ous institutions of these united kingdoms, and leave no trace of those intolerant statutes, of which the Dissidents so justly complain.

How important, in a political view, will be the advantages of a cordial reconciliation thus effected! How happily will the state of our internal affairs in England, and more especially in Ireland, be changed from stormy to serene; from the fearful apprehension of peril, alarming at present, but sure to be increased by the delay of justice; to the consci, ous certainty that the government is safe, that a just redress of grievances has placed the country beyond the reach of danger!

In the earlier part of the war with France, let our narrow escape be recollected, when the army of floche, preparing to land at Bantry Bay, was suddenly driven from the coast by a storm which arose at that critical moment. The troops of Hoche were inferior in number* to a single division of the French army; yet did their appearance on the southern coast of Ireland, shake that country to its centre, and spread consternation through every part of Great Britain. Afterwards, a small detachment, not amounting to 3000 men, under the command of Humbert, effected a landing on the western shore of Ireland; for six weeks renewed the alarm of that country; and nearly reached Athlone on its route to Dublin, before Lord Cornwallis could collect a sufficient force to stop the enemy, without exposing Ireland to general insurrection, by withdrawing troops stationed to preserve the peace in every part of the country, Let these events be held up as the monuments of past dangers;

*

At

1

The coasts of Europe, with some exceptions of little moment, are at his command; and the invasion of these countries may be conveniently effected from nearly all the harbours on that long line of coast from Cape Finisterre to the mouth of the Baltic. Under these circumstances of augmented alarm, our fellow-subjects in Ireland have been exasperated by repeated refusals of redress, and the marked hostility of our ministers to every measure of conciliation. Who then can doubt the increased danger of our situation? or contemplate without dismay the increased facility of invasion, the aggrandized power of the enemy, and the too evident certainty that should Napoleon, and one-tenth part of the French army now land in Ireland, their presence would

rouse

But far different will be the issue of the contest, we confidently trust, if ere the threatened attack commence, an equitable plan of conciliation shall have been established. Perpetual discord in Ireland, and frequent dangers to the empire have been the consequences of a long series of acts of injustice. The reverse of discord and danger will be the result experienced from a change produced by the prevalence of wisdom and benevolence. Mutual good-will and amity will then unite the now con tending sects; gratitude on the part of the Dissidents to a country at last persuaded to be just and kind to them, will be combined with the warmest attachment to the constitution; and fidelity to an impartial government will then be the universal vow: invasion though it may still annoy these islands will cease to terrify them because the danger of a forced separation will no longer exist; because the fears and jealousies, the concealed distrust and hatred, the avowed disaffection and rage of past times which our intolerance had excited, will all be turned against the ruthless invader and our subjugation to France then will have become an impossible event, Disasters indeed may befal us, de feats may check our arms; and devastation for a time may mark the progress of our enemy through the country; but his efforts to enslave it will be in vain.

A free and united people will re sist the invader, as they ought, with unconquerable energy; from every part of the country, troops, no longer wanted as garrisons to keep down commotion, will be freely called from their stations to encounter the enemy; host after host will croud to the standard of national delence; a holy enthusiasm in the cause of their country will inspire them. They will spurn the treacherous arts, the insidious offers of the usurper in his tent; and in the field of battle their well-regulated heroism will discon cert his tactics, and overpower the mercenary bravery of his troops; at last, we may justly trust he will be driven back to France with shame; or he will remain in ignominy a captive here: he will thus meet the just reward of his perfidy and lust of power; everlasting infamy will fasten on his name; and the wisdom and goodness of providence will be finally justified to mankind.

And if such will be the happy consequences, in a political view, of a system of religious liberty wisely tempered with satisfactory securities to our establishments in church and state, how incalculably must their value be inhanced in a religious view, by the benign effects sure to follow from christianity, when it has been thus freed from the restraints of intolerance and the disgraceful fetters of worldly policy, and left freely to its own inherent efficacy, to accom plish the gracious design of provi dence to diffuse happiness wherever it is known, and to spread piety and benevolence through the world. How enraptured is the glorious prospect ! And when seen under this aspect, by good and pious men, how de voutly will they hail with us the spreading light of the gospel? And how will they assist the progress of that liberty of conscience, from which alone the more rapid diffusion of that light can be expected, with

their wishes, their prayers, and every possible exertion of their powers!

To the petitioners the rectitude of these principles appears to be incon testable; aud that their conduct ought to be absolutely conformable with these principles they cannot doubt, for one moment; they presume, also to think, that kings and legislative assemblies are equally bound to act in conformity with the sacred rules of justice and religion as the individuals whose governors they are. Under these impressions, and fervently desiring to promote the safety of their country, and to accelerate the diffusion of the benign spirit of the gospel through this empire, and gradually through every region of the world, the petitioners will soon present their two petitions to parliament; orging them with all respect, but with the utmost energy in their power, on these grounds of policy, of justice and of christian duty to extinguish intolerance. From the mere influence of truth, and from the manifest tendency of the mea sure to produce the happiest effects, the petitioners though distinguish ed by every diversity of tene's known among christians, have signed these petitions as the bond of their union; and they cannot but consider their junction on such grounds to be a practical proof of the feasibility of their plan, for the formation of a much more extensive union of christians on the same principles, from the same reliance on the fundamental rules of justice and benevolence, and with the same views to the progressive melioration of this nation and of our species; and they doubt not that the union they contemplate will be sufficient to destroy intolerance, and introduce the system of genume christianity, not suddenly and by force, but gradually, after due deliberation, and by the mere effects of these principles on the

heart and conscience of the nation and its governors.

In

Animated by these hopes, and enCouraged by the approbation of their much-honoured advocate in parliament, the petitioners, as soon after the presentation of their petition to the House of Commons, as the rules of that house will permit, will then appeal to the public, and submit their plea for the unbiassed choice and profession of religion to general examination. their suit to parliament they have resolved to persevere; for to them such is the command of duty. Relying on scripture and reason, against custom, prejudice, and the mistas ken interests of men in authority, they look forward with confidence to the happy issue of the struggle in which they have engaged; and which they hope may be conducted on their part with a spirit of mo deration and benevolence not unworthy of their cause. If their adversaries should encounter then with calumny and misrepresentation, they trust they are prepared to endure their attacks, with a meek and

bumble fortitude: if captious controversy should assail them, that, they are well assured, cannot injure their gospel-plea. Discussion, the petitioner's court; discussion alone, they conceive, to be neces sary to their final success; discussion in parliament will be to their cause an inestimable advantage; and ́ they will gladly owe it to Mr. White bread, whose generous zeal for the honour of the gospel, and for the unalienable right of all men to li berty of conscience, intitles him to their sincerest granitude and venera tion. London, April 7th, 1811.

For the Belfast Monthly Magazine.

ON VENERATION FOR ANTIQUITY.

Tuniversal disposition among men,

O antiquity is such a

that it seems to be one of the original properties of their nature. There is, indeed, a feeling of some thing so agreeable in it, that the plea sure which it yields might, of itself, be considered as sufficiently accounting for its being so general. But whether it be implanted in our minds at their original formation, or whether we force it into our possession, if I may so speak, in consequence of the enjoyment it brings, it is certainly one of the most generous and laudable of our propenseties. It is to our predecessors what charity is to our contemporaries; and though the latter, in its application may be more immediately useful to society, the former seems to be the most noble and disinterested feeling of the two, as it is exerted in behalf of those from whom we can neither expect favour, nor dread resentment. It guards the memory of our fathers from insult, and in time to come, our own will also be indebted to its protection.

That there may be some who are not susceptible ofthis exalted feeling, I will not deny; but they can be only those who are either void of mental feelings altogether, or have only such as, according to Shakes pear's expression, render them fit for stratagems and murders, and are quite unworthy either to be esteemed by their contemporaries, or remembered with respect by posteri ty. Their only errand into the world seems to be, that besides being des pised by others, they may never know what it is to have any source of satisfaction within themselves; for I look upon the man who can be indifferent to the memory of his fathers, who feels no interest in the deeds of days that are no more, as an inferior kind of animal, who certainly knows nothing of the finer feelings of soul that give birth to those pure sensations of intellectual enjoyment which are, by far, the

most pleasurable that a rational be ing can enjoy.

The gratification arising from veneration for our ancestors, has been always so generally felt and acknowledged, that, in every age we find orators never neglecting to use an appeal to it as the most powerful means by which they can excite their au dience to any important action. How often are senates told of the wisdom of their fathers in making laws? and how often are we exhorted from the pulpit to be steady in the faith of our ancestors. We hardly ever meet with a speech addressed by a general, who knows any thing of human nature, to his army when about to engage in battle, in which he does not remind them of the valour of their ancestors, conjures them not to disgrace it, and, invariably, before concluding, endeavours to rouse them to an enthusiasm of rage against those enemies who would deprive them of the laws, country, and religion, which the bravery and blood of those ancestors had transmitted to them.

Not to mention the delight which some people receive from ancient medals, buildings, &c., there is hardly any one of common feelings who has not, some time or other, beheld, with an undefinable pleasure, the hoary rocks and the everlasting mountains, as one of the prophets emphatically calls them, that have stood amidst all the shocks and revolutions of time since the beginning of the world. Indeed I consider the pleasure of that agreeable solemnity which irresistibly steals upon the mind on contemplating these perpetual sons of the desart as the monuments of past ages to be, not only one of the most generally felt, but one of the most refined and dignified of which in this world we are susceptible. Even the beholding of an ancient oak or any other time-worn inhabitant of the forest is not without its enjoy➡

But the power of pleasing us by interesting our veneration for antiquity is not alone confined to the works of nature. It is also extended to the labours of man, and especially to those of the poets. Why are we so much more delighted with the productions of Ossian, Homer, Virgil, and other ancient poets, than with those of any other writers? Is is not because they bring the deeds of other times to our memory, and introduce us to the acquaintance of beroes, whom we see only in their greatness, the veneration of their successors having, long ago, with their bodies, consigned their frailties to the dust?

Milton is the only poet among the moderns whose subject gives him an advantage of this kind equal to the ancients, nay, in this respect he is superior to them all; for, as Adam and Eve are the most ancient of our race, so they naturally attract our veneration more than any other persons that ever lived. So great, indeed, is our veneration for them, that in reading Paradise Lost, we generally forget the misfortunes that their misconduct brought upon us, and are never offended at the first sinners because they were the first of mankind. We may, indeed, lay down the poem with regret that guilt and misery were brought into the world, but our regret is seldom mingled with any resentment for hose who introduced them. I may, I think, venture to assert that the highest degree of delight which a person of taste who is fond of poetry can derive from it, may be obtained by contemplating the descriptions which Milton gives of the scenes of innocence and felicity enjoyed by our first parents in Paradise, before the fall. In contemplating these,

of nature, all our love for integrity and virtue, all our relish for tranquillity and happiness, and all our veneration for antiquity are brought at once into action, without our minds being obliged to experience any uneasiness for the misfortunes that came afterwards.

The author of that beautiful paper in the Spectator which relates the vision of Mirza, very happily begins it in the following manner: "On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I always kept holy.”. A beginning which has long been, and always will be, felt and admired by every reader of English literature; and, I am convinced, that there is no one but is sensible that he feels it chiefly on account of the fortunate expression which touches his veneration for his forefathers,

There are numberless beauties of a similar kind in holy writ, some of which are exceedingly sublime, especially where the Deity addresses his favourite people, as he often does, under the endearing name of the "God of their fathers," in complaisance, as it were to the remarkable veneration which that people had for their ancestors.

I shall conclude these remarks by quoting one of these passages. On that solemn occasion when Moses was called to be the deliverer of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage, an occasion so very solemn indeed, that he was commanded to take the shoes from his feet on account of the holiness of the ground; he, as if from modesty afraid that his contrymen might doubt the truth of his having been chosen by their God for such an important purpose, inquiring by what name he shall make him known to them. The Almighty after having acquainted him with that most sublime and expressive of