BENEVOLENCE: ITS ORIGIN.-No. I, BENEVOLENCE is an amiable disposition. I love God whom he hath not seen?' As It wins directly our favourable regard. No trait of character, perhaps, gains more immediate and general approval. All speak of it in terms of general commendation. It is, indeed, a quality peculiarly amiable: not only lovely in itself, but benign in its influence, and salutary in its effects. It forms an essential feature of a rightly-constituted mind. Its absence indicates a sad defect, an utter want of moral worth. Its opposite is, universally, deemed hateful; exciting the instinctive abhorrence of every beholder, and transforming its wretched subject into a common enemy, alike disliked and dreaded for his malignity, and dangerous according to the extent of his power. -- Benevolence may be contemplated under a twofold aspect: as a natural feeling, or as a Christian excellency. The latter is the light in which we now propose shortly to view it. Our attention may be profitably turned to its origin, its objects, and its fruits. In this Article, we confine our remarks to the first of the topics mentioned. Benevolence, in the literal acceptation of the term, imports good-will. It is synonymous with Love to Man. It springs, as a necessary and spontaneous result, from Love to God. With this it is always associated in closest and indissoluble union. The two are constituent parts of a great whole, to the completeness of which each is alike essential. They are different forms or expressions of the same grand, comprehensive principle, varied according to their respective objects: that of the one being the Adorable Supreme; that of the other, a fellow-mortal. Of these twin excellencies, the first, or love to God, may be considered as the root; the second, or love to man, as the branch: that, as the fountain; this, as the stream. Such being the intimacy of their connexion, the presence of the one, implies the existence of the other; while the want of fraternal affection, as certainly discovers a heart void of all pious emotion. For he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he No. VI.-THIRD SERIES. a consequence, too, of their mutual bearing, and reciprocal influence, the degree of either is the measure of its correlate. It follows, that true Benevolence is not of native growth. It flows from a higher source than aught that is inborn. Belonging to a more excellent order, it owns a nobler descent, than the chief of inherent properties or endowments. Its origin is Divine. It ranks among the productions of Grace. It is a fruit, a choice fruit, of the Spirit. He sheds abroad the love of God in the heart;' whence proceeds its inseparable concomitant, philanthropy. It is not, therefore, 'of the earth,' but, like every other 'good and perfect gift, cometh down from above.' Benevolence is a ray from the Infinite Goodness. It is an emanation from the bosom of Benignity. It is a particle of the Divinity stirring within us.' It is a sacred spark from the Eternal Fire: feeble, indeed, at best, surrounded by adverse influences, and fluctuating with the inconstancy of a variable atmosphere, where the chill fogs and vapours of selfishness so often dim its lustre, and threaten its extinction. Yet, despite its present weakness and impurity, this hallowed spark is quenchless as the Everlasting Flame that kindled it; and, freed from every debasing mixture, is destined, in a serener and more genial region, amid the hosts of 'bright and burning seraphim,' to glow with the intenseness of angelic ardour. Imperfect here, where depravity within and without ever opposes, though never destroying it, this Heaven-inspired Energy will be perfected there; and, through the unending cycles of the future, be liable neither to decay, nor abatement, nor intermission. · Consequently, the Benevolence in question, has, and can have, no place in the carnal mind,' which is enmity against God.' As well might we expect the rich luxuriance of the tropics in an arid waste or an icy plain, as look for this holy affection in the heart unoccupied by the Spirit of love. Counterfeited, no doubt, it may be. The semblance, fair and imVOL. I. posing, may be exhibited; but the reality is, of necessity, wanting. It pertains to the new creature, of which it is a component part. It is a prominent and distinctive feature of that 'image,' to which the saint is predestinated to be conformed.' It is both coeval with the second, or spiritual, birth, and one of its hallowed offsprings. It proceeds 'out of a pure heart, and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned.' Thus, instead of deeming it a common, we account Benevolence a rare, possession, It is to be viewed as peculiar to the partakers of regeneration. It is an attribute of renewed humanity. The soul alone, that has experienced the quickening influence of renovating grace, is its appropriate seat. Here only is the soil, in which this pleasant plant is found. It is a production of Paradise, and blooms nowhere but in 'the garden of the Lord.' However similar in appearance or show, it is as different in substance or quality, from much that passes for it, as an artificial from a natural flower. THE GRAVE OF RICHARD THE blood of martyrs is not lost, To worship God with conscience clear So Cameron, with sword in hand, 'Lord! take the ripe, and spare the green,'t 'For yon heaven's open gates are seen By me,' he said, and died. Two centuries have nearly gone Since these brave martyrs fell, His Bible and his sword are seen,§ *On the spot where Cameron and his com panions fell, there has recently been erected a neat upright monument, with a suitable inscription. Formerly there was only a flat grave-stoneusually called a through-stone-which is still moss, in the parish of Auchenleck, Ayrshire, about four miles west of the village of Muirkirk. preserved. The scene of the martyrdom is Airs †The Covenanters deemed it their duty to take up arms in defence of their lives; but they never attempted to raise a civil war, to lay waste the country by fire and sword, or to inflict vengeance on their persecutors. We must, therefore, take exception to one expression in Hislop's beautiful, and otherwise unexceptionable, poem 'The vengeance that darken'd their brow was unbreath'd.' When Cameron saw that he, and his little Upon the advancement of sanctification, also, depends the increase of Benevolence. Equally necessary and beautiful is the harmony existing between them. Proportionate to the progress of the former, will be both the degree of vigour, and the steadiness of operation, in the latter. Accordingly, till this redeeming process is consummated, Benevolence attains not perfection. Descending from heaven to gladden and bless earth, it seeks the diffusion of happiness, and, by a wise constitution, it derives, from the very activity of its exercise, corresponding strength and improvement. The fulness of its maturity, however, is the privilege, band, were about to be overpowered by superior not of earth, but of heaven; it is matter, not of present experience, but of promise and hope. It is a realization consequent on the translation of its possessor to glory; where, with scope the freest, and incentive the strongest, as well as examples the most animating and innumerable, it is appointed to hold an endless reign. 'Whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away: but Charity never faileth. Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is grasped by a hand, engraved on it, in a state of charity.' Y. numbers, he prayed aloud thrice, in the most fervent tone, Lord, spare the green, and take the ripe.' He refused to flee, and nobly kept his position, that those who wished to escape might have the opportunity. To his brethren, who col lected around him for his defence, he said, with great intrepidity, 'Come, let us fight it out to the last; for this is the day I have longed for, and the day that I have prayed for, to die fighting against our Lord's avowed enemies; this is the day that we will get the crown." To the rest, he said, 'Be encouraged all of you to fight it out valiantly; for all of you that shall fall this day, I see heaven's gates open to receive you.'-See Bell's Life of Cameron. The flat stone has an open Bible, and a sword good preservation; but the hand of the desecrator has broken off one of the corners of the Bible. Where heather bloom'd, now grass is green,* Around this hallow'd spot a youth The impressions he receiv'd among And still the flocks, around that spot, Whose presence proves, that ne'er forgot A stranger there once found a youth, He heard a step, and turn'd around,- The stranger asked the modest lad, The boy replied,-"The book you see Before his last farewell. An orphan now, I once was lov'd, The battle was fought on the margin of the morass, and the field which embraces the tomb has been ploughed in the present century. This popular poem was written by James Hislop. It is understood that he composed it when a boy, feeding his flock around the grave of Cameron, but it was not published till February 1821, when he was fully twenty-two years of age. It has been often reprinted, and all the reprints differ from the original, in many expressions.. In one instance they are manifestly incorrect, for they almost all say 'When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion, All bloody and torn 'mong the heather was lying.' But the place where the martyrs fell is a flat moorland' (the word used by Hislop), far from the valley which is referred to in another part of the poem, thus,— 'And Wellwood's sweet valley breathed music and gladness; The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness.' Many a poem has been grievously injured by those who honestly meant to improve it. The conversation here introduced is not fictitious. The stranger' was a friend of James Hislop's, and his letter, giving an account of this visit to Cameron's grave, was afterwards published by Hislop in the Edinburgh Magazine. The hand of death again, alas! There is the cottage where he died! I daily longed for his return The psalms we said on Sabbath eve, I shall remember while I live, And read with gathering tear. Before he died, my father said,— "I hope you'll seek the Lord; He'll care for you when I am dead; Obey and trust His word." We cried, and sobb'd, but he was calm; And then at prayers we sang this psalm, "Help, Lord, because the godly man And from among the sons of men I miss him much, both day and night; And all He does I know is right, When fathers are by death remov'd, And shares His saving grace. In Scotland, where the martyrs gain'd The Church of God has still maintain'd The wild morass, and rugged steep, Our fathers wear the martyrs' crown, P. M. REVELATION AND PREACHING. REVELATION is mercy rolling back the curtains of the eternal throne, to unveil the God of love; is mercy moving forward that throne, to render the Lamb slain visible in the midst of it; is mercy disclosing the river of life, flowing full and free from it; is mercy pointing to crowns and mansions of glory; is mercy exhibiting myriads of redeemed spirits, once guilty and vile, as we are; is mercy leading forward Eternity, glowing with the immortal splendour of all that God has done, or will do, laden with the weight of glory, resounding with the Allelujahs of the universe, and teeming with the future wonders which, through everlasting ages, shall bless, as they blaze, the general assembly of saints and angels! Man immortal! awake to the grandeur and grace of thy Bible. It is the telescope, by which two eternities are rendered visible; each thronged with stars which shine to guide, to cheer, to exalt, and which will shine for ever and ever. The past eternity, like the milky way of the material heavens, is seen crowded with the redeeming purposes, and plans, and covenant of grace: the coming eternity, rich and radiant with the scenes and felicities of glory. Preaching is God's ordinance, and gloriously has He owned and honoured it in the world. What, but preaching, overthrew ancient heathenism all over the Roman empire? What, but preaching, bróke the iron sceptre of modern Rome? What, but preaching, by the agents and energies it has called forth at home, has added the Islands of the Pacific to Christendom, and brought the idolatry of India to a crisis, which fills even its priesthood with despair! Evangelical preaching brings before the mind, from Sabbath to Sabbath, the grand truths which you will admire and love to all eternity in heaven. If, therefore, you think and act with any express reference to the eternal themes of heaven, and the immortal emotions of your spirit, you cannot but rejoice, that the Pulpit gives prominence to the truths, which the Throne will prolong for ever. MAGDALENE NISBET, THE MAIDEN OF THE MERSE: the lady; he never comes but he casts a shadow of evil before him!' 'And his companion,' chimed in Magdalene, 'is my uncle, who broke my mother's heart!' 'Say'st thou so?' rejoined the lady; 'then there must be a tempest singing in the wind, when such ominous birds are abroad. May the blessed Father who is in heaven perplex and dash their evil counsels, and put on their arms bands of iron and brass! But let not thee and me fear, maiden; for with God's blessing and protection we shall be safe here, and my faithful Jorello will manage to find out the business of these crafty ones, and give us timely warning of danger. Meanwhile, let me relieve my burdened heart by telling thee the story of my woe 'I am the daughter of Sir Brian Berwick, the owner of this castle. I had a meek and holy mother; but she died when I was a maiden of thine own years. Her death left me sad and companionless; and my father's evil temper burned more fiercely against me, so that this house, notwithstauding its wealth and splendour, became to me a scene of perpetual bitterness and woe. Gladly did I escape, as often as I could, from the angry presence of my father, and I sought the seclusion of these surrounding woods and water-banks, where oftentimes, amid the solemn moonlight, I wandered like a forlorn spirit, and strove to relieve my sorrowful soul, by communion with God, and by the contemplation of the magnificent heavens. In one of these moonlight rambles, I was assailed by two armed men, who were carrying me off as their captive, when a know as Sir William Sunning, providengentleman, whom I afterwards came to tially met us, and rescued me. Sir William was handsome, brave, and good, and my meeting with him gave a new turn to my history. We loved. We vowed to be faithful to each other. We met again and again in stolen interviews; but my stern A Tale of the Persecution of Charles the and jealous father came to know of our Second's Time. CHAPTER XI. WE return to Tweedaledum Castle, and to the lady, and Magdalene Nisbet, when they started back from the sight of Logan Nisbet and Curate Jollyfellow at the gate. 'It is the curate of Whistlekisty!' said attachment, and then kept me a prisoner in this castle. Notwithstanding my imprisonment, and the close watch which was set on me, I managed to maintain a written correspondence with Sir William. I had the happiness of receiving his letters filled with assurances of his changeless affection, and I needed all he could say to cheer me amid the increasing sorrows to which my father subjected me. My imperious father hated Sir William Sunning, and was furious at the thought of my marrying him. What a sad and melancholy life I led, but the worst was yet to come! My father determined to marry me to a gentleman of his liking; and he fixed on Sir Hume De Winter, a man of wealth and fashion, who had been abroad with the King, and an associate in all his scenes of riotous living. The marriage day was at hand before I knew of my father's purpose. When I came to know, I broke away from my attendants, I rushed into Sir Brian's presence, I fell at his feet, I clasped his knees, and in an agony of intercession, besought him to pity, and spare, and save me. But nothing could soften that stony heart; he tore away my clinging hands from his knees, and spurned me from his feet. I turned from him in tearless and terrible silence, but with a tigress energy burning in my heart. I wrote to Sir Willian Sunning. I told him I was ready to flee with him whithersoever he would, and I besought him to come and save me. I received a speedy and joyful answer. He appointed a time and place to meet me. I escaped from this house. I reached the place of meeting, but Sir William was not there! I waited, and every minute seemed an hour, but no Sir Williain came! O the unutterable loneliness and desperation of that hour! Maiden! maiden! may God in mercy deliver thee from the endurance of such a woe! Even now I tremble as I remember the agony of that terrible time! I waited till there rang in my ears sounds which told me that my escape had been discovered at the castle. Flee then I must, and I did flee. But whom should I meet in my flight but the curate of Whistlekisty? He saw that I was fleeing from the face of my father, and he spoke comfortably to me, and offered to guide me to a place of safety. I believed him, and cast myself upon his care, and he hid me in his house, till the fury of the search for me had abated. Verily I was grateful to him, for I deemed him a holy man, and good Samaritan; but he soon began to speak to me with a serpent's tongue. He first strove to poison my mind against Sir William Sunning. He told me that that gentleman had gone to England to be married, and had already appeared at court with his lady. He next offered me in marriage his own hand, which I indignantly rejected. He continued to flatter me, and to pester me with his attentions and entreaties, to tell me of his expectations of preferment in the Church, through the favour of his college companion, the Archbishop of St Andrews; and finally, when he saw me obstinate, he threatened to deliver me into the hands of my father. O, maiden! these were days of darkness, and perplexity, and distress for me! I was environed on every side; I was kept like a captive under locks and bars: but the Lord delivered me out of my enemy's hands; for that wicked curate was smitten with sore sickness, and when he lay on his bed of pain, I forced my way from his house, and fled as a lonely wanderer and stranger over the face of the earth. I set my face towards London, for my purpose was to discover if Sir William Sunning was there, and married as the curate had told me. What a fearful journey I had! what hunger! what cold! what exposure! what weariness! what despondency! but with the good hand of God upon me, I reached the mighty city, and I learned there that the curate had lied to me regarding Sir William Sunning's marriage. This was light to my soul in darkness; but it was all the light I saw, for no news of Sir William could I gather, and no news of him have I gathered eveu to this hour. He is lost to me, lost for ever. I shall never see him on earth! Perhaps he lives; but, alas! I shall never see him more, for I am hasting to my grave; and, O the inconceivable bitterness of going thither, while I am still ignorant, whether the man to whom I gave away my heart in the fervour and sincerity of youthful love, is the villain who has trifled with my affections, or the honest man whom mysterious circumstances have torn unwillingly from my heart!' Overcome with grief the lady paused, weeping, and Magdalene, with true womanly tenderness and sympathy, joined with her in sorrow and tears. A few moments more, and with eyes still glistening with teardrops the lady resumed her tale 'Years past away, and at length I left London. I sought my northern home; for I had come to know that Sir Hume De Winter was dead, and that strange calamities had fallen on my father, so that |