the minds of the people, for although we have an established hierarchy, and numberless ministers enjoying larger revenues than some of the kingdoms of Europe, we are farther than ever from possessing an established religion in this country. Such is the state of men's minds on that momentous affair, that there is hardly an individual who can buy a black coat, however mean his previous pursuits, however infamous his character, who may not by hypocrisy and mere volubility of tongue, gather a congregation round him. We know of no people under Heaven, more disposed to cherish the great truths which have been disclosed from that divine source, than the people of England. It is doubtless to this disposition, virtuous in itself but shockingly abused, that we owe not only the variety of sects, but the number of teachers or brated pastors and leaders," as they are called, whose memoirs and sermons and letters,-whose portraits and missionary labours, are collected and reproduced under one form or another, with marvellous industry. It is no wonder that these men become vain of their real or fancied acquirements; there is scarcely one of them who, from his first appearance in the pulpit, does not contrive to attract around him a coterie of foolish old men and women, and fanatic young ones, whom he has no difficulty in persuading that every word which falls from his tongue or his pen, is worthy of immortality.

It is very far from our intention to deny the abilities, or disparage the learning and zeal which Doddridge displayed during his career, either as a divine, the head of an academy, or the teacher of a congregation. But it is impossible to read his letters without perceiving that the leaven of worldly interests and enjoyments was mingled very copiously indeed with his spiritual aspirations. have already seen him in the character of a lover; we are now to behold him in that of a husband and a father, a double character of the greatest importance in society, and upon which no persons can set a more precious value than we do;-but we confess that that is not the character which we wish to see most prominent in the personal history of a clergyman. If he have the happiness to be married and to have children, let him by all means enjoy his felicity; but if he have also the dignity and sacredness of a pastor to sustain, all other feelings and hopes should be in subservience to his high avocations. No weakness of the passions,-above all, no sensuality of mind or thought, should tarnish the mirror of a soul that is devoted to the ministry. There is something, to our minds, extremely incongruous in the union of an ardent lover and a pious preacher; of a man eager in his worldly calculations, and one bold in denouncing the avarice of others; writing divinity for the sake of subscriptions, and publishing sermons under the hope of their adding to his fortune. The bright side of Doddridge's character is, that he remained firmly attached to what he believed to be the true religion; and that with all his constancy, he was still capable

of treating with liberality and candour, the principles of those from whom he most widely differed. In this feature of his conduct he has many worthy imitators among the dissenting clergymen of the present day, who, if they have many rivals in talents and learning, are surpassed by no body of men, lay or ecclesiastical, in their zeal for religious liberty.

We left our divine at the close of the second volume, arguing with a second, if not a third mistress, (Miss Jennings), upon the reasonableness of the passion which he entertained for her, and upon the propriety of her allowing her heart to be animated by a reciprocal flame. That affair is slightly renewed in the present volume, but soon gives way to a new negociation, which terminates with more success. Before we abandon Miss Jennings, however, who afterwards became the mother of Dr. Aikin and Mrs. Barbauld, we must indulge the reader with another specimen of the Doctor's art in love-making.

'I owe dear Miss Jennings and her good mamma my earliest thanks for the pleasure I had in their company during my late visit to Harborough, and must confess that when I left them I hardly expected so much amusement as I found at Maidwell in the conversation of Miss Cotton. When I am leaving you, it always seems to me, that I am wandering into solitude; but it proved otherwise; for on Friday and Saturday, besides the satisfaction which I ever find in the conversation of so valuable a friend as Lady Russell, the society of the young lady I mentioned before gave me a great deal.

I know you will hear this with a charitable pleasure, and flatter yourself with the secret hope that she is making a conquest of a fond heart, from which you might otherwise apprehend some further trouble? Of this, madam, you will judge, when I tell you, that the most delightful part of her conversation was that which related to her father and mother, of whom she gave me the following account, which I humbly recommend to your most serious perusal.

• Mr. Cotton was turned of thirty when he fell in love with the lady who is now his wife. She was, then, like yourself, a gay and beautiful creature, just in the bloom of fifteen, when this truly wise and good man discerned those early marks of piety, genius, politeness, good humour, and discretion, which I am more and more admiring in you, and which engaged him to prefer her to others whose age appeared more suitable to his own.

'He pursued his addresses with all possible application, and exerted in her services all the tenderness which such a charming creature might so well inspire, and all the politeness which he had gained from a liberal education, and several years of travel through Italy and France, in company with a person of distinction,-circumstances which now render him, though advanced in life, incomparably more agreeable than the generality of mankind in its morning or meridian.

For two years his mistress treated him with all the indifference in the world, and often acknowledged that though she addressed him very civilly, as a gentleman and a friend, and that the rather out of regard to her mamma, who had a great respect and affection for him, yet she never entertained any thoughts of love, until within three weeks of their marriage.

At last she gave him her heart with her hand, in the seventeenth year of her age and the thirty-third of his;-and it is now almost half a century that she has been rejoicing in that event, as the kindest providence of her life. They have been ever the joy of their friends and of each other; and are now concluding an honourable and delightful life as gracefully and as amiably as any couple I ever knew; and I really believe she is as dear to him now, though she appears rather older than he does, as she was in the first months of their marriage.

'I might make a variety of useful and pertinent reflections on this most interesting and edifying story, but I shall content myself with two, and refer the rest to your private meditation.

It is possible, you see, for a man of agreeable and valuable character, and for a minister, deliberately to choose and passionately to love a lady considerably younger than himself, and that even an infant. of fifteen;' and how much more if she were a maiden of sixteen, as you will be in October; and he may, you will observe, continue, for life, the fond approver of his choice. And that, secondly, and lastly, which is much more surprising than the former, that a lady of that tender and impressible age may hear a courtship, and that not the dullest and most disagreeable in the world, for two years together, without any sentiment of love, or thought of marriage, and yet afterwards receive it with entire consent, and that peculiar pleasure which I suppose nothing in the world capable of giving, but the surrender of the heart to a worthy man who deserves it, by a long course of faithful service.

'You must pardon me, madam, if, after this, I conclude with a hearty wish, that if we live to the year 1770, a daughter, every way as agreeable and valuable as Miss Cotton, may be telling the same story, as far as the comparison may be admitted by the infirmity of my character, and the future kindness of the lovely trifler, who is now smiling at the extravagant thought of

Her most affectionate Friend and humble Servant,

PHILIP DODDRIDGE.'-pp. 20-23.

This letter was written in May, 1730, a few months after Doddridge was ordained as a minister. In mentioning this topic, the

editor refers us to certain observations which he made in one of the preceding volumes, on the rite of ordination. We have no intention either of adopting or controverting his views upon this much debated matter; at the same time, we cannot but subscribe to the justice of his remarks, that the non-conformists have one advantage yet unnamed, which must be confessed to be of importance. This advantage is, that no declaration is in any way required from the candidate, to the effect that he desires to enter upon that high vocation at the instigation of the Holy Spirit. The sincerity of the novitiate, and the sanctity of the rite, are thus relieved from a mutual source of suspicion.' It is undoubtedly a great advantage indeed upon the side of the non-conformists; it must be a sensible relief to many of their candidates, not to be called upon for any such declaration. But the source of suspicion, we apprehend, remains as fertile here as elsewhere.

We are not now, however, contemplating the Doctor as a minister, but as a lover. Who would imagine that after writing so many letters to Miss Jennings, he was about to pay his devotions at another shrine? Finding that he could do nothing in that quarter, and having experienced a second decided repulse, he made a summer excursion to Worcestershire, where he saw and became deeply enamoured of another lady, in whose person and conversation he discovered such a world of charms, that he was tempted, but for the indecorum of the thing, to fall at once at her feet. This new idol, who afterwards became his wife, was named Miss Maris; instead of declaring his passion for her to herself, he resolved to be more prudent on this occasion, and to begin with her friends. It is amusing to read his first epistle on this subject, in which, after a great deal of circumlocution, it comes out after all that his income was little calculated indeed for the support of a family. What between his congregation, his pupils, and his friends in London, he makes it amount altogether to about £120 a year. He calculates that upon the whole he is worth one hundred pounds more than he owes, and he slily throws in something about a little estate, of which he nevertheless confesses that his chance was a very remote one. The letter, however, is altogether a specimen of great frankness and integrity. He then gives references for his character, and concludes in the following style.

'I know there is an apparent indecency in saying so much of one's self; yet, madam, I will venture to add, what others perhaps may not think it material to mention, and that is, that there is a natural tenderness and indulgence in my temper, which, as it may make a woman of sense and gratitude as happy as other circumstances will allow, so on the other hand, it is capable of being abused by a woman of caprice and ill nature to an extent which would make us both ridiculous and miserable. I am thoroughly satisfied of the sweetness and generosity of Miss Maris's temper, and heartily wish I were but half as sure of gaining her, as I might be of being happy with her.

'

Money appears to me so inconsiderable a thing when compared with what I admire in her, that I can hardly bring myself to ask what she has, when I am thinking of what she is. Had I an estate of my own that would secure her, in case of widowhood, I should, if I know myself, be proud of an opportunity of expressing a disinterested passion, by taking her without any fortune at all; but as that is not the case, I would beg the favour of such information as may be necessary, to enable me to judge how far it may be consistent with my tender care for her happiness in future life, to offer myself to her attention, under the character of a lover, if I may have permission from Worcester to do it at all.'-pp. 32, 33.

The best of the story is, that all this time he had been carrying on, or at least was supposed to be carrying on, an affair of the heart with a widow lady, named Mrs. Hannah Clark, whom he poetically designates as his Cordelia. The widow, it seems, mentioned her suspicions to him, no doubt with a view to sound his real intentions: but being now engrossed with a new flame, he

adroitly turns round upon her, and even endeavours to engage her assistance for the accomplishment of his object.

'I cannot imagine how it should ever come into your head to dream, that I mistook you, in any thing that passed in the conversation to which you refer. I think, madam, I know you thoroughly, and had never the vanity to imagine any thing so much to my advantage as what you seem to suspect. Give yourself no uneasy thoughts upon that head, nor abate any of those tender expressions of friendship which extend a mutual pleasure to the confidence with which we have entrusted each other with the secrets of our amours; indeed the story I am now going to tell, will further confirm your confidence.

My former passion is now discarded; and the blooming Florella must be resigned, if I have any regard to my character abroad, and, perhaps, I may add, to my peace and usefulness at home: and as the truly valuable and exceellent Sabrina might scorn a heart which could once revolt from her authority, and subject itself to one whom she would call a child !—I fairly took my leave of both in one day; and to show my invariable respect for them, betook myself to that lovely Charmer, in whom I find the greater part of what I admired in each of the former.

In her, Cordelia, the domestic virtues of modesty, prudence, industry, and tenderness, guarded and consecrated by serious piety, are joined; with a degree of wit, beauty, and politeness, which, I fear, would have ensnared me, if it had appeared alone, and on so impressible a heart, have made a speedy, if not a lasting conquest. The only thing about which I am anxious, is a fortune; and you well know, how little I should regard that, if I were only to consult my own relish. But as it would be cruelty to her, to attempt to persuade her into an alliance, which, if she has nothing of her own, might in a few years reduce her to a depth of calamity which so tender a nature would be ill prepared to bear,-I am examining into that article now, while I have reason left to form a judgment upon it; and have governed myself so far, (which indeed I think is a great attainment,) as not to give the least hint of my design to her, though I had the fairest opportunity of doing it. Should her friends allow me the liberty of addressing her, and propose any thing which may be a security in case of her widowhood, I shall probably be engaged in a very difficult character! I am persuaded, when our acquaintance grows intimate, it will be impossible for me to command my own heart, and I sometimes chide myself for the vanity of hoping I should ever be capable of making an impression on hers. However, to satisfy my conscience, I intend to try, and persuade myself that Cordelia's good wishes will attend me in all my attempts upon Sabrina.'-pp. 34-36.

We venture to say that at the moment of writing this letter, the divine had in his pocket the consent of Miss Maris's friends to pay her his addresses. He certainly had it the next day, as appears from the dates of his letters to Mrs. Clark. Hence he discards, with so much dexterity, the amorous widow, whom otherwise he would have taken good care to have kept on his books.

From the Doctor's letters to Miss Maris, we can hardly venture to give any extracts. They are a great deal too plain, and too earnest, very often too foolish,-to bear the eye of criticism, which