ernment of the temper, the social and relative duties, the connexion of religion with common life, its inward power, its uses in friendship, its power in sickness and affliction, &c., are the topics treated.

Of such a volume, we shall not, of course, be expected to give an analysis. It is enough to have indicated the general character of its contents. A few extracts will serve as specimens. The first is from a sermon by the venerable William Turner, of Newcastle, on Bearing one another's Burdens. Mr Turner has been one of the most actively useful men of his generation, and no one could see him without believing that his whole life has been regulated by the spirit of kindness, which breathes in the following passage.

But, perhaps, you will say, "Such a one's temper and manners are quite provoking, or ridiculous and contemptible." But is the fault really in him, or in yourself? Are not you too easily provoked, or too prone to ridicule and contempt? But, be it as you say, you tell me only that he is but a man, and consequently imperfect; and you, as an imperfect human being also, ought to bear with him. Would you be thought to be his superior? Show your real greatness of mind and good sense, by patience and forbearance. He gives you a fair opportunity to take the lead of him in true excellence; in which case, all the world will soon acknowledge your superiority; and he himself will be sensible of it at length. But you say, "You see no reason why you should make yourself a slave to another's unreasonable temper and whimsical humor." But why that harsh word slave? These severe and unkind expressions do more than we are aware, to indispose us for the performance of our harder duties, and to aggravate our disagreeable feelings. Must you not endure the other inconveniences to which this imperfect world subjects you; and is not it prudent to make as light of them, to call them by as soft names, and bear them as easily, as you can? This also is one of the unavoidable inconveniences of human life, to meet with imperfect tempers and characters in those with whom we converse. Bear it as easily as you can; and to this end, forbear harsh words and strong expressions, which only tend the more to inflame the tempers of those who indulge in them. "But people ought to correct and alter their own bad propensities and selfish whims, and not torment other persons with them." Torment, do you say? Will you still go on to use these harsh and bitter terms? Depend upon it, they will, in their consequences, really torment you much more. But consider what a law you are establishing against yourself. Are you sure that you have nothing wrong to

VOL. IX.-N. S. VOL. IV. NO. II.

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correct in your own temper? Are you sure that you have eradicated everything perverse and whimsical out of your own spirit? Have you nothing that requires patience and forbearance from others? While you talk in such strains as these, we can never believe it, because these very expressions discover, at least, great peevishness and vanity. It would be much better for you, and for every one, to observe and correct their own imperfections as much as they can; but to be less quick-sighted with regard to those of others: to consider that ourselves and others, after all our care and pains with ourselves, must still continue subject to many defects, for we shall still be only human creatures; and ought to make all due allowance for each other as such. Good-nature could find out many pleas to fortify patience, if we were only disposed to practise it. For instance, we know not under what unhappiness of natural constitution, and of temper arising from such constitution, our friends may labor; on account of which, they are rather to be pitied and borne with, than blamed, at least by us. We know not what prejudice may have been done to the general frame and temper of their minds, by an imprudent or improper education, or by the ill-treatment or the misfortunes they may have suffered, or by casual distempers and infirmities. We know not how deeply they may have themselves been sensible of their particular infirmities, and how much they have been mortified with, and what pains they have on many occasions taken to correct, them. We should consider, also, their peculiar excellences, as well as their defects, and balance the one against the other. We shall often find that they who have some peculiar weaknesses, have also some peculiar perfections of character, which entitle them to a very high degree of esteem. Nay, often the weakness will be found to rise out of some unfortunate turn or direction of the peculiar excellence. These, and many other such good-natured excuses, we should all be ready to make in favor of one another. We all owe them, we all need them, and by means of them we should all become much more tolerable, much more agreeable, much more amiable, in the estimation of one another.'-pp. 170-2.

We quote next from a sermon by Mr Robberds, of Manchester.

'Unbelief, or, what is nearly the same thing, a belief of the lips, of form, of custom only-an assent of the opinion, without the consent of the heart and will-is the great obstacle to the diffusion of Christian principles and Christian energies among mankind. It is the stone rolled to the mouth of the sepulchre, in which all truly Christian feelings lie buried, and made as secure as the world's seal can make it. One word alone, received into

the depth of the heart, and understood in all the glories and all the terrors of its meaning, has the power of lightning and thunder and earthquake, to roll away all worldly impediments, and to bring forth the Christian principle new-risen and triumphant over the death of sin. Believe-not as those who know not what or why they should believe-not as those who repeat the words of welcome to a deliverer, without feeling any need or desire of deliverance-not as those who hear the word, without either understanding or caring to understand it, who receive the scriptures without reading them, and call Jesus Lord, without inquiring what are his commands ;—but as those who have heard what holy men and prophets and apostles do witness, and who know that their witness is true-as those who gave up all things for Christ, and "counted all things as nothing, compared with the excellency of the knowledge of Christ." Believe that God hath indeed raised from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, and that in this he hath given assurance that, by the same Jesus, he will judge the world in righteousness. Believe-that every hour has its work, every action, word, and thought its importance as well as its witness. Believe-and be not as those indifferent, those sleeping Christians, whose life is a mere dream of a goodnatured Deity, exacting no services, winking at all offences, and inflicting no punishments: but beware, lest you also fall asleep, like them, in this golden dream of life and heaven, and awake at last, where you can only "believe and tremble."-pp. 324, 325.

We have room but for one more passage, and that shall be taken from the discourses on the Religious and Moral Education of the Young, by Mr Montgomery of Belfast. It forms part of an address to parents.

'But, whilst you manifest your Christian spirit and temper, by all becoming acts of reasonable kindness, never forget, that religion gives no sanction to those criminal indulgences, which corrupt the heart and degrade the character. It is natural, it is laudable, it is useful to be indulgent; it is even right, perhaps, not to appear to observe trifling faults and follies, involving no depravity of principle, and leading to no injurious results: but, wherever the gratification of an appetite or a desire might lead, even in its remote consequences, to destructive habits or immoral actions, the firmest resistance should be maintained. It is chiefly from mothers, that undue indulgence is to be apprehended. Beneficently gifted by the Deity with a stronger portion of natural affection, to sustain them in the discharge of the irksome and important duties which devolve upon them, they can scarcely be blamed for an excess of tenderness; although it is our bounden duty to warn them of its consequences. I would ask, then, any

Christian mother, why she often withholds correction, which she believes to be necessary, and indulges with gratifications, which she knows to be injurious? Her probable answer would bethat she cannot bear the idea of inflicting pain upon a creature that is so dear to her heart! But, were her child laboring under a dangerous disease, would she not administer the most nauseous medicines, or subject it to the most painful operation, in order to restore it to health and soundness? Or, suppose that it clamored for some sweet, that was mingled with a deadly poison, would she gratify its palate at the expense of its life? No: in such cases, she would not only judge correctly, but also act rightly. And, is the case less urgent or less important, because her child only labors under a moral distemper, or because he only desires to enjoy a momentary gratification, which will poison his mind and corrupt his heart? Surely, every argument which would influence her, in the instance of bodily suffering, or the refusal of the poisoned dainty, ought to have a thousand fold the force, in the case of moral disease, or moral contagion. Just in proportion to the difference between body and soul, time and eternity, should be her serious estimate of her maternal duty! Never ought she to shrink, in destructive weakness, from a prompt obedience to the command of Scripture: "Withhold not correction from thy child: if thou beatest him with a rod, he will not die, and thou mayst thereby deliver his soul from destruction." The pain of a moment, may save him from years of suffering; and the unwarrantable indulgence of an hour, may be followed by ages of remorse! The malignity of a demon could devise no system more destructive to virtue and happiness, than one which is often generated in the fond heart of a Christian mother. I refer to the deeply culpable practice, of concealing the offences of children from the knowledge of their fathers; and the still more criminal custom, of supplying them in secret with the means of frivolous or sensual gratification. Were a mother to place a dagger in the hands of her son, to be turned against his own breast, she would be arming him with a much less dangerous weapon, than a supply of money for purposes of riot and debauchery. By such disastrous means, millions of young persons have been overwhelmed with destruction. And, yet, unfortunate mothers who practise these things, often complain of the ingratitude of their children, and wonder that they do not love them more, and respect them more! Now, the only wonder to me is, that such mothers should expect any return of gratitude or affection. After having corrupted their children from infancy, by ruinous indulgence; after having taught them hypocrisy and fraud, by their own example; after having put the poisoned cup of sensuality and crime into their very hands-it would be amazing, if they entertained towards them any other

sentiments than those of contempt and aversion. The very indulgences upon which they rest as a ground of affection, have destroyed all the native and amiable sensibilities of the heart. I do not recollect having seen, in the whole course of my life, a weakly and indiscriminately indulgent mother, sincerely respected and beloved by her children; but I have known many, who have been repaid for their injudicious kindness, by heart-rending neglect or insult. The firm and prudent mother alone, who has the good sense to unite general kindness with occasional and salutary restraint, becomes an object of permanent respect and affection. Her tenderness is justly appreciated, because it is considered as a proof of approbation, and not as a mere thoughtless, instinctive impulse; and even her very denial of hurtful gratification is accompanied by a manner and an explanation, eminently calculated to enforce conviction and secure esteem.

Such a mother walks amidst her children as an object of affectionate reverence, an equitable distributor of rewards and punishments; from whose justice, propriety of conduct is always secure of a recompense, and from whose weakness, criminality cannot speculate upon impunity.'-pp. 404-7.

We had marked many other passages, but find that we should fill our number, if we should go on to print all which we wish our readers to see. We therefore stop here, and wait in expectation of another volume.

ART. V.-The Vestal, or a Tale of Pompeii. Boston. GRAY & BOWEN. 1830. 12mo. pp. 220.

We were attracted by the title of this work. There is a charm in the very name of Pompeii. For nearly seventeen hundred years, the ill-fated city was supposed to be forever lost; and even its site could not be precisely ascertained, till about the middle of the last century, when some accidental excavations led to the discovery of the subterraneous town. Its wonderful preservation, under the ashes of Vesuvius, has contributed large stores to our knowledge of ancient arts, civilization, and modes of life. The city remains unchanged by the wasting influence of time. What it was eighteen centuries ago, it is now. The moving tide of population, the hum of business, the mirthful sounds of pleasure, alone are wanting. Material forms appear 'fresh as if left but yesterday.' Here are private dwell