Sunday, but no weekly duty was done, or rich persons visited, and children were often buried without any funeral service. Eight people in the morning and twenty in the afternoon was a good congregation."

Once more,-"In a parish where I opened a school of 108 on Sunday se'nnight, there were not any boys or girls of any age whom I asked, that could tell me who made them." "These parishes are large, populous, and as dark as Africa.

Yet she never seems to have doubted the perfection of that system of church government which could distribute instruction so unequally. Such is the force of early-instilled prejudice, even in minds of a large calibre and warm love of truth.

It is refreshing to observe the sympathy and liberal assistance, her benevolent plans received, not only from such as Mr. Wilberforce, and Sir W. Pepys, but from much more worldly minded friends. No being, we should think, can boast of having electrized more hearts with the heavenly fires of philanthropy, than the once obscure, always modest governess of the Bristol boarding-school. Be it remembered also, that the money she thus appropriated was acquired, as it was bestowed, with toil and pains, not lavishly given because lightly come by. More happy than most, she lived to see the results of her christian endeavors in the improvement and comparative happiness of hundreds of her fellow creatures, as through them, we trust, will be promoted the same of thousands more.

The long life of "this great lady," as Mr. Roberts styles her, took too wide a range, her connexions were too multiplied, to permit us anything like a thorough comment. In her ninetieth year, she closed those labors of love in which she had persevered through much ill health, the loss of her sisters, and numberless other dear friends and considerable persecution; though, on the whole, the prosperity of her life was remarkable, nor do we remember any, unless it be our countryman's, Sir Benjamin West's, which can be compared with it in that respect. Her decease was worthy of her life, calm and hopeful. Her letters, like her works, are characterised by high, though often one-sided views, discriminating, though sometimes narrow criticism, kindness of heart, and delicacy of conscience, and much sprightliness of feeling, if not of fancy. If the high church and conservative principles, which so thoroughly pervaded her mind, find little sympathy on this side of the water, we cannot but respect the sentiments and conduct they produced.

By letters from many of her correspondents, as well as herself, much is added to our pleasure, and we are aided

in appreciating more completely her character and situation. Those of Mrs. Boscawen are marked by elegance, taste, and considerable information. Those of Mrs. Montague have the stiffness, but also the richness of old-fashioned brocade. Those of Bishop Porteus are very pleasing in manner, and tolerably interesting in matter. Those of the Rev. John Newton, we could have wished abridged, as even his genuine piety can hardly, in our opinion, make so much repetition agreeable to a stranger. It is possible, however, that to a class of readers, these may constitute the most interesting part of the book. Those of Sir W. Pepys please us best, combining a lively, elegant style, and extensive information, with distinctive taste and individuality of mind. The letters of Mr. Stephen (brother-in-law to Mr. Wilberforce,) contain some valuable passages. The following may be worth extracting.

"You speak in your preface of "the art to stop." I could almost venture to advise you to continue to write as long as you find the pleasure in doing so superior to the pain of the effort. I doubt much whether in works of that class to which your pen is now dedicated, age takes away from the qualifications of the author so much as it adds, until the decay of their intellectual powers is so sensibly felt by themselves, as to make the labor of composition overpower the wish to propagate our opinions. I regard that wish as instinctive, as a propensity implanted in us by the same benignant Providence which has given to the capsule of certain plants an explosive force at their maturity, to scatter their seeds extensively round them. It is felt the more strongly late in the autumn of life, before our vivid hue of intellect has faded, before the progressive accumulation of our thoughts, the foliage of the mind has fallen, and it continues while we have still any useful lessons of experience and reflection to impart; nor wholly ceases until memory and our powers of communication are in a great degree impaired. Hence the characteristic of narrative old age. In minds that were never strong, it becomes a foible. Yet even with them it is often a source of traditionary knowledge, which in the ruder stages of society, and in the humbler walks of life is not unproductive of useful effects. In minds of a superior order, framed for contemplation and discovery, and endowed with persuasive or strong communicative powers, this propensity is stronger in degree, and more durable in its influences, as more beneficial in its effects. I mean, of course, when religious or moral principle has given it a right direction. I can remember several writers who have been discredited by beginning too early, but not at this moment, any who have been so by stopping too late. Of Johnson, Young, and others, it may be affirmed, that their reputation would be less if they had not written in old age."

In most American ears, the extravagant praise of Mr. Pitt, censure of Burke, M'e de Stael, and Sir W. Scott, (on the score of his fertility as a novelist,) must sound rather strangely. Nothing could more strongly designate Miss More's modes of thought, than her criticisms on Corinne.

Many pretty jeux d'esprit, (for which Mr. Roberts thinks necessary to apologise,) intersperse these volumes. Among the best we would mention the letter to Mrs. Kennicott, beginning, "Dear Dromy," (by the way, never was a more delightful picture of matrimonial happiness drawn, than is given in the "sketch of Dr. Kennicott,") and the letter from Rousseau, which in a burlesque form, contains as valuable a criticism on the man and his writings, as we have ever seen. These and many things more, we should gladly quote, had we room. But our limits forbid further quotation, or discussion. To all who wish a more intimate acquaintance with a splendid and important era, or with the character of an excellent and highly gifted woman, we would recommend the perusal of the Life and Correspondence of Miss Hannah More. M. Fuller

FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING.

WRITTEN IN THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK OF A YOUNG FEMALE friend.

Smooth be thy path, Augusta! in this brief,

Uncertain, and probationary life;

Fair be the sky above thee, lady young,

And calm the ocean of events: as smooth,

And fair, and calm, be all, as Tempe's vale

The sunny sky of Italy-the sea

That laves the bounds of distant Oregon,
Pacific call'd.

The fair and virtuous,

If born to fortune, or if struggling hard
With poverty and its concomitants,
Have hold on my affections. I would such
Might never know the ills of human life,

That weigh the buoyant spirit to the earth

Pale the bright brow of Beauty-steal the rose

From the fresh cheek of Health-and tint the pure,

Rich whiteness of the lily, with the hue,
The sickly saffron, that Disease imparts.
But chief to thee, Augusta! now I speak.

These ills, and death, the Chastener's weapons are:
So live, that they may lightly fall on thee.-
Thy beauty cultivate, but more thy heart;

Thy intellect, but thy affections more:
Think of thyself, and of the friends thou lov'st,
But oftener of thy God.-Commune with HIM,
In secret if it please, but still commune;
And chief when on thy pillow laid at night,
Ere slumber come upon thee,-then commune.

Thus having lived, thou shalt be call'd at last,
To worship with the cherubim above,
And seraphim, round the Eternal's Throne;
To tread the star-embossed path of Heaven;
To inhabit the pavilions of the Blest;
To sport eternally, and unconfined,
In the green pastures of the Spirit Land.

W. D. G,

ART. III.-CHARITY.

"Charity suffereth long, and is kind."

In all ages of the church, ecclesiastical tyranny has shown a disposition to persecute and denounce as heretics, those christians whose views have resembled, more or less nearly, the views of Unitarians. And if we look, not merely at the truth, but at the obvious tendency of these views, we shall feel that no class of christians has been more unreasonably persecuted. And when, further, we observe how much it has been the habit to endeavor to put them down without an inquiry into the grounds and tendency of their belief, we shall feel still more the unreasonableness of the bitter anathemas that have been fulminated against them. From the days of Arius, in the beginning of the fourth century, when opposite doctrines to theirs began to gain prevalence and power, down to the present moment, an unceasing war, more or less furious, has been waged against them. They have been Protestants, and, of course, have shared with other Protestants the rack and fire of the Roman Inquisition. Council after council denounced them. The sword was early sent against them in Africa, Asia and Europe; in later times, they were driven from their quiet walls in the north of Italy, to the fastnesses of the Alps. But the intolerance of the Roman Church inflicted only half their wrongs; their Protestant brethren filled up the measure of oppression. As soon after the contest with Rome as there was breathing space, this devoted class of christians was singled out again for persecution: was hunted down from city to city, till it at last found refuge in

Poland;-Poland, whose injured sons can now scarce find a city of refuge from the ruthless hand of their oppressor. Still through Europe the work of fire and blood went on; and Calvin crowned it by the burning of Servetus. But that work has ceased. Not so has persecution. It takes the form of religious excommunication, civil disabilities, withdrawal of patronage, open denunciation, secret opposition; and, after these, the careful separation, the cold look, the disregard of common courtesy. Wherever Unitarianism appears, and often long before it comes, the cry is raised, and all, old and young, religious and irreligious, those who have heard it called a pestilence, and those who never heard the name before, with one voice sentence it, untried and unconvicted, to perpetual banishment.

This is an unvarnished tale of wrongs; and in view of it, it is not surprising that Unitarians should feel aggrieved, or that they should even manifest some indignation; and certainly there is danger that severe thoughts may occasionally cross their minds. It is always safe, therefore, to keep before us the excusing circumstances in the case of those who offend, and all the inducements we have to be calm, and to keep the treasure of charity that "suffereth long, and is kind."

But what allowances does charity require us to make? What are the limits of this virtue? To be charitable, it is not necessary that we endeavor to the utmost to hide from our view the faults of others. Charity does not go so far. To be charitable to a man who has committed murder, it is not proper for us to strive most earnestly to persuade ourselves that he did not commit it, but we are to think as well of him as we can, under the existing circumstances; we are to think of the provocation that led him to the act; of his natural constitution; of the unfortunate influences under which he was educated and has lived; and find in these, if we can, some palliation of his guilt. At the same time, if these should induce us to screen him from the punishment which is necessary to protect society, and reclaim the individual, such charity could not be justified. Charity, therefore, does not call upon us to shut our eyes to the faults of others. If the case be uncertain, and the guilt be not satisfactorily proved against a person, then charity will hold him acquitted until the evidence irresistibly forces us to convict him. But some will say, there is the command, "Judge not, that ye be not judged." When rightly understood, this passage does not stand in opposition to our view. An examination of the original, shows that "to judge," here means "to condemn." And, obviously,