gest some thoughts on the account given us (1 Kings xiii.) of the very singular behaviour of the old Prophet who resided at Bethel. There is no reason to disbelieve his assertion, (ver. 18,) "I am a Prophet also as thou art," because he is expressly so called, both in this chapter, and 2 Kings xxiii. 18. But I apprehend, dwelling in Samaria, he was an unfaithful one; otherwise a Prophet need not have been sent from Judah to reprove the sin of JEROBOAM. Unfaithfulness in an office (more especially a sacred one) is to the strength of the soul, what the cutting off of SAMSON'S locks was to the strength of his body;-the man is left weak, and powerless against the first besetment of temptation. I suspect that the old Prophet felt himself slighted in not being distinguished from kis idolatrous neighbours by some notice from the Prophet of Judah; and hence resulted his attempt to bring him back, which would have been lawful if his sons had not distinctly reported the refusal of the King's invitation. Having thus begun to slide, the path became more slippery, and he hesitated not to tell a lie to effect his purpose. And afterwards, when pronouncing the sentence of GoD on the disobedience he had occasioned,

he doubtless painfully felt the guilt he had himself incurred, and its punishment. Instead of his character being raised or established, as he designed, in the view of his neighbours, he was obliged first to confess his deceit to the Prophet whom he had injured; and afterwards the whole became public, and has been transmitted to posterity by the sacred records. Much cause had he indeed to mourn over the grave of his brother; and we may hope that he sincerely mourned over his own sin,

but he deserved not that this should be recorded. If an undue regard to his own reputation had been the cause, (as I suspect it was,) first of a criminal silence, and then of criminal words, his penitence, though it might come before the mercy-seat, was very justly denied admission into the short memoir concerning him: but he confirmed the word of the Jewish Prophet, and was allowed to be laid in the same grave with him, whereby his bones remained undisturbed when JOSIAH (2 Kings xxiii. 18) fulfilled the divine threatening. As I think this view of the case may minister admonition to us, I have ventured to submit it for insertion.

E. M. B.

AMONG the prisoners taken by the Americans at the battle of Hoosac was an inhabitant of Hancock, in the county of Berkshire, a plain farmer, named RICHARD JACKSON. This man had conscientiously taken the British side in the revolutionary contest, and felt himself bound to seize the earliest opportunity of employing himself in the service of his Sovereign. Hearing that COLONEL BAUM was advancing with a body of troops towards Bennington, he rose early, saddled his horse, and rode to Hoosac, intending to attach himself to this corps. Here he was taken, in such circumstances as proved his intention beyond every reasonable doubt. He was besides too honest to deny it. Accordingly he was transmitted to

Great-Barrington, then the shiretown of Berkshire, and placed in the hands of GENERAL FELLOWS, HighSheriff of the county, who immediately confined him in the county-gaol. This building was at that time so infirm, that without a guard no prisoner could be kept in it who wished to make his escape. To escape, however, was in no degree consonant with RICHARD's idea of right, and he thought no more seriously of making an attempt of this nature, than he would have done had he been in his own house. After he had lain quietly in gaol a few days, he told the Sheriff that he was losing his time and earning nothing, and wished that he would permit him to go out and work in the day-time, promising to return regu

larly at evening to his quarters in the prison. The Sheriff had become acquainted with his character, and readily acceded to his proposal. Accordingly, RICHARD went out regularly during the remaining part of the autumn, and the following winter and spring, until the beginning of May, and every night returned at the proper hour to the gaol. In this manner he performed a day's work every day, with scarcely any exception beside the Sabbath, through the whole period.

In the month of May he was to be tried for high treason. The Sheriff accordingly made preparations to conduct him to Springfield, where his trial was to be held. But he told the Sheriff that it was not worth his while to take this trouble, for he could just as well go alone, and it would save both the expense and inconvenience of the Sheriff's journey. The Sheriff, after a little reflection, assented to his proposal, and RICHARD commenced his journey,-the only one, it is believed, which was ever undertaken in the same manner for the same object. In the woods of Tyringham he was overtaken by the Honourable T. EDWARDS, from whom I had this story. "Whither are you going?" said MR. EDWARDS. To Springfield, Sir," answered RICHARD, "to be tried for my life." Accordingly he proceeded directly to Springfield, surrendered himself to the Sheriff of Hampshire, was tried, found guilty, and condemned to die.

The Council of Massachusets was, at this time, the supreme executive

of the State. Application was made to this Board for a pardon. The facts were stated, the evidence by which they were supported, and the sentence grounded on them. The question was then put by the President, "Shall a pardon be granted to RICHARD JACKSON?" The gentleman who first spoke observed, that the case was perfectly clear; the act alleged against JACKSON was unquestionably high treason; and the proof was complete. If a pardon should be granted in this case, he saw no reason why it should not be granted in every other. In the same manner answered those who followed him. When it came to the turn of MR. EDWARDS, he told this story, with those little circumstances of particularity, which, though they are easily lost from the memory, and have escaped mine, give light and shade, a living reality, and a picturesque impressiveness, to every tale which is fitted to enforce conviction, or to touch the heart. At the same time he recited it without enhancement, without expatiating, without any attempt to be pathetic. As is always the case, this simplicity gave the narration its full force. The Council began to hesitate. One of the members at length observed, “Certainly such a man as this ought not to be sent to the gallows." To his opinion the members unanimously assented. A pardon was immediately made out and transmitted to Springfield, and RICHARD returned to his family. Never was a stronger proof exhibited that honesty is wisdom.

emancipated from the chains of superstition, and witness the rising of a glorious evangelical day, never again to be succeeded by the night of antichristian darkness. We rejoice to know, that among many Spaniards there exists at present a very considerable desire to possess and peruse the Holy Scriptures, and that means, likely to be influential and successful, are already in progress for meeting that desire. This is a circumstance full of hope and encouragement for

ever, suddenly missed in the gay scenes which he used formerly to enliven; yet his fortune had received no check, and his health was not known to be impaired. A strange change had been effected in his mind; the gay and volatile VALER was now confined the whole day to his room with a Latin Bible, the only version allowed in Spain. Had he unexpectedly taken a religious turn, and abandoned the alluring walks of pleasure for the church and the confessional, such revulsions of feeling are too common among the Spaniards to have raised a general surprise. But this absolute retirement, this neglect of devotional works, and pious practices, for a book which even professional divincs seldom took the trouble to examine, had something peculiar, and not easily accounted for. After continuing for several months in his scriptural studies, VALER was observed to court the friendship of the clergy. One of the most eminent of those, for learning and exemplary conduct, was DOCTOR JOHN GIL or EGIDIUS, Canon magistral (Preacher) of the cathedral of Seville, a dignity which, though usually obtained by a public trial, EGIDIUS had received without this previous step, by the unanimous nomination of the Archbishop and Chapter, as a testimony of superiority above his contemporaries. The learned Canon had, hitherto, been more admired as a profound theologian, than as a powerful orator; but since his intimacy with VALER, his preaching had assumed a different character. Instead of vapid dissertations, his sermons were the earnest and powerful addresses of his feelings and conviction to the hearts and understandings of his audience. EGIDIUS became the most popular preacher at Seville.

"No obnoxious doctrines had hitherto been broached by the pious Canon. That the change, which had gained him such extraordinary popularity, was the work of VALER, could not even be suspected by those who were well aware of the immense distance at which the layman was placed from his friend's learning and talents. Such was, nevertheless, the fact. VALER had, during his retirement, learned by heart a great part of the Scriptures, and drawn from that source a system of divinity, which seems to have agreed, in the main, with that of the northern reformers. Whether a simple report of LUTHER's opinions, and of his appealing to the Scriptures as the only source of religious truth, had given the same direction to the inquiries of the Spaniard; or whether, in the state of men's minds at that period, and, from

the prominence of the abuses which fixed the attention of the inquisitive, similar inferences offered themselves to all who impartially consulted the Scriptures, we shall not take upon ourselves to decide. But it is a fact, that VALER required no other guide to lay the foundations of a church at Seville, which was found to be Lutheran in its principal

tenets.

"No slighter impulse than that of an ardent love of religious truth would have been sufficient to engage any man in the desperate undertaking of propagating Protestant doctrines, under the watchful eye of the Inquisition,-now doubly alert from the animosity which their sovereign CHARLES V. was showing against the Lutherans in Germany. But no danger could appal the enthusiastic VALER. Regardless of his personal safety, or, what is still dearer to a man who has enjoyed the respect of his fellows, his character for judgment and sanity of intellect, he appeared at the most frequented places, addressing all that would stop to hear him, upon the necessity of studying the Scriptures, and making them the only rule of faith and conduct. The suspicions of derangement, which had been afloat since the period of his retirement, were now fully confirmed, and saved VALER, for a time, from the hands of the Inquisition. This humane construction of the Holy Tribunal was not likely to be of long continuance; and the lay preacher was soon confined to a solitary prison. His friend EGIDIUS, whose orthodoxy remained unsuspected, appeared before the judges as VALER'S counsel; a dangerous act of friendship, considering the vehement zeal which actuated the prisoner. But that zeal found full employment against the Inquisitors, whom he charged with ignorance and blindness, without the least attempt at concealing or disguising his principles. Twice was VALER imprisoned, and made to stand a trial. The first time he forfeited his fortune; the second his liberty, for life. Agreeably to the rules of the tribunal, which make public disgrace one of its most powerful weapons, VALER was conducted every Sunday, dressed in a sanbenito, or coat of infamy, to the collegiate church of San Salvador to attend high mass, and hear a sermon, which he often interrupted by contradicting the preacher. Under a strong doubt whether he was really a madman, or courted this suspicion as a means to escape the punishment of fire, the inquisitors came to the final determination of confining him in a convent near the mouth of the Guadalquivir, where, deprived of all