sidered. Your Lordship's own evidence, as quoted in Section I., decides this question:-'I consér. that little or no provision has been made for the wants of the population, which has arisen since th last two censuses.' “London and its adjacent boroughs contain 194 places of worship, belonging to the Establishment, a population of 1,500,000. Your Lordship has given in evidence, that 'not one-tenth" of the people ar provided for. And how much less than one-tenth? New York has a population of 220,000, and 1!! churches-one church to 1,200 souls. Boston has 50 churches to 60,000; and other large cities in Ame rica are equally well supplied; many of them better. "There are in the United States, excluding the Roman Catholics and all other sects not commely esteemed orthodox, 1,601,088, communicants at the Lord's table, by the latest authentic reports I han been able to obtain, some of which are two and three years old, and none less than one year. There also some orthodox denominations not reported. I have observed, that the annual increase of comen nicants in American churches of late, taking into view the different sects, ranges from one-fourth to ate tenth of the gross amount; and that the greatest proportionate increase is in the most numerous des minations. Taking these facts into consideration, I have supposed the present number of commun in the American orthodox churches cannot be less than 1,800,000. In those denominations, comprehend ing the great bulk of these communicants, the terms of admission to the Lord's supper are a strict ee mination as to personal piety, and a public profession of religion. Generally, so far as I have been she to observe, the terms of admittance to this ordinance in America, are much more strict than in the oneresponding denominations in Great Britain. In the Church of England, if I do not mistake, il n admitted to this sacrament, who are of respectable character. And yet it appears by a sufficient amou of evidence from a high quarter of the Church of England, that the number of communicants througho the English Establishment does not exceed 350,000. Taking the population of England at 12,000,00 there is about one communicant in the Church to every 34 of the gross population. Deducting 800,000 for the Roman Catholics in America, and taking the remainder of the' population at 12,000,000, the siz as in England, the number of communicants at the Lord's table will be more than one of every 7 in viduals. I confess, that I am altogether surprised at this result; and yet I do not know how to mak it different."-Colton, pp. 57, 58. Instead of offering any further statements of this kind to the reader, we will rather recommend him to peruse Mr. Colton's admirable work, for himself, and only express our hope that the facts we have here adduced from it, will be deemed an ample confutation of the gross mis-statements against which we have directed them. We have left ourselves no room for any extended criticism on the style of the pamphit which we have now noticed; we will, however, offer, in closing, one or two expres sions, which may serve as specimens of the composition of a Greek professor. In peg 16, we have the following sentence :-" The argument involves a fallacy, and the fact a mis-statement;" page 18, "The firmest and most beautiful bulwark of Enghofi happiness;" in page 12, "to which the civilizing influences of learning and refinement, have never deigned to penetrate;" and again, “such is the theory; and as a theory, who can deny how fair and beautiful it is?" O Professor, if these, or any other portions of your Sermon had found their way into one of your school themes at Christ's Hospital, when you were a dozen years old, who can deny how soundly you would have been birched for your pains? In concluding his Sermon, Professor Scholefield calls upon "this Church" to "arise and shake herself from the dust." We cordially concur in this disinterested exhortation; common cleanliness enforces it; and we fervently desire that, together with the dust which harbours them, the swarming and more noisome insects of an hour, which infest it surface and annoy with their importunate buzzing, may fall and be forgotten. Meanwhile we rejoice in the appearance of such publications as that to which we have pointed attention, as among the most favourable signs of the times. The multitudes in which they issue from the press, the irritability which they all display, and which is only their "debility et cited;"-these and other concurrent circumstances indicate, unequivocally, the formidable advances of that CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY, to which "infant philosophers and ob solete statesmen," tory lords, university chancellors, and regius professors, alike "render the involuntary homage of their alarm.” VE cannot refuse our tribute of praise to at class of books, the latest of which now es before us. Their intention is an excelnt one-that of making the voluminous works of the most esteemed authors accesble to that large class of students, who re unable to purchase them in their oriinal and more expensive form. And this nd they appear to us most satisfactorily to nswer. They are excellent, as books; omprehending not only the entire works of he author, but in the present instance an xtended memoir, and a most elaborate nd admirable analysis of his character and vritings. In the former instance, of Milton's Prose Works, the Imperial Magazine has taken some most serious exceptions; and whatever may be thought of the line of remark adopted respecting the immortal poet, (and it will be recollected that it was avowedly introduced for the purpose of putting the reader in possession of both sides of a most interesting question,) few will dissent from the strictures which the writer made upon that lamentable production-the Introductory Essay. Here, however, we will cheerfully make the amende honorable. We do do not, of course, notice this work for the purpose of advocating the theological system of President Edwards; nor, on the other hand, would it be wise, within the narrow limits of a review, to enter on the discussion of the great points at issue. We chiefly introduce it for the sake of record. ing our admiration of the performance of Mr. Rogers-The Introductory Essay on the Genius and Writings of President Edwards. This Essay may, in fact, be considered as a most lucid and powerful compendium of Edwards's leading arguments, and acquaints the reader with all the great points of the Arminian and Calvinistic controversy. It indicates the most sound and intimate knowledge of this branch of theology, together with powers of mind and literary talents which are calculated to elucidate the difficulties, and to invest with beauty and with interest the ruggedness of any subject to which they may be applied. We regret that we cannot present the reader with any extracts from Mr. Rogers's essay, which will convey an idea of its 2D. SERIES, NO. 41.-VOL. IV. highest merits. In order to this, it would be necessary to follow him into the arguwould be difficult to select a detached and mentative part of his work, from which it unconnected specimen. We will, therefore, offer to the reader the very elaborate paragraphs, in which the author delineates the prominent features of President Edwards's intellectual character: "That faculty in which lay the secret of Edwards's intellectual strength-the faculty of abstractionwas probably bestowed upon him in greater plenitude and perfection than to any other individual of his species.-Nothing but this could have enabled him to keep so steadily and so luminously before the mind, the propositions on which his reasoning was founded, and to call forth from the obscurity in which they dwelt, their mutual relations; to pursue with such exactness and precision, and such never-tiring patience, the longest, the most subtle, and the most intricate trains of metaphysical reasoning, or to unravel with such consummate skill the most complex and elaborate mazes of sophistry. All who have in any measure been accustomed to abstract reasoning, especially upon those profound and difficult subjects which throughout life absorbed the mind of Edwards, must be aware of the extreme difficulty of transfixing before the microscopic gaze of the mind, those volatile objects of thought, which, though so difficult to be retained demand such intense concentration. These subtle influences can reach him from without, or allure make the objects of his contemplation gleam out, with a sort of phosphoric splendour, on the walls of the chambers of imagery,―the brighter for the surrounding darkness. Nay, the perspicacity of Edwards often seems to increase with the obscurity and subtilty of the subjects of which he treats. We could point to many instances of this. In this respect his organs of intellectual vision resembled the eyesight of some classes of animals, which, though they would be dazzled into blindness by the noon-day sun, can discern the minutest objects in the faintest twilight. No matter how profound those caverns of abstruse speculation into which he ventures; no matter how dim the twilight which penetrates them; in what would be to others "middle or "nether darkness," his intellect seems to dilate so as to collect every wandering ray of light, and to discern plainly those objects, which to minds of inferior perspicacity would be absolutely invisible. "That faculty of abstraction which Edwards possessed from nature in such extraordinary strength and in such ample measure, was improved to the utmost extent, by incessant exercise and the most strenuous discipline. His whole life might almost be said to be spent in one continuous effort of reasoning; in grappling with all the most difficult and profound subjects which have ever engaged the attention of the human mind. He scarcely needed, and assuredly scarcely ever indulged in, those intervals of relaxation, those holidays of intellect, which, in almost every other man, are absolutely necessary to preserve the elasticity of the mind, to enable it to repair its exhausted energies;-without which, indeed, the ceaseless prosecution of any subject demanding concentration of thought, would soon goad to madness. Such was his natural adaptation to one department of intellectual employ. ment, and so rigidly had he fixed this conformation of mind by habit and discipline, that he was almost incapable of finding pleasure in any other pursuits, -almost destitute of taste or sensibility to any other species of intellectual excellence. Profound thought became not only his occupation, but his delight, and that which to other men would be severest toil, was his pastime. Probably a severer penance could not have been inflicted upon him, than compelling him to spend any very considerable portion of his time amongst poetry and belles lettres; he would have absolutely nauseated them; they would have been like luxuries to an anchorite, whose long years of seclusion have uprooted all the principles of nature, and transformed his very austerities into sources of pleasure. But not only was Edwards endowed by nature with a mind eminently fitted for ratiocination, and not only were these powers incessantly exercised;-the laudable industry which he used to preserve and systematize his thoughts must have tended, in an eminent degree, to improve his natural faculties, as well as to secure his mind from retrogression either in knowledge or power; nay, must have insured and facilitated his constant progress in both. We now allude of course to Edwards's well-known practice of always carrying writing materials with him, and of setting down at the very moment in which it occurred, any new train of reasoning, or even any insulated thought, worth preserving. By this means, his knowledge was rendered permanent; he secured himself from the necessity, which besets indolent or negligent men, of constantly traversing the same ground again, Nor was tha all, he always had a fixed starting point from what to make further incursions into unknown realms of speculation. Moreover, such a practice must em nently have favoured clear and accurate habits al thought. Not only are the particular thoughts thus carefully set down, rendered more disting and definite; a fact so obvious and familiar that we need not insist upon it; but the general Asbu of the mind will become more severely correct, the longer such practice is continued. Many a man is satisfied with indistinct ideas, so long as they only flit before his own mind, and he is not neces sitated to give them a definite expression. But be would be ashamed to see these indistinct ideas em bodied in corresponding obscurity of language. As he proceeds therefore to the actual expression of his ideas, they gradually assume a more definite appearance; the pen, like the chisel of the sculptor working upon the rough outline of a statue, gradaally throws out every lineament of thought fully and clearly. In process of time, the mind will, even without writing, think far more clearly than before it will repudiate, it will loathe whatever is not transparent both in thought and expression. "How happy a circumstance would it have been for mankind, if great geniuses, who, alas! have generally been cursed with an indolence and irre solution which have most seriously detracted from the value of their natural endowments, had adopted Edwards's admirable plan of never trusting that traitor, memory, or of never suffering thoughts to escape, which, when once gone, they may often til in vain to recall!-How many brilliant, how many profound conceptions might have been preserved, which have now perished for ever! Nor is this fanciful. Those who have often listened to the conversation of genius confessedly great, will know that it is sometimes capable, under circumstances of peculiar excitement, of throwing out scintillations of thought (generally from collision with minds of a like temper with their own) which, though inimitably beautiful, are instantly extin guished. In the same manner, such men will teil you that they are sometimes conscious, for a mement, of a sudden expansion of power, for which they cannot account, and which resembles nothing so much as the illapses of inspiration; auspicious moments, in which the perplexities which had long invested some difficult subject appear suddenly cleared away, and the mind triumphs and exults in the free and facile exercise of its faculties. Yet this 'preternatural light lasts but for a moment; it was a meteoric splendour which streamed athwart the firmament of the soul, and then passed away for ever. If advantage be not taken of such felicitous moments, the mind in general labours in vain to recover what it has lost, and when it turns again, after an interval of perhaps only a few hours, to the subjects which but now stood revealed in so strong a light, it finds as deep a shadow as ever resting over the whole scene of thought; all wrapped in its original darkness. Such a habit as that of Edwards's must be incalculably valuable; he probably lost fewer thoughts of any value than any man that ever lived, as his voluminous miscel lanea sufficiently show; while the practice to which refer wrought up to still more exquisite perfecn those superlative powers of reasoning which ture had conferred. We have thus spoken of the chief, the charac-istic peculiarities of Edwards's mind; those nich made him what he was, and without which - other intellectual powers which he possessed ould ever have raised him to more than respectaity. Probably no man ever achieved so much putation in those departments of intellectual extion to which he devoted himself, by the greatEss of a single faculty. "The irrepressible energies of that tendency to Ostract reasoning which we have represented as dwards's distinguishing endowment, is strongly winced by two circumstances. The first is, that gave such remarkable indications of itself in very arly life. Great genius generally affords some pes and prophecies of its future fame, even in ildhood. But though a general, this is by no means a universal, rule. There have been men of lendid talents, who, up to a certain age, seem ppressed with a species of torpor; who require the pplication of some strong stimulus, or the conunction of some happy circumstances, to elicit heir real power. Such men sometimes start into ime at once. One moment they are buried in the hrysalis state of obscurity and meanness; the next, hey are spreading their glittering wings to the sun, nd expatiating in another sphere of existence. "Still these are the exceptions to the general ule.-Genius ordinarily betrays its existence in ery early life its irrepressible energy cannot long e concealed; 'some trifling circumstance or other is ure to indicate, even through the thickest disguise, he presence of the divinity within. "Edwards manifested at a very early period both he quality and the extraordinary strength of his Deculiar genius. This is the more remarkable, as hose faculties for which he was afterwards distinguished are of very tardy growth, and, by a wise and Jeneficent arrangement of Providence, generally tarry during the period of childhood and youth, for the development of the subordinate intellectual faculties, and indeed are at these periods so feeble as to be altogether unable to struggle against the obtrusion of the material world and the solicitations of the senses. Not so, however, with Edwards as we have already remarked, his very earliest productions, his philosophic efforts at twelve years of age, display the leading traits of his intellectual character, marked in the strongest manner and developed in no common degree. At the age of fourteen, he perused or rather devoured Locke's Essay on the Understanding, a work which, more than any other, contributed to the formation of his intellectual character. When about the same age, he penned many of those miscellaneous observations on various philosophical subjects, which have been happily preserved in his descendant's memoir of him, and not a few of which display a depth, a subtilty, a reach of intellect, which would have done no discredit to men who had spent their whole lives in the pursuit of metaphysical science, and are hardly surpassed by any of his own subsequent efforts. In a word, we know not the time when Edwards was not a great his His displayed his invincible strength of mind, is, that he achieved such wonders in defiance of all the unfavourable circumstances under which powers developed themselves. If they had not possessed an elasticity which no accumulation of difficulties could repress, we should never have heard of the name of JONATHAN EDWARDS. was, indeed, a singular destiny. Though far removed from the ancient seats of learning, Edwards has spoken in a voice which has echoed through the halls of European science and philosophy, and has been listened to with respect by their profoundest masters of wisdom. Born in that tumultuous state of society, in which man, having successfully struggled with the elements, and provided in some measure for security and subsistence, is just beginning to dream of luxuries beyond those which terminate in sense, but long before that auspicious era when civilization and plenty let loose the chosen minds which heaven has consecrated to this work, to the systematic pursuit of philosophy and science,-Edwards abandoned himself to a life of abstraction as unbroken as though he had lived in a far different age. Restricted to an education which, however favourable to the interests of virtue and religion, could never have raised a mind, not irrepressibly vigorous, above mediocrity, he has managed to tread with unexampled success some of the most obscure and intricate paths of abstruse speculation. Incessantly engaged in the laborious duties of a christian pastor, and in the benevolent drudgeries of a missionary to barbarous tribes, he would seem by his writ ings to have spent his whole time in the seclusion of a cloister. In measuring the strength of Edwards's genius, therefore, we are not only to take into consideration what he has actually achieved, but the circumstances which at first sight would have appeared to render such achievements impossible. We may judge of the power of the winter's sun, whose beams struggle through a sky of storms, by the depth and darkness of that veil of clouds, through which, notwithstanding, it pours its splendours."-p. ix to xi. REVIEW.-The Life, Character, and Literary Labours of Samuel Drew, A.M. By his Eldest Son. London. Longman. 1834. (Second notice.) In our last number we introduced this entertaining record of the life and labours of Mr. Drew to our readers. Our limits then allowed of our making no such extracts as could convey an idea of the highly interesting character of the book; and we are induced, therefore, to notice it again, for the purpose of extracting for the reader some portions which we think calculated to excite a desire for the perusal of the work. The first extract we shall make will satisfy the very general curiosity which respects the beginnings, by which a mind so disadvantageously situated developed its powers, and set forth in the high road to intellectual eminence and literary fame : "The earliest production of Mr. Drew's pen that has been preserved is a metrical piece, containing about twelve hundred lines, entitled, "Reflections on St. Austell Church Yard," from which a short quotation was inserted in the third section of our narrative. The MS is dated August 17, 1792, and, from its erasures and emendations, appears to be the original composition. It is written in the heroic stanza, and has many excellent couplets, but, as a whole, is too defective in grammar and versification to endure the test of criticism. From a short preface, which we insert as a curiosity it is evident that the author once contemplated the publication of this piece, though on further consideration, he judged it inexpedient. "When I consider myself-my subject-my circumstances-my situation-and my neighbours, I cannot think this apology unnecessary. When this appears in a public manner, I expect some will despise-some ridicule-some pity-and some, perhaps, applaud me for my undertaking. To please every one is impossible. One objection will be (I expect) continually raised-which is-you had better mind your work. It may not be unnecessary in reply to observe-it had but little interference with my labour; nothing to its detriment; but has been chiefly the produce of those evening and leisure hours, which too many of my age dedicate to profligacy, wicked company, and vice.'" "What gives the chief interest and importance to this poetical composition is, its being apparently the embryo of Mr. Drew's applauded treatise on the Human Soul. The major part is argumentativenot unlike Pope's Essay on Man, upon which, possibly, it was modelled: and several of the arguments tend to prove that the soul is immaterial, and therefore immortal. Such is the purport of the following lines, "What is the Soul? and where does it reside? To form the soul do subtle parts conspire? Now, if the soul be matter thus refin'd, This is no Soul-for matter cannot think; "Although, as Mr. Drew informs his readers, he laid the foundation of his Essay on the Soul in 1798, it is obvious, from the preceding quotations, and from other circumstances, that his thoughts must have been directed to this subject at a much earlier period. His sister says, that while she lived with him-long before his marriage,-he had heard of Plato on the Soul, and was very desirous to procure it. Her words are:-"I never saw my brothe manifest more anxiety about any thing than bea to obtain that book. After some time had elapsed he came to me one day, rejoicing that he had foun the treasure. A person in the market-place havin it among other old books for sale, he purchased it but he told me afterwards, that he was greatly dis appointed in it." This accords with an anecdo which is related of him. In his anxiety to posses 'Plato,' he made inquiries for it at a book selirt shop in Truro, without success. He was rer. remarkable for bestowing attention upon his or ward man; and at this time, very probably, L attire corresponded with his limited finance There was a singular incongruity between £i unclassical appearance and the book for which h inquired. This attracted the notice of some mi tary officers who were lounging in the shop. O of them, thinking him a fair subject for a joke, said "Mr. has not got Plato, my man; b here (presenting him with a child's Primer) is a be he thinks likely to be more serviceable to you; an as you do not seem to be overstocked with cash, I make you a present of it." Mr. Drew thanked him for his professed kindness, and added some remars not now remembered, which caused the military gentlemen to retreat with precipitation and shame "In allusion to the year 1798, he observes, "| had long before this imagined that the immortality of the soul admitted of more rational proof than any I had ever seen. I perused such books a could obtain on the subject; but disappointment was the common result. I therefore made notes of such thoughts as occurred, merely for my own sati faction, without any design of publishing them ta the world." "From the year 1792, when the poem just noticed was written, until the commencement of his Essay on the Soul, no particular circumstance of his B rary life is on record. "During the former part of this period, he was intimate with several young men of good informa tion and inquiring minds, who regarded him a their preceptor. One of them, who was Mr. Drew junior, in referring to this period, says, "Regular as the clock proclaimed the hour of leaving wek I ran to his house, for the purpose of reading ar talking with him. We read and rocked the cra by turns. I can see him now, in imagination, standing and leaning on the back of a chair, as he was then accustomed to do when in earnest conversati I was a correspondent of the Weekly Entertainer. and he was my counsellor both as to matter and manner; but I believe he never wrote for that pub lication himself." "Mr. Drew's own description of his mode of study. at this period of his life, is as follows: "During my literary pursuits, I regularly ari constantly attended on my business, and do not recollect that one customer was ever disappointed by me through these means. My mode of writing and study may have in them, perhaps, something peculiar. Immersed in the common concerns of life, I endeavour to lift my thoughts to objects more sublime than those with which I am surrounded. and, while attending to my trade, I sometimes catch the fibres of an argument, which I endeavour to note, and keep a pen and ink by me for that p pose. In this state, what I can collect through the |