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without even transient interest, discourses upon subjects the most solemn that can engage human speculation. Thus it may be, however, without any thing to blame in the preacher, and perhaps without any deficiency of his in natural talents.

To write well is not an easy task; and this is one of those observations, to which we assent so readily and with so little attention of mind, as not to take a view of their necessary consequences. But to write well, it has sometimes been contended, is not required in a preacher; and his subjects, it has been said, are such, as to render it of little consequence what may be his mode of expression. To write well and eloquently, however, is nothing more, than to write in such a manner, as will most powerfully impress upon the minds of others what we ourselves strongly conceive. It is to substitute argument for assertion; the written tones of interest and feeling for exclamations and epithets, method for confusion, clearness for obscurity, and conciseness for repetition. Now there is scarcely any diffidence, which may not be roused to question and to doubt by assertions too dogmatical; there is scarcely any interest,which may not be suppressed by exclamations and epithets, and scarcely any attention, which may not be wearied out by confusion, and obscurity, and repetition. Such, then, are some of the evils of a clergyman's not writing well; but to write well is for him especially difficult.

Any one, acquainted with literary history, may easily recollect many instances of the patient and long continued labour, which men of genius and study have employed in producing their works of ex

cellence. But, unlike writers on general literature, the preacher of the gospel is limited in the choice of his subjects. He has the difficult task of rendering us attentive to the repetition of those truths, which have been often repeated, of making what is familiar, impressive; and, if he intends the amendment of his hearers, (and what preacher does not ?) of giving new force to those motives, which have long presented themselves without effect. To perform, however, what is so difficult, he is not allowed leisure to wait for those hours of mental illumination, when every thing within is visible and distinct; and for those happier moments, when his thoughts come warm from the heart, or glowing from the imagination; but he is condemned to write without intermission; it may be, amid perplexity, and vexation, and sickness; or it may be, when his mind, urged to its allotted labour, can do little more than exhaust itself by its exertions.

To write without intermission is indeed possible; but to think without intermission is not equally easy. Uninterrupted mental exertion in a little time destroys the health and the understanding. We have frequently known,' says Buchan, 'even a few months of close application to study, ruin an excellent constitution.' Of mental exertion none is more severe than the labour of invention. A clergyman, therefore, obliged as he is at present to continual composition, has this alternative, either to perform his duty in such a manner as will hardly satisfy himself, or to perform it in such a manner that he will not perform it long.

The clergy, it is true, find some, but it is in general very insuffi

cient, relief in making use of each other's mutual assistance. But to many clergymen, especially to those in the country, frequent exchanges, as they are called, may from various causes be not convenient; and why should not these, or why should not any, who are thus disposed, borrow the assistance of the dead instead of the living, and make use of the writings of those, to whom time has given its sanction, as teachers of moral and religious wisdom?

What is said above may, perhaps, have more effect, if considered in connection with some of the observations, formerly made upon this subject. But will not, it may be asked, the practice here recommended tend to encourage indolence and neglect of duty? Before directly replying to this objection, let me inquire what is the profit that a preacher's weekly discourses should always be of his own composing? or what is the advantage of obliging him to say, in his own language, what he may find already said much more eloquently and impressively perhaps, than is within his powers of thought and expression? But in direct reply it may be observed, that to write is indeed required at present; but that there are no means of compelling indolence to write with labour and attention, and that by such a temper of mind the task of composing may be made sufficiently easy. As it is at present, then, if a clergyman be dispirited and indolent, his society suffer, for they hear from him dull and careless discourses of his own; but, if the plan now proposed were adopted, his society might be gainers from his writing little, for they would then hear from him discourses of others, probably much

better than what any exertions of his own could produce.

I have formerly remarked upon the very defective education of most clergymen in our country, owing to the neglected state of literature among us, and of their being obliged to acquire after their settlement, if it be acquired at all, much of that learning which is most immediately connected with their profession. It is probable, that but very few of our clergy have much knowledge of those rapid improvements, which in the last half century have been made in the study of the scriptures; of those discoveries in the East, by which their authenticity has been illustrated; of that patient labour, by which their genuine text has been cleared from corruptions; and of that critical acuteness and research, by which their meaning has been laid bare from the obscurity which time had gathered · round it. But in a country like ours, where there are so few men of literary leisure, and where there is so little reward for literary exertion, the clergy should be allowed, I speak coldly, they should be encouraged to exert their talents for the purpose of diffusing general instruction, and in the cause of general literature. Among the clergy of other nations, there are places of comparative ease, which unquestionable merit may most commonly command, and to which we are indebted for many of those works, by which religion has been most successfully defended, and virtue most powerfully encouraged, for works such as the Analogy of Butler, or the Sermons of Massillon. I do not contend, that to our clergy should be granted either the dignity or the emolument of such stations, but only that we

should allow to men of talents a little of their leisure; for unless we will endow colleges, or unless we will give encouragement to literature as a profession, there seems to be no other means of forming among us a body of men of learning.

In confirmation of some of the preceding sentiments, I quote the following passage from Burke. He is comparing the state of the Roman Catholick clergy in Ireland with that of the clergy of the established church :

The ministers of protestant churches require a different mode of education, [from that of the Roman Catholick clergy] more liberal and more fit for the ordinary intercourse of life. That religion having little hold on the minds of people by external ceremonies, and extraordinary observances, or separate habits of living, the clergy make up the deficiency by cultivating their minds with all kinds of ornamental learning, which the liberal provision made in England and Ireland for the parochial clergy, (to say nothing of the ample church preferments with little or no duties aunexed) and the comparative lightness of parochial duties enables the greater part of them in some considerable degree to accomplish.

This learning, which I believe to be pretty general, together with an higher situation, and more chastened by the opinion of mankind, forms a sufficient security for the morals of the established elergy, and for their sustaining their clerical character with dignity. It is not necessary to observe, that all these things are, however, collateral to their func

tion; and that, except in preaching, which may be and is supplied, and often best supplied, out of printed books, little else is necessary for a protestant minister, than to be able to read the English language; I mean for the exercise of his function, not to the qualification of his admission to it.”—Letter to Sir Hercules Langushe, M. P.

In one of those delightful papers of the Spectator, in which Addison introduces his favourite character of Sir Roger de Coverly, he tells us of Sir Roger's chaplain following the practice which we have been recommending, and concludes with these observations :

I could heartily wish, that more of our country clergy would follow this example; and instead of wasting their spirits in laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome elocution, and all those other talents that are proper, to enforce what has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more edifying to the people."

I could not refuse myself the producing in my favour two such authorities as those of Burke and Addison.

If, however, there be any serious objection to what has been now proposed, it is to be hoped that such objection will be sufficiently considered. But if in truth there be none, and if what has been stated would be the real and important advantagas of the practice recommended, then it is to be hoped, that no clergyman will lightly refuse himself this means of improvement, and that no society will hastily reject this occasional mode of instruction.

FOR THE ANTHOLOGY.

NATURAL HISTORY.

[WE avail ourselves of the present curiosity universally excited by the meteor which lately appeared in Weston, in Connecticut, to re-publish from a celebrated English journal the following interesting sketch of all the facts and opinions, which have of late years been given to the world, with respect to this very singular branch of natural history. In our next number we shall publish Professor Silliman's account of the late phenomenon in Connecticut.]

THE histories of all nations, in early times, abound with fabulous accounts of natural phenomena. Showers of blood and of flesh; battles of armed men in the air; animals of different descriptions uttering articulate sounds, are a few of the tales which we meet with in the annals of ancient Rome and the lively imagination of Oriental countries has infinitely varied this catalogue of wonders. Of such incidents, however, it has frequent ly been found possible to give some explanation consistent with the ordinary laws of nature, after the narratives have been freed from the fictions with which superstition or design had at first mingled them. But it is singular with what unformity the notion of showers of stones has prevailed in various countries, at almost every period of society; with how few additions from fancy the story has been propagated; and how vain all attempts have proved, to account, by natural causes, for the phenomenon, with whatever modifications it may be credited. Accordingly, philosophers have rejected the fact, and either denied that stones did fall, or affirmed, at least, that if they fell on one part of the earth, they were previously elevated from another. The vulgar have as stedfastly believed, that they came from beyond the planet on which we live; and every day's experi

ence seems now to increase the probability, that in this instance, as in some others, credulity has been more philosophical than scepticism.

There are two methods of inquiring into the origin of those insulated masses, which are said to have fallen in different parts of the earth. We may either collect, as accurately as possible, the external evidence, the testimonies of those persons, in whose neighbourhood the bodies are situated; or we may examine the nature of the substances themselves, and compare them with the kinds of matter by which they are surrounded. The first mode of investigation is evidently more liable to errour, and less likely to proceed upon full and satisfactory data, than the other. But if both inquiries lead to conclusions somewhat analogous; if both the inductions of fact present us with anomalous phenomena of nearly the same description, and equally irreducible to any of the classes into which all other facts have been arranged, we may rest assured that a discovery has been made-and the two methods of demonstration will be reciprocally confirmed.

1. The first narrative, which has been offered to the world under circumstances of tolerable accuracy, is that of the celebrated Gassendi. He was himself an eye-witness of what he relates.

On the 27th of November in the year 1627, the sky being quite clear, he saw a burning stone fall on mount Vaisir, between the towns of Guillaumes and Perne in Provence. It appeared to be about four feet in diameter, was surrounded by a luminous circle of colours like a rainbow, and its fall was accompanied with a noise like the discharge of cannon. But Gassendi inspected the supposed fallen stone still more nearly; he found that it weighed 59 lib., was extremely hard, of a dull metallick colour, and of a specifick gravity considerably greater than that of common marble. Having only this solitary instance to examine, he concluded, not unnaturally, that the mass came from some neighbouring mountain, which had been in a transient state of volcanick eruption.

The celebrated stone of Ensisheim is not proved to have fallen, by testimony quite so satisfactory; but there are several circumstances narrated with respect to it, which the foregoing account of Gassendi wants. Contemporary writers all agree in stating the general belief of the neighbourhood, that on the 7th of November 1497, between eleven and twelve o'clock a. m. a dreadful thunder-clap was heard at Ensisheim, and that a child saw a huge stone fall on a field sowed with wheat. It had entered the earth to the depth of three feet; it was then removed, found to weigh 260 lib. and exposed to publick view. The defect in Gassendi's relation is here supplied; for we have the nature of the ground distinctly described; the natives of the place must have known that in their wheat field no such stone had formerly existed: but the evidence of its having actually been observed to fall, is by

no means so decisive as that of Gassendi.

Other recitals have been given of similar appearances, but by no means so well authenticated, or so fully examined, although somewhat nearer our own times. In 1672, one of the members of the Abbe Bourdelot's academy presented at one of the meetings a specimen of two stones, which had lately fallen near Verona; the one weighed 300 the other 200 lib. The phenomenon, he stated, had been seen by three or four hundred persons. The stones fell in a sloping direction, during the night, and in calm weather. They appeared to burn, fell with a great noise, and ploughed up the ground. They were afterwards taken from thence, and sent to Verona. This account, it may be observed, was published in the same year. Paul Lucas the traveller relates, that when he was at Larissa in 1706, a stone of 72 lib. weight fell in the neighbourhood. It was observed, he says, to come from the north, with a loud hissing noise, and seemed to be enveloped in a small cloud, which exploded when the stone fell. It smelt of sulphur, and looked like iron dross.

M. De la Lande, in 1756, published an account of a phenomenon very nearly resembling the above, but deficient in several points of direct evidence. His narrative, however, deserves our attention, because he seems to have been upon the spot, and to have examined with great care the truth of the circumstances, which he describes. In September 1753, during an extremely clear and hot day, a noise was heard in the neighbourhood of Pont-de-Vesle, resembling the discharge of artillery. so loud as to reach several leagues in all directions. At Liponas,

It was

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