morality, and whatever discountenances vice upon proper grounds, is evangelical. You yourself allow, in your notice of this correspondent, that 'in some of the sketches less is said than might have been wished, respecting some very essential doctrines of christianity.' I need scarcely remark that christianity does not consist in doctrines; or that a man may be a very good Christian, who has very little notion of these doctines as a system or plan of human salvation. There are, I believe, many now living, and in former times for obvious reasons there have been many more, who have *** walked in humble confidence with the Lord their God all the days of their lives, without ever hearing the word evangelical, or of any compendious arrangement of the gospel system, such as, in these times, is considered as the shibboleth of the faithful. The doctrinal part of the gospel is much too exclusively insisted upon by zealous ministers and zealous writers.'-This is very well said, and indicates a spirit that would not always we think have remained subjugated to the religious theories, to which the understanding at first submitted. The following reason is assigned among others, for saying less about peculiar doctrines: the great features of the system of salvation contained in the New Testament, by being less argued, will in process of time come to be less disputed. By these great features' are meant doubtless the Medusa lineaments which have been already held up to our readers and the reasoning reminds us of a very opposite view of the subject taken by an orthodox writer of our own. It was in the Panoplist, we think, that bitter complaints were once made against the sin of omitting to insist continually on these doctrines of grace :' for, it was argued, if the people were once suffered to lose their familiarity with them, and let them be long out of sight, they would be actually too much shocked on their re-appearance to be willing ever to receive them again. Which of these conclusions was the more natural? The young poet's has the better sound; but then our friend at Andover had further experience, and more years over his head.

เ

In speaking thus of the third volume of the Remains of Henry Kirke White,' let us be allowed to repeat that we would derogate nothing from the pure fame of his genius and worth. We pay homage to it all. There is certainly no object so interesting, except the rewards of an honoured age, as the opening promise of so gifted and lovely a youth as his. To make no great account of his knowledge or opinions is to rob him of nothing of his praise. His Muse was worth more than many men's researches; and his excellent and devout heart was better than all the tenets in philosophy or divinity either, which men can dispute.

ARTICLE XVII.

The Life of the Rev. Thomas Scott, D.D. Rector of Aston Sandford, Bucks; including a narrative drawn up by himself, and copious extracts of his letters. By John Scott, A.M. Vicar of North Ferriby, and Minister of St. Mary's, Hull. Boston. S. T. Armstrong & Crocker & Brewster. 12mo. pp. 454.

THIS is a large volume, but probably none too large for the admirers of Dr. Scott. It is in many cases not so much the merit of the individual, as the number and character of his friends and adherents, which determines the measure of his written biography. However numerous and valuable a man's public labors may have been, and however great the benefits derived to the church by his writings,-it is not the account of these which swells the history of his life; for they are necessarily told in short compass: but it is extracts from his diaries and letters, reports of his conversation and his feelings, and panegyrics on his character. Many men of far higher eminence than Scott have passed away with far scantier biography, for there was no inroad made into their privacies of life, or character, or devotion, and nothing told about them but what was in its nature public, and might be regarded as belonging to the public. But there is a portion of the religious community in which there is an insatiable curiosity to know the secrets of other men's religion, to see the workings of their souls, the times and length of their private prayers, the manner of their conversation, their expressions and feelings in sickness and in death, and to gratify this curiosity, the friends keep letters, and take minutes of conversation, and treasure up strong expressions of faith, and hand them over to some common friend, a son perhaps, who collects them all together, and being in a manner compelled to take something from every contributor, hence comes forth a large book, like the one before us-proportioned to the feelings of the friends rather than to the claims of the man.

The reputation of Scott, and the number of his writings, which have kept him constantly before the public for many years, together with the story of his conversion and the pains taken to praise him and circulate his works, have excited an interest in his history and character which justifies his son in the publication of this voluminous life. He has adapted it to New Series-vol. IV.

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the tastes and wants of those for whom it is designed. He has taken care in every possible way to gratify every possible curiosity concerning his father, and to feed to the full the love of talking and hearing of every circle of religious gossip. He has been anxious to leave nothing untold, of however private and delicate a nature, and in doing this has sometimes, we should think, rather promoted the cause of petty scandal than of religious edification.

We do not intend, however, to criticise the book severely. Different men have different tastes; and the taste of the evangelicals, for whom our biographer writes, is such as to impose upon him an unfortunate task, which he has executed, we should imagine, to their entire satisfaction. With that taste, we have no concern. The book was not made for us, and we have no right to complain. Apart from this at which we have hinted, there is much in the book which is exceed ing good and highly entertaining. There is more to be told about Scott than about most men, much of which is well worth reading, and not a little instructive. We take the opportunity therefore of this publication to devote a few pages to this conspicuous person, who has been so long proclaimed to the world as one of the great and wonderful lights of the church, and cited as an almost miraculous and quite an infallible testimony to the truth of Calvinism.

The present volume is composed of a sketch written by Dr. Scott himself,* filled up, and carried down to the time of his death by his son. He was born in February, 1747. His fa ther, who was a grazier in Lincolnshire, designed him for the medical profession, and sent him to a distant school at the age of ten years, where he remained during five years without visiting home. He was then, bound to a surgeon and apothecary at Alford, about eight miles from his father's residence. Here his conduct was so bad, that in two months be was dismissed in disgrace, and incurred the severe and lasting displeasure of his father. His master would not surrender his indentures, so that he remained nominally his apprentice, and was thus excluded from the profession for which he had been designed. This seems to have been the first in that train of circumstances

The first sentence of this manuscript will explain, at once, his reason for so doing, and the nature of the composition. "As there can be little doubt," he says, "that, after my decease, something in the way of memoir or narrative, will be published concerning me; to prevent misinformation, and to supply a few authentic materials, I purpose, in the following sheets, to state sach facts as seem of sufficient importance, leaving it, in general, to others to make their observa tions upon them."'

which led to and determined bis condition and labours in after life. His father from this time treated him with unremitted harshness and severity, as if to revenge himself on the son for the disgrace he had brought upon the family by his misconduct.

'Immediately on my return home, I was set to do, as well as I could, the most laborious and dirty parts of the work belonging to a grazier. On this I entered at the beginning of winter: and, as. much of my father's farm consisted of low land, which was often flooded, I was introduced to scenes of hardship, and exposed to many dangers from wet and cold, for which my previous habits had not prepared me. In consequence I was frequently ill, and at length suffered such repeated and obstinate maladies, (especially the ague, and effects following from it,) that my life was more than ence despaired of. Yet a kind of indignant, proud self-revenge kept me from complaining of hardship; though of reproach. and even of reproof, I was impatient to the greatest degree of irascibility.

"The discontent which corroded my mind during several of these years, surpasses description; and it soured my temper beyond its natural harshness: thus rendering me a great temptation, as well as trial, to my father, and those around me; to whom I generally behaved very disrespectfully, not to say, insolently. After some time, however, I became rather more reconciled to my lot; and concluded, that, though, for my misconduct at Alford, I was treated more harshly than others of the family, I should at length be provided for as a grazier: and, in consequence, waking dreams of other pursuits seemed to be less vivid in my mind.'

His other pursuits' were connected with ambitious plans of rising in the world, with which view he spent much time in reading such books as he could procure, while at other times he relieved the tediousness of his life by frequenting low and irreligious company, and engaging in scenes of low-lived riot.' He discovered at length that his exasperated parent would make but a wretched provision for him by his will, and this roused him to exertion.

'On this discovery, I determined to make some effort, however desperate, to extricate myself: and I only waited for an opportunity to declare my determination. Without delay, my Greek grammar was studied through and through; and I made what use I could of my Latin books: my father, in the mean time, expressing his astonishment at my conduct.

At length, in April, 1772, [æ. 25.] I avowed my intention, in almost the worst manner possible. After a long wet day, of incessant fatigue, I deemed myself, and perhaps with justice, to be causelessly and severely blamed, and I gave full vent to my indig nant passions; and, throwing aside my shepherd's frock, declared

my purpose no more to resume it. That night I lodged at my brother's, at a little distance: but, in the morning, I considered that a large flock of ewes in yeaning time, had no one to look after them who was competent to the task. I therefore returned, and did what was needful; and then set off for Boston, where a clergyman resided, with whom I had contracted some acquaintance, by conversing with him on common matters, when he came to do duty in my brother's village, and took refreshment at his house.

To this clergyman I opened my mind with hesitation and trepidation and nothing could well exceed his astonishment when he heard my purpose of attempting to obtain orders. He knew me only as a shepherd, somewhat more conversible, perhaps, than others in that station, and immediately asked, "Do you know any thing of Latin and Greek?" I told him, I had received an education, but that for almost ten years I had never seen a Greek book, except the grammar. He instantly took down a Greek Testament, and put it into my hands; and without difficulty I read several verses, giving both the Latin and English rendering of them, according to the custom of our school. On this, having strongly expressed his surprise, he said, "Our visitation will be next week; the archdeacon, Dr. Gordon, will be here; and, if you will be in the town, I will mention you to him, and induce him if I can, to send for you." This being settled, I returned immediately to my father for the intervening days; knowing how much, at that season, he wanted my help, for services which he could no longer perform himself, and was not accustomed to entrust to servants.'

We cannot follow the narrative through the detail of the perplexities and embarrassments in which he was now entangled, his perseverance amidst which, discouraged and baffled as he was, discovers that energy and decision of character,* which distinguished him through life, and laid the foundation of his eminence. We can only record, that the pride of his family was at length engaged in assisting him, his father, gave the required consent, he went to Boston to pursue his studies, passed an ex amination for Deacon's orders with good reputation, was admitted to ordination September 20, 1772, and immediately became curate at Stoke Goldington.

The whole of this transaction, while it evinces the strength and perseverance of his character, exhibits him most disadvan tageously in a moral and religious point of view. It is not strange that in speaking of it afterward he should have pronounced it, 'the most atrocious wickedness of his life.' For he

The manner in which he finished his first unsuccessful application for orders in London affords an amusing specimen. At length I reached Braytoft the village where his father lived] after walking twenty miles in the forenoon, and, having dined, I put off my clerical clothes, resumed my Shepherd's dress, and sheared eleven large sheep in the afternoon,'