braintree, to Mr. Arch. Wallace, merchant at Edinburgh, Oct. 12, 1767, authenticated by the well-known and respected Dr. Wood, of Norwich. The venerable Dr. Erskine printed it in a volume of Letters, chiefly addressed to the afflicted. It was also published some years ago in a pamphlet, by the late eminent Mr. Decourcy.
S. J. B*****.
REPROOF OF A SURGEON TO A PROFANE PATIENT.
MR. MEIKLE, late a surgeon in Carnwath, Scotland, being called to a gentleman who had been stung in the face by a wasp or bee, found him very impatient, and swearing wrathfully under his pain. "Oh, Doctor!" said he, "I am in great torment; can you any way help?" "Don't fear," says Mr. Meikle, "all will be over in a little." The gentleman still persisting in his curses and oaths, Mr. Meikle became quite uneasy, and wished to reprove him; "I see nothing," says the Doctor, "only it might have been in a better place." "Where might it have been?" asks the gentleman; "Why, my good friend, on the tip of your tongue."