ever frequent balls and assemblies, any more than that in the latter they should desecrate their vocal powers to the service of sin and Satan by singing profane or licentious songs. Among persons equally worldly minded, it is not probable that those who have not learned to dance in childhood, but who have tried to acquire the art in later life, are less captivated with the festivity of a ball, than those who were taught that exercise very early, provided it was taught merely as a salutary exercise, for the development of the physical powers, and free from those associations which chiefly render it so fatal a snare. Dr. Clarke had the misfortune to begin learning to dance just when he ought to have left it off. In childhood, in the domestic circle, if rightly managed, it might have been merely a healthful exercise; and it should have been relinquished and forgotten when it had done its office, and before it could prove a source of danger: but to commence it after the age of childhood, when it could not materially conduce to the benefit of the corporeal frame, and became dangerous as an inlet to many evils, especially with all the charm of novelty upon it, was just reversing the order which a religious parent, who was anxious to give his children all proper bodily advantages but to keep them far from the paths of moral destruction, would wish, if he admitted dancing at all, to preserve. Whether he would still admit it, is another question. If he could gain the same benefits by means of other exercises, he would doubtless in many cases prefer it: but even should this be questionable, as perhaps it is, he must not sacrifice the soul to the body, the immortal spirit to its corporeal tenement. But the point for solution is, Does he do so? Dr. Clarke, judging both from his own personal experience and his observation, thinks he does; and if there is any doubt, it is right to be on the safe side: but neither Dr. Clarke's experience, nor probably his observation, which must have been chiefly among families of his own religious persuasion, bears exactly upon the particular case which we have described.

If, among half a dozen young men residing with a private tutor, three of whom had learned the exercise of dancing when children and three had not, all other circumstances being equal, it was found that the former three were more addicted to the gaieties of life than the latter, the experiment would go far to shew the evil of the practice. If not, it would be for a judicious parent to consider whether the corporeal benefits of the exercise in childhood were so inconsiderable as not to be worth attention, even though free from moral danger. If the result turned out still more marked that those who had been restrained in childhood, estimating the accomplishment not by its worth but by its novelty, thought more of it than those who had early acquired it, who took it as a matter of course, and had long forgotten to "trip, move, or shuffle," while their envious companions awkwardly sought to supply their defect at the very moment when the practice became most dangerous-the experiment would be still more instructive. We say not this as laying down any canon upon the subject, but only as shewing that such a question, in order to be justly disposed of, ought to be examined on all sides. Our view upon the whole matter is, that we would banish dancing as a social amusement, because of its frivolity, and its liability to abuse: but we should feel no such scruple respecting it as a domestic or scholastic exercise for children, if it can be shewn to produce beneficial bodily effects, and to have no necessary connexion with moral evil-for from the very appearance of this the Christian is to abstain, at whatever sacrifice of worldly estimation.

Dr. Clarke relates two narrow escapes from sudden death during his childhood; once in falling from a horse, or rather from the top of a

sack of grain which he was bringing home from a neighbouring village on horseback; and once by being suddenly overwhelmed by a heavy swell, as he was riding his father's horse into the sea to bathe the animal. Of the first disaster he says, "Had he [I] not been designed for matters of great and high importance, it is not likely in the ordinary course of nature that he [I] could have survived this accident." Of the latter he says: Whether there were any thing preternatural in my escape, I cannot tell: or whether a ground swell had not in a merely natural way borne me to the shore, and the retrocession of the tide (for it was then ebbing), left me exposed to the open air, I cannot tell. My preservation might have been the effect of natural causes; and yet it appears to me more rational to attribute it to a superior agency." We witness with admiration the pious gratitude of the writer in attributing his escape to the especial mercy and protecting providence of God; but our readers will perhaps smile at the frank simplicity with which the good man speaks of his own destination to "matters of great and high importance," in virtue of which, contrary to "the ordinary course of nature," he was preserved from every peril till he attained the eminence which awaited him. We have alluded to such passages as these at the commencement of our review, but with no unfriendly feeling; for what in most men would have been the language of self-elation, was in Dr. Clarke evidently a straight-forward simple-mindedness, which never affected to overlook his own elevation to literary fame, and, what was far better, his being honoured as an instrument of religious usefulness. We may add also, that men like Dr. Clarke are usually persecuted to talk and write of themselves; and if they consent to do so, it is difficult for them, however modest their feelings, to escape the charge of personal vanity, without suppressing facts, or keeping back the fair inferences from them.

Dr. Clarke's narrative of his drowning is extraordinary, from the circumstance that after his recovery he perfectly recollected all his sensations while sensation lasted, and stated them to have been of a most luxurious character. He had neither pain, he says, nor apprehension; "he felt as if in Paradise," enjoying "an indescribably tranquil state of mind," till," awaking as out of a slumber," he felt great difficulty in breathing, and "unutterable pain" as the air began once more to inflate his chest and to cause respiration. The late Dr. Letsom, to whom he related these circumstances, in consequence of that gentleman having said that in his large experience he never knew any person restored from drowning who had the slightest recollection of what had passed from his submersion to his recovery, "appeared puzzled with this relation, and did not attempt to make any remarks on it." We feel in Dr. Letsom's predicament, and shall follow his example.

Dr. Clarke states that he was early designed for the Ministry; and that he himself wished it, without knowing what he desired; but that the circumstances of the family, there being seven children, rendered it impracticable to maintain him at one of the universities. That scheme therefore was dropped; and his parents proposed to place him with a surgeon and apothecary: but this purpose also miscarried, and, as his brother had gone to sea, the family began to think that it would be best for them to retain at home this their only remaining son, that he might assist and succeed his father in the school. This was no lure to Adam's mind: he saw plainly that his father had much trouble, with great labour and anxiety, for very small gains; and besides, it was not a line of life for which he had ever felt any predilection.

We come now to the most momentous part of his life, that in which he began to perceive the importance of religion, and began to discern the power

of Divine truth. "Novelty," he himself says, on such subjects, cannot be expected; for he who has read the conversion and religious experience of one sensible man, has, in substance, read that of ten thousand; but he adds: It is a subject of laudable curiosity to know how a mind such as that of Adam Clarke's became first enlightened; on what grounds he first received that religious creed of which he was afterwards so powerful an advocate ; and why he became so decisively attached to that body of religious people in whose communion he still remains."

The heads of his auto-biographical narrative in relation to this matter are as follow:-He hears for the first time of the Methodists, through the medium of a newspaper; is induced to go to hear them by the prospect of deriving amusement; is struck by an observation of the preacher; is induced to go to hear him again; his parents approve of the Methodist doctrines; the preachers are invited to their house; he begins to feel an increasing attachment to religion; he is stirred up to greater diligence in prayer; he is dispirited by opinions of religious friends, and determines to search the Scriptures for himself; he forms the articles of his creed from his own study of the Sacred Writings, without referring to any human creed or confession of faith; he is taken by his mother to a class meeting; is encouraged by the leader; he is filled with doubts concerning the Atonement, which proceed so far that he conceives himself guilty of idolatry by praying in the name of Christ; he is delivered from this state of mind by earnest prayer, but experiences much mental suffering from the temporary perversion of his creed; he has a strong desire to receive the Sacrament for the first time, and prepares for that solemn ordinance; he undergoes 'great spiritual anguish;" but at length "finds peace with God," "receives the witness of the Spirit, and a clear evidence of his acceptance with God." Our readers will perceive, from the phrases just quoted, how early Dr. Clarke imbibed those opinions which characterize the views of the followers of Mr. Wesley, and which he maintained with unabated, nay increased, conviction of their truth, to the end of his days.

The spiritual instructor whose ministrations were chiefly instrumental in awakening his conscience and impressing his heart, was a Mr. Barber, a Methodist preacher who, he says, "with indefatigable diligence and zeal went through all the country preaching Christ crucified, and redemption through his blood, in dwelling-houses, barns, school-houses, the open air; and many were awakened under his ministry." Young Clarke followed this preacher every where within his reach; left all childish diversions; became sedate and sober; prayed in private and read the Scriptures; till at last his parents began to think he was likely to be righteous over-much: he, however, attended closely to his work in the farm, sometimes from four o'clock in the morning till between six and seven at night, and then felt quite happy to be permitted to run three or four miles into the country to hear a sermon. By these means he was generally enabled to hear four sermons a week, when the preacher was in that part of the country: and none could say, that to attend this preaching he had ever left undone one half-hour's work, or omitted to perform any thing in its proper season. Far from making him slothful, the desire, he says, he had for his salvation tended to make him still more active in the secular concerns of the family. To labour with his hands was now his delight; and he felt the full force of those words of the Apostle, "Not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." Prayer also was his delight. He could no longer be satisfied with morning and evening; but "was awakened," he says, "from the dream that this was sufficient," by the following questions of Mr. Barber :-" Adam, do you think that God, for Christ's sake, has

Adam,

forgiven you your sins?" No, sir, I have no evidence of this. do you pray?" Yes, sir. "How often do you pray in private?" Every morning and evening. "Adam, did you ever hear of any person finding peace with God, who only prayed in private twice in the day?"

But, besides the instructions of the Methodist preachers, Dr. Clarke is not backward in acknowledging the kind attention of the parochial clergyman, who, he says, was "a godly pastor;" to whom he applied for advice and permission, as the rubric directs, when he wished to receive for the first time the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. He also diligently studied that defective and ensnaring book, The Week's Preparation; and, because he had a journey to perform on the Thursday, he did double work" on the Friday, and brought the prayers and meditations of both days into one; a proof, indeed, of his sincerity, but also of his ignorance of the large and free spirit of the Gospel, which demands not a trammeled conscience, but a willing heart. Besides his youth, there must have been something peculiarly striking and interesting in his deportment on this solemn occasion; for he says, that when the clergyman came to him with the bread, he was much affected, and when he had said, "The body of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee," he was quite overcome; he sobbed, the tears gushed from his eyes, and he could not for some seconds proceed to the end of the sentence.

Dr. Clarke gives a detailed account of his hopes and fears till the time when he received that "full assurance," that "witness of the Spirit," which led him to say, "Oh, blessed be God, I believe; I feel I am justified through the redemption that is in Jesus." As this part of the narrative differs little from hundreds of others which have been published, and as we have often discussed the topics involved in it, we need not transcribe it more at large; only adding Dr. Clarke's own statement, that

، In ordinary minds, or those naturally feeble, all this might pass for delusion; his penitential fears and distresses might appear as the effects of a gloomy superstition; and his subsequent peace and happiness, and the sudden nature of his inward change, as the consequences of the workings of a strong imagination, apt, under religious impressions, to degenerate into enthusiasm; but the reader may rest assured that no one was more jealous on these points than the person in question. He was accustomed to examine every thing to the bottom; and, as it ever was a maxim with him that Revelation and reason went hand in hand;—that neither contained any thing contrary to the other; so he sought in each, for proofs of those things contained in its fellow." p. 103.

The dates of these transactions are not given; but it appears that young Clarke, or, as he styles himself," this in many respects singular person, was still a school-boy; and his exhortations became, he says, the means of conversion of one of his school-fellows, a remarkable and interesting young man-a very giant both in mind and body-who died at the early age of eighteen a Methodist preacher, worn out with premature and excessive labour. When he was about fourteen years of age he had the whole of the Common Prayer by heart. He had made himself such a master of the Æneid of Virgil, and the Paradise Lost of Milton, at the same age, that on the mention of any line in either of those poems he could immediately tell the book in which it occurred, and the number of the line. But the extensive learning of Mr. Coleman, says Dr. Clarke, was his least excellence. This he accounted but dross, in comparison of the excellence of the knowledge of Jesus Christ crucified. Through this, the world and all its enjoyments were crucified to him. It was this that opened the kingdom of heaven to his soul, supported him in his sufferings, and caused him to triumph over death. The evening before he died, he desired to be carried out in his chair to see the setting sun: his desire was complied with; and, having beheld it awhile with pleasing emotion, till it sank under

the horizon, he observed, This sun has hitherto been partially obscured to me, but it shall be no more so for ever!"

Dr. Clarke soon addicted himself to a variety of literary pursuits; and he says that religion wonderfully opened his mind to the acquisition of useful knowledge.

"He has been often heard to say: After I found the peace of God to my conscience; and was assured of my interest in the Lord Jesus; I believe I may safely assert, that I learned more in one day, on an average, than formerly I could do, with equal application, in a whole month. And no wonder, my soul began to rise out of the ruins of its fall, by the favour of the Eternal Spirit. It was not on the affections or the passions, this Spirit worked; but upon understanding, judgment, and will: these being rectified and brought under a divine influence, the lower faculties came on in their train, purified and refined. The change in my heart was the effect of the change in my immortal spirit. I saw, from my own case, that religion was the gate to true learning and science; and that those who went through their studies without this, had, at least, double work to do; and, in the end, not an equal produce. My mind became enlarged to take in any thing useful. I was now separated from every thing that could impede my studies, obscure or debase my mind. Learning and science I knew came from God, because he is the Fountain of all knowledge; and, properly speaking, these things belong to man;-God created them, not for Himself -not for angels-but for man." pp. 108, 109.

Young Clarke now began to exhort in the neighbouring villages, often preaching in nine or ten in one day; but with no fixed intention, it would seem, of becoming a regular preacher, as we find him soon after placed upon trial as an apprentice to a linen merchant ;—an arrangement, he says, in which 66 he was entirely passive: as yet he knew not the design of the Lord, and his grand point was, not to get money, but to save his soul." Not, however, feeling any taste for business, and dreading its snares, he availed himself of an offer of Mr. Wesley, to whom his character had been favourably reported, to take him into his school at Kingswood, near Bristol, to improve his classical knowledge, and "to exercise his ministerial talents," the better to qualify him for becoming a regular preacher in the Methodist connexion. There is an anecdote current, that he quitted the Coleraine merchant on account of being desired to assist in stretching some linen to make it better measure than when it left the tenter-hooks, in which practice his master saw no dishonesty; but as Adam objected to be a party in the proceeding, the merchant commended him as a good youth, but too scrupulous, and urged him to addict himself to some other pursuit, as his conscience was not qualified for the rough wear and tear of commercial traffic. This anecdote does not appear in his own memoir, but it is quite consistent with its spirit.

Before his removal to Kingswood, he had, by means of excessive labour and anxiety, accompanied by rigid fasting and acts of self-denial, reduced himself in mind and body to a deplorable condition, which might have led to alarming consequences. He doubted the most palpable facts; hesitated as to trusting the evidence of his senses; made the most absurd blunders; and was afraid of saying yes or no, lest he should transgress truth; and, above all, for a time he almost entirely lost his powerful memory, which he never recovered in its former perfection, so as to recollect minute verbal details, as he had hitherto done with astonishing accuracy. His mental afflictions he ever afterwards considered as having been highly useful to him as a minister, for the benefit of others; so that no cases of conscience, he says, could come before him in which he was not able to give advice from his own experience. The verbal imperfection of his memory he also viewed as serviceable to him as a preacher, since it led him in the pulpit to trust to his judgment rather than to his recollection. He remarks:

"I have preached perhaps 5000 sermons, on all kinds of subjects, and on a great variety of occasions, and did not know before hand one single sentence that I should utter. And were I to preach before the king, or the two universities, I must preach in this way or not at all. But let no man misunderstand me: I did not enter the