anticipating earthly honours and distinctions as the reward of their services and attachment; and that even among them dissensions were excited by worldly ambition. The assistance of the Holy Spirit was necessary, to enable them to comprehend the real character and object of their Lord. In the prophetic song of Simeon, it is true, "the Glory of Israel" is hailed as "the light which was to lighten the Gentiles;" but it was long before any of the Apostles could admit the universality of Christ's church; and longer still before they could all agree in admitting it. We know how they were all affected by the near prospect of his death; how-when his enemies seemed to prevail against him, and their hopes of empire appeared to be at an end, they all" forsook him and fled." Would they have forsaken him in his utmost need, had they been fully persuaded that he was "the Christ, the Son of God?" Had their faith been such as it might have been, and as it afterwards became, "though they had died with him, yet would they not have forsaken him." But, like the rest, they distrusted his power to save himself and them. They had not yet been made to understand that, by the tragedy of horror about to be performed, that which was spoken by the prophets would be fulfilled. Even after his death, when they must have recovered from their panic, they deeply regretted his loss, as that of "a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people;" but they did not regard him as the Saviour. "We trusted" (it is their own pathetic expression) "we trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel." And surely, if this defection of the very disciples of our Lord admits of any excuse, something may justly be conceded in favour of the conduct of the great body of their countrymen. These crucified him; those betrayed, deserted, and denied him. We pursue this ample theme no further. A complete treatise on such a subject is not to be expected within the limits to which we are confined; and the reader's own reflections will easily supply much of that which we know to be wanting. Our purpose will be answered, if the claims of the descendants of the people of God to a somewhat larger portion of candour than they have hitherto experienced, should come to be impartially considered. Their case is fully before the public, through means of the enlightened society which has taken up their cause. To the transactions of that society we refer our readers contenting ourselves, in the mean time, with inviting their attention to an interesting passage at the conclusion of these Discourses. "From all these different views of Judaism and Christianity, the evidence of both, whether it be taken from external proofs or from internal characters, may be in a great measure resolved into questions of fact, which can be ascertained by the same means, as the authenticity of any other memorial of ancient times. "While the substance of the Jewish and Christian revelations is as open to direct examination in the latest as in the earliest ages, we are more competent to decide on its manifest superiority to every other system of faith or morals, than even they who lived in the ages when it was first committed to writing. As far as the superiority of the Christian doctrine and morality has been proved, by their effects on the state of the world, we have certainly facts to enlighten our judgment, which the earliest believers did not possess, and which they could only anticipate from the manifest tendency, or from the immediate effects in their own times, of the doctrines which they embraced. The history of revelation is the pledge of its authenticity; and the testimony of successive ages accumulates the practical demonstrations, as effectually as it ascertains the original proofs of its authority. "Christianity contains the only doctrine which has ever been promulgated for salvation to the human race, with any semblance of reason or authority. It is the only doctrine which is alike suited to the circumstances of every order and condition of mankind; which is not less effectual to console them in the day of affliction, than to teach them how to enjoy the prosperity which is given them; which is equally calculated to promote their best interests in the present life, and to guide them to the faith and hope of a better world. They who allow themselves to reject Christianity, with all these cir cumstances in its favour; or, what has exactly the same effect upon themselves, who venture to neglect it, without having ever made it a subject of serious enquiry, abandon at once every intelligible expectation beyond this transitory life, as well as every rational consolation, which can be opposed, either to inevitable calamities, or to approaching death." p. 472 to 474. "If this be in any degree a correct account of what they profess to dis believe, it certainly concerns them nearly to consider well what that is which they embrace on the other side. "They unquestionably embrace no other faith, concerning moral duties or eternal salvation, which they can seriously pretend to place in competition with the morality or with the doctrines of the Gospel. If they affect to set religion and morality at variance, at least they add nothing either to the weight or to the purity of their maxims, when they abandon the authority of Christian morals. While they profess to release mankind from what they describe as the intolerable fetters of religion, they are in truth doing every thing in their power to dissolve the most important moral obligations of mankind; and où the ruins of the mild and estimable virtues of genuine Christianity, to rear and perpetuate the most pernicious vices of the superior orders, and all the atrocities of the lawless multitude. With all their zeal against the foundations of Christian hope, they profess to be in possession of no other grounds of assurance, concerning the world to come; concerning a future state, either of happiness or 'retribution; concerning any consequences of human conduct, to be either expected or apprehended beyond the grave. "All that they can tell of themselves is absorbed in the wretched insensibility of thoughtless indifference, or of obstinate unbelief; and if they shall ever seriously examine their state of mind, they will find, that they have nothing to console them but the dark uncertainty concerning all that is to come, which they never set themselves in earnest, either to verify or to dissipate. By rejecting the evidence of Christianity, they renounce the consolations, by which the Gospel sheds light and peace on every habitation of sincere believers; and, on the other side, they have nothing to embrace but the uncertain and comfortless reveries of querulous and hopeless unbelief; on which, even their greatest zeal against Christianity does not enable them to rely; and from which, with whatever degree of confidence they imagine themselves to receive them, they can never derive one cheering expectation. "Our blessed Saviour did not publish his doctrines, without forewarning his disciples, that, in its progress among many nations, it would be often, like himself, despised and rejected; and that it would in every age be derided by men reputed wise. But he said to them what he says to sincere believers of every time, Blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me.'"-p. 478 to 480. ART. VIII-Julia of Ardenfield; a Novel. Law and Whittaker. 1816. Two Vols. 10s. 6d. THIS performance is prefaced by the following laconic ad dress: "To the Reader. It is to you I dedicate my work, for I want no other patron. If it please you, take the trouble of saying so to others; and give me any chance of success that I may deserve. If I appear to have failed, pass on. We sow many seeds to raise one flower. THE AUTHOR." It comes, we are told, from the pen of a lady, and is her first attempt to amuse the public. It is short, which is a recommendation; and it is by no means uninteresting. The characters, though none of them are very striking, are drawn with spirit; and the style is easy and flowing, and in general correct. The plot, which is exceedingly simple, may be unfolded in a very few words. Julia Mortimer is an orphan, whose parents died during her infancy. She is under the protection of Lord Bellamour; and when her education is completed, she goes to reside in his family. Lady Bellamour is a young, beautiful, and ac complished woman. She elopes with Sir Frederic Travers, No.XVII.-VOL.III.-Aug.Rev. U who is shortly afterwards killed in a duel; and she herself dies of a broken heart. Lord Bellamour then marries Julia; whose virtues and amiable demeanour amply repay him for the unhappiness which the indiscreet conduct of his former wife had occasioned. This is the bare outline of the story, which is, however, considerably diversified. The narrative is rendered interesting by the introduction of several welldrawn characters. The following extract from the second volume will, we doubt not, be acceptable to our readers. Lady Bellamour had made it an earnest request to Julia, that her remains might be privately interred in the village-church at Ardenfield. Her desire was complied with. "After the funeral, Lord Bellamour continued near a month with Mrs. Selwyn. His spirits were uncommonly depressed; and he found in her society, and in the tender and endearing kindness of Julia, such comfort to his wounded mind, that he scarcely knew how to leave them. "His affairs in Scotland, however, which he had left unfinished, intending to return there, after he had completed his Irish tour, required his presence. He determined to depart thither directly, and arrange every thing preparatory to a long absence. It was his present intention to travel on the Continent, perhaps, for two or three years. "When the two months had elapsed which he proposed passing in Scotland, Julia became extremely anxious, in the daily expectation of seeing him again. But he came not: and his letters always contained some excuse for not returning to Ardenfield. "After he had been absent more than four months, she was rejoiced with receiving a letter from him, announcing his intention of being at Mrs. Selwyn's, in the course of the ensuing week. But the momentary delight she felt in the idea of seeing him again was instantly dispelled, when she remembered that he was coming to take a long, perhaps a last, farewell. "Nor were the sensations of Lord Bellamour less acutely painful. He had long been tenderly attached to Julia; not merely by the ties which bound him to her as her only friend and protector; nor yet by the admiration which her youth and loveliness excited;-but by ardent respect for her meritorious character, and warm affection for her truly feminine and engaging qualities. To have united his fate with her's, would have been the most anxious wish of his heart; but he never, for a moment, supposed it possible, that Julia could seriously think of accepting as a husband, a man old enough to be her father, and whom she had ever considered in that sacred character. He had protracted the painful moment of parting with her, till he could no longer find any excuse for delaying his intentions of going abroad. He, therefore, no further hesitated, but, struggling with his feelings, he bent his way to Ardenfield, to bid adieu to her and to his children. He arrived there late in the evening, and intended to quit it in the course of the next day. "By degrees, he drew from her the confession of her long-cherished secret. How fondly did he gaze upon the artless countenance, which, with downcast eye and blushing cheek, told, in every expressive glance, that he only had ever been the object of her tenderest love. "As soon as a year, from the time of Lady Bellamour's decease, had elapsed, he led to the altar the young and beautiful Julia: a grateful and a happy bride! She brought him, indeed, no splendid dowry; but she gave him the treasure of a virtuous heart and a well-principled mind. In the calm and peaceful happiness of his second marriage, Lord Bellamour found an ample recompence for the sorrows of his first ill-fated union." We can safely recommend this novel-especially to our female readers; the main object of it being to shew the misery which inevitably follows any considerable relaxation of those restraints which prudence has placed as a guard upon virtue. ART. IX.-Margaret of Anjou; a Poem. In Ten Cantos. By MISS HOLFORD, Author of "Wallace, or the Fight of Falkirk." Murray, 1816. 4to. 21. 2s. AN epic poem is a serious affair. It is easy for persons of liberal education, taste, and ingenuity, familiar with the works of the best poets of the day, to imbody a few elegant conceptions in appropriate musical language; and the great number of good verses which are daily written and published, must convince us that the present generation is by no means deficient in metrical ability. But, to sustain the interest of a continued narrative throughout ten cantos; to adhere to the facts, and yet embellish the details of history; to fill up the outline of the biographical portraits given by the severe chroniclers of the times; is no ordinary effort of the human mind: and as such we consider this last work of a lady who is deservedly classed with the most esteemed of our living bards. The poem opens with an avowal of immediate inspiration from the Muse, which some of the subsequent pages do not dispose us to deny; and then describes the hermitage of St. John of Beverley, the holy man of Walden, who "Thought it meet thro' life to go The guilty, vindictive, but high-souled Margaret is then brought upon the canvas; and her attitude is sketched in these lines. "Now, who is she, whose awful mien, The solemn presence hint of conscious majesty?" p. 4.. |