recreation that he indulged in, was a walk as far as the great tree in the neighbouring abbey grounds, after performing this service.

Twice a week, besides the sabbath and holidays, the prayer-bell required his attention; for he added the office of parishclerk to that of sexton, or held them jointly with his son, of the same name; and then he generally had the rope in his hand, when the clock struck six, to ring the evening bell.

His other avocations were of a still graver nature. Tolling the death-bell sometimes occasioned him to climb the belfry late at night, in winter as well as summer; and an alarm of fire would at any hour immediately call him to his post, to give the needful summons. But habit had rendered him proof against those fears, which to some minds would have peopled the old church, at such seasons, with ghostly inhabitants.

Digging of graves is an employment which, to most men, would be extremely revolting; it is, however, what all will allow to be necessary; it was, moreover, John's business, and he went about it with avidity. This is, in all respects, a serious occupation, and, what is perhaps but little considered, a very important one. No small skill certainly is necessary, in many churchyards, and Hexham is one of them, so to inter the dead, as not to disinter those who had been recently buried.

John knew as well as any man the difficulties of his profession, and, it seems, it had its mysteries too; for, though he did not by any means encourage the inquiries of the curious on these points, he sometimes let fall an intimation of certain liberties which, circumstanced as he was, he no doubt too often found it convenient to take with his subjects! "No one knows a sexton's duties but a sexton," he would say; and few, we are persuaded, have discharged them better. He was always about his business. If not employed in digging a grave, or burying the dead, his mattock was at work knocking down the weeds, collecting fragments of broken coffins, or removing exhumated bones from the surface of the grave-yard.

His most prominent and, at the same time, praiseworthy characteristic was, attention to the duties of his calling; and his care to prevent the interference of unqualified and prying persons, was scarcely less remarkable. Many a time have I dreaded his frown; and more than once felt the weight of his heavy hand. Sometimes I have fallen under his displeasure, for getting

into the church when there was no service, or remaining in the burying-ground after the funeral was over; and, once I was so unlucky as to be caught upon the leads of the church, after the ringers had left the belfry. On this occasion, after a severe handling in the capture, he brought his prisoner before the priest: this last affair left such a horror, both of the place and of the parties, as to have a salutary effect; but it was long ere I got rid of my deeprooted grudge both against the minister and

sexton.

John Brown was not a sexton of the description portrayed in Blair's Grave. I will not cite a line of that often-quoted poem; for, though exquisitely drawn, it is not the character I am describing. Indeed, they have scarcely any thing in common, except a knowledge of their profession. John Brown was not that facetious being, whose disposition is so little in keeping with his avocations. "Clerk's ale" is gone out of fashion now, and, save the Easter dues, little remains of the old customs. On occasion of going his annual round at this festival, he washed his earthly hands, and appeared comfortable in his person. Yet he was neither a droll nor a toper, but a stern and trusty man ; and I am persuaded, that if every churchyard had a sentinel as uncompromising as was John Brown, a resurrection-man would have but "few temptations to violate" the sanctuary of the dead.

When old John drew near his end, he conducted himself with more than his usual gravity, and discovered a disposition the very reverse of ostentatious. It is the custom of the bell-ringers in Hexham, and probably in other places, on the death of any of their number, to honour them with a muffled peal at the funeral; and, as John was one of the eight, this tribute was his due, independently of his more important offices, which entitled him to still greater distinction. Indeed, when his long and faithful services are taken into the account, I do not know that half the parish would have considered it too high a token of regard, to have attended his funeral. But John, it seems, did not relish parade; and in his circumstances, it is to be hoped that his thoughts were employed on more profitable subjects than the anticipation of posthumous honours. Certain it is, that he forbad the accustomed peal, and discouraged the intention of any unnecessary ceremony. "I have been a plain man all my life," said he, to those around him, "and I wish to be buried in a plain manner-and hope you will make no needless fuss about me."

Remains as a question I long to debate,
Tho' I fear that the hour is at present too late.
But pray, Mr. Speaker, permit me to say,
The subject admits not a moment's delay;
Philosophers tell us, what none can deny,
And that which admits not a solid reply;
That man, when examined, disclosed, and unfurled,
Is a mere Microcosmos, or miniature world.
Now, as this, Mr. Speaker, is truly the case,
We shall find, to his shame, that his greatest disgrace
Is inward corruption ;-and all the electors
Are barefaced abettors, instead of detectors.
There may be exceptions, and who can e'er doubt
them,

Who knows that no general rule is without them;
But there are some places that royal donation
Has raised to an eminent scale in the nation :
Now these, Mr. Speaker, I glory to say,
In my bill will retain a proportionate sway.
We know that the members they wish to return
Will have wisdom to govern, and hearts to discern.
Tho' few are their numbers,-some dozen or score,
Such a parliament never assembled before;
They alone can preserve us a pure constitution
And set at defiance a mad revolution.
But for the remainder, I venture to say,
You'll disfranchise them all without any delay;
Indeed, their corruption is now so complete,
Such bribery, juggling, and open deceit,

That not even Old Sarum can with them compare,
Such ruin and wild desolation are there.
Yet still were all these at the time of creation
Possessed of a good and pure representation.

In the Schedule A, I propose to combine

All such as their members must henceforth resign.
The first in this list is the borough of Joy,
Where folly and vice the electors employ.
Then Fear, that degraded and dastardly spot,
Where Fate gives the fiat, and God is forgot.
Next, Friendship, where once pure integrity reign'd,
But where interest now governs, while worth is
disdain'd.

Fidelity, where is thy former renown,

Thy zeal for the cause of the church and the crown?
But now on the laws thou hast impiously trod,
And allegiance renounc'd to thy king and thy God.
Then Honour, what ties in thy confines can bind,
Where murder and rapine thy plaudits can find?
Where the duellist dares in cold blood to contend,
And the gamester exults in the wreck of his friend.
To pass by some others, the next in rotation,
(I venture to call them a close corporation,)
Are all the Five Senses-what havoc is here?
Of what had been virtuous and sacred and dear!
The Sight is corrupted by vainly dressed show,
And every disgraceful temptation below.
The Hearing, what folly and flattery seize,
That seek not to counsel, but only to please.
The Feeling diffusive thro' every nerve
Effeminate softness and indolence serve.
The Smell, which pure odours were wont to employ,
Art leads to corruption, and seeks to destroy:
To the Taste what idolatrous homage is paid,
What sums are expended, what banquets are made.
I shall now, Mr. Speaker, proceed to explain
What boroughs my Bill will propose to retain,
Since so many corruptions in nature abound,
And no genuine virtue is there to be found,
We must take those few places that royal donation
Has rais'd to an eminent scale in the nation.
Faith here will stand first, where the charter supplies
A mansion of glory and bliss in the skies.
To ev'ry elector whose actions conform
To the rules of religion and moral reform.
And Hope, which possesses a prospect as sure
Of eternal salvation to such as endure;
With unshaken allegiance thro' good and thro' ill,
And the laws of their great Benefactor fulfil.
Then Charity, brightest and best of the train,
Where Philanthropy, Love, and Benevolence reign,
Whose charter enjoins all its subjects to prove
That the fabric of virtue is founded on love.
Next fervent Devotion, Zeal, Patience, and Prayer,
With Humility, Grace, and Experience are there;
Each willing to aid in reforming the nation
By the best of all methods, pure representation.

To the friends of Reform, here assembled to day,
In behalf of the measure, allow me to say,
That inward corruption which all must deplore,
Will now be permitted to triumph no more.
Disfranchise the boroughs where venal election
Has met with the certain reward of detection,
And retain those alone where true principle reigns,
And vital religion her station maintains.

I trust that the house my desire will fulfil
And I, therefore, petition to bring in the Bill.
E. G. B.
July 18th, 1832.

THE ORPHANS.
PITY the poor orphan's lot,
We are by the world forgot;
Nature's fugitives we stray,
No one to direct our way;
Wanderers in this world of care,
We no mother's kindness share.
See our feet all bare and torn,
Garments ragged and forlorn,
Matted hair and faces pale
Tell the melancholy tale;
Speak aloud in pity's ear,

There's no mother's kindness here.
Where for us the sweet repast?
We are cradled in the blast;
You who by your guardian's side,
Wrapt in downy peace abide,
Hear, O hear our artless prayer,
We no mother's kindness share.
Something whispers help is nigh,
God who dwells above the sky
Sees us from his lofty throne,
Listens to our plaintive moan,
Kings and houseless wand'rers share
Alike his kind paternal care.
Will he not our steps attend,
Be our never-ceasing friend;
Misery's children he sustains,
Knows their sorrows, feels their pains,
He'll call us soon his joy to share
Then shall we need no mother's care.
Carlinghow New Hall, May 1st, 1832.

J. W.

JESUS THE FAIREST OF THE FAIR.
WEARIED with this delusive show,
From earth to heaven, I fain would go;
From this world's wilderness I'd flee
And hold communion, Lord, with thee.
Jesus, my Lord, my life, I'll prize;
"Tis Thou alone canst make me wise:
Oh! let me of thy beauties share,
For thou art fairest of the fair!
I'll love thee, O my Saviour, long
As thou in mercy dost prolong
My life, and may I ever be
United closely, Lord, to Thee.
Oh! may this union be complete,
And may I thy protection meet,
While here below thy goodness share,
For Thou art fairest of the fair!
Encompass'd by my Saviour's arms,
Enraptur'd by his heavenly charms,
My soul would lie on Jesu's breast,
And there enjoy unruffled rest.
O may I never from Thee roam,
Jesus, my Lord, my heavenly home!
O make me thy peculiar care,
For Thou art fairest of the fair!

May I the glories now set forth
Of thine inestimable worth:
May I thy preciousness reveal,
Thy ardent, unexampled zeal.
Yes, Lord, I'll praise Thee while I've breath,
And, when about to sink in death,
The glories of thy grace declare,
For Thou art fairest of the fair!

T. W.

REVIEW. Select Library. Vol. VI. Lives of Eminent Missionaries. By John Carne, Esq. 12mo. pp. 352. Fisher, Son, and Co. London. 1832.

THERE is scarcely any employment more consonant with the Christian character, than that of endeavouring to diffuse the light of revelation among the benighted inhabitants of the world. To those indeed who look not beyond mere animal gratification, all such attempts appear visionary and enthusiastic; and those who engage in the noble enterprise are considered as fools and madmen, who merit the mingled emotions of pity and contempt.

Very different, however, do these efforts appear in the estimation of men who are taught of God, and who believe that all his promises shall receive their utmost fulfilment. Actuated by the same spirit, we behold the Missionary leaving his comfortable home, his native land, with all the charms and endearments of civilized society, to spend his days among_savages, suffer innumerable privations, and expose his life to danger, having no other object in view than that of bringing souls to Christ, and expecting only to be recompensed in the resurrection of the just.

Mingling with human beings in various stages of darkness, the records which have been preserved of missionary adventures in the wilds of America, the sultry climate of India, and the frozen regions of the North, render their account particularly interesting. In each zone the inhabitants have their peculiar characteristics; and in the estimation of the reader, the interest excited is considerably augmented by the contrast which the travels of different Missionaries exhibit.

This volume includes the lives of Eliot, Swartz, Crantz, Hans Egede, Kiernander, Hocker, and several others of exalted celebrity; and whether we follow them among the wandering Indians of the western continent, the Hindoos of Asia, or the forlorn inhabitants of Greenland, the memorials are replete with incident, animated with descriptive pathos, and enlivened with many striking delineations of character.

Among this diversity, many humorous occurrences present themselves, intermingled with others that are awfully tragical. The following narrative of unparalleled distress, endured by the Moravians on the coast of Greenland, will be perused with sympathetic interest :

"In the year 1774, Sorensen and Grillich, two of the Brethren, sailed from Lichtenfels, with the view of founding a third settlement in the south of Greenland. After a voyage of six weeks, they

arrived at the island of Onartok. Here they discovered a warm spring, at the mouth of which was a beautiful green meadow, adorned with many flowers, a sight very uncommon in this country. They took up their residence at a short distance, and called the place Lichtenau. Within the cir cuit of a few miles, it was supposed there were about a thousand inhabitants, so that there was an ample field for labour. In the course of a few months, it began to be successful; and after some years, a larger congregation was collected at Lichtenau than in either of the ancient settlements. In 1786, they had the misfortune to lose Konigseer; a death felt greatly, but his place was supplied in some measure by Frederic Rudolf; one

of the most memorable events in whose career was a storm, to which he was exposed with his wife and child:

Early in the morning, after leaving Litchtenau, a violent wind arose, which drove the ice mountains close to their ship. Anticipating the concussion, the captain sprung into the small boat, with part of the crew, and, landing them on a large field of ice, returned for another party; but ere the latter could come back, the shock took place, the iceberg hung over the ship like the demon of the waters, whose only message is to destroy. 'The scene,' says Rudolf,

was awful and horrible. The captain and all the sailors having abandoned the ship, my wife and I were left alone above our knees in water, holding fast by the shrouds. Every moment the ice mountain, with its shivered peaks and trembling preci pices, drew nearer, and every moment we expected to be crushed to pieces. At last Captain Keir came at great hazard, saying, I cannot possibly forsake these good people. We were now twenty-eight miles from Lichtenau; our boat was heavily laden with men and baggage, the sea broke over us continually, and the steersman, fearing the boat would sink, made for the nearest island. proved to be a rough, pointed, and naked rock, deeply excavated in many places by the dashing of the breakers. After ascending some height, however, we found a small spot covered with low grass.

It

"We now endeavoured to land our provisions, but the waves beat frightfully against the rock, so that the boat broke from her moorings, and was hurried out to sea. Eight men immediately pushed off in the small boat, in the hope of recovering her they succeeded in overtaking her, but the fury of the storm, which whirled the waves like smoke through the air, baffled all their efforts to regain the landing-place. They were driven to the other side of the island amongst foaming breakers, and we beheld with horror both our boats crushed to pieces. All our hopes now vanished, and the whole company gave themselves up to loud cries and lamentations, seeing no other prospect than that of miserably perishing by hunger on this naked rock. In the evening we lay down to rest without tent or covering; I clasped my wife in my arms, covered her with part of my garments, and strove to give her a hope which I did not feel myself. We were wet through, and lay in a pool of water. As it rained heavily and incessantly during the whole of this and the following day and night, the water flowed down in torrents from the summit of the rock. August the 26th, the captain, the mate, and the rest of the crew, made an attempt to gain the shore, by walking across the ice. They went on from one floating fragment to another, till they came to the plain of solid ice: we watched them long, and would gladly have ventured along with them, but, having fasted for two days, we were conscious that we could not bear the fatigues of such a journey. We were now alone on the rock.

"Whenever the sun shone, we employed ourselves in drying the few things we had saved from the wreck; but we were at last so enfeebled by hunger, that we were scarcely able to do even that, having nothing to support life but fresh water collected in the holes and crannies in the rock. this dreadful situation, Anna and I strove to com

In

382

fort each other; sometimes we wept bitterly, and said, how could we bear to see each other die? I prayed that I might be taken first; I could not bear to see the wife of my bosom perish miserably before my eyes. We felt that our daily hope and trust was in the Lord; we believed that he would not forsake us. All day long we looked out towards the opposite shores, in the hope of descrying some

in tangible characters, the awful consequences of a lukewarm, or an apostatizing spirit.

The seven Asiatic churches mentioned in the Apocalypse, were once brilliant with gospel light, but their declension was noted

but an endless and dismal spectacle of ice, and waves yet more cruel. No Greenlanders came, and we gave way to the dreadful suspicion that the ship's crew had perished on the road. The

thoughts of lying here unburied troubled us greatly

at first: the ravens and sea-fowl were constantly hovering round us, and seemed impatient for their prey. But, after a while, we felt resigned to the will of God.

"At length, Anna happening to raise herself up from the hard couch on which our emaciated limbs were laid, espied two Greenlanders in their kajaks drawing near, and hailing us. A new life instantly seemed to animate our mind and body; we climbed to the summit of the rock, and shouted with all our might to make ourselves heard. It appeared that these men were sent by the captain, and had rowed about the island the whole day, but, seeing no person upon it, were just about to return, concluding that we were dead. If my dear wife had not raised her head from the rock at that moment, while I was buried in sleep, we had surely been the prey of the fowls of the air. From them we received a few herrings, after being without food for nine days. But, as the Greenlanders had no boat with them besides their kajaks, we were obliged to remain upon the rock till the next day, when they said they would return for us. We watched the boats disappear with a sorrow we could not restrain; it seemed as if this visit was only to mock us with vain hopes. Anna, who had borne all our sufferings with more fortitude than myself, was now moved like a child to complain and weep. All the next day we watched for the return of the Greenlanders, and never took off our eyes from the spot where they had last disappeared; but it was not till evening that they came. A woman's boat arrived for us, rowed only by the women, who helped us down the rocks with great kindness. On the 4th we came to an island, where we found the greater part of the crew. They had suffered extreme hardships, for they were quite emaciated. It was many days before we could return to Litchtenau, where we were received with the most affectionate welcome.'"pp. 285-289.

A work which abounds with incidents not less interesting than the preceding extract, requires only to be known, to secure national popularity.

REVIEW.-History of the Seven Churches of Asia, with Notices of several others, designed to show the Fulfilment of Prophecy. By the Rev. T. Milner, A.M. 8vo. pp. 388. Holdsworth and Ball. London. 1832.

THERE is something in the names of these venerable churches, which renders every branch of their history deeply interesting to christian readers, without regard to creed, sect, or denomination. We seem to enter the sepulchres of the mighty dead, and, while treading on the ashes of fallen greatness, and mourning over the instability of every thing beneath the sun, to contemplate,

timely repentance, their final desertion by the Divine influence was plainly foretold. Unhappily, this friendly warning produced no salutary effect; their predicted ruin therefore followed as a natural consequence, and Mr. Milner here invites us to survey with him the scene of desolation.

The primitive state of these Asiatic churches, their vicissitudes, decline, and present condition, the author traces with unwearied diligence, commendable fidelity, and suitable talents. In every step we accompany him with increasing interest, and, in the result, behold a picture enveloped with immoveable clouds of gloom, and exhibiting in every direction the silence of despair. The fate of these fallen churches holds out an awful monu. ment to the Christian world. What was true of them, under similar circumstances, may be considered as equally true in reference to all others. They present a mirror to the eye of serious reflection, and a lesson of wisdom may be learnt from the contemplation.

Independently of the occurrences which relate immediately to these churches, this volume presents to the reader many historical fragments which have been scattered on the stream of time, and traces to their source numerous incidents, which, though originating in superstition, found a genial soil in tradition, and, deriving a passport from age, are received by the unreflecting, as truths which it would be sacrilegious to dispute. Of this description is the marvellous tale of the "Seven Sleepers," which, having found its way into our nurseries, seizes the infant in its cradle, and secures an early lodgment, of which it cannot easily be dispossessed. This traditionary legend the author thus relates:

"There is indeed a story relating to Ephesus, during the persecution of Decius, told by Gibbon with considerable naivete, which may here be noted. When the emperor persecuted the Christians, seven noble youths of Ephesus concealed themselves in a cavern, where they were immured by the tyrant with a barrier of formidable stones. They immediately fell into a deep slumber, which lasted for the astounding period of one hundred and eighty-seven years. At last the slaves of Adolius, to whom the inheritance of the cave had descended, removed some of the stones for building-materials, when the Seven Sleepers were aroused. Being hungry, they despatched Iamblichus, one of their number, to the city to procure food; when the altered appearance of Ephesus, the age of the coin he presented to the baker, and his long beard, led to a discovery of the