the neighborhood, and happened, at that identical time, to be looking out for just such a young man as David Swan. Had David formed a way-side acquaintance with the daughter, he would have become the father's clerk, and all else in natural succession. So here, again, had good fortune-the best of fortunes stolen so near, that her garments brushed against him; and he knew nothing of the matter.

"The girl was hardly out of sight, when two men turned aside beneath the maple shade.' pp. 264–267.

These men are a couple of villains, ripe for any crime, and, imagining that David must have a little hoard of money about him, they are going to rifle him, and to stab him if he stirs.

"But, at this moment, a dog, scenting along the ground, came in beneath the maple trees, and gazed alternately at each of these wicked men, and then at the quiet sleeper. lapped out of the fountain.

"Pshaw!' said one villain.

He then

'We can do nothing now.

The dog's master must be close behind.'

"Let's take a drink, and be off,' said the other.

"The man, with the dagger, thrust back the weapon into his bosom, and drew forth a pocket pistol, but not of that kind which kills by a single discharge. It was a flask of liquor with a block-tin tumbler screwed upon the mouth. Each drank a comfortable dram, and left the spot, with so many jests, and such laughter at their unaccomplished wickedness, that they might be said to have gone on their way rejoicing. hours, they had forgotten the whole affair, nor once imagined that the angel had written down the crime of murder against their souls, in letters as durable as eternity. As for David Swan, he still slept quietly, neither conscious of the shadow of death when it hung over him, nor of the glow of renewed life, when that shadow was withdrawn.

In a few

"He slept, but no longer so quietly as at first. An hour's repose had snatched from his elastic frame the weariness with which many hours of toil had burthened it. Now, he stirred now, moved his lips, without a sound now, talked, in an inward tone, to the noonday spectres of his dream. But a noise of wheels came rattling louder and louder along the road, until it dashed through the dispersing mist of David's slumber - and there was the stage coach. He started up, with all his ideas about him.

"Halloo, driver! Take a passenger?' shouted he. "Room on top!' answered the driver.

Up mounted David, and bowled away merrily towards Boston,

without so much as a parting glance at that fountain of dreamlike vicissitude. He knew not that a phantom of wealth had thrown a golden hue upon its waters nor that one of love had sighed softly to their murmur nor that one, of death had threatened to crimson them with his blood—all in the brief hour since he lay down to sleep. Sleeping or waking, we hear not the airy footsteps of the strange things that almost happen. Does it not argue a superintending Providence, that, while viewless and unexpected events thrust themselves continually athwart our path, there should still be regularity enough, in mortal life, to render foresight even partially available?" pp. 268–270.

Our author's peculiar talent seems to be that disclosed in the Tale just quoted, — that, not of weaving a material plot, but of gathering a group of spirit phantoms around some scene or moment in itself utterly uneventful.

These Tales abound with beautiful imagery, sparkling metaphors, novel and brilliant comparisons. They are everywhere full of those bright gems of thought, which no reader can ever forget. They contain many of those bold master-strokes of rhetoric, which dispatch whole pages of description in a single word. Thus, for instance, an adopted child is spoken of as 66 a domesticated sunbeam" in the family, which had adopted him. How full of meaning is that simple phrase! How much does it imply, and conjure up of beauty, sweetness, gentleness, and love! How comprehensive, yet how definite! Who, after reading it, can help recurring to it, whenever he sees the sunny, happy little face of a father's pride or a mother's joy? This is but one of many of our author's similes, which we find branded into our own memory, as instinct with life and beauty.

We have spoken of the high moral tone of these pages. It is for this, for their reverence for things sacred, for their many touching lessons concerning faith, Providence, conscience, and duty, for the beautiful morals so often spontaneously conveyed, not with purpose prepense, but from the fulness of the author's own heart, that we are led to notice them in this journal. We close our notice by extracting two or three passages, which will convey some idea of the holy breathings that pervade the book. Our first extract is from the "Sunday at Home."

"On the Sabbath, I watch the earliest sunshine, and fancy that a holier brightness marks the day, when there shall be no

buzz of voices on the Exchange, nor traffic in the shops, nor crowd, nor business, anywhere but at church. Many have fancied so. For my own part, whether I see it scattered down among tangled woods, or. beaming broad across the fields, or hemmed in between brick buildings, or tracing out the figure of the casement on my chamber floor, still I recognise the Sabbath sunshine. And ever let me recognise it! Some illusions, and this among them, are the shadows of great truths. Doubts may flit around me or seem to close their evil wings, and settle down; but, so long as I imagine that the earth is hallowed, and the light of heaven retains its sanctity on the Sabbath - while that blessed sunshine lives within me never can my soul have lost the instinct of its faith. If it have gone astray, it will return again."

p. 27.

We must not forget the beautiful close of "Little Annie's Ramble." Annie's mother, alarmed by her absence, has commissioned the town-crier to look her up.

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Stop, stop, town-crier! the lost is found. Oh, my pretty Annie, we forgot to tell your mother of our ramble, and she is in despair, and has sent the town-crier to bellow up and down the streets, affrighting old and young for the loss of a little girl who has not once let go my hand! Well, let us hasten homeward; and as we go, forget not to thank heaven, my Annie, that after wandering a little way into the world, you may return at the first summons, with an untainted and unwearied heart, and be a happy child again. But I have gone too far astray

for the town-crier to call me back.

"Sweet has been the charm of childhood on my spirit, throughout my ramble with little Annie! Say not that it has been a waste of precious moments, an idle matter, a babble of childish talk, and a reverie of childish imaginations, about topics unworthy of a grown man's notice. Has it been merely this? Not so; not so. They are not truly wise who would affirm it. As the pure breath of children revives the life of aged men, so is our moral nature revived by their free and simple thoughts, their native feeling, their airy mirth for little cause or none, their grief soon roused and soon allayed. Their influence on us is at least reciprocal with ours on them. When our infancy is almost forgotten, and our boyhood long departed, though it seems but as yesterday; when life settles darkly down upon us, and we doubt whether to call ourselves young any more; then it is good to steal away from the society of bearded men, and even of gentler woman, and spend an hour or two with children. After drinking from those fountains of still fresh existence, we

shall return into the crowd, as I do now, to struggle onward and do our part in life, perhaps as fervently as ever, but, for a time, with a kinder and purer heart, and a spirit more lightly wise. All this by thy sweet magic, dear little Annie!" pp. 181, 182. Who does not recognise in this extract, and in the whole playful little piece which it closes, a beautiful, though unintended commentary on the divine act of Him, who, to allay the heated passions and jealousies of wrathful and selfish men, "called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them " "?

A. P. P.

ART. IV. THE CLAIMS OF EPISCOPACY EXAMINED; BEING THE DUDLEIAN LECTURE DELIVERED IN THE CHAPEL OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY, MAY 9TH, 1838. BY THE REV. GEORGE R. NOYES.

It is, I presume, known to this audience, that the subject of the present lecture is not of the speaker's choice. If it were so, no sufficient apology could be made for bringing forward a topic so destitute of interest at the present time, as that of the validity of congregational ordination. Who doubts or denies the validity of congregational ordination, is the question, which is at once suggested by the annunciation of the subject.

The present lecture was founded by an accomplished chief justice of Massachusetts, at a time when it was a colony of Great Britain; and when the belief was entertained that undue influence from abroad was, or was to be, exerted to introduce the English hierarchy into the land of the Puritans. And though this danger has ceased, and though the Episcopal controversy has grown obsolete in this part of the country, the lecture is continued from respect to the memory and will of the founder, and from regard to whatever intrinsic importance the subject may still possess.

At any rate a necessity is laid upon the speaker to devote the passing hour to the discussion of this subject, and he must address himself to his task, trusting that the circumstances, which have been mentioned, will be a sufficient apology to those, from whom he may differ in opinion, for reviving an ob

solete controversy, and to all his hearers for inviting their attention to an argument upon so dry a topic.

According to the will of the founder of this lecture, it is my duty" to maintain, explain, and prove the validity of the ordination of ministers, or pastors of the churches, and of their administration of the sacraments, or ordinances of religion, as the same hath been practised in New England from the beginning of it. Not," says he, " that I would invalidate episcopal ordination, as it is commonly called and practised in the church of England."

Though I am not called upon to deny the validity of any species of ordination, yet it so happens, that the only way of completely establishing the validity of congregational ordination is by disproving the exclusive claim of Papal and Protestant Episcopacy. The term validity has a different force from sufficiency or utility. It has reference to a claim of divine right, and of exclusive authority to administer the ordinances of religion in a manner acceptable to God and profitable to the recipient. If I could succeed in proving ever so clearly, that ordination, or induction into office, by the common members of a Christian church, or by Christian ministers of equal rank, is agreeable to reason, and well adapted to answer the great end for which Christ came into the world, namely, to establish the empire of truth and duty in the souls of men, still I should be met with the assertion that Episcopacy is a matter of express divine Revelation; that it has been expressly commanded by the Maker of heaven and earth that all Christian ministers should be ordained by one of superior rank, called a bishop, and not by the united agency of any number of Christian men, or Christian ministers of equal rank; and that thus the Episcopal ministry is obligatory to the exclusion of all other ministries. This claim, though abandoned by many of the great lights of the English church,* is now set up by the Episcopal church in this country, as appears from a recent treatise of an American bishop, published by the authority of the Protestant Episcopal press.†

* See various documents in Neal's History of the Puritans, Vol. I. Index, Bishops. Especially, pp. 495-498, Edition 1732, and Stillingfleet's Irenicum, p. 393, &c.

+ Episcopacy tested by Scripture. By the Right Reverend Henry U. Onderdonk, D. D., Assistant Bishop &c. in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. New York: Published by the Protestant Episcopal Tract Society.