ADVENTURES OF A SCOTCH CAMERONIAN IN SEARCH OF A UNIVERSAL CHURCH. THE Cameronians are so called after the Rev. Richard Came. ron, who was killed in a conflict at Airdsmoss, in Ayrshire, on the 20th of July, 1680. They are also called "M'Millans," or "M'Millanites," from the name of the first minister who espoused their cause after the revolution; and also sometimes "Covenanters," from their adherence to the national covenant of Scotland, and the solemn league and covenant of the three kingdoms. But their proper designation is that of "Reformed Presbyterians," or, in Scotland, where they had their origin, "Old Presbyterian Dissenters." There are upwards of thirty churches of Cameronians in Scotland, and a few in Ireland, besides a considerable number in America. The Cameronians are noted as being the straitest and sternest of the Presbyterians, in their adherence to practice as well as doctrine, as handed down to them by their forefathers from the "times of persecution." Until recently there were considerable numbers of the old people amongst them, who presented fine specimens of what the old Covenanters were, when they met to worship on the hill-side, armed with Bible and sword. But the modern Cameronians are becoming fast modernised, and do not present many noticeable peculiarities to distinguish them particularly from their other Presbyterian brethren. The parents of Amicus Veritatis (the "friend of truth,") were Scotch Cameronians, staunch, stern, and sturdy, possessing all the peculiarities of their peculiar party, with no small share of its piety and devotedness. They carefully trained up their children in the way they wished them to go-set before their eyes a fair example of the power even of gloomy Calvinism, in teaching to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, mingled at the same time with a cordial affection for four-hour sermons, and a patient zeal in undertaking ten and twenty mile walks on sacramental occasions. They plumed themselves highly on their complete and total separation from Antichrist, both in word and deed, and yet all the while were fast fettered by one of his chains. Deeming themselves to be walking in the light of Scripture purity, they disdained to listen to any preacher of another sect-and set down those of their own communion who did so, as having "itching ears. If their own worthy minister (and he was a worthy and a good man) happened to be prevented, by any circumstance, from "holding forth the word," in their own place of worship, they never dreamed of going anywhere else, but stayed at home, and carefully read "the Buke.' The sacred volume was not to them "a spring shut up, and a fountain sealed; for by the law and the testimony did they strive to measure both doctrines and deeds -and duly morn and even were the family gathered together to attend the reading, as it is emphatically called. The shortness of the breakfast hour shortened their morning devotions-but in the evening the psalm was regularly sung, or rather crooned, to the same tune which had been regularly used for a long series of years-and then the patriarch of the family, after reading the chapter in his own quiet and monotonous tone, would accompany it with remarks not inappropriate; and afterwards kneeling down, breathe a heart-felt prayer to the Father of the spirits of all flesh, imploring for his household mercy and grace, that they might be kept from falling, and guided all their journey through, until they arrived at the Canaan above. Ah! their worship was indeed worship in spirit and in truth." Though the services were occasionally prolonged until the junior portion of the family were asleep still the prayer ascended from sincere lips, and faith unfeigned. وو enough to observe, that pious as his parents and their party might be, their religious system tended to contract the mind, and tinge it with gloom-and as he approached manhood he felt an irresistible desire to walk abroad, and view that world of which he had hitherto only heard as it were by the hearing of the ear -so, like most Scotchmen, prudently and judiciously revolving the idea, that though his own country was a very good country, he might do better in another, he gathered up all he had, and departed to what he considered, in his simplicity, a comparatively distant land, carrying with him the prayers and the counsels of his father and mother, and the kind wishes of his friends. Amicus arrived in London, with all that peculiar aversion to the Establishment which his education might be supposed calculated to inspire. He had never been trained to entertain any great reverence for popery or prelacy; and though ignorant of the Articles, Liturgy, and form of worship of the established church, and that from the best of all reasons, having never read the one nor seen the other, he yet regarded her as a daughter of the "mother of harlots," decked and adorned with her trimmings, and pitching her tent in the immediate vicinity of Babylon. But being now free from observation and control, he thought he might do worse than enter an episcopal church. He gazed around with a mingled feeling of curiosity and admiration; but when the first tones of the organ pealed upon his ears, all his antipathies rushed to their citadel, and a cold shuddering sensation crept through his veins. He ventured, however, to stand it out; and as the service proceeded, he listened with more composure and less contempt, until at last his taste (for he had taste) was so gained upon by the beauty and sublimity of the prayers, as almost involuntarily, at one time, to bend his knee, though he could not bring it to the ground. The prayers and responses were read and given with that solemnity and emphasis of accent and manner, so much desired by those who combine correct taste with deep devotion; and even though Amicus shrunk a little at the bowing of the head at the name of Jesus, because he fancied it was so popish-like, he began to admit the thought, that a read prayer might be sincere, and that many bowed not merely their heads, but their hearts. The sermon, however, crowned the measure of his astonishment. A man who was "sae daft as to change his goon," actually preached an excellent sermon-and Amicus departed, surprised and pleased that any good could come out of Nazareth. He repeated his visits, and each visit found him better pleased; there fell from his eyes as it had been scales, and he looked up, determining no longer to walk in darkness, or, mole-like, to hide himself from the light of day. Just about this time he came in contact with the Roman Catholic objection to Protestantism-its want of unity. The objection is good, thought Amicus; it must do nothing for that church which, in spite of all its infallibility, has been torn by divisions: yet it comes powerfully upon Protestants who claim the right of judging for themselves, and appeal to the Bible as their only rule of faith. Surely if there be but one God, and one Bible, there can be, or ought to be, but one church: and how does it come that there are such a vast variety of sects in the Christian world? The idea was startling, and he determined to pursue it to the uttermost. To find out the sect nearest the purity of the truth, became the absorbing desire of his soul, and to it every other consideration was compelled to yield. But notwithstanding his new-formed admiration of the establishment, his prejudices were too strong for him to consider it as the purest; and so out he went a secthunting-though it might truly be said, he went out not knowing whither he went. The Methodists-the bustling, laborious, indefatigable Methodists-first attracted his attention. Their zeal was manifest, their activity was pleasing, and their piety truly persuasive. Amicus walked over to them at once, and felt for a while pleased and happy. Their prayer-meetings, class-meetings, band-meetings; their love-feasts, their sermons, their exhortations, from house to house; their teaching of the young, their kindness to the old, and their visits to the sick, all indicated a people whose hearts were warm in a good cause, and zealously affected in a good thing. Moreover, they were under active discipline, proworship, raising their own funds, divided into rank and file, ready to assail the foe, wheresoever he might entrench himself; and fearless of peril by land or sea, proclaiming the glad tidings of salvation to the perishing sons of Adam. Surely, thought Amicus, of a truth God is with them: the good they have done, proclaims that his blessing is upon them; their increasing numbers testify their success, and if any marks can identify a Christian people, it Amicus was a favourite from his birth; and as he was a "douce auld-farrent chap," the favouritism was not thrown away. One thing, however, vexed his parents-as he grew up, he manifested symptoms of what they termed "a new-fangled disposition; and this was first observable by sundry objections to the lengthy sermons he was accustomed to hear, and occasional scruples to commit to memory the huge portions of Scripture assigned him on Sunday afternoons. As he got older, he manifested still more of it-endeavoured to break through the regular mill-horse round of duties, which were scrupulously and unswervingly observed inviding their own spiritual officers, building their own places of the domestic course of instruction and devotion-and at times absented himself from the meeting-house, if any popular preacher happened to be near at hand. The truth was, that Amicus, though an obedient and obliging son, was labouring to follow in the wake of the "march of intellect," and the light was pouring i. through the crevices of the Cameronian shutters with which his mind had been darkened. He had sense and penetration must be such as these. But, alas! in the very midst of his plea- became a Quaker, he must emphatically become a "new man." sure and satisfaction, he was cruelly disturbed. The doctrine of All his religious doctrines, taught him from the time he could sit election met him fair in the face, and like the angel with his fiery round the fire, must be torn up by the roots. His practice. too, sword, that stopped the progress of the covetous soothsayer, must be changed; he must doff his old hat, and make a wig of prevented him from turning to the right hand or the left. He his new, remould his speech, and submit to a renovation, unhad never considered it before, having taken it upon trust, like equivocal and complete. The perfection doctrine also met him many more of his opinions. Now, justice and impartiality de- here, and he concluded that if he could not be a perfect Methomanded a fair examination; and as his puny intellect approached dist, he could as little be a perfect Quaker; and so away he the subject, it seemed like a pigmy attempting to unseat the walked, fretted and annoyed that as yet he had made no progress Andes. There it lay, a gulf, deep, dark, and unfathomable; it in his discovery of a perfect sect framed upon a primitive model. seemed like the Deity himself, veiled in clouds, while darkness He was in that happy state of mind, which some affirm is was under his feet. The more he read, and the more he thought, requisite for the "calm inquiry" after truth-indifferent to every it became more dark and obscure-"My sheep shall never perish' thing. One day he would be in raptures with the glorious birth"I myself might be a castaway "-"No man can come unto right of Protestants-freedom of inquiry. Mind-immortal mind, me except the Father draw him "_" Give diligence to make your was never intended by its Creator to be controlled, except by HIMcalling and election sure." "Oh, where am I?" cried Amicus; SELF-good, great, everlasting good, has been the result of its free, and he turned his feeble brain away from a contemplation so unfettered exercise-it ought never to bow beneath the yoke of profound. mortal man, or submit to the impositions of priestcraft. Next day all would be changed. He could find no rest for the sole of his foot amid the flood of opinions that covers the face of Christendom. He wished for some standard, some infallible standard, forgetting that there was the Bible, and here was his mind. In this state of doubt and indecision, he became alarmed at an idea he had met with, that men might go down to hell with a lantern in their hand. "True, true, it is an appalling truth-the light which is in me may be darkness, thick palpable darkness I may walk for a time in the light of my own fire, and the sparks which I have kindled, and then lie down in remediless sorrow!" He had latterly been disposed to admire the hackneyed couplet of Pope, but now he began to weigh its value;-"graceless zealots may fight for "modes of faith," and equally graceless liberals may think that his "cannot be wrong whose life is in the right "—but there is one mode of faith, for which his servants do not fight, and the only one which produces the right sort of life. Afraid of being found among the despisers of God and his unspeakable gift, Amicus, without much consideration, joined a body of Iouependents, and was again restored to happiness and self-satisfaction. Amongst these good people he concluded himself settled for life. So much plainness and simplicity-so much scriptural purity, and so much love for one another-they seemed to hold the commandments of the Redeemer with a single eye. Besides, though they believed in election, they told him not to trouble his head about it, for it was among the secret things of the Almighty. "This is just what I want," said he, and congratulated himself on having arrived at ne plus ultra. He was invited one Sunday to dinner, and another Sunday to tea-he was cordially shaken by the hand when met upon the street--a smile of good-humoured content sat upon many of their countenances-they were so strict, and yet so liberal-their faith seemed to purify their hearts, and to work by love-and all apparently were so desirous of walking in all the commandments of the Lord blameless-that Amicus marvelled how he had shut his eyes so long, and overlooked such a truly excellent body of Christian people. He attended their private meetings, and was called upon to pray occasionally; the fervour of his prayers gained him a high reputation; and the one thought he was where he ought to be, and the others concluded that they had added to their number a pious and a devoted young man. The novelty passed away, and Amicus began to imagine that every thing was not so pleasant and delightful as at first. His mind required more than ordinary excitement; and, as all went on quietly and smoothly, he began to feel restless. They seemed to be overlooking him, and there appeared to be some among them who made themselves of more consequence than the rest. His pride was touched, and he ventured, during a case of discipline, to express what he thought. "Young men are exhorted to be soberminded," was the pastor's reply, and vexed and chagrined, Amicus sat down. His love was cooled, and he did not much care if he was away-but decency required him to suppress his feelings. A new subject, however, started before him and diverted his attention. The millennium absorbed his every thought, and he was in raptures with the glorious scheme. The personal reign, the resurrection of the saints, the restoration of the Jews, and the Redeemer presiding in grace and grandeur over the nations of the earth, filled his heart and elevated his soul. He could scarcely endure a contradiction of his new opinions; it must be so-see how many good Christians believe it-the idea is rich—it is a wholesome doctrine, and very full of comfort. He now exhorted his friends to prepare for the coming of their Lord; and if any one ventured to hint that he did not believe he would come, Amicus could scarcely be restrained from counting him as worse Another doctrine now presented itself, and renewed his vexation and disappointment. What! do the Methodists teach the possibility of attaining perfection in this life? Amicus looked inward and sighed. He opened his Bible, and could find nothing to bear it out, though one or two passages were strained to prove the doctrine. "I will never be a perfect Methodist!" he exclaimed; and just at this unfavourable moment he detected some inconsistencies in the conduct of one of the most vehement of his new friends. "Oh, I see it all-they screw up their feelings so high, that they lose their elasticity; they climb their devotional ladder with such rapidity that they lose their balance, and down they tumble to mother earth, with a velocity which astonishes the bystanders." He now began to scrutinise everything connected with Methodism with severity. "I am sadly afraid," said he, "that they sometimes substitute their own feelings for that complete and full salvation they so freely preach; and becoming more and more dissatisfied because he could not immediately find the perfection that he wished, away he walked, just as he came, and halted not till he landed right among the Quakers. What a total transition! from the land of bustle to the region of repose. The very atmosphere seemed charged with stillness, and the world shut out, with the hum and din of its perplexing and petty affairs. Novel as it was, the spirit of Amicus was charmed and captivated; the entire absence of pomp and parade won upon his mountaineer prejudices; and though the silence was broken by a female voice, a strange sight to one who had never heard the weaker vessel admonishing publicly the lords of creation, yet the feeling it excited was anything but one of contempt. He cast his eye over the whole assembly; the gravity of the men, not a muscle discomposed, but every feature apparently indicative of peace within; the modest attire, the shamefacedness and sobriety of the females-it was irresistible. "Here are the fruits of Christianity,-what more can I want? what more do I seek?" And withal there sprang up along with the wheat a tare in the mind of Amicus. "They are all well-to-do in the world; people say, they are very kind to each other-they seem to enjoy this life, and to be sure of the next." He saw this, but passed it by; for corrupt motives surely could not influence him in seeking after truth. He thought, too, that (but reader, this thought was at the very bottom of his heart-he could hardly see it himself) he might want a wife, and there seemed some very excellent young ladies in the connexion. Let that pass, however; it is hardly worth mentioning. He began to examine their principles, and wanted to know how he would acquire them. Barclay's Apology was put into his hand. "What a thick volume! it will take me a long time to read that." He turned over the leaves, and read the contents. "Universal light-immediate revelation-the influence of the Spirit-election-Tut! there is election again. I tremble when so much is said about it-WAR—what about war? Yes, war is a most unchristian practice-the fruit of evil passions -but, what! no fighting at all, not even in self-defence? All the covenanter rose within his soul. He recollected with what emotion his good old father used to tell of the time, when upon a hill side, the tender female with her child in her lap, and the stern husband and son, girded with belt and bàndoleer, would listen to some venerable Poundtext, a Bible in one hand, and a sword in the other, and all the while a scout on some neighbouring height to give notice of the approach of the enemy. "No, no," he would mutter again, "war is detestable, but it is necessary sometimes." And just at the back of this idea came in another. "I wonder how I would look in a Quaker garb?" And then to learn the dialect of the men of Ephraim! He saw that if he than an infidel. One discovery led on to another. Europe could not have been more amazed at the discovery of America, or filled with more valorous adventurers, than the mind of Amicus with lofty and daring imaginations. Truth must be followed whithersoever she will lead, became his motto and his motive. He descried new land again, and made right for it. Christ died for all menfor ALL-yes, for ALL; "not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world." It was perfectly plain-nothing could be plainer; and Amicus set about with zeal and assiduity to propagate his new doctrines. Another and another imagination crowded in upon his mind; he embraced the idea that it was likely the saints would eat and drink after the general resurrection, and began to contend for it. Wherever he went he could not rest, until, like some gallant cavalier, he would lay down his new opinions, glove-like, upon the table, and challenge the whole company round. He had no time to talk about any thing but the millennium, the personal reign, and the universality of Christ's death. The drivelling preachers of a drivelling generation kept the people in bondage; and one day he attacked his pastor, for presuming to preach a sermon on the subject, in which not a single new idea was contained. Now came the tug of war; and Amicus silenced, but not convinced, determined to leave men whose minds were so contracted, and who only seemed to sleep the sounder as the coming of our Lord drew near. A deputation was appointed to wait upon him, and inquire his reasons for withdrawing. This only increased his self-importance, and he would listen to no terms of accommodation, unless his new doctrines were received and embraced. His zeal swallowed up his common sense; and he seemed utterly unaware that, while ranting about the downfall of Antichrist, he was doing his best to uphold him. He was now left to himself, and for a season disdained to enter within the walls of a church. A friend met him and hinted, "Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together." He started; the cold waters of amazement flowed in upon his soul. A cloud, dark and heavy, gathered round his mind: the Christian world assumed the appearance of a stage, and all the men and women merely players. Time and eternity, heaven and hell, salvation and damnation, appeared as figures of speech, to which nothing definite could be assigned. The pearl of great price was an ingenious device, a crafty invention to gain to a number a portion of this world's goods; and the wicked one, with all his hosts, were dramatis persona, introduced to overawe the timid, and keep them in subjection to the clergy. This cloud passed away, and Amicus feared exceedingly as he entered into another. Ah, an angry God has given me over to a reprobate mind! The evil spirit once cast out, has returned, and finding his former habitation swept and garnished, has taken with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they have entered in and taken possession! Oh! it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God-to count the blood of the covenant an unholy thing, and to do despite to the Spirit of his grace!" The mind of Amicus was now in a state pitiably dreary. His morbid imagination and fanatic feelings pictured himself as a withered thing upon the face of the earth-withered for a time, and lost for eternity. When it was evening he wished it were morning, and when it was morning, he wished for the evening. Without God, and without hope in the world, there seemed to remain nothing else for him but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation. He trembled lest death would soon come, and gibbet his soul for ever, a spectacle to angels and to men. He regarded himself as a vessel of wrath, fitted for destruction, and waiting to be filled with the lava of the wrath of a holy God. He looked around him and about him, to see where the thunderbolt would issue that was to level him with the earth. But time passed on, and nothing strange appeared. The blue heavens were still over his head, and the ground still firm beneath his feet. Hope, which appeared to have bid him farewell, now unveiled her calm, benignant face, and smiled again upon him. He looked into his Bible, which had been neglected, and there he found the same promises, the same exhortations, the same threatenings, as he had seen before. No alteration had taken place in the text of the Sacred Volume. The waters of salvation were as clear and sweet as ever they were-and the invitation was still, "Whosoever will, let him take of it freely." What is wrong with me? said Amicus, and he rubbed his eyes. He had cried out, "Oh, that I may know where to find him! I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments." But here HE was still, sitting where he had ever been, on a throne of grace and love, extending the regal sceptre to all who came within his courts, and granting peace, and light, and joy, to those who craved his favour. "Oh! my God," Amicus cried, "I have circumscribed thy salvation and thy grace I have doubted thy free love and thy free favour-and been aiming to walk by sight, and not by faith." He now began to suspect that all was wrong in his religious system-that he must have built upon a wrong foundation-that he had mistaken the great end of religion-and that he had been substituting HIMSELF for the truth which he had been seeking. Gradually, peace and composure regained possession of his mind, and the troubled waters of a morbid imagination subdued to a calm, which was the more pleasing and delightful after the storm. Amicus now resolved to reject all his fancies and his whims, and walk quietly in the old way and beaten path of righteousness; concluding it better to leave it to others to hunt for truth, than to break his own head and heart in the chase. Alas! it is said there is no peace to the wicked-and poor Amicus, though striving to walk in the narrow road, concluded there was to be no peace for him. A new dilemma awaited him-in the present state of the Christian world, divided into sects and parties, he could not hold communion with all, and he could not stand aloof from all. He was just where he was when he began the search-with this difference, that he was quite indisposed to begin it over again. He sighed for primitive simplicity, but it was gone with the years before the flood! He looked at the aspect of the Christian world, and it seemed broken into segments-diversified by many-coloured strata-but which, instead of running in parallel lines, intersected each other at angles of all sorts and sizes. The Church, instead of looking forth, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners, resembled a scattered and a divided host, "faint, yet pursuing." He sighed, and almost sickened at the sight. Oh, that she would fling away those petty differences which weaken her strength and impede her powers-gather herself up like a giant refreshed with wine-and go forth to the help of the Lord against the mighty! A gleam of hope dawned upon Amicus. A single individual, when his heart is right, may do a great deal of good. What could or would hinder Amicus from calling the attention of Christians to the duty and expediency of a catholic union? The very idea was charming. He felt his heart beat with joy at the prospect of having his talents usefully employed; and he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and breathed a hasty prayer that he might be the humble and the honoured instrument of effecting a change so great, so glorious, and so good. Down he sat, to draw out a plan for a grand combination. The state dignity of the Establishment was to be lowered-the vulgarity of the Methodists was to be improved-the sternness of the Presbyterian was to be softened-the rough garment of John the Dipper was to be smoothed down-the pride of the Independent was to be laid low-and all the fry of small sects were to be charmed out of their holes and corners at the sound of the music, and the blast of the union trumpet-while last, though not least, the tribes of Ephraim, and the half tribe of Manasseh, abstracted from their spiritual abstractions, were to be seen slowly and deliberately moving up to join the camp, their coats angled, and their broad brims cut-and the surety and the certainty of their allegiance to the cause certified by a yea, yea. Nothing could be finer than such an idea. Amicus saw the whole scene before him-he saw the Macedonian phalanx drawn up in battle array; and as the sun of righteousness shone upon its burnished armour, the brilliant reflection scared the infidel birds of prey, that were hovering around, and sent them screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings, into the den of darkness from which they sprung. No time was to be lost, for every moment was precious. Amicus wrote letters-copied out his plans-and strove by every figure of speech to rouse and alarm the sons of Zion to the guilt of disunion, and the immediate necessity for a general effort. He showed how Antichrist could not stand such a sight-that the very thought would paralyse his frame, preparatory to his giving up the ghost-the angel was about to fling the mill-stone into the sea, and the other angel was stretching his wings, to take his wondrous flight in the midst of heaven, and proclaim the everlasting Gospel round the globe. No man could resist such reasoning; and accordingly, Amicus carried his papers and his plans to a friend, to take his advice as to the first things to be done, or the first persons addressed. The papers were read, and the plans detailed; but his friend was silent, or evidently endeavouring to suppress a smile. "What do you think?" asked Amicus. "Nothing." Nothing! what makes you smile?" "I was reading a book called the Spiritual Quixote, the other day, and-" Amicus gathered up his papers, and rushing out of the house, scampered off like a hare before the wind. He tumbled into bed-wondered that he had never before found out that he had but one eye-and, 64 after calling himself an ass and a fool, fell asleep. Next morning he awoke, and was astonished at the view his pillow had enabled him to take of the subject. "I see it all," said Amicus, " and I might have seen it before. We might as well try to kick the mountains into the sea, as attempt, instantaneously, to lop off the prejudices of men in religious matters. Time will work itthe diffusion of knowledge will work it-co-operation will work it -and men will yet become as united together as the nature of the human mind will permit. But what am I to do? I am neither a churchman nor a dissenter;"--and, had Amicus not been taught by experience, he might have fallen into another fit of amazement. But something seemed to whisper what he ought to do. Decide for yourself, instead of trying also to decide for other people; act upon your own convictions of what is Truth, and give a similar liberty to all who claim it. Perhaps all these various sects may one day be fused into a homogeneous mass, as MAN ascends to that higher platform of JUDGMENT which he is yet destined to reach. Meantime, wait in PATIENCE, and wait in You, yourself, a mere particle of humanity, may be dead, and in your quiet grave, long before that time arrives, when Roman Catholicism, and Church-of-Englandism, and Presbyterianism, and Independentism, and all the host of them, are fused down, and compounded into one vast and compact frame of Christianity. But do your duty. Assist in sowing the seed, from which is to spring that great tree, the leaves of which are to be fair, and the fruit thereof much, and in it food for all; under whose shadow the beasts of the field are to abide, and the fowls of heaven to dwell in its boughs; and all flesh are to be fed by it. HOPE. CONFESSIONS OF AN IDEAL ORATOR. FROM the earliest moment that my hearing could appreciate sound, and the heart be moved at the music of speech, oratory has been the darling passion of my soul. Not that I ever set my desires upon being an orator myself-not that I ever actually wanted or wished personally to command the applause of a listening senate, or move an outrageous mob at my will. No-I am an ideal orator-a dreamy preacher-and my audiences are all men of straw. When but an urchin, the carelessness of my guardians permitted me to attend the theatre, and even at that early age, whether walking or sitting, in the silent field or the crowded street, amid the chorus of nature's aviary, or the rumbling of the carts and the rattling of the coaches-all was alike to me. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I knew nothing, but a crowded amphi theatre of human faces, rising, as it were, from earth to heaven, spotted with eyes like a peacock's tail, or sparkling like diamonds on a dowager's ball head-then the slow music of the orchestra then, anon, your humble servant would make his appearance, either as a crooked little man, or a tall majestic Roman-of course, either a “laughing devil" in my sneer, or a dark "frown of vengeance" on my knitted brow-while the hitherto calm, but expectant audience, rolled a thunder of applause, which came as sweet upon the soul as the south wind from the spice gardens upon the grateful sense, Often have I stood on the street with my arms folded, until the "three times three" had evaporated, perfectly indifferent either to applause or censure, and possessing no feeling but the consciousness of my powers. Delivered from the peril of theatrical contamination, I had my mind more immediately directed towards religion; and during the course of a short life I have preached perhaps as many sermons as all the ministers of the British islands have done, put together. The royal circle have again and again been melted into tears by the overflowing tenderness and faithful expostulation of my discourses; I have enchanted both houses of parliament into a silence so profound, that the falling of a pin would have sounded like the tinkling of a cymbal-while my versatile humility and versatile talents can at once fly from the chapel royal to Salisbury plain, appear clad in all the gorgeousness of sacerdotal dignity, addressing the nobles of the land, or in primitive simplicity, and with stentorian lungs, alarm ten thousand case-hardened colliers. I have disembodied every popular preacher of the present day, and, while their audiences never perceived the transmigration, have carried their several styles and manners to the loftiest pitch of sublimity. I have superseded Chalmers-annihilated Wardlawand extinguished all and every of the lights that adorn the Estab. lishment or the dissenters. Nay, with less excuse and more impudence than Saul, I have resuscitated the Samuels of all former ages, just to make them die again of mortification, or to jump into their graves, in order to hide their diminished heads. Now, I am not, properly speaking, an absent man. Let reality lay her cold hand upon me, and all my visions vanish. Let me be addressed by any one, and in a moment the drop-scene falls, which veils my glories, and no mortal man or woman would ever suspect that I had been up in my own third heavens, and had come down like a flash of lightning. But let me be left again in silence, either in company or in solitude, and up I go, like a feather on the wind. Oh, what labours I go through without fatigue or flinching! However incredible it may seem, I have preached fifty powerful sermons in a day to overflowing and delighted audiences, whose admiration of my amazing abilities could only be matched by my meek and humble spirit, smiling good-naturedly at the foolishness of the people in running after me. And I might long have enjoyed my popularity. I might long have trudged like the ploughboy, not whistling, but preaching as I went, had not a piercing, probing, dissecting philosopher, cruelly unseated my happiness, and disturbed my sweet, dreamy, preaching repose. This man has succeeded in convincing me, that to allow my imagination to absorb and monopolise my waking moments is absurd, and selfish, and unchristian. He says that it is absurd, because all creation becomes to me a sealed book, and that, instead of looking abroad upon the earth's surface, and drinking in new ideas from the light and loveliness that surrounds me, I creep like a snail into my own shell, or like a land-crab into its hole, or rather like a solitary cormorant preying upon putrid matter, when fresh fish might be had for the diving; or like the sloth on its tree, stripping it bare, and then dropping down on the ground of real life with a heart-rending cry. Moreover, he says it is selfish, for nobody shares with me my mental feasts. I hide my spoil, and then turn inward, the moment I am left alone, to gormandize, like the grave, never saying, "It is enough." The "Give, give!" but my horse-leech hath two daughters, crying, imagination has a hundred mouths, or rather like a whirlpool that sucks in everything-like "loud Loffodon," that "Whirls to death the roaring whale!" and draws in corks and weed with the same ease and facility, and An flesh would frighten the tormentor of my existence, I would imitate the monks of La Trappe, and "not spare." But permit me to detail a few of the inconveniences I have suffered in consequence of the exercise of my talents. 1. I could not sleep one night, and getting up, walked about the room. My mind was disposed to be solemn, and I thought of the time when the heavens would depart as a scroll, and the millions of the human race, from Adam to his youngest born, should meet at the close of time's chronicle; and my heart sunk at the indifference of men to the awful truth. The voice of the watchmen spoke of hours, and days, and years, rushing past like a flood. An immense auditory was round me in a moment, and I carried them beyond the boundaries of visible, and scaled the heights of the everlasting hills; yea, I bore them aloft into regions "forsaken of the foot," and skirted, with untiring pinion, the gulf that separates heaven and hell: when, lo! a sharp jingling sound scattered my audience, and comfortably assured me that I had shattered the looking-glass into a hundred fragments. I was not long out of bed. 2. Once, when on a very pleasant excursion with a few friends, among whom was a young lady in whose good graces I wished to stand rather favourably, we spent an hour or two at a well-kno waterfall. Silence reigned among the company, as if all wished to enjoy the turbulence of the waters. An incidental observation was made on how fine and forcible a figure a cat act supplies to the orator. Gradually a film passed over my eyes,-rocks, trees, and water, receded from my sight-a copious perspiration broke upon my body-I was literally bathed in dew; and no wonder, for I was pouring cut a torrent of eloquence to as crowded and respectable an auditory as ever surrounded a pulpit. My theme was the progress and the triumph of eternal truth. I compared it to a flood rolling majestically on, and that over all opposition it would dash, like the cataract in its course. Ay, the powers of darkness might combine, but as soon could they blot out the sun or dry up the ocean! Yes!-A shock paralysed my powers. I have no distinct recollection of my situation, till I was drawn out of the water, shaking my shaggy locks, and looking foolishly forlorn. We had been standing on the bank, and, just as I reached the climax of my oration, I clasped the young lady, and both went into the stream. After we had all recovered our " propriety," and were put to rights, a sharp investigation was made into my motives, which ended in a hearty laugh, and we drove merrily home; but, alas! the young lady has ever since regarded me as a sort of innocent musing idiot, very fit to laugh at, but very unfit for being her proper lord and master, 3. At an anniversary meeting, one of the speakers did not particularly attract my attention: in truth, he was a dull, plodding fellow, rather injuring his cause, than serving it. After a few minutes' reverie, by a sort of light-footed, fairy magic, I exchanged situations with him, and produced such an effect that many thousand pounds were instantly collected. The president proposed a special vote of thanks, but I started up and declared that I would not permit it, as it was invidious. A faint scream made me open my eyes: in my gesticulations, I had struck a respectable lady on the face; everybody was staring, some whispering that I was mad, and others that I should be handed over to the police; when my own indescribable ludicrously-looking embarrassment saved me. 4. Having gone to church one Sabbath in rather a high state of excitement, from the expectation of hearing a splendid and popular preacher, and feeling annoyed at seeing a reverend Dry-as-dust in his place, I crept, as usual, into myself. On this occasion I was so gloriously sublime, that I was very nearly confounded. My theme was the Bible. What a range did I take, in tracing the past, the present, and the probable progress of the blessed "Book! " I beheld it emerging at the Reformation, and gathering itself up in its strength, like a giant refreshed with sleep, arousing the human mind from its lethargy, and shaking Europe to its centre—I saw it now knocking at the palace-gates of Eastern monarchs, wrestling with superstition, and smiting the hydra to the earth-I saw it now touching the chains of the slave, and they dropped from his arm-I saw it now breathing upon the mists that overhung the earth, and they rolled up the mountains' sides-I saw it kindling a fire in the frigid zone, and the ice melted away-I saw it pouring oil upon the tempestuous waves of this world's affairs, and, as far as the eye could reach, billow after billow sunk down into a sea of glass-I saw it stretching its wand over contending hosts, and the warriors dashed their weapons on the ground, and rushed into each other's embrace-I saw it standing with one foot on the land, and another in the sea, and stretching a canopy of light and love over and around the globe-I saw it rooting up the thorns and nettles and briars of the wilderness, and the rose smiled in their stead, and the wild beast vanished, and the vine and the fig-tree yielded their fruit, and old men came from the chimneycorner to sit in the evening breeze, and multitudes of little children sported in the beams of the setting sun, and the lowing of the cattle broke upon the ear, and the fields waved their peaceful banners, and nodded to mother earth, chanting " Plenty, plenty, plenty !"-THEN--and I took the Bible in my transport, and held it up to the view of my audience-THEN!-and the Bible flew out of my hand, and I strained to catch it, and flew out of the pulpit myself, and came down with a tremendous crash on the head of the clerk below, whose neck was nearly broken, and I-looked up, and found myself lying at the bottom of the pew, with several books on the top of me, and some young ladies tittering, while a kind matron raised me up, whisperingly hoped I was not hurt, bade me remember the young man in the Acts, and never sleep during sermon again! These are but a specimen of the miseries I endure; and being naturally sensitive and bashful, I dread the idea of ridicule and eccentricity, and yet I am continually making myself ridiculous and eccentric. What concerns me most is, that these dreamings do actually incrust a coat of selfishness about the spirit, and shut up the natural flow of the charities of the heart. It incloses the dreamer in a world of his own, to which he retires on every possible opportunity. Every attempt to coerce my oratorical powers is just attempting to bind Samson in his strength, or to tie an eagle with a rope of sand. I preach daily, hourly, without ceasing, but I preach without profit. I can scarcely read more than a verse of the Bible without preaching, or follow a sentence of a prayer without preaching, or hear a few animating expressions without preaching. I have heard of a disease which turns all aliment into water. My mind turns everything into preaching; and it will soon be as porous as a sponge, unless some benevolent friend can suggest a cure for me. WAR ABOUT WORds. IN most of the domestic broils which have agitated civilised communities, the result has been determined, or seriously affected, by the nature of the prevalent talk,-by the nature of the topics or phrases which have figured in the war of words. These topics or phrases have been more than pretexts; more than varnish; more than distinguishing cockades mounted by the opposite parties. For example. If the bulk of the people of England had thought and reasoned with Mr. Burke, had been imbued with the spirit, and had seized the scope, of his arguments, her needless and disastrous war with her American colonies would have been stifled at the birth. The stupid and infuriate majority, who rushed into that odious war, could perceive and discourse of nothing but the sovereignty of the mother-country, and her so-called right to tax her colonial subjects. But, granting that the mother-country was properly the sovereign of the colonies,-granting that the fact of her sovereignty was proved by invariable practice, and granting her so-called right to tax her colonial subjects, this was hardly a topic to move an enlightened people. Is it the interest of England to insist upon her sovereignty? Is it her interest to exercise her right without the approbation of the colonists? For the chance of a slight revenue, to be wrung from her American subjects, and of a trifling relief from the taxation which now oppresses herself, shall she drive those reluctant subjects to assert their alleged independence,-visit her own children with the evil of war,-squander her treasures and soldiers in trying to keep them down, and desolate the very region from which the revenue must be drawn? But arguments drawn from utility were not to the dull taste of the stupid and infuriate majority. The rabble, great and small, would hear of nothing but their right. They'd a right to tax the colonists, and tax 'em they would-ay, that they would." Just as if a right were worth a rush of itself, or a something to be cherished and asserted independently of the good that it may bring. * * * Mr. Burke would have taught them better,-would have purged their muddled brains, and "laid the fever in their souls with the healing principle of utility. He asked them what they would get, if the project of coercion should succeed; and implored them to compare the advantage with the hazard and the cost. But the sound practical men still insisted on their right, and sagaciously shook their heads at him, as a refiner and a theorist.-Austen's Province of Jurisprudence determined. |
