invariable rule should guide them, that they will never cease their exertions until every pulpit, over which their influence extends, shall be filled with an able orator in the cause of Christ, and every church within their bounds shall resound with the announcements of pure religion. Earthly instruction is im. portant, but of how much greater importance is that instruction which makes wise unto salvation! And if they upon whom, in reference to no small number of the human race, it chiefly depends, make of their privileges a temporal machine, allow themselves to be seduced by the feelings of party, and let any perish for lack of knowledge, they inflict the deepest injury on mankind, and treasure up ruin and destruction to themselves. And, in the next place, Sir, it is necessary that the Judges of the land-the men to whom we trust our lives, our liberty, and our property, should understand and practise genuine religion. The people, it may be said, have always the protection of law; but can the law not be considerably influenced by the law's interpreter ? With an unrighteous judge where is our security; and if we were secure, is it not indecent, that he whom his Sovereign has selected for his wisdom to decide among the people, should degrade himself by all the grovelling vices which stain the most despicable wretches in the land? The customs of our country make ample provisions in these cases for knowledge, experience, and ability, and I do not see why they should not provide for another trait of human character at least as valuable as any I have named, and that is, principle. Now, Sir, in what I have said, I have made no allusion to existing institutions. I have uttered no personal censure against any one either of the Council or the Judges. I cannot yet be convicted of high treason. I trust that they do not need reproof. I have not said that the Council too frequently pursue measures of their own, that they are too lukewarm in the exercise of their privileges, (I mean when the tendency is the right way,) that they are too much guided by private interest, or that they enjoy the savoury exhalations of a tavern dinner, fully as much as the plaudits of a grateful public. I have not said that they ever disregard the voice of the people, that they ever secrete or refuse their pe titions, or that they ever force pastors upon them with whom they are dissatisfied. I have not said. that any one of the Judges is profligate in his private character, or that virtue, the only pledge of his integrity to the nation, has utterly forsaken him. Far be it from me to bring charges of this nature against men filling such exalted stations, and holding such important offices. From my mouth not even the breath of suspicion shall blow upon their good name. I presume the best that can be thought of them. I speak of what may be, not of what actually is, and warn against offences, rather than administer rebuke to those by whom they have been committed. But if it should happen, Sir, that any of our public men are at this mo ment addicted to the vices I have mentioned, then I hope they will blame themselves and not me for the coincidence. With them, in such case, it remains to beware that they do not allow resentment to stifle conscience and substitute reproach for penitence. With me a far more cheering hope arises, when I contemplate the probability, that, if they are guilty, the blush of shame may yet kindle on their cheek, that the emulation of virtue may yet fire their bosoms, that the greatest of all fame, the fame of beneficence, may yet brighten their characters, and that their memories may one day be embalmed, as the benefactors of their country, in the hearts of a grateful posterity. Permit me, Sir, before concluding, shortly to remark, that the sources from which the poor derive the principal part of their knowledge, and from which the great take much of their information, I mean the public prints, should be kept pure as to the sentiments they propagate among mankind. I do not refer to their politics, for with these I shall never interfere. But I refer to the manner in which they sometimes venture to treat religion. There is little said, but enough to leave its effects on the minds of the people. Managing by means of some ability, and strong assertions of devotion to the public welfare, to draw the confidence of unthinking admirers, they are left at free liberty, so far as they are concerned, to issue any opinions they choose in subjects apart from politics. Party in one respect too often becomes party in every other. That religion, amongst other things, does not escape misrepresentation, I am too well convinced. There is a certain affected liberality in some of the cases I have in my eye which I do not like -a description of liberality which would again invest with doubt points which have long since been satisfactorily set at rest; which would unhinge many an object upon which our dearest hopes and associations are fixed; and which would set man forth to roam unfettered through physical and intellectual regions, free from every thing that presently binds him to his civil and religious duties. Their plausibilities are but too much calculated to attract the homage of the giddy part of mankind, who swallow with impatient pleasure every thing which comes from their chosen leaders, until their perceptions of truth become faint and confused. The light which once guided them becomes gradually more distant and dim. Their rudder is torn away, the anchor of their faith is lost, and at the first blast of opposition which arises they sink the hopeless victims of infidelity. The respectability of some of our popular papers is not a sufficient answer to this charge. Their respectability, while it cannot alter truth, nor prevent the immoral tendency of what they advance, increases the danger. It procures them readers. It makes their opinions be confidently relied on. It is from lips like these that the multitude wait to hear the words of knowledge; and I believe that they would far sooner doubt the Bible, than offer to controvert one of their assertions. And after reading some grossly erroneous statement, probably the next time we meet with it is in the character of a motto, to support and adorn some fanciful lucubration. It would be no diffi cult matter, I think, to select from the pages of a poet, who had nothing to guide him but the imperfect light of heathen morality,-a motto, whose principle it would be well that many a writer in our highly favoured Christian land adopted as the rule of his conduct: "Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile And however much, Sir, they may in the mean time allow themselves to be dazzled by the magnificence of political greatness, they must, ere long, be undeceived. The objects upon which they have fixed their attention are perishable, and must soon dwindle into insignificance. The splendour of every thing earthly must fade away, while that of religion must increase in brightness, until it shall be fixed in permanent and abiding glory. Hamlet after hamlet must be subdued to the cause of Jesus, until the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover And the sun, from his rising to his setting beam, shall illumine only the seats of religion and virtue.* BENEVOLUS. Edinburgh, March, 1824. REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. Mental Discipline; or, Hints on the Cultivation of Intellectual and Moral Habits; addressed to Students in Theology and young Ministers. By HENRY FORSTER BURDER, M.A. Part III. Pp. 101. SOME twelvemonths ago we took occasion to remark upon the former parts of this Mental Discipline; and amid a few drawbacks that we were led to notice in the work, we had sufficient room for several eulogiums that were passed on it as to its ad * 1 was struck with feelings of mingled sorrow and surprise, on reading the following sentiments in the last Number of the Edinburgh Review. They are stated in a Note immediately following observations on the Tread-mill punishment. "When we recom mend severity, we recommend, of course, that degree of severity which will not excite compassion for the sufferer, and lessen the horror of the crime. This is why we do not recommend torture and amputation of limbs. When a man has been proved to have committed a crime, it is expedient that society should make use of that man for the diminution of crime-he belongs to them for that purpose. Our primary duty in such a case is so to treat the culprit, that many other persons may be rendered better, or prevented from being worse, by dread of the same treatment, and making this the principal object, to combine with it as much as possible the improvement of the individual. The ruffian who killed Mr. Mumford was hung within forty-eight hours. Upon Mr. Roscoe's principles this was wrong; for it certainly was not the way to reclaim the man. We say, on the contrary, the object was to do any thing with the man which would render murder less frequent, and that the conversion of the man was a mere trifle compared to this. His death probably prevented the necessity of reclaiming a dozen murderers. That death will not indeed prevent all murders in that county; but many who have seen it, and many who have heard of it, will swallow their revenge from the dread of being hanged." I think that if ever it should prove the lot of the writer to reach heaven, if it were possible for him to do so in his present state, he would not form one of those who would rejoice over the repentance of a sinner. The idea is equally horrid and novel. By summary punishment it seems to be an object with him even to prevent conversion. He has the audacity to propose the punishments of hell as auxiliary to those of man. This is an improvement on the criminal code which is worthy the attention of Parliament. It outstrips the bloody Nero, and leaves the crafty Inquisition far behind it. The author seems to have no clear idea of amputation of limbs, and of the punishments of hell compared, because he supposes the former might excite compassion for the sufferer, but he never supposes the latter would do so. With him probably it might have no such effect, he can speak of it coolly; but once announce this barbarous system to the world, and act on it, and an idea would be connected with it in the minds of the people of far deeper horror, than any which ever attached either to the bar or the rack. And after all, in another view, I cannot see the worldly wisdom of the scheme. Are crimes less frequent in England than they are here? I do not believe it. There capital punishment is summary, but the reason why it is so I have always ascribed not to cruelty but to mistaken clemency; no idea struck me that I might be wrong on this subject until I made this noted discovery in the Edinburgh Review. I hope I may venture to recommend to the learned reviewer, that before seating himself in the chair of wisdom, as to matters of religion, he should cultivate more correctness of sentiment. And I hope I may also recommend to him to read his Bible more, and if he will look at the 15th chapter of Luke, and the 7th verse, he will find these words:"That joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persona which need no repentance." mirable tendency, the accuracy of the knowledge with which it was fraught, and the taste and talent displayed in the composition. Though generally approving, we are not at liberty to be so lavish of applause regarding this part of the production. We look upon it as in many points of view far inferior to the former. Such, in fact, is the impression which a perusal of it has left upon our minds. The composition in this instance is not so laboured, the information by no means so mature, and the transcendent importance of the subject has failed to create a due enthusiasm, to inspire eloquence and warmth into the language, and make the ultimate result impressive. Nor can this inferiority in point of execution be attributed to the nature of an ungrateful subject; the moral part of Mental Discipline is fully as important, especially to individuals of the sacred profession, as the intellectual. It may be questionable whether it is not, indeed, much more so. For professional usefulness, domestic quiet, and peace of mind, there can be no doubt that good morals are of more value than the best and brightest intellectual accomplishments. The man who, beguiled by the impetuosity of youthful feeling into indiscretion, has by almost imperceptible degrees been led on to the commission of acts which leave behind the sting of "lasting penitence," can hardly, when the balance of his mind is lost, hope long to enjoy his own respect, or that of others, without which there is no such thing as content ment in the world. The sorrow which crushes all his spirit, and lies heavy as the hand of death on all his wonted energies, when he looks forward on the prospect of all coming time, barren of either hope or joy, constitutes a portion of the "curseless woes" that come to be the inheritance of those who have thrown away the strength of their youth on hurtful or unholy pleasures. The even tenour of those untainted hours which ushered in the dawn of young existence, and made all nature look fair and blooming as the garden of delight itself, has been broken up by troubled joys, and has evanished; and the calm enjoyments of sequestered life, which every one sighs for when harassed by some exertion, can no more be expected by the mind over which the storm of passions has swept, and seared and withered every hope and every feeling. The warm energies of youthful being have been wildly and sinfully wasted; and the summer of manhood, instead of sharing the glow of perfect life, is clouded as by the gloom of autumn, or bleak as with the wide desolateness of winter. In cases of this sort, what avails the highest intellectual attainments? What we have said, indeed, may be descriptive of extreme instances, and which but seldom occur, especially among those that have in view the sacred profession, where a regard to character forms so essential a part of personal education; but the inroads of vice are made in a thousand forms, and innumerable degrees, each of which diminishes proportionally the capacity for exertion, for usefulness, and for im provement. The mind that once glowed with generous emulation, and sighed in secret for rewards and distinction, will in the course of a short time, through immoral habits, lose all its fire, and cease to benefit by its acquisitions, as it ceases to desire more. When the spirits flag from exhausted passions, or sink in slow and dreary suffering from the hopeless mass of despair, it will be vain to look for the activity of enterprize, or the common but painful assiduities of social life. To guard against calamities so fatal-to preserve the mind in a inconsistent with a conscience void of offence. To insure respectability and personal comfort, this is absolutely needful; and to hope to reach professional eminence and usefulness, it is even still more so. sound and active state, and to insure all the fruits which virtue and acquirement naturally hold out, it comes to be of the last importance to suffer no moral taint to blight the shoots and buds of early promise. It is not the enormous crimes that spring from great ambition, or great revenge, that there is so much reason to dread and to deprecate; these are the offspring only of frequent deviation, and flow from a depravity of heart long and sedulously cultivated; but as it has been said, that no man is thoroughly depraved all at once, it becomes the more necessary to withstand the progress of incipient wiles, and to warn against the solicitations of improper desire, that in the end must conduct to crime and ruin. 4 In no line of life is it more necessary to apply the lessons and precautions of virtue and experience, than in that of the sacred profession. The aspirant for holy avocations, if he consult the dictates of sober wisdom, or respect the general feelings of mankind, will not simply be on his guard against the encroachments of vice, but will watch with jealous care over the convictions of his understanding. The alternations of opinion which a progress in knowledge, and in mental cultivation is constantly producing, exercise often a marked influence over moral sentiment, and lead to the formation of habit, of thought and feeling, that may be advantageous, or extremely noxious, to the virtues, it behoves a student in theology particularly to respect. Those principles of general intercourse, such as honour for example, whose dominion is so powerful in modern systems of society, he must observe, or else be content to be held as despicable; but the mind of him who studies and teaches sacred things, should be bent on nobler aims than the bulk of mankind aspire to, and disdain a knowledge of any thing These impressions, with which we are sure our readers will sympathise, lead us to value highly those lessons of moral wisdom which this little work inculcates. We are far from thinking, certainly, that this treatise exhausts, or at all does justice to this most important subject; the writer has nei ther enriched his mind sufficiently with various reading, nor bestowed enough of mental labour in digesting and maturing the conceptions, or the facts that he had fallen in with in this line of study; though the instruction, notwithstanding, with which the volume is fraught, is always apposite and judicious, and we would wish, that not merely young theologians, but all mankind, should reduce to practice counsels so wholesome. It may be of use, before laying any sample of this work before the reader, to inform him, in the author's own words, of the method he had recourse to in constructing his materials. We shall then, in place of indicating the various heads of discourse that have employed the author's lucubrations, exhibit a specimen or two, with a view to enable the reader to judge of the piety and wisdom, and character of execution, by which this little performance is distinguished. The method he adopted, with a view to inform his mind, and possess himself of materials regarding his subject, the author in his preface thus makes mention of. "He (the author) directed his reading, during the little leisure he could command, to a variety of books, both of a recent and an earlier date, from which he hoped to derive the dictates of matured piety |