of it shall remain for ever! From that prevailed on him to use a carriage, in time it has been the practice among the consequence of a burt which produced Methodists, to renew the covenant an. a hydrocele. nually, generally on the first night of "Mr. Wesley still continued to be the new year, or of first year. They the same marvellous old man. No one are exhorted to make it not only in who saw him, even casually, io bis old heart but in word, not only in word, but age, can have forgotten his venerable in writing; and to spread the writing with appearance. His face was remarkably all possible reverence before the Lord fine; his complexion fresh to the last as if they would present it to him as their week of his life ; bis eye quick, and act and deed, and then to set their hands keen, and active: when you meet him to it. It is said, that some persons from in the street of a crowded city, be ata fanatical and frightful motive of mak- tracted notice, not only by bis band ing the covenant perfect on their part, and cassock, and his long hair, white have signed it with their own blood !" and bright as silver, but by his pace

Wesley's system of education was and manner, both indicating that all his one of the severest and worst ever ad- minutes were numbered, and that not vocated : it was a reign of terror from one was to be lost. After his eightietb the cradle upwards. Taken altogether, year, be went twice to Holland, a Methodism bas produced much good, country in which Methodism, as Quaand done some evil. Its priociples are kerism had done before it, met with a strictly loyal, which in some degree certain degree of success. Upon comcompensates for its schism from the pleting bis eighty-second year, he says, church,

is any thing too hard for God? It The last chapter in the book which is now eleven years since I have felt we have thus far epitomized gives a any such thing as weariness. Many picture of Wesley in his old age. times I speak till my voice fails, and I • He was favoured with a constitution can speak no longer. Frequently I vigorous beyond that of ordinary men, walk till my strength fails, and I can and with an activity of spirit which is walk no farther; yet even then, I feel even rarer than his singular felicity of no sensation of weariness, but am perbealth and strength. Ten thousand fectly easy from bead to foot. I dare cares of various kinds, he said, were no not impute this to natural causes." more weight or burden to his mind, " In his eighty-fourth year, he first than ten thousand hairs were to his began to feel decay ; and, upon com. head. But in truth, his only cares were meacing his eighty-fifth, he observes

, 'I those of superintending the work of his am not so agile as I was in times past; ambition, which continually prospered I do not run or walk so fast as I did. under his hanas. Real cares he bad My sight is a little decayed. My left none : no anxieties, no sorrows, which eye is grown dim, and hardly serves me touched him nearly. His manner of to read. I have daily some pain in the life was the most favourable that could ball of my right eye, as also in my right have been devised for longevity. He temple (occasioned by a blow received rose early, and lay down at night with some months since), and in my right nothing to keep him waking, or trou- shoulder and arm, which I impute ble him in sleep. His mind was always partly to a sprain, and partly to the sbeuin a pleasurable and wholesome state matism. I' find, likewise, some decay of activity, he was tenperate in his di- in my memory with regard to names et, and lived in perpetual locomotion : and things lately past ; but not at all frequent change of air is perhaps, of all with regard to what I have read or things, that which most conduces to heard twenty, forty, or sixty years ago.' joyous health and long life.”

"Other persons perceived his growing In the course of his life he rode weakness before he was thus aware of it above a hundred thousand miles; and himself; the most marked symptom was *ras 69 years of age, when his friends that of a frequent disposition to sleep

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during the day. He had always been could not bave been granted him; the
able to lie down and sleep almost at will, powers of life were fairly worn out,
like a mere animal, or a man in little and, without any disease, he fell asleep.
better than an animal state,-a conse- By his own desire he was buried, not
quence, probably, of the incessant activ- in his brother's Burgiog ground, because
ity of his life : this he himself rightly it was not consecrated, but in the church
accounted one of the causes of his ex- yard of Mary-le-bonne, the parish in
cellent health, and it was, doubtless, a which he resided ; and his pall was
consequence of it also; but the involun- supported by eight clergymen of the
tary stumbers which came upon him in Church of England.”
the latter years of bis life, were indica “On the first of February, 1791,
tions that the machine was worn out, and he wrote his last letter to America. On
would soon come to a stop. In 1788, the 17th of that month, he took cold
he lost his brother Charles, who, during after preaching at Lambeth. For
many years, had been his zealous coad- some days be struggled against an in-
jutor, and, through life, his faithful and creasing fever, and continued to preach
affectionate friend. Latterly their opin- till the Wednesday following, when he
ions had differed. Charles saw the evil delivered his last sernion. From that
tendency of some part of the discipline, time he became daily weaker and more
and did not hesitate to say that he abom- lethargic, and, on the 2d of March, he
igated the band meetings, wbich he had died in peace; being in the eighty-
formerly approved ; and,adhering faith- eighth year of his age, and the sixty-
fully himself to the church, he regretted fifth of bis ministry.
the separation which be foresaw, and · During his illness he said, “ Let me
disapproved John's conduct, in taking be buried in nothing but what is wool-
steps which manifestly tended to facili len; and let my corpse be carried in
tate it. Indeed, Mr. Wesley laid aside, my coffin into the chapel.' Some
at last, all those pretensions by which years before, he bad prepared a vault
he had formerly excused himself; and, for himself, and for those itinerant
in the year 1787, with the assistance of preachers who should die in London.
two of his clerical coadjutors, Mr.Creigh- Io his will be directed, that six poor
ton and Mr. Peard Dickinson, he or men should have twenty shillings each
dained two of his preachers, and conse- for carrying his body to the grave;
crated Mather a bishop or superioten- ' for particularly desire,' said be,
dant. But this decided difference of there may be bo hearse, no coach, no
opinion produced no diminution of love escutcheon, no pomp except the tears
between the two brothers. They had of them that loved me, and are follow-
agreed to differ ; and, to the last, John ing me to Abrabam's bosom. I sol-
was not more jealous of his own author- emnly adjure my executors, in the name
ity, than Charles was solicitous that be of God, punctually, to observe this.'
should preserve it. Keep it while you At the desire of many of his friends, bis
live,' he said, and after your death, body was carried into the chapel, and
datur digniori, or rather, dignioribus. there lay in a kind of state becoming
You cannot settle the succession : you the person, the day preceding the inter-
cannot divine how God will settle it.' ment, dressed in bis clerical habit, with
Charles, tho' he attained to his eightieth gown, cassock, and band; the old cleri-
year, was a valetudinarian through the cal cap on his head, Bible in one
greatest part of his life, in consequence, hand, and a white handkerchief in the
it is believed, of having injured his con- other. The face was placid; and the
stitution by close application and exces- expression which death had fixed upon
sive abstinence at Oxford. He had al- bis venerable features, was that of a
ways dreaded the act of dying ; and bis serene and heavenly smile. The
prayer was, that God would grant him crowds which flocked io see him were
patience and an easy death: a calmer so great, thatit was thought prudent, for
frame of miod, and an easier passage, fear of accident, to accelerate the funera

and perform it between five and six in ty in conveying treasonable intelligence the moroing. The intelligence, how to the Americans, during the war. The ever, could not be kept entirely secret, two sons of Charles were among the and several hundred persons attended most distinguished musicians of their at that unusual hour. Mr. Richardson, age. Their father, perceiving the dewho performed the service, had been cided bent of their genius, very proper. one of his preachers almost thirty years. ly permitted them to follow it, and When he came to that part of the ser- made the science of music their profesvice, “Forasmuch as ii hath pleased sion. In a letter to his brother, he said, Almighty God to take unto himself the I am clear, tvithout doubt that my son's soul of our dear brother,' his voice ronçert is after the will and order of changed, and be substituted the word Providence. When John printed this father; and the feeling with which he letter, after his brother's death, he adddid this was such, that the congregation, ed, in a note, “I am clear of another who were shedding silent tears, burst at mind.' once into loud weeping.

* It was reported that Charles had “ Mr. Wesley left no other property said, his brother would not outlive him behind him than the copyright and cor- more than a year.

The prediction rect editions of his works, and this he might have been hazarded with suffibequeathed to the use of the connection Scient likelibood of its fulfilment; for after his debts should have been paid. John was now drawing near the grave."

“Such was the life, and such the la We have no wish to add to our long bours of John Wesley; a man of great review of this interesting and valuable views, great energy, and great virtues. work. To complete the sketch of MeThat he awakened a zealous spirit, not thodism, abridged in our columns, it only in his own coinm

munity, but in a may be mentioned, that several separachurch which needed something to tions took place among its original disquicken it, is acknowledged by the ciples, on various points of doctrine

. members of that Church itself; that he The first division was led by Maxfeld

, encouraged enthusiasm and extrava- Wesley's earliest Jay-preacher, who gance, lent a ready ear to false and im- joined Bell and other mad enthusiasts, possible relations, and spread supersti- pretending to prophecy and work miration as well as piety, could hardly be cles. Wheatley, a lascivious gospel denied by the candid and judicious preacher, headed the next schism, and among his own people. In its imme- turned the love-feasts and other noc. diate effects the powerful principle of re- turnal meetings into monstrous orgies

. ligion, which he and his preachers dif- One Reilly was the organ of another fused, bas reclaimed many from a course sect, which held the opinions of univerof sin, has supported many in poverty, salists and latitudinarians ;—that Christ sicknes, and affliction, and bas impar had done away original sin, and that ted to many a triumphant joy in death. sin was a disease wanting a cure-pot “ The remarkable talents with which a crime deserving of punishment

. the Wesley family were endowed, This sect still prevails in America, manifested itself in the third generation Reilly having been one of Washingas strikingly as in the second. One of ion's chaplains. the pieces of Mr. Wesley, named Me. Other separations of less note have hebabel, after her mother, was that also occurred; but in general the WesMrs. Wright, who attained to such ex- leyan system has far exceeded in proscellence as a modeller in wax, and who perity any of its co-rivals. is said to have acted with great dexteri



From the Literary Gazette.
THIS volume will, we believe, be differ from the author's sentiment on this

published on Monday; and we subject ; and not only love the selfish are led to take so early a notice of it, as gratification of adorning the graves of much on account of its merit, as of the those dear to us while living, but are rather peculiar circumstance of its being persuaded that many al volatile, if not the production of one of the Society of guilty soul, bas been reclaimed to a Friends. We hail this as a strong proof sense of the instability of human affairs of the progress of liberality of true lib- and the great business of eternity, by erality, and not of that spurious princi- such funereal documents. Let us, nevple which has usurped the name, and ertheless, suffer Mr. Barton to speak converted a virtue nominally into a real for himself, which he does in these elovice. It has been told, probably with- quent lines.... out foundation, that when the amiable

And, therefore, would I never wish to see Quaker Poet, Scott of Amwell, was up Tombstone, or epitaph obtruded here ; on his death-bed, some sour bigots ex All has been done, requir'd by decency, horted him to repent of his sin of poetry.

When the unprison'd spirit sought its sphere : He died and made no sigo : and in that

The lifeless body, stretch'd upon the bier world to which the enthusiasm of poetic

With due solemnity, was laid in earth ;

And Friendship's parting sigh, Affection's tear, inspiration is the nearest approach in Claim'd by pure love, and deeply cherish'd worth, that heaven where the hymn- Might rise or fall uncheck’djas sorrow gave them birth. ing of praises is the highest enjoyment There wanted not the pall, or nodding plume, of blest spirits; be now, we firmly trust, The white-rob'd priest, the stated form of prayer; enjoys the reward of a well-spent life,

There needed not the livery'd garb of gloom, refined, exalted, and improved, by one

That grief, or carelessness alike might wear ;

'Twas felt that such things “had no business there." of the purest studies of mankind.

Instead of tbese, a silent pause, to tell It has been said, that there was some What language could not ; or, unconn'd by care thing in Quaker doctrines inconsistent of rhetoric's rules, from faultering lips there fell with the Bardic character ; and it has some truths to mourners dear,in memory long to dwell. been held by many, that in Quaker bab Then came the painful close-delay'd as long its and manners there was an insupera

As well might be for silent sorrow's sake;

Hallow'd by love, which never seems so strong, ble barrier to poetical cultivation. If

As when its dearest ties are doom'd to break. these opinions have not been overthrown One farewell glance there yet remain'd to take : before, tbe author now under review has Scarce could the tearful eye fulfil its trust, set them at rest for ever. He has shown When, leaning o'er the grave, with thoughts awake

To joys departed, the heart felt it must us fancy in a sober brown garb, tender- Assent unto the truth which tells us, we are dust! ness in a broad beaver, and nature in a staid demeanour.

The scene is past !—and what of added good

The dead to honour, or to soothe the living, Some feeling dedicatory verses are

Could then bave mingled with the spirit's mood, addressed to Maria Hack, whose litera From all the empty show of man's contriving? ry talents are warmly appreciated by the What worthier of memory's cherish'd hiving writer. He then, after a few brief intro

With miser care ? In hours of such distress

Deep, deep into itself the heart is diving; ductory remarks in prose, enters upon Aye! into depths, which reason must confess, bis miscellaneous career with stanzas At least mine owns them so, awful and fathomless ! supposed to be written in a burial ground of the Society of Friends. Then, be our burial-grounds, as should become They laud the simplicity of these recep

A simple, but a not unfeeling race. tacles for the dead, and condemn the

Let them appear, to outward semblance, dumb,

As best befits the quiet dwelling-place erection of

Appointed for the prisoners of Grace, “ Storied urn or animated bust"

Who wait the promise by the Gospel given, to the memory of those whose resurrec When the last trump shall sound...the trembling base

of tombs, of temples, pyramids be riven, tion shall be their great memorial. We

And all the dead arise before the hosts of Heaven ! 2U ATHENEUM VOL, 7.


The next piece is entitled “the Val- of modern poets who have sown poison ley of Fern,” and displays considerable with their flowers, and infected the effeeling and art in impressing local ima- fusions of their genius with active corgery and beauty upon a landscape, cer- ruption, stands clear in his great actainly not intrinsically either imposing count and to the extent of his powers or beautiful. We know not how the has contributed only to the weal of his ideas of Quakers are now regulated with fellow creatures. He, at least, may lay regard to paintings; whether pictures his hand on his heart, and say, " I base continue to be held in abomination by not abused God's Gift.” We pass over any portion of that sect;...but if they a good many pages of shorter poems, are, we must say that Mr.Barton has ex- and select the following, as curious in posed himself to some reproach for draw- many particulars. ing a very sweet landscape. Aster several natural reflections, he thus writes...

SILENT WORSHIP. (reminding us, en passant, of Akenside.) Though glorious, o God! must thy temple have

been, For the bright chain of being, tho' widely extended, On the day of its first dedication,

Unites all its parts in one beautiful whole ; When the Cherubiin's wings widely waving wert In which Grandeur and Grace are enchantingly blended,

On high, o'er the ark's holy station ; of which GOD is the Centre, the Light, and the

When even the chosen of Levi, though skill'd
Soul !
And holy the hope is, and sweet the sensation,

To minister, standing before Thee,
Which this feeling of union in solitude brings ;

Retir'd from the cloud which the temple then flid, It gives silence a voice-and to calm contemplation,

And thy glory made Israel adore Thee : Unseals the pure fountain whence happiness springs. Though awfully grand was thy majesty then ; Then Nature, most lov'd in her loneliest recesses, Yet the worship thy gospel discloses, Unveils her fair features

Less splendid in pomp to the vision of men,

Far surpasses the ritual of Moses. We know all we see in this beauteous creation,

And by whom was that ritual forever repeal'a ? However enchanting its beauty may seem,

But by Him, unto whom it was given Is doom'd to dissolve, like some bright exhalation,

To enter the Oracle, where is reveald,
That dazzles, and fades in the morning's first beam.

Not the cloud, but the brightness of heaven.
The gloom of dark forests, the grandeur of mountains,
The verdure of meads, and the beauty of flowers ;

Who, having once enter'd, hath shown us the way The seclusion of valleys, the freshness of fountains,

O Lord! how to worship before thee; The sequester'd delights of the loveliest bowers : Not with shadowy forms of that earlier day, Nay, more than all these, that the might of old ocean,

But in spirit and truth to adore thee! Which seems as it was on the day of its birth,

This, this is the worship the Saviour made knovo, Must meet the last hour of convulsive commotion, When she of Samaria found him Which, sooner or later, will uncrente earth.

By the patriarch's well, sitting weary, alone, Yet, acknowledging this, it may be that the feelings

With the stillness of noon-tide around him. Which these have awaken'd, the glimpses they've given,

How sublime, yet bow simple the hoinage he taught Combin'd with those inward and holy revealings

To her, who inquir'd by that fountain, That illumine the soul with the brightness of hea. If JEHOVAH at Solyma's shrine would be sought? ven,

Or ador'd on Samaria's mountain ? May still be immortal, and destin'd to lead us,

Woman ! believe me, the hour is near, Hereafter, to that which shall not pass away; When He, if ye rightly would hail him, To the loftier destiny God hath decreed us,

Will neither be worship'd exclusively here,
The glorious dawn of an unending day.

Nor yet at the altar of Salem
And thus, like the steps of the ladder ascended
By angels, (beheld with the patriarcb's eye.)

For God is a Spirit! and they, who aright With the perishing beauties of earth may be blended Would perform the pure worship he loveth, Sensations too pure, and too holy to die.

In the heart's boly temple will seek, with delights

That spirit the Father approveth. On this pussage we have but one ob- And many that prophecy's truth can declare, servation to offer, and it is equally ap Whose bosoms have livingly known it ; plicable to every line in the book...the Whom GOD hath instructed to worship him there, wbole tends to the enlargement of the

And convinc'd that his mercy will own it. human faenlties, to the moral ameliora- The temple that Solomon built to his name, tion, and to the everlasting happiness of Extinguish'd long since is its altar's bright flame,

Now lives but in history's story; the reader. Mr. B., among the crowd And vanish'd eachglimpse of its glory.

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