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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 f :ai.\ I'' a \ /;,?/,,,,;.,? ■■ . /. f NEWS FROM the: IlVVI^IBIiE] YTORIiD, oil. INTERESTING ANECDOTES OF THE DEAD: CONTAINIXG A I»ARTICULAR SURVEY OF T , J MOST REMARKABLE AND WKI.L AUTHENTICATED ACCOUNTS OF APPARITIONS, GHOSTS, SPECTRES, DREAMS AND VISIONS: WITH SOME VALUABLE EXTRACTS FROxAl THE WORKS OF THE liev. John TFesley, the Rev. David Simpson, and others. There appeared Moses ami Elias talking with him.— -MATT. HALIFAX: PRINTED AND SOLD BY J. NICHOLSON, GROVE STREET. 1810. V /i MOV 2 1932 the' THE INTRODUCTION. ■ r . O SQO^ai I' .T has been the general opinion of all nations, even of the most barbarous, that man does not die entirely, but that his better part subsists after the dissolution of tlie body ; and tliis original notion of the soul's im- mortality, has induced the most learned, and most ancient nations to indulge the belief of the possibility of the visible interference of spirits, upon certain mo- mentous and avvfid occasions. There is nothing more commonly talked of than apparitions of departed spirits, of demons and ghosts. The reality of these visions passes for certain with a great number of people, while by as great a number they are laughed at, and treated as reveries and idle fears. Several respectable authors have written upon this subject, some of which are expensive and volumi- nous. It was deemed no unwelcome task to collect and extract from the most learned and judicious the most remarkable narratives, which prove the reality of these appearances. We have therefore treated the subject with all precision possible, and but rarely hazarded an opinion upon the matter ourselves. After giving the necessary relation most in the Author's words, and citing his name for the authority, the ex- amination of the matter, and the manner in which they are affected, and upon what principles they may be explained, the reader is left to judge for himself whether tliey are natural or miraculous events. Our su[)erstitious ancestors may be supposed to have been full as ridiculous with regard to the belief of ghosts in general, as the present free-thinking age may be thouglit incredulous, in endeavouring wholly to discredit and explode them. But as men of under- standing have certainly lived in all ages, there is as w 'i,. l\,v tboir cveel little -».» »±ss £;■£."*« Llulity as the latter -f. better t.. steer am. aaic there is i»^ -7, ti.ougUt better to s ^ course. l»^f_ ,.,^ ronsuler tluit sut ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ,^ ^j,^e holy *"_*•.,": between i.Ue -l^i":"^"' J^arUions ; for all aoubt, « -;;;e«ta,uly ;; 'to^r the eveatures '^''ly ■'I'lrawn between i ^t, .u,,,arte.l tnon... - •UwuptonmluntN «it ^__ _,,„. ,„„„is, a^ evtn nnd strange an ""1"«^""" '. , ,„ i,,.,- tbrone. fnure life' to t -h ho > cKistenee ot n>' '^^ '' , , , t evidence tlial sncb b. u, uarv, tbat we b'.'ve tl.>, est , ,estnn..ny ol lie been seen in all «S>^^«' "^'^ !' .''f ^,,,1 .lonbHess sent by tb^est and wisest o.nUd.. ^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^„„, ,„ idence as nnuistt.iuir, i mUltUc vdctl in t a Inie leatures ms; for i many re often ,11 of tU^ lev to set i.escvil)es, relate no- of credit. 31V iniit'h pparition, tep ni tlie for fear ol lui. 'Hiis 111 tiie pre- l" tiiis kind X so strong as even in snnie from ,f the actual )ii tlie con- L snch have nioMV of the lless sent by ver sonic lit 110.) where house of Sir cs, that they are more excust those vv iil)le who ])elieve hi apparitions, than lio reject all extraordinary revelations of this kind, contrary to the report of all historians, sacred and prolane, ancient and modern, and to the traditions of idl nations, think the a[)i)earance of spirits fabulous and groundless. Could we not give ourselves up to the ge- neral testimony of mankind, we should to the relation of particular persons who are living, and whom we know, and cannot distrust in other matters of fact. Tor the return of spirits after death, the scripture supposes it in more instances than one : for instance, when the witch of Mndor raised up Samuel at the de- sire of Saul. When Moses forbids enchanters, observ- ers of times and other sorts of diviners, he adds, pro- hibition of necromancy, or consulting the dead, Deut. xviii. 11. In Jicviticus xx. '21, and elsewhere also, he mentions the lVe(piency of })ersons that had familiar spirits bv necromancy,' and other unlawful and super- stitious inethoiis. The book of Job, whose antiipiity is supposed by some coeval witli Moses himself, is full to the purpose, we read particularly in the thirty-third chapter, where Klil)ha/ observes, that (iod often calls man to repent- ance bv visions and dreams. If it were necessary, an innumerable collection of !'>■•'' I''p'''i;,, el ..f si.intm.l eonnm.- lle..ceitisl.lam. '';;\ , i,sl .in 'es ; and ne..l>er Christ, ""•■'"".'^l""'";;;' o .leslr<,v or eouluto the the chureh. t..ok "">•'";,;, ,„,,,. s-upi-se-U au. -n notion. fJ'' '''^^''"1'; ^1, , by theil- silence, their some degree autlionzed th.in, y •Usourses, and l'""'' J';;'^;;,'^;,, ,„ ,,l.i„, an.l we have These prools ol «'!'"', '',,,„iU to verilV it, that l,a,l s,. many «!'■■"';'''";"• ''.'faets as eon.e to us wecam.otj«(Ue.>nsly '^ '>->-, '».,^_ ,,,,„ ,.,uae „tteste.l ..(.(.n tl>-' l"''.''"'> ' ., ",„„|orlul instanei^s as IVom their own [^^^l'^'™'''" , ^ -' vrel.l. ; an.l win. .night awaken the mos '^' ^;^-,„,. ,„„.„,„st other ,lare ^.^^^^ ^,^,,^^^^,, f-'^''i)fl)?,dd hl'e ' ;■ .;: Ian nnlortunate Colo..! ,he least v.evv o. "''■»'• 8^ "' ^^^|.„\ i„ awaken others t:'^.t":^^^ IhrLtance of manifest tner- (( .'hrist's il rt'iili- s seems isciples ed they lie ('<>"- haiidle u«s as ye need his lue, ap- he Jews, t'oiuinu- I neitlier athers of I I lute the il, and ill ice, their we have y it, that mie to us vho rehite [Stances as , and. who iigst other k.(>s use to , make use uercy, and 11 version of acts related te C()h)nel ran denied, without destroying the authority of the scriptures, winch re- late and suppose them. But a little time more, and we shall he removed into that .state, the e\p«'rience of which we cannot know while upon earth, as thos(> who are gone before us, however willing, are not permitted upon every frivo- lous occasion to revisit their iVicuds, tlK>ugh upon some momentous occasions we know it has luippened, which makes Blair in his poem on the Gra\o, say, " Tell us, ve dead, if ve in pitv can. Beyond this sphere what is the future plan ; Some courteous ghost, if any such there he. Tell us, in after hfe, what things ye see ; For some of you, we know, in days of old, The fatal story to mankind have told : Forewarning them of death — () then comply, And tell, in charity, what 'tis to die ! But you're withheld ; no matter, death must call, The eurtiiin drop, and time will clear up all." Upon the whole, from what has been said before, and what is hereafter related upon this head, we may conclude, That angels, glorified spirits, or departed souls, are sometimes known to appear, and consequently^ that these apparitions are not onl\' possible, but real and actual, founded upon the authority of the scripture, both of the Old and New Testament, upon the testi- mony of authors of credit, Greek, Latin, Christian and Heathen, ancient and modern, philosophers, divines, poets, and moralists, and the most sober li\ ing tradi- tion asserts the facts, therefore notwithstanding from the want of exi)erience in ourselves, so much is due to I .1 .4 irili •4 ■ , (Miiire »•»"•'• "'" ! 1 tl.ii nodi iiK <1''I>1>'" ^its. vvi-ici' uMm.i .1;;; , ,;„•„,„ „,,.„, whu-i. the :;;;!,S-^-n,,n...i. ^^^ .,,,,,.,.. at tn,,h. '"av'.. .nay also cnl." . ^^ « ,, ,„,e,l »oul«. as au- S alul .U.".o;.^-^^.;; "'^ u"^,i,„s. «UI. an extc^ the creator aiul l'"'?'"' ,„ »„l,hn.arv bodies ami ''"^shaUaaan<.noretJ^;l.[o.o«.^ TobK 12-21- ^T '^ ,,,' thereof. 1 >^ thom,hls ]t and mne e^rre^"^!^" "^^X/ ^'^e, JallCk on from the visions of the "'^f ,' .^,,„fc,i„/ „■/.,>/. >»ad before my 'ood sUll, hut n imafje 7vas heard a voice I than God? 2r ? Behold, his aigels ht n that dwell in le dust, which are destroyed • ever, without lency which is ml wisdomt CONTENTS. An account of several apparitions. Extraordinary forewarning , The intermetiiate state considered Death ' Page. 1, 43, 103, 122 , 4, 35, 79, 118 7 , 10 16 18 20 21 92 The funeral J;^ The tomh - }/ Thq new heavens and earth ibid. A rem'irkahie anecdote • H An awful warning, in a dream '.'.',\\' A remarkable dream .••••••• • • • Tlie reprobates' prayer, on the morning of the resurrection . . The sepulchre's pertinent address to man A dream which saved the life of an Englishman in Flanders Tlie appearance of the Duchoss of Mazarine 23, 63, An authentic account of Lord Lyttleton's death 2f, A meditation on Job xxv. 6 • ^ 26 On the knowledge that spirits may have of this world 27 The apparition of a gentleman to Dr. Scott 31, 108, 130 An anecdote • y^ The contrast • • • • *"^^^' Heaven 37 A thought on life and death 40 Apparition to Brutus • » « • 41 Warning of a murder by a dream 42 Altamont • • • • • "^^ Ominous presage to Robert Bruce of Scotland 47 A fact proving the unaccountable communication of Spirits 48 True account of an apparition 49 The certainty of death 52 An awful admonition of a departed friend to one in this world 55 Anecdote related by Bishop Burnet 56 A letter from PHry, written above 1700 years ago . . , 57 Lines containing plain matter of fact just as it was , 61 The valour of an atheist 62 Thoughts on John xvii. 24 66 A singular dream 67 A vision seen by Dr. Donne 68 Abda to a friend « • ibid. For what is your life ? James iv. 14 69 TheMolehill 74 Letter concerning an apparition seen in Kochester , 77 Instance of divine justice, in the death of a Drunkard 82 t F u ■' CONTENTS. 90 tnf a remarkable dream ....ibid. Bishop Hall's account a ^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^ Extract of a let er to K en ^ ^^.^ ^ ^. ^^^ A woman cured of a c^^^^^^^^^^^ Hon. Fr. N- ...-^ ^.^ 172 ;o his son . •••.•:• ;,Vi,y himself ibid . er, of Upton, delivtrca y ^^^ /•V'V.VJThes'c. V. 23. IH rssion in the hrst i hes^ j,5 Tt uc and awful re aun... .^ ^^^^ ^.^s ^ ^ ^ . ^ Thoughts on ^t Pauls exi K s^^ Linlithgow church • . • ... ^ ^^ Warning gv -n to Jamc^ ^ On the shortness o in an ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ■ 119 126 136 137 S; looking ut tl- things ma--/ ^^ ^,^,^,.t Reflections on our saviour ?hebrevity of human hte .....;; {ii-\^,,9.l2 Sinsular dream l'^''' ^"'' , r-o 'oSvations on dreams ;^^ .. oO The apparition o Sir l^eorg Adyin'g prostitute lis,* 206, 251 The vision . . . ... . • — ^ (.^^i ' ... 160 Appar tion ot the i.aua ui , • • • I • . . • w=:25£=-»--"" The app An anecdote . " • • • 162 164 167 An anecuut. . • ' ' ' '^^ ^.^^^ of murder ." .' ' 1 69 ;.'Tpolories of redemption ^^.^^^^ 188 190 lf)2 193 194 On the glories - ^obate publican Strange warning to a reproua 1 Mrs. Tooly ; ! Sn the vanity of the world •.•;; Solitary stanzas •;; Time shall be no longer . . • -^ • • " -^^ Ireland .... ^ A true account of an apparition 2O8 ^^'"%ul prospects of the w.cked ..•;;;;;•;;;. 216 The aw -law 220 SS^^;^!onf E^^Ar Jo his sou.m.aw . .^^ 5^^ An account of an apparition Of hell a I I ... • ,(«.«... °„rai;-;™;o;UnolHe„,yWe.b_.........^^ ^retnre;;v;;;wi;Vo-sio;«.'.: ........ »•• • Mortality Caractacus ,.,. On the uncertainty ot luunan lilc WoriiHv lionour 1 ^ The" 'few-H destruction prevented by a dr.um »•••.•• • • . . . . .,,... • ' 228 236 ^46 247 ibid. 248 ibid. 249 249 CONTENTS. 90 ibxd. ... 95 ;*143, 170 118, 172 .... 107 imselfibid. Ill ^.23. 114 115 ... 117 ::... 119 .. 126 '" . 136 .. 137 is,' 179, ?13 ... 150 "*... 153 ::.... 157 58, 206, 251 160 162 Lheart.. 164 ... 167 '"'.... ibid. yi 169 rdeiior.. 176 .. 185 *'"... 188 " 190 "** .. H'2 193 '*■*.... 194 iVnd .... 196 ... 197 "**.*.... 199 ;:.. 208 '*' 216 /".... 220 .*.*.'. 222, 242 228 V.'. 236 .... ^46 •■••v.v;. m. '■'■■■■:::■ ^. **** 249 '"* .-,. 249 An account of the brother's steps , 254 The apparition of Samuel, 2 Sam. c. 28 256, 27« Elegy written in a country church yard 261 The epitaph 265 A true relation of the apparition of Mrs. Veal 265, 291 The story of David Hunter 270 Conscience 271, 327 Signal and awful judgements. 285, 314 Apparition to Captain Bell 298 Supernatural impression 299, 340, 370 Apparition to a miller to discover an hidden murder 308 On eternity • 340 A thought on eternity 311 An account of an apparition » 312 Remarkable conversion 322 A remarkable anecdote of Mr. William Reid 325 An authentic account of the last moments of Voltaire .... 326 An extraordinary cure 331 Murder prevented by a three-fold dream 332 Extract from a sermon entitled The Good Steward 333 A night {)iece on death 338 Dr Doddridge's remarkable dream 342 A prophetic dream 345 Presages of death ibid. A story taken from Josephus 346 W< .ning given in vain 347 The soul's farewell to earth, and approaches to heaven 348 Extracts from the life of Mr, Morris, of Manchester 349 Mr. Boardman's remarkable deliverance 352 An account of the life and death ofa remarkable apostate 354, 396 The appearance of the ghost of Mr. Bretton 359 A relation of a Yarmouth witch 361 Captain Porteus 363 The different degrees of heavenly glory , 366, 404 The wonderful discovery of the murderers of Mr. Stockden 373 Apparition of Lord Mohun 375 The apparition of Mr. Thompkins to the Rev. John Warren 376 Looking unto Jesus 377 The three warnings 378 Extracts from Mr. Baxter's world of spirits 381 From the duke of Lauderdale 386 The Ilev. Mr. Davis's account of Corpse-Candles, in Wales 388 Lord Bacon's apparition to Lord Middleton 392 An account of the melancholy death of one Joseph M ge 393 On seeing a young man far gone in a decline 395 The murderer detected 402 An account of Mr. Booty , 410 An account of the first duke of Queensbury 411 Extraordinary narrative 412 fi I, : (ft n\ fi£/rv:0ss^'':y I f CONTENTS. Extr»ctot» etter from ag ^^^^1 appant.ons •• 437 " -f SS- yei.- aft. Vt was ^<^^^^^ ^S Mnrder fouud out wenty j^ ^^ mourning 459 s:;:;:^rct:.fo:t*e..........;:;;:;-^ Sa«ra"l^r--«^.^!::;:::::::^ Storyotthecouniesso[Sta.r.... 477 Expiation .^. ■ ■ _ - ■ - -^^ ,^je John Taylor, l.»q ■•■••■• ,^ rhra;So?£-«>-"°>;::;;::::;::;:.::.... f,' The dying robber .... -^-^ ' * "Exeter for stealing sheep • • • ^^^ Providential detection ofMurder . . . • 611 Retribution 415 418 419 423 429 433 436 437 438 439 440 443 445 450 459 460 462 465 466 471 477 511 514 521 529 530 558 606 609 611 NEWS FROM THE INVISIBLE WORLD, An authentic Account of several Apparitions seen hy Elizabeth Hobson. Taken from the Uev. J. Wesley s Journal. MAY 25, 1708, and the two following clays, be- ing at Sunderland, I took down IVom one who feared God from her infancy, one of the strangest accounts I ever read. And yet I can find no pre- tence to disbelieve it. The well known character of the person excludes all suspicion of fraud. And the nature of the circumstances themselves, excludes the possibility of a delusion. It is true there are several of them, which I do not comprehend. But this is with me a very slender ob- jection. For what is it which I do comprehend, even of the things I see daily ? Truly not "The smallest grain of sand or spire of grass." I know not how the one grows, or how the particles of the other cohere together. What pretence have I then to deny well attested facts because I cannot com- prehend them ? It is true likewise, that the English in general, and indeed most of the men of learning in Europe, have given up all accoimts of witches and apparitions, as m(*re old wives' fables. I am sorry for it : and I willingly take this opportunity of entering mv^ solemn protest against this violent compliment, which so many that believe the Bible pay to those who do not B 1 f iiHrfti* II n .1- -t T nwp them no sucli service. 1 lake ^''"7 it these are at he bottom of the outery which tot n S, a.ti with such ins„lcuce spread throu''lio»t the nation, in .11 root "PI"-""" ""7"'^ oTe'bible, but to the suflVage of "'« ^'-^ ""^^^^ef nf men in all ages and nations. J hey mil know, tXr Inistians know it. or not) that he ginng nn w tchcraft is in eflect giving up the bible. An< tTey kno on the other hau.l, tliat if but one aceount ole intercourse of men with .sepamte spints be ad- mi ed, their whole castle in the a.r .le.s.n, atheism, materialism.) falls to the grmmd. I know no reason Zrefore why we should sufikr even tins weapon to Wrest'ed o^ut of our hands Indeed there are nu- merous arguments besides, which abumlantly confute their vain imaginations. But we need not be hooted out of one: neither reason nor religion requires "one of the capital objections to all these accounts which I have known urged over and over is this, "Did you ever see an apparition yourseil i -TNo; nor iV \ I ever see a murder. Yet I believe there is such a thing: yea, and that in one place or another murder is committed every day. Thereibre I can- not as a reasonable man deny the fact ; although \ never saw it, and perhaps never may. The testimony of unexceptionable witnesses fully convinces me both of the one and the other." But to set this aside, it has been confidently alledg- ed, that many of these have seen their error, and have been clearly convinced, that the supposed pre- ternatural operation was the mere contrivance of artful men. The famous instance of this, which has been spread far and wide, was the drumming in Mr. Mompesson's house at Ted worth ; who, it was said, acknowledged, "It was all a trick, and that he had found out the whole contrivance." Not so. My eldest brother then at Christ Church, Oxon, inquired of Mr. Mompesson, his fellow collegian, " whether 3 , 1 take 2ry which •e spread not only L and best ell know, he giving )le. And e account ts be ad- , atlieisni, no reason >^eapon to 'e are nu- Iv confute be hooted 1 requires ; accounts ■r is this, r " No ; e there is or another )re I can- dthough 1 testimony s me both tly alledg- error, and posed pre- rivance of which has ng in Mr. was said, 1 that he Jot so, My 1, inquired " whether his father had acknowledged tliis or not?" He an- swered, "The resort of gentlemen to my father's house was so great, that he could not bear the ex- pence. He therefore took no pains to confute the report that he had found out the cheat : although he and I and all the family knew the account which was published to be punctually true." This premised, I proceed to as remarkable a nar- rative as any that has fallen under my notice. The reader may believe it if he pleases : or may disbelieve it, without any offence to me. Meantime let him not be offended if I believe it, till I see better reason to the contiary. Elizabeth Hobson was born in Sunderland, in the year 1774. Her father dying when she was three or four years old, her uncle, Thomas Rea, a pious man, brought her up as his own daughter. She was serious from a child, and grew up in the fear of God. Yet she had deep and sharp convictions of sin, till she was about sixteen years of age, when she found peace with God, and from that time the whole tenor of her beha- viour was suitable to her profession. On Wednesday, May 25, 17G8, and the three fol- lowing days, I talked with her at large. But it was with great difhculty I prevailed on her to speak. The substance of what she said was as follows. From my childhood, when any of our neighbours died, whetlier men, women, or children, I used to see them either just when they died or a little before, And I was not frightened at all, it was so common. Indeed many times I did not then know they were dead. I savN' many of them by day, many by night. Those that came when it was dark, brought light with them. I observed all little children and many grown persons had a bright glorious light round them ; but many had a gloomy dismal light, and a dusky cloud over them. • (To be continued.) i\ !i U I Evlraordinan; Fomvarninf,, as it rmlbj occurred in it! -T ORD Tyrone ami LadyBeresfcnl were born ui JL InluHh thev vere both left orphans in heir [^,ev tli^ care^of the same person by whom they we bo li educated in the principles o Deisni. When they were each of them abont lonrteen years of a^ hey fell into very (liferent hands, rhe ner o^n on whom the care of them now (evolved used e^v> possible endeavour to eradicate the erroneous principles thev had imbibed, and to persuade them to embrace the i^vealed religion, but m vam ; his argu- ments were insufficient to convmce them, thougli thev were powerful enough to stagger then- iorrner fiith Though now separated from each other, their Bendship continued unalterable, and they continued to regard each other with a sincere and iraternal ailee- tion. After some years had elapsed, and tliey were each of them growil up, they made a solemn pronnse to each other, that whoever should first die would, it permitted, appear to the other, to declare what religion was most approved of by the Supreme 15eing. Lady Beresford was shortlv after adchessed by Sir Marcus Beresford, to whom,'' after a few years, she was mar- ried • but no change in condition had power to alter her friendship ; the families frecpiently visited each other, often spent more than a fortnight together: a short time after one of these visits, Sir Marcus Beres- ford remarked, when his liidy came down to l^reakfast in the morning, that her count(>nance was nnusually pale, and bore evident marks of terror and confusion ; he inquired anxiously after her health, she assured him she was well, perfectly well; he repeated his inquiries, and begged to know if any thing liad disordered her; she replied no, she was as well as usual. Have you hurt your wrist, have you s[M-ained 5 ccnrt cd in [iie born in ns in their ivlioni they of l)i>isni. rteen years inds. The solved used ! erroneous ide them to ; his argn- m, though heir former other, their r continued ternal atlec- I they were um [)romise ?, would, if diat religion >ing. liudy Sir Marcus lie was mar- vver to alter visited each together: a arc us Beres- to l>reakfast IS unusually d confusion ; she assured re[)eated liis r thing liad s as well as vou 8[U'ained it? said he, observing a black ribband bound round it. She rejdied, she had not ; but added, let me con- iure vou Sir M. never to iiujuire the cause of my wearing this ribband, you will never see me without it; if it concerned you as a husl)and to know it, I would not conceal it from you a moment; [ never in my life denied you a re(juest, but of tiiis 1 entreat you to forgive my refusal, and never to urge me fur- ther on the subject. Very well, my liady, said he, smiling, since you so earnestly desire me, I will in- quire no further. The conversation here ended ; but breakfast was scarcely over when Lady B. iiKjuired if the post was come in; she was told it was not. In a few minutes she again rang the bell for her servant, and repeated the in([uiry respecting the post. ^he was tohl it was not come. Do you expect any letter, said Sir M. that you are so anxious concerning the coming of the post? I do, she answered; 1 expect to hear that Lonl Tyrone is dead. He died last Tuesday at four o'clock. I never in my life, said Sir M. believed you superstitious, but you nmst have had some idle dream, wliicli has thus alarmed you. At that instant a servant opened the door, and de- livered to them a letter, sealed with black. It is as I expected, exclaimed Lady B. ; he is dead. Sir M. opened the letter; it came from Lord Tyrone's steward, and contained the melancholy intelligence that his master liad died the Tuesday preceding, at the very time Lady B. had specified. \Sir M. entreat- ed her to compose lier spirits, and to endeavour as much as lay in her power not to make herself unhap- , py. She assured him she lelt much easier than she had done lor some time past; and added, ''I can conununicate to you intelligence which I know will prove w^elcome, and assure you, beyond the possibility of a doubt that I am with child of a son." Sir M. received the intelligence with that {)leasure that , might be expected, and expressed in tlie strongest « II :%.^: "y^- terms the felicity he shouhl oxpenence from such an event, whicii he luul long so ardently desired. After a perio.l of some months, Lady R was deli- vered of a son ! She had before been the mother of two daughters only. Sir Marcus survivTc the birth of his son little more than lour years. After his de- cease, his lady went but little from home ; she visit- ed no family but that of a clergyman who resided in the same village, with whom she frequently passed a iew hours. The rest of her time was entirely de- voted to solitude, and she appeared lor ever determined to banish all other society. The clergyman s family consisted of himself, his wife, and one son, who at Sir M's death was quite a youth ; to this son, however, she was afterwards married, in the space ot a few vears, notwithstanding the disparity of his years, and the manifest imprudence of such a connection, so un- equal in every respect. ^ The event justified the expectation of every one; Lady B. was treated by her young husband with neglect and cruelty, and the whole of his conduct evinced him the most abandoned libertine, utterly destitute of every piincii)Ie of virtue and humanity. To this, her second husband, Lady 13. brought two daughters; afterwards, such was the profligacy of his conduct, that she insisted ui)on a separation. They parted for several years, when so great was tlie contrition he expressed for his former ill conduct that, won over by his supplication and promises, she was induced to pardon, and once more reside with him : and was, aller some time, made the inothe of ano- ther daughter. The day on which she had lain in a month, being the anniversary of her birth-dav, she sent for L. — of whose friendship she hud long been possessed, and a few friends, to request them to spend the day with her. About noon, the cleigyman by whom she had been baptized, and with whom she had all her life maintained an intimacy, came into the room to in- f (pure well, it bei ty-ei^ clergj myse] and J peiiin in, I the re day." *a h entree) thing holy 5 them, guard earth! ^ied i this ! wreck under beings 'ind ilescri pertiet Bients above think, A dii. "m lom such an red. ^. was deli- le mother of Dcl the hirth Jter his de- e; she visit- vvho resided oiitly passed entirely de- r determined lan's family , who at Sir m, however, ce of a few s yeais, and tion, so mi- quire after her healtii ; she told him she felt perfectly well, and requested him to spend the day with her, it being her birth-day. " For, said she, 1 am for- ty-eight this inted expectation : No, the very \)\c ; i( sur- V.' be exced- is no longer s sinile must , Wherever .*r the bt^anis there, and ; be absent, to the peni- nrio(l for in- hou be with > observable, ig when our 1 when that a desire to with Christ; liis introduc- istantaneous. but the lat- iit is this to our course ? not to wait No, the very moment our warfare is accomplished, our reward be- gins. Which reminds me of another inquiry. 4thly. What is the condition of holy souls hi this separated state ? 1st. They rest from their labours; from all the dis- orders that afflicted their bodies, from all the temp- tations that dis(piieted their souls. They are no lon- ger ridiculed and persecuted by ungodly men. They have no more conflict with the powers of darkness and their own corruptions; sin and sorrow cease eternally. They are freed, entirely freed, from every evil. 2ndly. They enter into peace. They have then peace with God, peace in their own thoughts, peace with fellow saints, which passeth all understanding. Peace implies a positive happiness. Peace in the scriptural language, denotes all manner of blessings, and such is its import in the preceding passage. In this large extent will it be made good to the righteous. When they relinquish the earthly tabernacle, the scales of ignorance fall from their understandings ; their will is wonderfully conformed to Christ's ; every weight drops off from their affections ; and their ho- liness is exceedingly confirmed; they are honoured with nearer approaches to God, they are favoured with clearer manifestations of his glory, they feel richer emanations of his love, and are more and more trans- formed into his image; every doubt vanishes, and they rejoice in the prospect, assured of receiving all the fulness of their everlasting felicity. — I said fulness, for though the felicity of the soul upon its dismisaion from mortality is great, high, to us inconceivable ; yet it will not be complete till the body is re-united to it, re-animated by it. Then it will not only be rescued from corruption, but made like unto Christ's glorious body, will be dignified with divine approbation, and that before the largest assembly of men and angels ; they will receive a crown of righteousness, they will c il \^..,tf-V«,i!*^wt*'^. i i sit on tliroues, aii( \0 „| judge the apostate angels ; tliey will then possess the' kingdom prepared for then, from the foinulation of tiie world. Wirls said of tl.e righteous may lead us to M>„ie proper eoneeptions with regard to the u .eke. and then- state • one is the reverse of the other ; as they were t^^^^nWav in their life, in their death they are ,Lmllv diMereni. If the rightemis are '"' l"*=/jj shock ; and feel i.erhaps, a trembling dread. No soo e are they remo-.ed from our sight, but driven in the whirl oi business, or lulled in the languors o( pleasures we forget the providence, and neglect its errand. 1 he 21 le, lie, least, fire, ire. s soul, ; owns 1 pain, ; chain ; lad. to Man. an hour as ye nition ! Me- to sepulchre; prect'pt upon ^knowledge is L^ider it eHect- »rthy to be e\\- us memory, is ovv oi passion. 11 pale at the id. No sooner t driven in the )rs of pleasures, ;s errand. The impression made on our unstable minds, is like the trace of an arrow through the penetrated air ; or the path of a keel in the furrowed wave. A Dream which saved the Life of an English Gentleman in Flanders. A Merchant of London being on the continent upon business, chanced to meet an old school- fellow, who had turned Roman Catholic, and received i)riest's orders. This meeting naturally recalled their former atibction and friendship, and induced them, re- gardless of tiie dirteience of their sentiments, to spend the evening in a manner the most agreeable and con- vivial. This was in Frencli Flanders ; and the wine ])eing good led tlunn insensibly on to a midnij:ht con- versation, in wliich religion became the principal to- pie.— That, as is but too often the case between per- sons of didereiit persuasions, was carried beyond all bounds of decency on both sides ; and the merchant who luxil read many polemical books, got the better of the argument in favour of the reformed religion of his countrv which the other had abandoned. The priest appeared to be much chagrined, and his coun- tenance visibly discovered the emotions of his mind. At length appearing to resume his pleasantry and good nature, he invited the merchant to hreakfast with him tlie next morning at a convent, over which he presided. They then parted in the utmost friendship, and the merchant soon after went to bed, where soon falling asleep, he fell into a dream of the most fright- ful nature. He thought he entered a den where were ten thousand of hissing serpents, one of which twist- ing its train round his neck, darted its sting into his bosom. The dread of this instantly awaked him, and caused him to start from his couch in the great- test agitation. His mind the remainder of the night S^ ' t • n ■li;ii t •il' 111! /ill 22 was ill LH-eat agon v. He again ondeavouml to com- ^^. in olf to sloop, but all in va.n ; ho horror of e vision linng on his in.agination t.il ho snn arose, who ho got up, a.ul walkod out to a held to receive Urdiooriug gales wafting iho odours iruui the vines and the fragrant dowers. Mee*in./a friend and eountrynum, who was a military ^.l)tain, and headed a party o soldiers en- "an.pod iiAhe vicinity, who '-, i! i Hn o ."u But i;X"rin :.^ i '• "a^'r n,eaicino. he .-e- elf: d hi: head on tile pillow, fell ^^^;^^Z and died. The ciios of the servant ala.nud the u, mnv thev flew to him, Imt all was over 1 Ins the S'eon4i,on.led with the warning wh.ch he ha. himself mentioned before to several peisons An hs f,.ien,ls who were in the honse .vt the trme eUtu afterwards. A minister ( says Mr. W H vl s told it me, had the aeeonnt fro.n one of ' <'f, f *'^_ men : which was eonlirme.l to me alt.'rwur.ls l.y a le ligioHS person, related to Lord.- 1 ' I 1 ( y\ in n :'?^ A Meditation on Jon, xxv. 0. '' Man, that is a worm, and fhc son of man which is a worm'' HOW iiuniblinj?, yet bow just is this (losoription ! Proud iiiorfdl, ivvievv tliiiie original. Is a worm from the earth? So art thou. Does the worm subsist on earthly productions ? So dost thou, is a worm sub)ect to constant dangers . So ait th.m. I. a worm incapable of resistence? So art thmi. Mus the earth-bred worm return to the earth? So nmst thou. Bust thou arU and to dust thou shall velum. A worm thou art, and to worms shalt thou return. Why then should man be proud ? why should le swell above the clouds, or make his nest among the stars, when he must shortly mingle with the clods ot the valley; and behig a w<»rm himscll, become the food of worms ? no m pie. He tlie the I 27 lie began ; was \)ie- his cus- , he went e he came bed. But lie, he re- onvulsions 1 the t'om- Thus the loh he had And his , related it ) who iirst ose geiitle- ds bv a re- an ivhich is ilesoription ! iiial. Is a ; the vvorni thou. Is a thou. Ts a . Must the must thou. )i. A woini ly should ho anion^ the the clods of become the Fellow worms, let us no more give flattering titles to one another. The titles given to man by the Spirit of (lod, are humblincf titles. Let us think and speak of ourselves as the iloly Ghost speaketh. Awfully did God correct the flattery received by Herod. It is the voice of God and not of a man, said the Tyrians ; but the mistake was discovered when this new made god was worm eaten. Poor believer ! envy not the rich and great and gay. Has my neighbour a little more wealtli, beauty, learning, or influence than thyself? Be it so; he is yet a worm — a silk-worm perhaps— perhaps a glow- worm. O envy not the worms ! Afilicted Christian! this description of man suits thy experience well: but receive encouragement. Fear not, says God, Fear not, thou norm Jacob : I will help thee, saith Jehovah, thy Redeemer. Isa. xli. 14. A worm need not fear if .Jehovah helps. Yea, so assisted, a worm shall thresh the mountains. But O, what do feeble worms owe to Jesus ! Sin degraded us from our original glory. We were once but a little lower than the angels ; but we have fallen to the earth, and lick the dust. To raise us up again, Jesus the Lord of angels descended from heaven ; and hear what he says in his low estate ; / am a worm and no man, a reproach of men, and despised of the peo- ple. Psal. xxii. 5. Let .lesus be adored for his love! He has given wings ; by faith they begin to forsake the ground ; soon shall they soar aloft, and be as the Angels of God. On the hnowledfje that Spirits man have of Occnrrences in this World. JjWuW persons have ever lost a beloved relative . without feehng some anxiety on the above sub- ject. 'J'lie gospel which brings life and immortality i V Il: if 1 1 it ^^mwimM. II •2S „ «l..,t tlioso wo lose in tliis woi'''. <''^- U, light, assures t^''^^ t os «c ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^ k„ow that .t .. a sta ,„,,,„i„„s vve <':.i.i."t true happiness. i"t "" . „,•„,„» „r our sUite? help asking ourselves, ^re t> con^ ^ ^ n,. il.i.v know our sorrows, oi ^^nn^^^ o.n ., r mo in U^ circniustanoes, has not hcen ivady U s'S wit" tt author of the task, in one of the n.ost a(hnired of his channiui'- proihictions, ^^ Mv moth.T, whon I hnunM that thou w.ist dead, Sav wast thou conscious ot tlie tears I slied, J •: 'erVl thy Spirit o'er tliy soriowui- son ; Wretch oven then, life s jouriiey just begun : Ti ^Pems hi'ddv iirohable, separate spirits may ,n.^:^ris%sinlint^ Sc iptuies teadi us concerning angels, who appear to nossess this knowledge, both lallen and elect ; hence le cautions against the dangers to be appiyhemled ^n^mthe former; and the promises of benehts Irmn the latter, who are said t(> be " nnnistenng spinh. sent forth to minister to the hens o sJvation. W have manv instances of good angels bemg employe.l on particular occasions. Our Lord seerns to assent to the ueneral notion prevaiUng among the Jews, tha every person had his guardian spirit, when he says o hdaiits, -Their angels do always behold the face ol my Father."t . , • It is probable that they are present m our worship- ping assemblies, from 1 Cor. xi. 10. We are told tha there is jov in heaven amongst the angels, over one sinner that repenteth ; and that tlie pr<)gress ol l<^ve(l to as.sent to J Jews, tlmt n he says of Id the face ol )nr worship- We are told ang(ds, ovor e progress ol whi(di tliov (1 other pas- evident that rit whieli \)yq- isible objects ; . \ 1 Tet. i. 12. nnd that these ministering spirits are ar-qnanited with r transactions passing cm earth. Now, . angels . ve this knovWedge, is it not highly probable thai i.U.vo it hkcwise? Have they not tlu' same de- r ^o ;^il t^nani(^>M wisdL n.ev not the same interest, nay, a greater, n. tlie con- 'erns of the chundi on earth? Can we suppose ang(ds nnise God with renewed favor at every besh triumpli ol' .hvine grace over a scm of faUen Adam, and .ma- rine that gloriiied Saints, who are <.d the same kin- dred, thnu.gh^ignorance of the event, are excluded I ^'TuVms'' passages seem to imply, if not positively Hssert, that the saints in heav.Mi aie no Ht|angers to what is passing on earth.* 'I he apostle Paul, aftei nienti.)iiiiig the wortliies enumerated m the preee- .ling cliapter, says, "Wherefore, seeing we are also eoinpassed about with so great a cloud ol w.tnessess, ,Scc" The allusion is evidently to the games ol the Greeks Christians are represented as running a ra(;e ; and are exhorted, like the ancient racers, to lay aside every weight: whilst those characters, who had be- fore beeii^ mentioned, are described as surrounding them as spectators of their faith and patience. Hav- ing finished their course, they look with mteir'st on the !stiu<'-"des and dilliculties of those who are in the sit- uation which they once iilled. The account given by our Lord, of the conci^-ii felt by the rich man m hell for his prolligate brethereii on earth, as well as the 'answer of Abraham to his request for cold wa- ter. " Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime re- cei'vedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil thin«'-s, ikcr implies, that both Abraham and Dives, though the one was in Heaven and the other in hell, were not accpiainted with occurrences in the world they had (jnce inlial)ited. Agree ible to this senti- ment, we find the saints in glory rejoicing over the fall of Antichrist, and praising God lor the accom- * llcb. xii 2. WL «!.«-• 1«f -J^'-'*-* m '■1 niii f H ', 1'f 3:2 in. with a pleading countenance towar..s the .lector . smng '■''".''? ","^',c the .loctor knowing the door tobesui-i)r.sn,g;bccauci^ ^.^^i, i„ the to be locked, and »»':" ffj'"° , „t first sight conclude chair, he must nninediately and at ws „ .^ ^^ l,i.ntobe -7,;, VnTmc.^-h-"'- •'-'•• Ue SlitrU^i r doo" 'as he intended to have ^*^"®- 1 i„ (Timt (lisorfler at the sight, to, and from ^^1^^"^. ( > ' ^^^ ^f hai Is between, account with very httle lemo^e o The spectre it seems began, ioi the ^^>^[^^ "^; ^ ot flv^t IS he said, to speak to it; I sa> uie courage at hi^^t, as nc ^^^ "' a , desired the doc- snectie or apparition spoke hrst and (itsiicu i r "r ;,ifc ed M.OU him to .lo an act of very great cha- rUv,^t well a« justice ; and that he could .lepend u,,- on" him lor a imnctual iierlorinancc. The .loctor was not at li.st comi...»e. enough to .e- ceivtl introduction o( the business with a d.u. a to,- ti, , but seemed rather incline.l to get ont .>f the roo i. t '"dd and .,nee or twice n.ule some attc,,,, kn..ck for some of the lunnlv to cm... . p, at wlncli the amiarition appeareil a little .Uspleused. 1 'it secniheneed n..f, for '« ^'^ '^'f °[ "^'' he had no power to go ont ..f the room .1 he ha.l been • ll 33 he doctor as ippose, was indeed the most likely dug the door ittiiig in the nrht concliule dl, call it as the door, he really a gen- rht think he ;nded to have at the sight, M the story received this between, ctor had not it ; I say the iired the doc- ised, for that lat he came to to an injured being ruined; iger t(^ the fa- ' integrity, he ny great cha- lid (iepend up- enough to re- th a due atteii- )ut of the room Dine attempt lo up, at whioli ed. he doctor said, if he had V)een next to the door, or to knock for help if any had been at hand. . . But here the apparition seemg the doctor still m confusion, desired him to compose himself, for he would not do him the least injury, or offer any thing to make him uneasy ; but desired that he would give him leave to deliver the business he came about, which when he had heard, perhaps he would see less cause to be surprised or apprehensive than he did now. By this time, and the calm way of discourse above mentioned, the doctor recovered himself so much, though not with any kind of composure, as to speak. In the name of Cod, says the doctor, who art thou? I desired you would not be frightned, says the ap- parition to him again ; I am a stranger to you, and if I tell you my name, you do not know it, but you may do the business without inquiring. The doctor continued discomposed and uneasy, and said nothing for some time. The apparition spoke again to him ot to be sur- prised, and received only for answer the old ignorant question. In the name of God, what art thou ? Upon this the spectre seemed' displeased, as if the doctor had not treated him with respect : and expos- tulated a little with him, telling him he could have terrified him into a compliance, but he chose to come calmly and quietly to him ; and used some other dis- courses, so civil and obliging, that by this time he be- gan to be a little more familiar, and at length the doc- tor asked. What is it you woidd have with me? At this, the apparition, as if gratified with the question, began his story thus : ( To he continued.) A*; ii F :-*:ivi;;-fer-;^- :%^-,J:-.,J»''^.: -isr-w^ I S. "M .5 ,;ii; ii!iii|l;3 i im Jiii m 'I :i' li 3-i „„ tmvnrds tlic doctor a« -.1 „ ..iMsiii" countenance towards I it just going to speak. „nablv suppose, was ■'The doctor as we "^^y.^'op :,„;and indeed tlie greatlv surprised at tl.e ^S' ° ' , j,^, „ost likely feeing Uirn as »i«mg •. the f an > ^^^ ^^^ j „ to l,e Wising ;bec^u^«hh^^ ^,^^^ ^^,,^ i„ the to be locked, and "'«n seen ^ ^^^^^j^,,^ ehair, he must """'^'^'^'^^ ,,Cn, or devil, call it a, hinr to be a sp.r , or appa^ ^^ ;„ ^t the d..or, he vou will. Had he seen '"'" ^ really a gen- Sght at first have «»PPO f ^f ^'°, \^^ (hink he "lemau come to speak w'^' , ,7;X intended to have had omitted fastemng the dooi, as ue done. , . , „,,„„, disorder at the sight, The doctor W^f'^-l '" ^'^l^uon. he told the story as he acknowledged » tlw^^, : °^uor,) I received this to, and from ^'^''"'^('X^^cof hands between. account with very I'lHo 1';™"^^.° , ,,„etov had not The spectre it seems began lo tne ^ ^^^^ ^^^^ courage at iirst, as he »^"''«^i;'',^,,,,. sired the Moo- spect>; or *PP;^:'"°" J'tr o 1 e "rprised, for that tor not to be f"Shtned nor to ;> 1 ,^^ ^.^^,^^ j^ he wouhl not do him any 1 ' - ^ „„ ;, i,„.e,l hi,n upon a matter of great >«"•»,. ,^^. ,„i,,ed; family, which was '" B'-^»;t <>*" f ^ stranger to the fa- and though he (^-^ ^^f^;]^^ ^^, of "integrity, he mily, yet knowmg nm t ''^ ^ ' . .,,,t cha- lSf'r!^Ur«'«ei:.mdX^>-oJ.fcpendu, on' him for a pu-nctual F;!;;™;:;;;;;;;,,,^ enough to re- The doctor was not a <"^ •^'^ 1"; m, ^ ,|.u- atten- ecive the introduction "'.I' ''. ;,";^''; „ ,i of the roo.,> tion, but seemed ^^""^f^X^on., attem,>t to il- he co.dd, and oi.ce oi t« '• "* ^^ ,,.i,i,l, knock tor some of the faimlv to c( int ui , thraiparition appeave,. a little ,hsp ea d. ]A it seenrs he need " .' ^\,,; ^"f i,e had been he had no p.)wer to go out ol tlic loom > e doctor Q.^ >pose, was indeed the nost likely ng the door ting in the ht conclude 1, call it as he door, he 'ally a gen- ht think he ided to have at the sight, 1(1 the story received this ;)otween. ;tor had not X ; I say the [red the ' doc- sed, for that at he came to to an injured )eing ruined; «Tcr to the fa- '^integrity, he ry great cha- kl depend \i\)- enough to re- Lh a due atteii- )ut of the room )nie atteni\>t to up, at which ed. lie doctor said, if he had l)een 33 next to the door, or to knock for help if any had been ^^ Bu" here tiie apparition seeing the doctor still in confusion, desired him to compose himself, for he would not do him the least li.jury, or offer any thing to make him uneasy ; but desired that he would give him leave to deliver the business he came about, which when he had heard, perhaps he would see less cause to be surprised or apprehensive than he did now. By this time, and the calm way of discourse above mentioned, the doctor recovered himself so much, though not with any kind of composure, as to ^^In the name of God, says the doctor, who art thou ? ,/..,! xu I desired you would not be frightned, says the ap- parition to him again ; I am a stranger to you, and il I tell you my name, you do not know it, but you may do the business without inquiring. The doctor continued discomposed and uneasy, and said nothing for some time. ' ^ The apparition spoke again to him not to be sur- prised, and received only for answer the old ignorant question. In the name of God, what art thou r* Upon this the spectre seemed' displeased, as if the doctor had not treated him with respect : and expos- tulated a little with him, telling him he could have terrified him into a compliance, but he chose to c^me calmly and (juietly to him ; and used some other dis- courses, so civil and obliging, that by this time he be- gan to be a little more familiar, and at length the doc- tor asked. What is it you would have with me ? At this, the apparition, as if gratified with the question, began his story thus : (To he continued.) w I; A h \ H-- ' i 11 ■sHika KfgjT'WT'^ - *— Uf published ten 18 mo. 1788. eally true : ;e mansion I to he dead : lace between I am sure. eat way ofi'; ; journey, he prepare for it. liven, or saw ; he cannot id this con- :k by it, that is journey to traveller re- nin the whole 're, and their •, good men eat'ter. Dives :ewise Laza- d, and Dives is tormented. 1 would not envy the prosperity of the wicked, for what is a man profited if he gain the wliole world and lose his own soul !* nor would I be ortbnded, at the affliction of the righteous, seeing one is drawn to hell in pomp, while the other swims in tears to lieaven ; and yet, how apt are many at the sight of a rich worldling to envy him for what he hath ; but for my i)art, I rather pity him for what he wants; he hath a talent, but it wants improve- ment ! he hath a lamp, but it wants oil ; he hath a soul, but it wants grace; he hath the star; but he wants the sun ; he luitli the creature, but he wants the Creator. In his life he doth but fiout upon a tor- rent of vanity, which empties itself into an ocean of vexation ; and after death, then, " Take this unpro- fitable servant, bind him hand and foot, and cast him into outer darkness !" go, set his soul adrift for ever in an impetuous lake of fire and brimstone! Where is now the object of your envy? It is not his silver that now will anchor him, nor his gold that shall land him, nor his friends that comfort him; therefore if he be worth the envying, who is worth the pitying? if this be the felicity, then give me misery. Lord ! rather let me be poor with real grace in my heart, than to have riches for my portion here and misery for my eternal inheritance. i Extraordinary Forewarning. ( Continued from pmje 7.J Ti \V\^ ^'^^ clergyman had left Lady B. she sent 11 to forbid her company coming; and at the same time to request Lady , and her son of whom Sir M. Beresford was father, and who was then about twelve years of age, to come to her apart- ment. Immediately upon their arrival, having or- i .^•^:, ■pf *r^w dercd her attens his residenee in a more special maimer, and displays himself in the fid- ness of his glory, among an innumerable company of angels, and spiVits of jnst men made i)erfecti' This is certain, that our imagination cannot be rais- ed too high, when we think on a place where onnnpo- tence and onmiscience have so signally exerted them- selves; because that they are able t(» pioduce a scene infiintely more great and glorious than what we are able to imagine. It is not impossible but, at the eon- summation of all things, these outward apartments of nature, which are now suited to ll'.ose beings who in- habit them, may be taken in and added to that glori- ous i)lace of which I am here speaking, and by that means made a proper hal)itation lor beings who are exempt from mortality, and cleared of their imperfec- tions; for so the scripture seems to intimati', when it speaks of a *' new heaven and a new earth, wliereiu dwelleth righteousness." A lewd young fellow seeing and aged hermit go by him bare-footed, ' Father,' says he, ' you are in a very jniserable condition if there is not another world.' ' True son,' said the hermit ; 'but what is thy condi- tion if there is?' Man is a creature designed for two dirterent states of being, or rather for two didcrent lives. His llrst life is short and transcient; his second permanent and lasting. The (piestion we are all con- cerned in is this, in which of these two lives is it our chief interest to make ourselves happy? Or, in other words. Whether we should endeavour to secure to our- selves the pleasures and gratifications of a life which is nncertain and precarious, and at its utmost length, of a Vi y inconsiderable duration ; or to seciu'e to our- selves the pleasures of a life which is fixed and settled. and will i ing of thi! lie ought in theory, wrong sid tills life, 1 for the otl beginniii.i: Should to huniai and take notions o species ol purposes gine that and bono duty to t< would n( threats ol I our pleas 'f certainly J of duties I scribed U gination, most ob( constant on the ei Hut h< learned t this worl Wli lie Ue Hi 'fill Ikjl! 39 \v these (Ic jukI pcrislia- )urts of tice in a the fill- pany of be rais- miiiiix)- l theiu- a scene we are he con- neiits of vho in- t glori- hv that vho are iiperlef- IV lien it wherein it go by 1 a verv world.' r con(H- for two liferent ; second all con- s it our n other ' to our- ? which length, ' to our- settled. and will i»t"^<'>" tMid? Every man, upon the first liear- in.r of this (piestion, knows very well which side of it luM)Ught lo close with. Hnt, however right we are in theory, it is plain that in practice we adhere to the wrong sid(! of the (piestion. We make provision for ihis life, as thongh it were never to have an end, and for the other life, as thongh it were never to have a beginning. Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human nature, accidentally light \ipon the earth, and take a survey of its inhabitants, what would his notions of us be? Wonhl he not think that we are a species of beings made for quite dirterent ends and purposes than what we really are? Must not he ima- gine that we were placed in this world to get riches and honours? VV^)uld not he think that it was our duty to toil after wealth and station, and title? Nay, would not he believe we were forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to pursue our pleasures under pain of damnation? He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a scheme of duties (piite op})()site to those which are indeed pre- scribed to us. And truly, according to such an ima- gination, he must conclude that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in the universe : that we are constant to our duty, and that we keep a steady eye on the end for which we were sent hither. Hut how great would be his astonishment, when he learned that we were l)eings not designed to exist in this world above "threescore and ten years?" Whiit a jinor value ilo tucii set on heaven; Heav'ii the iifrfcction of all lliat can BcHaid, or thout-lit, of riches, delight, or harmony, Uealtli, heaiity ; ami all those not suhjert to The waste of time : but in their height eternal. wt I 'W Ml ^.i^ii'lil m I Iflj 40 A Thouther, and tluMi expired in her wounds; and the base NiUain was «|uickly ai)preiiend- ed, tried, and hanged for tlie sume. Now if this gentleman had nol been so slow to believe th" Divine warning, and had Imstened to his sister's relief at the iirst (h-eani, in nil |>robabili- ty he had prevented the eruel murder, and saved two lives. ^ times he :S lear and 'I none wil ! said, (di J answered i verv sel( :| and two peaied t< ij the day in the d sunset. When cle had ti iiidit as J hour aftei when he " \Villian t§ said notii — his rocnn (lav or t\^ ^ raging (k ■ I was : veiy earl two lield." to be ha there : an ( so manj just 1)V 1 came tov many pe and went on the ol 13 give "le J An aufhfuHc Account of several Apparitions, ^c. (Continued from pa(/e 3.J in T le- er ( who istaiice,) im some lie went e tiling, t to the s (liVi'iin liin, and ■i under- I and bid LVj), and uirdere'd. II sjK'ed, I lier cut ler innsl I I ad been sp(>ak a 1 in her [)rehen(l- slow to U'lied to ir()l)al>ili- ived two WHEN I told my undo this he did not seem to be at all suriuisod at it. But at several times he said. " Be not alVaid : only take care to [ear and serve God. As h^ng as he is on your side, none will be able to hurt you." At other times he said, ((lrop})iiig a WM)rd now and then, but seldom answered me any question about it.) " Evil spirits very seldom a[)i)ear, but between eleven at night and two in the morning. But aftiM* they have ap- pealed to a person a year, they freciuently come in the day time. Whatever si)irits good or bad, come in the day, they come at sun rise, at noon, or at sunset," When 1 was betw^cen twelve and thirteen, mv un- ele had a lodger, who was a very wicked man. One night as I was sitting in my chamber, about half an hour after ten, having by accident })ut out my candle, when he came in, all over in a flame. I cried out, " William why do you come in so to fright me?" He said notiiing, but went away. I went after him into his rocnn : but found he was fast asleep in bed. A (lay or two after he fell ill, and within a week died in raging desi)air. I was between fourteen and fifteen, when I went very early oik? morning to fetch the kine. I had two fields to cross into a low ground which was said to be haunted. Many iiersons had been frightened there: and I had myself often seen men and women, (so many, at times, that they are out of count, j go just l)v me and \anisli awav. This mornin(» rejjeated, or ever forgot. And ere the sun arose, the gay, young, iiohle, ingenious, aeeoini)Iished, jnid nidst wretched x\ltaniont ex[)iied. Du. Y()UN(i. ■■*tPR '' i' ■M Ominous Prcsarje to Robert Bruce of Scotland. BIMld^, tlie restorer of the Scottish monarchy in the reign of Kdward the second of England, heing out one day to reconnoitre the enemy, lay that night in a barn belonging to a loyal farmer, lii die morning, still reclining his head on a strawy pil- low, he beheld a spider clindjing a beam of the roof. 'I'iie insect fell on tlie grouv.d, and innnediately made a second essay to ascend, this attracted the notice of the liero, who with regard saw the spider fall a se- cond time I'rom that eminence, it made a third attempt without success ; and in short the monarch, not with- out a mixture of concern and curiosity, beheld the reptile no less than twelve times batiled in its aim; hut tlie thirteenth trial carried its success. The sj)!- (ler gained the sunnnit of the vases ; when the king, started from his couch, thus exclamed in solihxpiy, " Jjchold, this (U'spicid)le insect has taught me perse- verance! I will follow its example. Have not 1 been twelve times defeated by the superior force of tlie enemy? On one light more hangs the indepen- dency of my kingdom." In a '[aw days was fought the memorable battle of nannokboiirn, in which Bruce proved victorious, slew thirty tiiousand of the invading enemy, and restord the monarchy of Scotland. mii- fi; . «■ i '■v.% I i!-: M 1 "I i ■ :) li!!'' 4B A Fad, proving the unaccouniabk commnnication of Spirits. A FEW years ago a gentleman of eliaraeter and serious earriage, and his wife, who lived near St. James', and had lived for many years together in great harmony and lo^e, and who were ne\er so hap- py as in each* others eomi)any, hoth at home and a- broad : always walking arm *in arm whenever they went out any where, and seemed as one soul and one body, they were so closely united in love to each other': but as the most near and dearest friends must part in this world, when Ciod calls us hence, so it happened the Gentleman was taken sick and died ; which so afiected his dear-left companion, that she sickened also, and kept her bed, and had a servant, or some other always to attend her. In about ten days after her husband's death, as she was sitting upright in bed, a friend and near relation was then sitting by her; she looked steadfastly towards the foot of the bed, and said, with a cheerful voice " My dear I will be with you in two hours." The gentlewoman, her friend, that was with her (and who firmlv attested the same as most true.) said to her, "Child, whom did you speak to?" ( for she saw nobody) she answered, "It is my husband, who came to call me hence, and I am going to him;" which surprised her friends very nmcli, who thinking she was a little light headed, called in somebody else, to wdiom she spoke very cheerfully and told the same story ; but before the two hours were ex- pired, she went to her dear companion to he hapi)y together for ever ; to the great surprise of all present. The soul receives not its perfections or activity from the body, but can live antl act out of the body as well as in the body, yea and much better, having then its perfect liberty, divested of that heavy incuni- I ■ brance \ less, sai the bod; and [)erj being, ii of heave the case 0(1, who, ness anti lie felt n hea\en, ly music would j( liynm, \ parted ii was relai funeral s ces of til ingly rej niention< True Ac don nr^iiE JL the siderable as the 1(1 port in tl servants chants tc One o ready to tlie sliip, master w dispat('h« river tiie 'at ion of I P tor and ed near jtlier in | so lia})- If and a- er they and one to each (Is mnst e, so it d died ; hat she servant, m I , as she relation towards il voice ." The ^r ( and said to ■ she saw d, who ) him ;" j hinkinff m )dy else, k old the J ere ex- to he ^e of all |i activity | body as having ' incuni- 49 branee which only clogged and fettered it. " Doubt- less, saith 'rertullian, when the soul is separated from the body it conies out of darkness into its own pure and [)erfect light, and quickly finds itself a substantial being, able to act freely in that light, and participate of heavenly joys." A testimony of this sort I have in the case of a gentlenian, one Mr. Jos. Reyner, deceas- ed, who, in his last moments, though on a bed of sick- ness and i)ain, was in such raptures of joy, that he said lie felt no pain at all, but declared that he was then in heaven, meaning his soul ; and that he heard distinct- ly music, as of angels singing most melodiously, and would join with them as he did in the words of a hymn, with '* IJallelu jali, c^c." and his soul soon de- parted in that most triumphant maimer. This account was related b}^ the Rev. Mr. Helliot, who preached his funeral sermon, 17()'2. Likewise several other instan- ces of the soul or spirits of the godly, who have exceed- ingly rejoiced just before their leaving of the body, are mentioned by Mr. Flavel, Mr. Baxter, and others. Tnie Account of an Apparition of one Brother in Lon- don, to another at Boston in New England. f 11 UJ Vi party in London of whom we relate, lived _1L there with a merchant ; and as he drove a con- siderable trade beyond sea, he established a factory, or as the language of trade calls it, a house, at a certain port in the Lnglish colonies in America, and sent over servants or ap[)rentices thither, as is usual for mer- chants to do. One ')f his said apprentices being fitted out, and ready to embark, his cargo being actually on board the ship, and the ship fallen down to Gravesend, his master was getting his letters and invoices and other dispatches, ready for him, he being to go down the river the same evening. u J I !„ 1; ii i 50 The huiTy of disputcliing him prevented his master from taking liim uj) to (liimer with him at the usual hour, and told him he must be content to stay in the counting-house till he came to relieve him. Accordingly, dimier being o\er, he goes down to send him up to dinner. And wheii he came to tiie counting-house door, there sat his man with tiie book- keeper also, writing as lie h'lt them. It happened jnst that moment, some occasion extra- ordinary obliged him to step back again, and go up stairs to the dining room, from whence he came; and intending not to stay, he did not speak to the young man, but left him in the counting-liouse, and went immediately uj) stairs. It was not possible that he, or any one else except such as could walk invisibly, could go by, or pass him unseen: good manners would have hindered the young man from thrusting by his master upon the stairs, if he had been going up ; but he is positive he did not, and could not j)ass without being seen. But when he came to the top of the stairs, there sat the young man tit dinner with the other servants ; the room they dined in being a little })arl()ur, which open- ed just against the stairs, so that he saw him all the way of th(; upper part of the stair case, and could not be deceived. The masler did not speak to him, which he was ve- ry sorry for afterwards ; but the sur})rise made him pass by the room, and go into the dining room, which was to the right hand of it; but he sent one immedi- ately to look, and he was there really at diinier ; so that what he (the master) saw below in the counting- house, must be the apparition, as it certainly was. But this was not all : The young gentleman embar- ked as above, and arrived safe with all his etlejts in America, though he never lived to return. Howe\er, I cannot say his apparition, in the manner as related, could have the least relation to his being sick, and dv- ing abn. Hut wii; This • London at tliat man, ai; sav how Englan( lie hf in the st Flcet-str pk'te a 1] ,^. Ilist, illK H whence ( ., swords, UMU'h an as the (ii sword, b '\j kitchen, i .J ed him d he afterw While oil" as Bo i| the mercl other bu^ ™ "SIR, I this to \enien couditi will ex "On tl morning came to t full in m> frighted, him, brot " He hi master le usual y in the I own to ! to tlie e book- I I'xtra- up and iT youu! I wont except ass liini ? vounsj tail's, if lid not, liere sat its ; the 1 o|)en- all the uld not was ve- de him , which inniedi- iier; so unting- las. enibai- ejts in 3we\er, re kited, Lud dv- i M ing abroad, which was not till three years afterwards. IJut what followed was of iinother kind. This young man had an elder brother, who lived in Tiondon, he was a gentleman and a scholar, and was Jit tliat time studying physic. U'c was also u stout man, and in particidar understood a sword, that is to say how to use a sword, as well as most gentlemen iii Ungland. lie iiad an accidental rencounter with a gentleman in the street, in tliat short street which goes out of Fleet-street into Salisbury-court : and being so com- plete a juaster of his wea[)on, he wounded his antago- nist, and drove him into a ta\ern in the street, froni whence came out two men more \\\)o\\ him, with their swords, but both of them found the gentleman so much an overmatch for them, that they left him as fast as the first; wiiereupon a fourth came out, iu)t with a sword, but a fire-poker, taken hastily out of the tavern kitchen, and ruiming at this geiillenian with it, knock- ed him down and fractured iiis skull, of whicli wound he afterwards diech' While this was done in London, his brother as far off as J3oston, in TVew England writing to bis master the merchant, and who gives this account of it, after other business, wrote tliis postscript. " Sin, 1 beg you will be pleased, in your return to this to let me have some account, as njuch as con- \eniently may be, how my brother does, and what condition he is in ; which importunity 1 bope you will excuse, when you read the following account: "On the "JOtli of .lune last, about six o'clock in the morning lying in bed, and broad awake, my brother came to the bed's feet and opened the curtain, looking full in my face, bui did not speak : I was very much frighted, but Innvever I so far recovered as to say to him, brother what is the matter with you ? He bad a napkin -cap on his head, which was ve- (( 1 K]^ 1 1%; I .ys Ir •hi i!( I'!- ■ ^ : ! liin ii rv bloody ; lie looked very i)ule tiiid ghostly, and said, Tain basely murdered by one, naniing the person ;j)Ut I shall have justice done rne, and then disapeared." Now this 'letter was so dated, that it was inipossiblc any account could have been sent of tiie disaster, that could reach thither in that time: lor it was not dated above fourteen days after the fact was conunitted in London ; and that it was genuine I am well assured, because I saw the letter within an hour after it was received in Londoi , read it myself, and knew the young man's hand, and the young nijui also perfectly well, as 1 I'kewise did his brother that was killed, ve- ry intimately. The young man was sober, religious, and sensible, not given to whimsey, or ligiit-iu-aded fancies, not va- pourish, or distempered ; not ai)t to see double, or to dream waking, as many of our ai)paritinn Juakin^ people are; he was like.vise a scholar, anar, 1 am not come to fright you ; but only out of regard to your eternal hai)piness, to forewarn you of your approaching end, which 1 am sorry to say will be \ovy miseiable, if you do not prepare for it ; for there is a righteous God above, and von know vou have led a verv unthinkimr tridrlv life Do., # t 1 50 llieso many years. 1 cannot stay, ! am j^oing, luj linie is just si)iMil, prepare to dio ; ai (1 remeni her ll )is. tliat wli )ii make the thirti(>th at a hall, you have wlien yoi hut a lew days to live," She then vanished. To eon- clude, she wus at a hall where she made the thirtiiHii in munher; and was afterwards asked hy the hrother of the deceased, whether his sister jiad appeared to her as was rei)orted ; she made no answer, but fell a weep- ing, and died in a little time after. The solenniity of a visit from the dead is yet height- ened hy eoming at a time of festivity, when the heart is glad, and tliere is no room in the mind for serious retleetion. How seriousl} Ave should esteem friend- ship and a solenni promise. m Anecdote related In/ Bishop Burnet. BISHOP iiurnet, from his zeah^is eare of his dio- cese, made it a rule yearly to visit the various parishes of which it was comj)osed ; and with the most distinguished regard, such ministers as were eminent for their piety, and most attenti\ e in their care of the souls of the })eo})le. One of these had fre(piently ex- pressed the great importance of well uiulerstanding our Loros meaning of the Heatitudes : and of this in particular, "• J51essed are the meek, for they shrdl inhe- rit the earth." Many anxious incpiiries yet left this gracious minister unsatislied in his own mind, of the just and true exi)lanation of it, and m.vny prayers were added to i)revent any })artial view of it, or hasty opi- ni., «/ ^ i/ ' //f«/f Ilia g .snare ihe same, yet be ' 1 ^ ■■ !" ? ■' 1 \%l ' (Vi denml the pririlef/e of hnjmrtmj to you n^hat she is, or (hat she e.risfs at all. Nothing T could say made tlio least impression ; and I found, to my great eoncern, that she was become as great an advocate for the new doc rme of non-existence after death, as any of those who irst proposecarine, Madam de Beauclair luul a greater intimacy with than any of her acquamtance. We were just set down together about nine o clock in the evening, as near as 1 can remember, when a servant came hastily into the room, and acquainted the lady I was witli, that Madam de Beauclair had sent to entreat she would that moment come to her; adding, if she ever desired to see her more in this world, she must not delay her visit. So odd a message might well surprise the person to whom it was delivered : and not knowing what to think of it, she asked who brought it? And being told it was Madam de Beauclair's groom of the chambers, ordered he should come in, and demanded of him if his ladv were well, or if he knew of any thing extraordinaiy that had happened to her which should cause this hasty summons? lo which he answered that he was entirely incapable oi telling her the meaning ; only as to her ladship s health, he never saw nor heard her complain of any indispo- sition. , ,. , . r 1 \ " Well, then," said the lady, (a little out of humor) " I desire vou'U make mv excuse, as I have really a great cold,\'ind am fearful the night air may increase it, but to-morr(»w I will not fail to wait on her very early in the morning. tiie man being gone, we were beginning to lorni several conjectures on this messsge of Madam (k Beaiiclai might I: again, a seeming "0 n finite C( which si vinced o visit to-i queaths necklace will wea These the lega Ward's were no' entered ing the i only lei and mu cried all somethii ed to a getting 1 mysterit In tin made of bably b( vant car wait in my ad III She V than sh found li and in i in as pe 3 05 he is, or ression ; ;lu' was •trine of ^lio first ward. 1 \vc had 10 house leath of hiir had untance. ; o'clock when a quainted dair had to her; ; in this e person what to id being of the emanded vr of any er which /hich he if teUing s heahh, indispo- f humor) 13 really a r increase her very ; to form adani dc m fc« '^ m Beaiiclair, but before we had time to agree to what niii^ht be the most feasible occasion, he returned again, and with him Mrs. Ward, her woman, both seemingly very nmch confused, and out of breath. " O madam," cried she, ** my lady expresses an in- finite concern that you should refuse tliis request which she says will be her last. She says she is con- vinced of her not being in a condition to receive your visit to-morrow; but as a token of her friendship be- queaths you this little casket containing her watch, necklace, and some jewels, which she desires you will wear in remembrance of her. These worils were accompanied with the delivery of the legacy she mentioned and that as well as Mrs. Ward's words, threw us both into a consternation, we were not able to express. The lady would fain have entered into some discourse with Mrs. Ward concern- ing the afliiir : but she evaded it by saying, she had only left an under maid with Madam de Beauclair, and must return immediately; on which the Lady cried all at once, " I will go with you, there must be something very unconmion certainly in this. I ofTer- ed to attend lier, being, as well I might, desirous of getting some Mght into what at present appeared so mysterious. In fine, we went that instant, but no mention was made of me, nor Madam de Beauclair might not pro- bably be informed I was with that lady when her ser- vant came ; good manners and decency obliged me to wait in a lower aparvment, unless she gave leave for my admittance. She was liowever no sooner informed I was there, than she desired I would come up; I did so, and found her sitting in an easy chair near her bed side, and in my eyes, as well as all those present, seemed in as perfect health as ever she had been. (To be concluded in our next.) ■•; ■ \ . '-* I K (k; f iH THOUGflTM ON JOffN XVii. '2i. Father, f will that they also whom fhou hast (jircti we, he with me where / am. BRETHREN, if God i>t' witli you, you shortly shall he with God : You that lie amon^^ the pots, 'tis but a little time, and you shall hear that word. Come up hither, into tiie kingdom, the inheritance prepared for you. There are two comes or calls of our Lord : The iirst is, Come and work with me, come and watch with me, come and follow me : the second is, come and rest with me, yoiw work is done, your watch is over, your race is run, come and eiuer into my rest. The first is, Come down with i le, from the i)ride, from the pomps and Jollities of tliis present world ; come with me into the wilderness, into the valley of tears; come and suder with me, come and die with me; The second is, Come up with me, up out of the wilderness, up out of your prisons, uj) from your bonds; your jubilee is come, come up with me: Come put ofi' your j)rison garments, and put on vour robes ; shake off your fetters, and take up your palms ; lay down your cross, and take up your crown ; from your prisons to your j)alace, from the stocks to the throne; you that have descended with me, are the same who shall now useend with me to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God. The first is the come of a su-ter; Come, grant me your love; give me your hearts and accept of mine. This is the ermnd upon which his ambassadors are dispatched, as Abraham's servant to take you as a wife for your Lord; this is the meaning of all those jewels, and the bracelets they bring in their hands': the Lord sends servant upon servant, epistle upon epistle, to- ken upon token, and all speak the same word, Come, come, come away, and accept of your Lord, and be married bridegri into m} into m^ live in Christiy to Chris luatch ? with a I king ol shortly unto yc till vou fall witl fort, vo thing, a is, and went to pass, as vernor t( him pri; reason, j his will the evei com pan i packet b The ne^i Dover. Harvey, he had who can m r(>n inr, shortly ho pots, t word, eritance s of our ?, come second N your ler into !, from present iito tho lie and ne, u[) ip from ith me : m vour pahns ; ; from to the are the Father he first ir love ; s is the atched, T your S) and ; Lord tie, to- Con le, and be I t'Si 07 niarried to him. The second come, i^. i' e v nie of the bridegroom; Come home with me, into iny holy city, into my royal mansi(jn ; con.t into njv »,' iinber, come into my bosom, come and lodge between my breasts, live in i"y presence, and rest in my love for ever. Christians, will you now come and give up your souls to Christ!* will you now give consent to make up the match P with whom? With a man, with a great man, with a prince, yea, even with a king liimself, yea, the king of kings. I can give you assurance he will shortly come and make u[) the match : he will say unto you as Naomi did to Ruth, sit still Christians, till you see how matters will fall. And however they fall with you in this worhl, know this for your com- fort, vour Lord will not rest till he has finished this thing, and brought you home to be with him where he is, and that for ever. A SINGULAR DREAM. WHEN the celebrated Dr. Harvey, being a young man, went to travel towards Padua, he went to Dover with several others, and showed his pass, as the rest did to the Governor there. The Go- vernor told him that he must not go, but he must keep him prisoner. The doctor desired to know for what reason, and what he had done amiss. He said it was his will to have it so. The packet boat hoisted sail in the evening, which was very clear, and the doctor's companions in it. A terrible storm ensued, and the packet boat, with all the passengers, were cast away. The next day the melancholy news was brought to Dover. The Governor was a total stranger to Dr. Harvey, but by name and face ; only the night before he had a perfect vision, in a dream, of Dr, Harvey, who came to pass over to Calais ; and an order to stop If 1 i- '■^??T;5L^, 1 i i ■ i ! " 1 1 1 ii \ i| ; i b mii 08 him. This the Governor told the Doctor the next day, and the Doctor told the story again to several of his friends in London. A VISION SEEN BY DOCTOR DONNE. BOCTOR Donne and his wife lived for some time in London with Sir Robert Drurv. Sir Robert having occasion to go to Paris, took the Doctor along with him, whose wife was left big with child at Sir Robert's house. Two days aftev their arrival at Paris, Dr. Donne was left alone in the room where Sir Robert, and he, and some other friends had dined together. Sir Robert returned in half an hour, and as he had left so he found the Doctor alone : but in such an ecstasy, and so altered in his looks, as ama "ed Sir Robert to behold. He inquired the cause; and after some time the Doctor told him he had seen a dreadful vision. I have seen, says he, my dear wifti pass twice by me, through this room with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms. A messenger was immediately dispatched to England, to inquire after Mrs. Donne, and it appeared, that she had been brought to bed of a dead child, after a long and dangerous labour, about the very hour that Dr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by him in his chamber at Pans. ABDA TO A FRIEND. TIME'S being painted with a tuft of hair on his forehead only, is very emblematical. Occasion lost, how is it to be regained? Redeem the time; fight valiantly : for not only the days are evil, l)ut see, Death is at the heel. Shall Satan be so active in his work, and his children in 4iis service? and shall we be so ina< dearest ol The Lore Time i after thes not a vict he to God Jesus CJn Let us tl the Lord : in the all- pressing t possess tl our days, <( FO] ■Ars is ; viii. (). 1 Job of pa perous S Eccl. viii vauiti/, i. tive man, They are ( ed. The right apji then we our years tale is a ended, it frible of i the night, awakes, a] « dream a away as a ^■^"^,%i. e,9 be so inactive, so dronish in the ways of the best and dearest of masters, whose service is perfect freedom 1* The Lord forbid it. Time is riuiiiing from us. Death following hard after these poor crazy Ijodies of ours. Yet, is there not a victory to be obtained ? Yes. But how ? Thanks he to God, who (/ircth us the victory, throiujh our Lord Jesus Christ. The battle is fought, the victory is won. Let us therefore stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord; lie passive in his hands, and, through grace, in the all-sufHcient and never-failing strcngih of Christ, pressing through a few difficulties and ligiit afflictions, possess the good land, the heavenly ( Ja: laan ; and as uur days, so our strength shall be. Deut. xxxiii. 25. "FOR WHAT IS YOUR LIFE P" JAMES IV. l4. MAN'S life is a vain and empty thing, while it is: it vanisheth away, and h)! it is not. Job viii. (). My days ere vanity. U you suspect afflicted Job of partiality in this matter, hear the wise and pros- perous Solomon's character of the days of his life, Eccl. viii. L5. All thinys have I seen in the days of my vanity, i. e. wy vain days. Moses, who was a very ac- tive man, compares our days to a sleep, Psal. xc. 5. They are as a sleep, which is not noticed, till it be end- ed. The resemblance is to the point : few men have right apprehensions of life, till death awaken them ; then we begin to know we were living. We spevcl our years as a tale that is told, ver. 9. When an idle tale is a telling, it may alfect a little, but when it k ended, it is forgot; and so is man forgotten, when the fjible of is life is ended. It is a dream or vision of the night, in which there is nothing solid : when one awakes, all varusheth. Job xx. 2. lie shall fly away as a dream and shall not he found ; yea he shall he chased away as a vision of the ni'yhi. It is but a vain show or 70 image. Psal. xxxix. 6. Siirebj evenj man nalketk in a vain show. Man in this wr)rkl is but, as it were, a walking statue; his life is but an image of life; there is so much of death in it. If we look on our life, in the several periods of it, we shall find it a heap of vanities. Childhood and youth are rani ft/, Ecol. xi. 10. We come into the world, the most helpless of all animals ; young birds and beasts can do something for themselves, but in- fant man is altogether unable to help himself. Our childhood is spent in pitiful trtling pleasures, which become the scorn of our own after-thoughts. Youth is a flower that soon withereth, a blossom that quickly falls off; it is a si)ace of time in which we are rash, foolish, and inconsiderate, pleasing ourselves with a variety of vanities, and swimming as it were, through a flood of them. But ere we are aware, it is past, and we are in the middle age, encompassed with a thick cloud of cares, througli wliich we must grope, and find- ing ourselves beset with i)ricking thorns of dilliculties, through them we nnist force our way, to accomplish the projects and contrivance of our riper thoughts. And the more we solace ourselves in any earthly en- joyment we atain to, the more bitterness do we find in parting with it. Then comes old age, attended with its own train of infirmiti(?s, labour and sorrow, Psal. xc. 10. and sets us down jiext dcor to the grave. In a word, All flesh is r/rass. Isa. xl. 0. Every stage or period in life, is vanity, wan a( his best state\\\h mid- dle age, when the heat of youth is spent, and the sorrows of old age have not yet overtaken him,) is al- lo(/elher vanifi/, Psal. xxxix. .'». J)e;uh carries oH' some in the bud of childhood, others in the blossom of youth, and others when they come to their fruit; few are left standing, till like ri})e corn they forsake the ground ; all die one time or other. 2. Man's life is a short thing ; it is not only a vani- ty, but a short lived vanity. Consider, First, How the life of m deed soir no man hears no bi'ought d is its utm rive at th till men the grave such a sn find it coi his month moon, is or wanin reckoned Man that it is but ling's (la\ ends, and roniplish brings it ( it a nioi (though ] But elsew further th; Mine a(/e Solomon i><>rn, and time to li womb to t bv vvhicii 1 ness ol" nij Mine a(/e shepherd's The she})l must not f this earth, working; keth in a were, a fe; there •ds of it, ood and into the n^ birds but in- If. Our whicli Youth quickly ire rash, < with a through ast, and a thick nd find- hculties, omplish loughts. thly en- we find led with ,v, Psal. Lve. In stage or lis niid- ind the ,) is . Till he shall ac- complish as an hirelin// his dai/. Yea the scripture brings it down to the shortest space of time, and calls it a moment. 2 Cor. ix. 17. Our liijht afflict ion (though It last all our life long,) is bnt for a moment. But elsewhere it is brought down to yet *a lower jitch', further than which one cannot carry it, Psal. xxxiv. 5.' Mine a(/e is as not him/ before thee. Agreeable to this' Solomon tells us, Kccl.'iii. 2. 7V?7' /.v a time to he horn, and a time to die ; bur makes do niention of a time to live; as if our life were but a skip from the womb to the grave. 2. Consider the various similitudes by vvhich the scriptures represe^;? ihe l)revity, or short- ness of man's life. Ilea.- He.'^'kiah; isa xxxviii. 12. Mine aije is departed, and is rnKored from me Wee a shepherd's tent; I hare en t off, liL - weaver my life. J he shepherd's tent is soon remov>>d, for the 'flocks inust not kii.H\ long in one place ; such is a man's life on this earth, (piickly gone. It is a web, he is incessantly working; he is not idle so much as one ;aoment- in f m a short time it is wronglit, and then it is cut off. Every breathing is a thread in tliis web ; and when the last breath is drawn, the web is woven out, he ex- )ires ; and then it is cut of]", he breathes no more. an is like grass, and like a llower, Isa. xl. 6 All Jk'sh, even the strongest and most healthy llesh, /,i' away, they see no (food. They are hasted a ^ j the swift ship; as the eayle that has Hh to the pn chap. ix. 25, 2(5. He compares his days with a i)ost, afoot-post, a runner, who runs speedily to carry tidings, and will make no stay. But though the post were like Ahimaaz, who over-ran Cushi, our (hiys would be swifter than he, for they flee away, like a man lleeing for his life, before the pursuing ememv ; he runs with his utmost vigour, yet our days run as fast as he. Howbeit that is not afl. Even he who is fleeing for life, c;iimot run always; he must needs sometimes stand still, lie down, or run in somewhere, as Sisera did into .fael's tent, tv re!s. And If In wild magnificent decay, The palsied fabrics frown, For storms have rent their strength away, Till breezes rock them down. There oft the Pilgrim, as he stands, Sees from the broken wall, The shadow tottering on the sands. Ere the loose fragments fall. Destruction joys, amid those scenes. To watch the sport of fate : While Time between the pillars leans And bows them with his weight. But towers and temples, crushVl by time, Stupendous wrecks apjjcar To me less mournfully sublime, Than the poor Molehill here. Thro' all his hillocks crumbling mould, Once the warm life-bloo/y ^m ^ % #. ^ w 1.0 I.I 1.25 1.4 M 2.2 1.6 ^3 '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation k « 4--^^ ^ \ S V 4 ^. ^^^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ■,V 4^. I '$ Ilk tell you; but if after this warning, vou persist in your inficlelity your lot in anotlier world will be miserable " May 1 ask," said I, " if you are happy ?" Had I been otherwise," said he, "I should not ha^e been permitted to appear to you." " 1 may tnence infer you are happy," he smiled ; " But how, said I, ♦' when morning comes, shall I be coiiviiieed that your appearance has been real, and not the mere phantom of my own imagination?" "Will not the news of my death" said he, "be sufficient to convince you ?" " No," returned I, "I might have had such a dream, and that (iream might accidentally come to [)ass ; I wish to have some stronger proof of its reality." " You shall," said he; then waving his hand, the bed curtains which were of crimson velvet, wt^-e insUnitly drawn through a large iron hoop, by which the tester of the bed. which was of an oval fomi, was suspended: "In that," said he, " you cannot be mistaken, no mortal could have performed this." "True," said I, "but sleeping we are often possessed of far greater strength than awake ; though awake I could not have done it, asleep I might, I shall still doul>t." He then said, " You have a pocket book in tlie leaves of which I will write; you know my hand writing." I replied " Yes," He wrote with a pencil on one side of the leaves, " Still," said I, " in tlie morning I may doubt; though awake I may not imitiite your hand, asleep I might." " You are hard of belief;" said he, " I must not touch you, it would injure you irreparably, it is not for spirits to touch mortal flesh." " I do not re- gard a small blemish," said 1, " You are a woman of courage," said he, " hold out your hand," — I did ; he touched my wrist ; his hand was cold as marble: in a moment the sinews shrunk up, every nerve wi- thered. " Now," said he, " while you live, let no mor- tal eye behold dijit wrist; to see it would be sacri- lege." He stopped, I turned to him again, he was gone. him, m but the and a c shook I in vain of agita came to ing Sir without niained. down. J the gall thence r frequent which, 1 curtains would e inquiries reau, loc of blacl When I counteni Sir M., quired 1 well, bi that he < four, an inquiries my wris nities, n my son, world, a birth yo lancholy means h predict) remaindf aV:. 81 gone. During the time in which I had conversed with him, my thoughts were perfectly calm and collected, but the moment he was gone I felt chilled with horror,' and a cold sweat came over me ; every limb and joint shook under me ; I endeavoured to awake Sir M. but in vain ; all my efforts were ineffectual. In this state of agitation I lay some time, when a shower of tears came to my relief. I drop{)ed asleep. In the morn- ing Sir Marcus arose and dressed himself as usual, without perceiving tiie state in whir h the curtains re- mained. When I awoke I found Sir Marcus was gone down. I arose and having put on my clothes, went into the gallery adjoining our appartment, and took from thence a long broom, such a one as in a large house is frequently used to sweep the corners, with the help of which, though not without rlifficulty, I took down the curtains, as I imagined their extraordinary position would excite wonder among the servants, and occasion inquiries I wished to avoid. I then went to my bu- reau, locked up the pocket book, and took out a piece of black ribband which I bound round my wrist. When I came down, the agitation of my mind on my countenance was too visible to pass long unobserved by Sir M., he instantly remarked my confusion, and in- quired the cause I assured im I was well, perfectly well, but informed him Lord Tyrone was no more, that he died on the preceding Tuesday at the hour of four, and at tiie same time entreated him to drop all inquiries concerning the black ribband he noticed on my wrist. He kindly desisted fnmi further importu- nities, nor did he ever after imagine the cause. You my son, as I had been foretold, I brought into the world, and in a little more than four years after your birth your father died in my arms. After this me- lancholy event, I determined as the only probable means by which to avoid the dreadful sequel of the prediction, to give up every pleasure, and to pass the remainder of my days in solitude ; but few jan endure ^ m mm m ii«i' f riW III i .-IE li •I ' ■ ^;|i ^ m ■( ■ ■ I I i ♦ 82 to remain in a ftate of sequestration I commenced a., to remain ui " f„~iiV an< only one : nor could intercourse with one iamily, aim ui v ,' , I tlion -pe the fatal consequences winch alteriyaros re- umec. from H Little dii I in.agine that their .on, S only son, then a mere youth, would prove a per- ZiVestLd by fate to prove n'Y^»»<;-f;^„^^^".^i '^ deavoured by every possioie "J*^ . . ^ Ihrnild ever ^iiori the fatal conseciuences of vvhic.i ( i 1 bhouiu ever Tweak enough to yield to its impulse) I too well Lw, and fondly imagined, I should overcome its m- Se; when the evening of one fatal day term urn ed my fortitude, and plunged me in a moment down that abys. I had been so long meditating how to shun. He had frequently been soliciting his parents to go into the armv, and at length obtained their permission, and came to^bid me farewell betore his departure. (To he concluded in the next.) ■ii A REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF DIVINE JUSTICE, IN THE DEATH OF A DRUNKARD. IN the year 1743, there lived in London, one who was then foreman to a stay-maker, a good work- man, but a very great drunkard. He married, and in a short time after, he and his wife removed to York- shire They lived together till she bore him six chil- dren'- but by his excess in drinking, he kept himself, his wife, and children, without even common necessa- ries He then removed to the county oi Durham. His wife then knew little more of religion than himself; though she had formerly heard Mr. John Wesley call sinners to the Lord Jesus. But she did not dare to do after her marriage, her husband swearing, if he had a wife who was inclined to the methodists, he would burn her. i 83 iced an r could rds re- ir son, I a per- a few ; I en- a pas- ild ever lO well ; its in- ninated wn that > shun. ; to go nission, re. IN THE ne who 1 work- aud in . York- LX chil- himself, lecessa- m. His limself; iley call dare to g, if he lists, he ^m As he now drew near his latter end, she got a cler- gyman to attend him. But the clergyman observing a peculiar hardness in him, toJd his wife it was to no effect. The night of his death, she read a prayer out of the prayer book to him ; but he cried out, away with that popish book. 8he then begged him to say the Lord's prayer. He uttered some words with the utmost con- tempt and indifference, and said, " Beam, I cannot pray, I cannot pray, it is all over !" About an hour or two before he died, Lis wife asked him if he had any thing against her ? He replied, "I have not ; but if I had taken thy advice I had not beer I rought to this deplorable condition." About two o'clock in the morning he said, " Hand me down my clothes, for I must away," and died: In the winter, about six weeks after his death, she, with her helpless children, one of them sucking on her breast, was carried in a cart to her parish, whence they were ordered to the poor house, which was a place where they used to confine bad women and lunatics. Into this loathsome prison she and her infants were thrust, with nothing to lie on, save a little straw, and nothing to cover them. However after some time they all dropped asleep. Towards morning she awa- ked, began to bemoan her wretched condition, and calling her husband by his name, said, "To what a miserable state you have brought me and my inno- cent babes ? We arc all to perish for want." She had scarce spoke, when there was a terrible rustling noise, as if the place were going to be un- roofed, and a glimmering light with a sulphureous smell. Then appeared her husband with fiends who foi-med a circle round him. He seemed in exquisite pain, and cringed and leapt while they scourged and tormented him. He said, "Do not grieve on account of your situation, you will l)e soon taken out of this place. And you and your children will be taken care of, and you will it i. mm 84 t •: ■mi never perish for want. But as for me this h to be my condition to all eternity f and then disappeared. Stockton, Feb. 25, 1783. W. COLLINS. ' Here ne may inquire, What is this eternity .' How shall we pour any light upon the abstruse subject? It cannot be the object of our understanding. And wuh what comparison shall we compare it ? How mhnite- Iv does it transcend all these? What are any tempo- ral things placed in comparison with those that are eternal ? Whict is the duration of the long-lived oak, of the ancient castle, of Trajan's pillar, of Pompey's amphitheatre? What is the antiquity of the Tuscan urns, Though probably older than the foundation of Rom'e; yea, of the pyramids of Egypt, suppose they have remained upwards of three thousand years; when laid in the balance of eternity ? It vanisheth into nothing. Nay, what is the duration of the everlasting hills, figuratively so called, which have remained ever since the gene' . deluge, if not from the foundation of the world, in comparsion of eternity ? No more than an insignificant cypher. Go farther yet, consider the du- ration from the creation of the first born sons of God, of Michael the archangel in particular, to the hour when he shall be commissioned to sound his trumpet, and to utter his mighty voice through the vault of heaven. "Arise, ye dead, and come to judgment!" Is it not a moment, a point, a nothing, in comparison of unfathomable eternity ? Add to this a thousand, a million of years, add a million of millions of ages, be- fore the mountains were brought forth, or the earth and the round world were made : what is all this in comparison to that eternity which is past ? Is it not less, infinitely less, than a single drop of water to the whole ocean? Yea immeasurably less than a day, an hour, a moment, to a million of ages. Go back a thousand millions of etern Are V the eter pare it y are acqu from si> compare or fours compare Methusc have su vens aiK heavens of it sha of tliat ( In oi ed that there w« earth : s hilated, vet thai would 1 thousan to etern of sand To ii your mi ocean tc tween t drop of years; ; ocean w in a thoi tion to ( ocean. Look are in tl wi ^^k be my :.LINS. '' How ject? It nd with infinite- tempo- Lhat are -ed oak, ompey's Tuscan ation of >se they years ; wiisheth ng hills, er since [1 of the than an ■ the du- of God, he hour trumpet, vault of gment !" iiparison isand, a ges, be- lie earth this in not less, le whole an hour, housand m '*'■? .• "i^ 85 - , millions still. Yet you are no nearer the beginning of eternity. , Are we able to form a more adequate conception of the eternity to come? In order to this, let us com- pare it with the several degrees of duration, which we are acquainted with. An ephemeron dy lives six hours, from six in the evening till twelve. This is a short life compared to that of a man, which continues threescore or fourscore years. And this itself is short, if it be compared to the nine hundred and sixty nine years of Methuselah. Yet what are these years, yea, all that have succeeded each other from the time that the hea- vens and the earth were erected, to the time when the heavens shall pass aw^.y, and the earth with the works of it shall be burned up, if we compare it to the length of that duration, which never shall have an end ! In order to illustrate this, a late author has repeat- ed that striking thought of St. Cyprian. Suppose there were a ball of sand, as large as the globe of earth : suppose a grain of this sand were to be anni- hilated, reduced to nothing, in a thousand years: yet that whole space of duration, wherein this ball would be annihilating, at the rate of a grain in a thousand years, would bear infinitely less proportion to eternity, duration without end, than a single grain of sand would bear to all the mass. To infix this important point the more deeply in your mind consider another comparison. Suppose the ocean to be so enlarged as to include all the space be- tween the earth and the starry heavens. Suppose a drop of this water to be annihilated once in a thousand years ; yet that whole space of duration, wherein this ocean would be annihilating, at the rate of one drop in a thousand years, would be infinitely less in propor- tion to eternity, than one drop of water to that whole ocean. Look then at those immortal spirits, whether they are in this, or the other world. When they shall have ' i ' Y^^^^^ ■ 1 1 i : 1 1 ■1 J s , ir 1 'if 4 nil ;;if ; ^^ 80 lived thousands of thousands of years, yea, millions of millions of ages, their duration will be but just be- gun ; they will be only upon the threshold of eterni- ty. But besides this division of eternity into that which is past and that which is to come, there is another di- vision of eternity, which is of unspeakable importance. That which is to come, as it relates to immortal spi- rits, is either a happy or miserable eternity. See the spirits of the rigliteous, that are already praising God in a happy eternity. We are ready to say. How short will it appear to those who drink of the rivers of pleasure at God's right hand P We are rea- dy to cry out, " A day without night They dwell in liis sight. And eternity seems as a day !" But this is only speaking after the manner of men. For the measures of long and short, are only applica- ble to time, which admits of bounds, and not to un- bounded duration. Tliis rolls on ^recording to our low conceptions,) with unutterable, inconceivable swiftness ; if one would not rather say, it does not roll, or move at all, but in one, still immoveable ocean. For the inhabitants of heaven cease not day or night, but continually cry. Holy, holy, lioly is the Lord, the God, the Almighty : who was, and who is, and who is to come! And when millions of millions of ages are elapsed, their eternity is but just begun. On the other hand, in what a condition are those immortal spirits, who have made a choice of a misera- ble eternity ; I say, made choice : for it is impossible this should be the lot of any creature, but by his own act and deed. The day is coming, when every soul will be constrained to acknowledge, in the sight of men and angels. millions just be- eterni- ,t which ther di- ortance. rtal spi- al ready eady to Irink of are rea- >f men. pplica- to un- to our eivable oes not ocean. • night, ►rd, the id who )f ages e those inisera- ossible is own ry soul ight of t.^fV HW 87 "No dire decree of thine did seal, Or fix the unalterable doom : Consign my unborn soul to hell, Or damn me from my mother's womb." In what condition, will such a spirit be, after the sentence is executed, Depart ye cursed, into everlast- ing fire, prepared for the devil and his angels? Suppose him to be just now plunged into the lake of fire, burning with brimstone, where they have no rest day or night but the smoke of their torment ascend- eth up for ever and ever ! Why, if we were only to be chained down one day, yea one hour, in a lake of fire, how amazingly long would one day, or one hour ap- pear? I know not if it would not seem a thousand years, But, astonishing thought ! After thousands of thousands, he has but just tasied of his bitter cup ! After millions it will be no nearer the end, than it was the moment it began. What iiien is he, how foolish, how mad, in how unutterable a degree of distraction, who seemeth to have the understanding of a man, deliberately prefers tempoml things to eternal ? Who (allowing that ab- surd, impossible supposition, that wickedness is hap- piness : a supposition utterly contrary to all reason, as well as to matter of Ijxct,) prefers the happiness of a year, say a thousand years, to the happiness of eterni- ty ? In comparison of which, a thousand ages are infinitely less than a year, a day, a moment ! especial- ly when we take this into the consideration, (which indeed should never be forgotten,) that the refusing of a happy eternity implies the chosing of a miserable eternity. For there is not, cannot be any medium between everlasting joy and everlasting pain. It is a vain thought, which some have entertained, that death will put an end to the soul as well as the body. It will put an end to neither the one nor the other ; it will only alter the manner of their existence. But 111 r r 1 mm ■ ■ - ■ 'f : I f I t f » ■'I when the body returns to tlie dust, as it was, tlie spU rit will return to God that gave it. Therefore at the moment of death, it must be unspeakably happy or unspeakably miserable. And that misery will never end. " Never ! Where sinks the soul at the dread sound ! Into a gulpli how dark, and how profound !" How often would he, who had made the wretched choice, wish for the death of both soul and body ? It is not impossible he might pray in some such manner as Dr. Young supposes, " When I have writh'd ten thousand years in fire, Ten thousand thousands, let me then expire !" Yet this unspeakable A lly, this unutterable madness, of preferring present things to eternal, is the disease of every man born into the world, while in his natural state. For such is the constitution of our nature, that as the eye sees only such a portion of space at once, so the mind sees only such a portion of time at once. And as all the space that lies beyond this, is invisible to the eye, so all the time that lies beyond that compass, is invisible to the mind. So that we do not perceive, either the space or the time, which is at a distance from us. The eye sees distinctly the space that is near it, with the object which it contains. In like manner, the mind sees distinctly those objects which are with- in such a distance of time. The eye does not see the beauties of China. They are at too great a distance. There is too great a space between us and themj therefore we are not affected by them. They are as nothing to us : it is just the same to us, as if they had no being. For the same reason the mind does not see either the beauties or the terrors of eternity. '"^'^^mm^^ manner rs in ure V riadness, isease of natural ire, that once, so 36. And le to the pass, is )erceive, distance t is near manner, re with- see the listance. i them; y are as J if they nd does eternity. We ure not at Jill jilll'ftcd hy tlicin, hecanse they aiv so distant Innii us. On tjij's account it is that' they u|)|H'ar to us as n()thinl,^ just as if they had no exist- ence. Mcanvvlii'o we are wholly taken up with things present, whcth-'r in time or space ; and things appear less and less, as they are more and more dis- tant from us, cither in one resi)ect or the other. And so it must be; such is the constitution of our nature, (ill natine is changed by Ahnighty grace. But this is no mamier of excuse for those who continue in their natund l)Iindness to futurity; because a remedy for it is provided, which is found by all that seek it.l-Yea, it is freely given to all that sincerely ask it. This remedy is faith. I do not inean that which is the faith of a heatiien, who believes that there is a God, jind that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him ; but that which is defined by the apostle. An evidence or conviction of things not seen : a divine evidejice and conviction of the in\isible and eternal worhl. This alone opens the eyes of the under nnd- ing, to see God and the things of God. T- * were, takes away, or renders transparent the tral)le veil. " Which hangs 'twixt mortal and immortal being." Wl len " Faith IlmuIs its realizing light, The clouiis disperse, tlie shadows i\y : The invisible appears in sight. And God is seen by mortal eyo." Accordingly, a believer (in the spiritual sense) lives in eternity, and walks in eternity. His prospect is en- larged. His view is not am longer bounded by pre- sent tlu'ngs : no, nor by any earthly hemisphere, though It were, as Milton speaks, "Tenfold the length of his Terrene." l^aiih places the unseen, the eternal world 4 IV y. ■ ■ 1 1 1 il i!w ■^i 1 90 c.Mitiii.ially l)Hoiv liis Auv. CnnscMiuciitly lie locks not at thc'lhin^^s that arc srcMi : •♦Wi'iiltli, IiniiDiir, i>l<'iisiirfs, or wliiiti'lse. This sliort-oiuluiing world can give." Tliosi' are not hi^. aim, tlie ohwc\ of his pursuit, his desire or liappiiii'ss : iml at tiic tiiiii!;s that arc not seen, at the favour, the inia^a-, au«l tiic gh»r\ iA'(iin\: as well kuowin.^-, that the thin.L's uiiich arc sivn arc temporal, a vapour, i shiuiow, a drcaui that vanishes away; whereas the ihiiiKs that are not sicn, are et.r- nal, real, solid, and unciiaiiL^cahle. Bis/top Ilairs (tvcount of ri(i<;-e, my bro- ther ]i(Mny lyiui,^ with me, early one morning I was uhle to sjx^ak ; Oh! that I Imd been wise, that I had known this, that I had con- siuered my huter end. Ah ! Sir, death is knockin (),■ wliat is there to be (iesired on earth but religion ? IJut if this God should restoivyou to healtii, (said I, think you that you would all(>r your lormer course !» I eall heaven and earth to wiliiess, said \u\ I would labour lo- holiness as I shall soon labour for lile. As for riches and pleasures iiiHl the applauses of men, [ account them as dross and 'hn.g, iM, more to my happiness, than the feathers that he on the lloor.— Oh ! if the righteous .hulge would try me once more; il he would but reprieve and spare I • i ■ * I • 02 n.d a little longer; in what a si)iiit would I spend the remainder of my days ! I wonld knovy no otlier business, aim at no other end, than perlectmg myself in holiness. Whatever contributed to tliat, every means of grace, every opportunity of spiritual improv- ment should be dearer to me than thousands of gold and silver. But alas ! why do 1 anmse myself witli fond imaginations? The best resolutions are now iu- sicrnifieant, because they are too late. The day in which 1 should have worked is over and gone, and I see a sad, horrible night approaching, bringing with it the blackness of darkness for ever. Heretolore, woe is me ! When God called, I refused ; when he invited, I was one of them that made excuse. Now therefore I receive the reward of my deeds; fearfulness and trembling are come upon me: I smart, and am in sore anguish already; and yet this is but the beginning of sorrows! It doth not yet appear what 1 shall be; but sure I shall be ruined, un(h)ne, and destroyed with an everlasting destruction. This sad scene I saw with mine eyes : these words, aiid many more equally allecting, I heard with mine ears, and soon after attended tli unhappy gentleman to his tomb. The appearance of the Duchess of Mazaritie. (Con(ini(vrslitious, as many believe all are who })retend to see any thing snpcrnatund. ] am, indeed, \ery ready to ;dlow that the force of hm. gination may ini})<.sc uj)()n the sejises, and that it fii- quently has done so, and that the stories told ns in oiii iidimcy leave ideas behind them, which in our riper years are apt to n)ake us fanciful : but in the case I have mentioned, there could be nothing of all this' the lady you may })erceive was so far from an\ appi^ hensions or prepossessions of that nature, that on the contrary, she looked ui)()n them as ridiculous and ab- surd, and convinced by nothing but the testimony of her own eyes and ears. It must be confessed such e\traordinar\' uwans of worningusof our fate but rarely ha|)p(>n,' nor can i( be su[)poscd departed spirits have the pouvr of visiiim us at ideasure; for which reason I look upon all siul agreements, as were made between these ladies as liighly presumi)tuous, and when permitted to beVn]-. liUed, we are not to imagine it done to gralif\- the vaipl cm-iosity of those who donbt a future stale, but to strengUicn the laith of those who l«elieve it 1 95 I liiiiik, liieierore, who am well assured of the truth of siieh an iiieideut, I ought to eomiiiunicate it to tlie IpiibHc, especially in these times, vv hen all the belief of laiiotlier world, on which of consequence our good be- jliaviour iu this depends, stauds in need ofeverv help [for inaintaining any ground among us. A Woman cured of a Ontccr hij a DrcfUH. I -TANr: COTTERALL, of I -, was afflicted [til witli a cancer in her mouth for sc\eral years, and was brought very low both in body and mind,' and cireimistances. Being in an agony of pain one day, jwhile the surgeon was dressing the sore, she cried out [in great earnestness, "My good God, look down jiipou me in mercy, for Christ's sake." The surgeon [being angry, innnediately left oli' dressing the wound, bid her go to the God she called npon, and see if he would help her, for he himself would have nothino- more to say to her. The po(jr alHicted woman wa^ jgreatly shocked at his behaviour, and begged to know what he demanded for his attendance. His demand was exorbitant, and reduced her and her family almost to want. However, at last slie paid all he re(|ui'red, and returned home with a light pnrse, and a heavy heart. Some little tii-e after this, the i)oor woman dreamt tluee or four nights together, that she saw a man who made a perfect cure of her cancerous complaint. Upon tiiis she greatly importuned her husband to take her to the place where she saw the man. He thinking it was nothiiig but a dream, in consequence of her sullering, begged her not to think of going again from home, so ill as she was. Persisting", however, in the thought of going to the place where she saw the man, her husband consentech She went, land had not Ijcen long at the place belbre she saw m . 1 ■; 4 ^1 ^1'/ ll / ' the very i)e!-.S()H walk into llie room that she had ill lier sleep. She immediately started up, thank God, and running to the man, said, 8he was re to see him. The man suiprised, (having nevei seen l^iceil .seen the woman before,) asked what she meant? O Si *^ir, said she, you are the person who is to eure my cancer Good woman, said lie, I never cured a cancer iji i^n life. At this reply the poor woman was east dowii and cried out, then all is over. The man seein<»- tlie woman in such distress, and a dei)lorahle object % look upon, asked the cause of her apphing to him She told him all the particulars before* related ; and added, if you can help me, do. lie then bid her be comforted, for he knew of something which had heei of use, if she would try it, Any thing. Sir, you ad- vise, I will most certainly try, said she. Pie accord- ingly made her up an application, which she used and, in a little time, she was (|uite cured of the cancer and restored to perfect health. This happened up^ wards of fifteen years ago. I could mention the sur- geon's name who treated her with such inliumanitv, if it were expedient. He was a noted deist. Simpson on Dreams, A Nan-afire of the Death of the Hon. Pr. N . Son to the late . AT sixteen he w\as sent to the university of where he continued five years, and 'behaved so agreeably to his religious education, that he was looked upon as a blessing and an ornament to hiJ amdy At twenty-one he came to town, and entered himself at to study the law. His new acquainUuice began to rally hhn for his religion; to whom he would say, - Gentlemen you who pretend to reason, cannot think laui-hte; a conclusive argument. If idigion be so absuni as TV ^ i %\ 97 you would liavo i.ie lu'lieve, why ,!,> yon not give some fair reasons against it?" this, some of them would attenjpt and though their argument at first was as imsuccesshd as their raillery ; yet the poison sunk by degrees, and at last tainted him as deeply as them- selves. He was ad()])ted into their society, which met to lay down rules, for being so critically wicked, that the law should not he able to take hold of them. He still kept a fair correspondence with his friend^ and ni sti-ange places was sober and reserved But in secret, and among his acquaintance, as wicked as good parts, abundance of temptation, and a fair es'tate enanled hnn to be. On Nov. 30, 1092, he was taken ill, and found, notwithstandnig all Ins precautions, he had not yet shook oil the expectation of another life. This mide him throw himself upon his bed, and speak out into these expressions ; -Whence this war in my breast ^^ What argument is there now to assist me agains't matter ol fact? J)o I assert that there is no hell, while Heel one m niy bosom P Am I certain there is no after-retnbution, when I feel a present judgement '> Do I afhrm my soul to be as mortal as my bodv when this languishes, and that is as vigorous as ever'^ that anv one could restore to me my ancient inno'- cence! Wretch that I am, whither shall I lly from this breast i* ^ W hat will become of me ? One of his old coini)anions now coming in, said ''How, now, brother? Why this n.elanchol^' look and posture ? What is the matter ?" " The matter • replied he; it is you, and your companions, who have instille Are 3.>u certain that the soul is material and mortal, and tliat It will dissolve with the bo.lv? So certain replied the other, that I venture my whole upon ||: %^^ i pp -7- ,1 (• ti'l PS Here I iutoniipkMl tlioni l>y eoiiiliii; into tlie room; and applyinj,^ niyseH" to tlie siok [UMson, told liini that I was a stranger' to him, l)nt hearing of liis illness, { thought it my (inty to oiler him what ser\ iee I Mas eapaide of. "I tliank yon, said he, and wonhl dcsjro you to engage that gentleman who sits there and prove to him the soul is not matti>r nor mortal." "That, said I, is easily pro\ed. flatter is nm*\(M'sally allowed to be inditferent to motion or rest ; that if it he in rest, it will rest to all et<'rnity, unless sonu'thing else moves it; and if it he in motion, it will eternally nio\<', uii- less something else sto[)s it. Now yon w ho think the soul matter, sav that it first mo\es the animal spirits thev the nerves, these the limhs. Isnt to sav^ this, js to say that matter moves itself, which is ahsurd. Therefore the soul is not matter, and eonsequenth- notl liable to be dissohed as matter is." The siek gentleman answered only with a groan, whilst his friend made haste out of the room. I was surj)rised, and desired to know the I'eason of his (lis- content. "Alas, Sir, said he, yon have undeceived me now it is too late : 1 was afraid of nothing so nnicli as the innnortality of the soul. Now \<>u have assured me of that, you have ascertained me of a hell, and a portion among those who have a[)ostatized from their religion. You have now sealed my damna-l tion, by giving me an earnest of it; 1 mean, an awakened conscience, that brings my sins to my re- membrance, by reckoning up the numerous catalogue,] for which I must go ancl give account. () ajxtstate wretch! from what hopes art thou lalltMi ! () that I j had never known what religion was ! Then I had never! denied my Saviour, nor been so black an heir of j)er{li- tion." J stood speechless for s«}me time; but so soon I as 1 couhl recollect myself, said, Sir, J would desire I you would take care how you vi(date the merc\- of God, and think so light of the sutlerings of Christ, as if tliov j were not suflicient for the redemption of the greatest siii- m iier, Tl lis ]niiv he a ( ildi sioii of the (levih If you am conviiittMl tJie soul is iiiiinorlal, 1 hope it is lor a good end. Now you ha\ e some tiuie to prepare for your otci 'Han „.jnuil weiiare. I o which he replied, "As to the mercies of God in Christ, I once knew and tasted what tliey arc; which is now niy^ present curse, in that I am now sensible of my loss.' They are, 1 grant you, siilhcient for those who have any share in them. But what is that to me, who have denied Christ? who have (laih crucified him afresh, and put him to an ojxMi shame? The devil has nothing to do with the torliue that I undergo. Jt is no delusion of his, hut the hcst judgement of Cod. And vou have given me sensible liorior of my sins, by i)roving my soul im- mortal. IJad I gone straight to liell in niv old opinion 1 had endured hut one hell, wliercas I now feel two : [ . .'an, not only an inexpressible torture which f carry in my breast, but an expect in tronble. (D) he ronl'nuicd.) All (iHl/irnftf Arroiinf of sere ra I Aji/mri/iinis, \r. (C(ui/}nii('ll. i • 4 •jj f^^ KM xvlioni I was parliculaily aeci.mintLMl wont to hv;x as usual. Hi' sailed ..ul on Tuesday. I lu' I' riday ni^r|,t lollowiiii,', lu'twi-i'ii iK'ven and twi'lvo oVloi'k, I liomd one walking iu uiv room, and tnvry step sounded a;, if he was sU'p[)iii,t;- ill water, iii' then cauio to the \w(\ side in his sea jack(>t all wet, and stretched his hand over nie. Tiireo drops of water Tell on my breast, an,! lelt as cold as iee, f strove to wake his wife, who kiv with nio; l»nt I could not, any more than if she was dead. Afterwards 1 heard he was east awjiy that ni<,dit. Fn less than a numito he went away. Hut ho eame to nie every nigiit, for six or seven id^hts lol. h.vving, between' eleven and two. Before he came, and when he went away, 1 always heard sweet nnisio. Afterwards he eanie bodi day and ni.i-ht ; every nifrju about twelve with the music at bis eominjij and goinir. and every day at sun rise, noon, and sun set. H^ came whatever com [)any 1 was in; at church, in the preaching house, at my class; and was always just before me, changing his jjosture as I changed mine. When I sat, lie sat; when I kneeled, he kneeled; when I stood, he stood likewise. J would fain have spoke to him, but 1 could not; when I tried my heart sunk will \n me: mean time it allected me more and more, so f^at f lost both my stomach, my colour, and ni} oUcngla. Tliis continued ten weeks, while 1 pined away, not daring to tell any one. At last he came four or five .ights without any nmsi , and looked exceeding sad. On the fifth night be drew the curtains of the bed violently tf) and fro ; still hjokins'; wishfully at me, and as one (juite distressed. This lie did two nights. On the third 1 lay down about eleven, on the side of the bed. 1 (pnckly saw^ him walking up and down the room. Being resolved to ftMcuk to him hut unwilling any should hear, I rose an aver, a little before ehnen, I saw him standing at a snudl distance. I cried ont, "Lord bless me! what brings vou h(>rei*" Ho answered, "You have given up tiie house: Mr. Parker advised you so to do: but if you do, J sjiaii have no rest. Indeed Mr. Dunn, whom you have hitherto employed, will do nothing for you. Go to Durham ; employ an attorney there, and it will be recovered." His voice was loud, and so hollow and deep, that every word went through me. His lips did not move at all, (nor his eyes,) but the sound seemed to rise out of the floor. WIkmi he !' ' 107 bad (lone speaking, lie turned about, and walked out of the room. (To he conlhiui'(L) K'nu) AlfrviVs Di/in/j Words to his Son. Y dear son sit tliee down beside nie, and I will \T.11_ deliver thee true instruction. I feel that my hour is eoniing; my countenance is wan. My days me almost done. 1 shall go to another world, and thou shall be left alone in all my wealth. I i)ray thee, stri\e to be a leather and a Lord to thy people, lie thou a lather to the children, and a friend to the widow. Comfort thou the poor. Shelter the weak, and with all thy might right that which is wrong. Govern thyscll" by law ; then shall the Lord love thee, and (iod above all things shall be thy reward. Call upon him to advise thee in all thy need, and he shall help thee in all thou undertakest. Ah Anecdote of Jlohert Leister, of Vpn'ort/t, del ire red by hinistlf I HAVE known the goodness of God for near thirty years : but in spite of all my advice, my five sons, and two daughters, all grown up, ran . THE words, as literally translated as the English tongue will bear, run thus: IVfay the whole of vou, tlie'^pirit, and the soul, and the body, he pre- served blameless. What does St. Paul here mean, by dividing man into three parts, the spirit, aiul the soul, and the body. , , . This creates what has been thought an nisurmouut- able difficulty, by those who argue thns; *'How is it possible to contradistinguish the soul both from the spirit and from the body :* for it nuist be either material or immaterial, matter or not matter: there is no medium. JJut if it be matter, does it not coincide with tlie body;* If it be not matter, does it not coincide with the si)irit?" But perhai)s a way may be found of untying this knot, of unravelling 'tliis (hlliculty, by sinqdy decla- ring the (at least prol)able) meaning of these three term 3. May not the spirit mean (so it has been understood by the Christians of all ages) the highest principle in man, the Immortal Spiilt made in the image of God endued (as all s[)irits are, so far as we can conceive) with self motion, understanding, will and liberty? Is not the body, that portion of organised matter, which every man receives in the wond), with which he is born into the worhl, and which he carries with him to the grave? \i present it is connected with flesh anc' -dood. But these are not the body. They are only I'le temporary clothing of the body, which ii wholly })Uts ort' in the grave. The soul seems to l)e the immediate clothing of the spirit, the vehicle with which it is connected from its u ;) first existence, and wliicli is never seperated iVoni it either in lile or in death. Probahly it consists oi" etlic- real or electric (ire, the purest ol" all matter, it does iu)t seem to he allected hy the death of the hodv, hut envelopes the separate, as it does the embodied spirits; jieitiier will it under. had desciibed, every nerve withered, every sinew shrunk up. Lady IVs son as had been predicted, is now married to fiOrd Tyrone's daughter: itlie black riband and pocket book are now in the t)os- sessjon of Lady Mary Cobl), by whom the narrative is staled in Ireland; who, toireth'er with the Tyrone fa- mily, and most of the princii)al nobility in that country, will be found ready to attest the truth. DciJLiN, Aug. l()th, LS()2. '1 i|i On liKth'uu) al (lie thiiii/s iJial (ire hoI scch. b ItT^'^ ^'-^^^ ''^<^''^^ ^^^ the things that are not seen, JlJL is a person who is endowed with a blessed and holy second sight, by which he is distinguished lioiii other men; lie sees, not mournful objects onlv, such as Collins and corpses ; but such objects as are most cheering and delightful. The eves of his under- standing are enlightened by the HolV Spirit to know the thing that the natural man i)erceiveth not; the riches of the glory of his inheriUuice in the saints. 'i I Hi 120 ^w Though llie good and L.id things of tliis viiiu wor],] are always pressing on his senses, he is not cliiefly in. thienced*^by them, as thongli tliey were the principal] things. For the things abo\e, and the things that are eternal, he judges to be no less real lor their being i^. visible, and" distant. He h'rinly believes, frecpionth thinks of, highly esteems, ardently desires, eariiestM expects, and diligently labours after tlie enjoyment ofj them. He bestows the cream of his thouglits io meditating uj)on them : and talks about tliem, not by constraint, when he is not able to avoid the discouisj but naturally, and with a readv nn'nd. Some have thought lum inca})able of pa\-ino- a sufficient attention to the necessary alliiirs of this world: as though one could not be fenent in spirit without being slothful in business. J5ut this is a vile slander. For, moderate inchistry is not a di\ersioD from serious religion, but a singular help unto it' and the spiritual man who holds the plougli, or lian! dies the axe, is even in these common actions, more holy than the carnal inan in his most solemn devo- tions. 2. He esteems a man much more because he is gracious, than because he is rich ; and can never be induced to think, that proud sinners are happy though they be elevated to the Aery sunnnit of fortune. As would mucli rather choose to see his children tinctured with the principles of true religion than put in a condition to make a figure in the world If he is in adversity, he derives not his comfort from earthly enjoyments, but eternal tilings; these I are the hills to which he lifts his eyes, and IVoni| whence cometh his aid. U he is in prosperity, his earthly blessings are not the chief source of liisjovi and happiness; but in this he rejoices, that his nimel is written in heaven. 3. As he who ascends a high mount, and from its top surveys the plains below, will think lar g^ 121 fields, but inconsiderate spots of land ; so he who is set on the high places of eternity, and converses much with everlasting things, will regard in a very diminu- tive light, the most important business of this tran- sitory life. His mind acquires a sublime turn, and an elevated way of thinking, not to be easily taken with slight and trifling vanities. 4. By this blessed temper of mind, he is habitually disposed to perform spiritual duties; the frown is struck from the blow of death ; his mind is strongly fortified against afflictions of every sort ; and the edge of all temptations is most eflfectually blunted. Ha- ving obtained a view of that inefl?able glorious prize of the high calling of God, he cannot possibly ihink any pains too great to reach it. For this he can in- stantly serve God day and night. For this he can both labour and sufl^er reproach ; take joyfully the spoiling of his goods ; and sometimes even resign his breath in cruel flames. In vain does the present world spread her blandishments, and arm her face with frowns to shake his steady purpose, who looks not at the things that are seen. What though the advan- tages of religion are, in great measure, future; yet his wise and enlightened soul is at no loss which he should prefer. For an eternal advantage, that will certainly come, is far to be preferred to a present one that is of a short duration. O faith it is thine to realize and render present the things that are invisible to the corporeal eye ; whether by reason of the nature of the things themselves, or by reason of their distance from us in time and place. By thee inspired, we can choose the sharpest afllictions, before the most poig- nant pleasures : and esteem the most grievous reproach- es, greater riches than the peculiar treasure of the most wealthy kings." , . ,'■.-'■ t ' " .. ^^^^H' & - 1 1 -fWfl I 122 ;H' :! ■ AN AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF SEVERAL AP1'ARITI0NS,&C. ( Continued from page \Q1.) IN January, as I was sitting on the bedside, a quar- ter before twelve he came in, stood before nie, looked earnestly at nie, then walked up and down, and stood and looked again. This he did for half an hour; and thus he came every other night, for about three weeks. All this time he seemed angry, and sometimes his look was quite horrid and furious. One right as I was sitting up in bed crying, when he came and began to pull of the clothes. 1 strove to touch his hand but could not ; on which he shrunk back and smiled. The next night but one, about twelve, I was again sitting up and crying, when he came and stood at tiie bedside. As I was looking for an handkerchief, lie walked to the table, took one up, brought and dropt it upon the bed. After this, he came three or four nights and pulled the clothes off, throwing them on the other side of the bed. Tv»o nights after, he came as I was sitting on the bedside, and after walking to and fro, snatched the handkerchief from my neck, 1 fell into a swoon.— When I came to myself he was standing just before me. Presently he came close to me, dropt it on the bed, and went away. Having had a long illness the year before, having taken much cold by his frequent pulling off the clothes and being worn out by these appearances, I was now mostly confined to my bed. The next night, soon af- ter eleven he came again. I asked, "In God's name why do you torment me thus? You know, it is impossible for me to go to Durham now. But I have a fear you are not happy, and beg to know whether you are or not ? He answered, after a little pause, "That is a bold question for you to ask. 123 So far as you knew me to do amiss in my life- time, do you take care and do better." I said it is a shocking alTair, to live and die after that manner. "He replied, it is no time for reflections now ; what is done, cannot be undone." I said it must be a great happiness to die in the Lord." He said, ' Hold your tongue ! Hold your tongue ! At your peril never mention such a word before me again ; I was frighted and strove to lift up my heart to God. He gave a shriek and sunk down at three times, witli a loud groan at each time. Just as he disappear- ed there was a large flash of fire, and I fainted away. Three days after, I went to Durham, and put the affair into Mr. Hugill the attorney's hands. The next iiigiit, about one, he came in • but on my taking up tlie Bible he went away. A month after he came about eleven . 1 said, " Lord bless me ! What has brought you here again?" He said, "Mr. Hugill has (lone nothing but wrote one letter : you must write or go to Durham again. It may be decided in a few days." I asked, " Why do not you go to my aunts, who keep me out of it P" He answered, " I have no power to go to them. And they cannot bear it. U I could, I would go to them, were it only to warn them ; for I doubt where I am I shall get too niauy to bear me company." He added, " Take care, there is mischief laid in Peggy's hands; she will strive to meet you coming from your class. I do not speak to hinder you from going to it, but that you may be cautious. — Let some one go with you and come back with you; though whetlier you will escape or no, I cannot tell." I said, "She can do no more than God will let lier." He answered, " We have all too little to do witli h m. Mention that word no more. As soon as this is decided meet me at Boyldon Hill, be- tween twelve and one at night." I said, "That is t lone place for a woman to go to at that time of !^^m^^i J j i ^^ • Ml i 1 ( r 124 night, I am willing to meet you at the ballast hills, or in the church-yard." He said,—" That will not do. But what are you afraid of?" I answered, "I am not afraid of you, but of rude men." He said, " I will see you safe, both thither and back again." I asked, " May I not bring a minister with mei*" He replied, " Are you thereabout? I will not be seen by any but you. You have plagued me sore enough already. If you bring any with you, take what follows." From this time he appeared every night, between eleven and two. If I put out the fire and candle, in hopes I should not see him, it does not avail. For as soon as he came, all the room was light, but with a dismal light, like flaming brimstone. But when ever I took up the bible, or kneeled down, yea, or prayed in my heart, he was gone. On Thursday, May 12, he came about eleven, as I was sitting by the fire, I asked, "In God's name what do you want?" He said, "You must either go or write to Durham. I cannot stay for you till it is decided ; and I cannot stay where I am." When he went away, I fell into a violent passion of crying, seeing no end to my trouble. In this agony, 1 continued till after one, and then fell into a fit. About twojl came to myself, and saw standing at the bedside, one in a white robe, which reached down to his feet. I cried, " In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. — " He said, "The Lord is with you. I am come to comfort you. What cause have you to complain and murmur thus ? Why do you mourn thus for your friends? Pray for them, and leave them to God. Arise and pray." 1 said, " I can pray none." He said, " But God will help you ; only keep close to God ; you are backward likewise in praying with others, and afraid to receive the Lord's supper. Break through that backward- ness and that fear. The Lord bless you and be ever with you i" As he went away, I heard many thing : get coming is ai Before he c and the roo eyes, and al Wednesd up stairs a towards me by me on tl a strong sm It got into down and U On Frida_ when I the sage. I lo Scott, of Y turday I h£ that day. '. On Sundc from a friem "I wrote was put in j her old visi time, came Boyldon hi twelve. Yo call you to ( them any a come and ca Slie said, " ] sire me to m leave now?' ;ven, as s name t ther go \' ill it is I 'hen he I crying, I ;ony, I a fit. ; at the own to ir, Son, is witii cause Why ay for ly." I (d will ^kward receive k ward- en (1 be many 125 voices singing Hallalujah, with such melody as I never heard before. All my trouble was gone, and I wanted nothing but to fly away with them. Sat. 28. About twelve, my grandfather stood at the bedside. I said, " In God's name what do you want?" He said, "You do not make an end of this thing: get it decided as soon as possible. My coming is as uneasy to myself as it can be to you." Before he came, there was a strong smell of burning, and the room was full of smoke, which got into my eyes, and almost blinded me for some time after. Wednesday, July 21, About sunset, I was coming up stairs at Mrs. Knott's, and I saw him coming towards me out of the opposite room. He went close by me on the stairs-head. Before I saw him I smelt a strong smell of burning ; and so did Miss Hosmer. It got into my throat and almost stifled me. I sat down and fainted away. On Friday, July the third, I was sitting at dinner when I thought I heard one coming along the pas- sage. I looked about and saw my aunt Margaret Scott, of ? wcastle, standing at my back. On Sa- turday I had a letter informing me that she died on that day. Thus far Elizabeth Hobson. On Sunday, July 10, I received the following letter from a friend to whom I had recommended her. *' Sunderland, July 6, 1768. "I wrote you word before, that Elizabeth Hobson was put in possession of the house. The same night her old visitant who had not troubled her for some time, came again and said, " You must meet me at Boyldon hill, on Thursday night a little before twelve. You will see many appearances, who will call you to come to them ; but do not stir, neither give them any answer. A quarter after twelve, I shall come and call you ; but still do not answer nor stir." She said, " It is an hardship upon me for you to de- sire me to meet you there. Why cannot you take your leave now?" He answered, ''It is for your good that 126 if 1 desire it. I can take my leave of you now. But if I do I must take something from you which you wouhl not like to part with." She said, "May not a few friends come with me?" He said, "They niayj .^ut they must not be present when I come." That" night, twelve of us met at Mr. Davidson's and spent some time in prayer. God was with us of a truth. Then six of us went with her to the place, leaving the rest to pray for us. We came thither a Httle before twelve, and then stood a small distance I from her. It being a fine night, we kept her in our sight, and spent the time in prayer. She stood there till a few nnnutes after one. When we saw her move we went to meet her. She said, thank God it is all over and done. I found every thing as he told me, I saw many appearances, who called me to them, but I did not answer or stir. Tlien he came and called me at a distance : but I took no notice. Soon after he came up to me and said, " You are come well fortified." He then gave her the reason, whv he required her to meet him at that place ; and why he could take his leave there, and not in the house, without taking something from her. But withal he charged her to tell this to no one; adding, "If you disclose this to any creature, I shall be under a neces- sity of troubling you as long as you live. If you uo not, I shall never trouble you, nor see you a:iy more, either in time or eternity." He then bid her farewell waved his hand and disappeared. IlEFLECTJONS ON OUR SAVIOUR's COMING TO JIDG- MENT. HOW awful an event does our great Redeemer here offer to the serious contemplation of all man- kind ! In the glory of his Father accompanied with a mighty host of angels. He shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangei, and with earth, and tries and the living God; or ! doleful crie twinkling < from their cession, the its dead. ] ness of som countenene arising to how amaze meiice they would they strong as ii ment. As from afar, ! deepest sile sands of tl having bro parts of th tudes, singi] that the da^ shall be thr( alted fj'om intricacies < of God vine his blood, c every thing ble for eve scattered! a away ; as w; ed perish at eous be glat them exceed is the Lord And now 1 '•ll ^ ^^W..i.l avidson'i ith us of I lie place, thither a | distance er in our 1 3od there ler move it is all told me, I :o them J ime andfe !. Soon re come on, why f md why J e house, ithal he "If you a neces- you do ly more, farewell, > Jl DG- ler here 11 mail- ed with d from hangel, 127 and with the trump of God, making all lieaven, earth, and hell to resound. The dead of all coun- tries and times hear the tremendous call. Hark! the living filled with joy exult at the approach of God; or seized with inexpressible terror, send up doleful cries, and are all changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. Behold ! the dead press forth from their graves, following each other in close pro- cession, the earth seems quick, and the sea gives up its dead. Mark the beauty, the boldness, and the glad- ness of some, springing up to honour; but the ghastly couiiteneiices, the trembling, the despair of others, arising to shame and to everlasting contempt. See how amazed and terrified they look I with what vehe- mence they wish the extinction of their being ! Fain would they fly, but cannot : impelled by a force as strong as necessity, they hasten to a place of judg- ment. As they advance, the sight of the tribunal from afar, strikes new terror; they come on in the deepest silence, and gather round the throne by thou- sands of thousands. In the meantime, the angels having brought up their bands from the uttermost parts of the earth, fly round the numberless multi- tudes, singing melodiously v/ith loud voices, for joy that the day of general retribution is :ome, when vice shall be thrown down from its usurpation, virtue ex- alted from its debasement *o a superior station, the intricacies of providence unravelled, the perfections of God vindicated, the Church of God purchased with his blood, cleared o. them that do iniquity, and of every thing that ofiendeth, and established unpecca- ble for ever. Let God arise! let his enemies be scattered! as smoke is driven away, so drive them away ; as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wick- ed perish at the presence of God. But let the right- eous be glad! let them rejoice before God! yea, let them exceedingly rejoice! Psal. Ixviii. 1. *'For strong is the Lord God who judgeth." Rev. xviii. 8. And now the Son of man appears on the throne of 128 M hi his glory, and all nations, princes, warriors, nobles, the rich, the poor, all entirely stript of their attend. anc> and every external distinction, stand naked and'equal before him, silently waiting to be sentenced to their unchangeable state : and every individual is filled with an awlul conciousness that he in particu- lar is the object of the observation of the Almigluy God, manifest in his sight, and actually under bis eye/so that there is not one single person concealed in the immensity of the crowd. The judge who can be biassed by no bribe, softened by no subtile insinu- ations, imposed upon by no feigned excuses, having been \imself privy to the most secret actions of eacli, needs no evidence, but distinguishes with an unerring certainty. | He speaks ! " Come from among them my people j that ye receive not of their plagues." They seperate, ? they feel their judge within them, and hasten to their places, the righteous on the one hand of the throne, and the wicked on the other ; not so much as one of the wicked daring to join himself to the just, Here the righteous, most beautiful with the brightness of virtue, stand serene in their looks, and full of hope at the bar of God, a glad company! Whilst the wicked confounded at the rememberance of their lives, and terrified with the thought of what is to come, hang down their heads, inwardly cursing the day of their birth, and wishing a thousand and a thousand times that the rocks would fall on them, and the mountains cover them ; but in vain, for there is no escaping nor appealing from this tribunal. Behold! with mercy shining in his countenance and mild majesty the K ing invites the righteous to take possession of the kingdom prepared for them from the creation of the world ; but with angry frowns de drives the wicked away, into punishment that shall have no end, no refreshment, no alleviation, everlasting punishment! the rejoicing! O the lamenting! The triumphant shouting of ascend- ing saints, c the Lord ! shrieking of hear the (lev nient of an Now tliej from them, would be su the Son of ( vants, the 1: being at an noise the 1 with ferven that be the: dissolves ! making wa^ Itapiiear ! the hand ol liabitation 1 by them a: great and blessed soci Here Go to his servt faces, and tality, glor of jovs, fro throne ol of life; an sorrow noi pain ; but blessing t< every breai the Father sublimest vine repast tenderest f an iniinuvt servants oi nobles, attend. naked ntenced idual is particu. miglit) (ler bis I ncealed ^ho can insinu- having )f each, i mening people eperate, to their throne, 5 one of le just, ghtiiess af hope list the ►f their come, day of , lousand md the e is no itenance eous to >r them • frowns tnt that iviation, O tilc ascend- I 129 incr saints, caught up in the clouds, to be ever with the Lord ! Tlie horror, the despair, the hideous shrieking of the damned, when they see hell gaping, hear the devils roaring, and feel the unspeakable tor- ment of an awakened conscience. Now they bitterly cry for death : but death flies from them. Now they envy the righteous, and gladly would be such : but all too late ! Lo ! the Son ol God the Son of Cod bows his head, the signal for his ser- vanf^ the heuvenir: and the earth depart, their work beiiiJj' at an end. See, with what a terrible thundering noise the heavens pass away, the elements melt with fervent heat, and the earth, and all the works that be therein, are burnt up ! the frame of nature dissolves! earth, seas, skies, all vanish together, niakiu''- way for the new heaven and the new earth. It anr-eai ! The happy land of promise, formed by the hand ol God, large, beautiful and pleasant, a ht habitation for his favourite people, and long expected bv them as their country. Here all the righteous, meat and small, are assembled, making one vast blessed society, even the kingdom and the city ol L.od. Here God manifests himself in a peculiar manner to his servants, wipes away all tears from of their faces, and adorns them with the beauties of immoi- talitv, glorious to behold. Here they drink fulness of iuvs, from the crystal river proceeding out ot the throile of (Jod and the Lamb, and eat of the tree of life- and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow' nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; but every one happy in himself, imparts the blessino- to his fellows; for mutual love warms every breast; love like that which subsists between the Father and the Son ; mutual conference on the sublimest subjects refreshes every spirit with the di- vine repasts of wisdom, and joys flowing trom the tenderest friendship, fixed on the stable foundation of an iiniiioveable virtue, gladden every heart. All the servants of God serve him in perfect holiness, see his s *l . ■ m \ k n ■H ^■ii'i ' ? 1 130 . / 1 1 , ! - ■ i t face, feel transports of joy, and by the reflection of his glory, shine as the sun in the firmament lor ever and ever. And there shall be no nipjht there : and they need no candle, neither the light of the sun; for the Lord God hath given them light, and they shall reign for ever and ever. Happy day, happy place, and happy peoi)lc! blest hope of joining that glorious Society ! AH the servants of God shall serve him, and see his face. Serve God, and see his face! What an immensity of felicity is here ! Imagination faints with the fatigue of stretching itself to comprehend the vast, the uri- measurable tiiought. THE APPARITION TO DR. SCOTT, kC. (Continued from 2)ugc WO.) AFTER the doctor had been there some time, lie observed the gentleman receive him with unexpec- ted civility, though a stranger, and without business. They entered upon many friendly discourses, and the doctor pretended to have heard much of the family, (as so indeed he liad) and of his grandfiither; for whom, sir, says he, I perceive the estate more inmie- diately descends to yourself. Aye, says the gentleman, and shook his head, iny father died young, and my grandfather has left things so confused, that for want of one principal writing, which is not yet come to hand, 1 have met witli a great deal of trouble from a couple of cousins, my grandfather's brother's children, who have put me to very great expenses about it. And with that the doctor seemed a little inquisitive. But I hope you have got over it, sir? says he. JNo, truly, saj's the gentleman, to be so open with you, we shall never get quite over it, unless we can fiiul this o shall find, after it. f wish wit the doctor. I do not d about it last A dream £ it was that y I (hcamed came to me, lielpcd me tc the man. IW 1 should I tjie doctor. Nay, says help me to V Aye, sir, s after it indei but I would help you to search ? To-morro^ to do it. Ihit, says to search ? Wiiy, rej: that my grai preserve this some that w tiiey could, am resolved it, if it is abc Truly, sa; that you ma fmd it, and things to be preserve thei If it were ft 131 tion of ■ or ever 1 h »- • aim e sun; i\ the)' )lc! \n the s face. isity of fatigue lie un- . me, lie expec- isiiii'ss. 11(1 the (aiuily, [ 3r; for inime- 1(1, my things /ritiiig, with a lis, mv ; me to lut the 11 with we can iiiul this old deed ; which, however, 1 hope we shall find, for I intend to make a general search after it. n i . I wish with all my heart you may Imd it, sir, says the doctor. I do not doubt but we shall ; I had a strange dream about it last night, says the gentleman. A dream about the writing ! says the doctor, I hope it was that you should find it then. 1 (Ireained, says the other, that a strange gentleman came to me, that I had never seen in my life, and helped me to look for it. I ('o n'jt know but you are the man. 1 should be very glad to be the man, I'm sure, says the doctor. Nay, says the gentleman, you may be the man to help me to look after it. Aye, sir, says the doctor, I may help you to look after it indeed, and I'll do that with all my heart j hut I would much rather be the man that should help vou to find it ? Pray, when do you intend to search ? To-morrow, says the gentleman, I have appointed to do it. lint, says the doctor, ui what manner do you intend to search ? Why, rei)lies the gentleman, 'tis all our opinions that my grandfather was so very much concerned to preserve this writing, and had so much jealousy that some that were about him would take it from him if they could, that he hid it in some secret place ; and I am resolved to pull half the house down but I'll find it, if it is above ground. Truly, says the doctor, he may have hid it, so that you may pull the whole house down before you find it, and perhaps not then. I have known such things to be utterly lost by the very care taken to preserve them. If it were made of something the fire would not I ' .1 '• .< I A I I I 13-2 destroy, says the gontleiiiaii, I wojild burn the house down but I wouUl find it. . „ , , , I suppose you ha\e searclied all the ohl gentle. man's ehests *and trunks and coders over and over, says the doctor. . Aye, says the gentleman, ami turned tneni all in. side outward, and there they lay in a heap up in a great lol't or garret with nothing in them; nay, vve knocked three or four of them in i)ieoes to search for private drawers, and then I burnt them for uiigcr, though they were fine old cypress ehests that cusl money enough when they were in fashion. I am sorry you burnt tiiem, says the doctor. Nay, says the gentleman, I did not burn a scrap ot them till they were all split to pieces, and it was not possible thev could be anything there. This made the doctor a little easy, for he began to be surprised when he told him he had split sonieof them and burnt them. Well, says the doctor, Tf I cannot do you any service in your search, Til come to see you again to- morrow, and wait upon you during it with my best good wishes. Nay, says the gentleman, I do'nt design to part with you, since you are so kind as to ofler nie your help ; you shall stay all night then, and be at the first of it. The doctor had now gained his point so far as to make himself acquainted and desirable in the house. and to have a kind of intimacy ; so that though he made as if he would go, he did not want many entreaties to make him stay therefore he consented to lay in the house all night. A little before evening, the gentleman asked him to take a walk in the park; but he [)ut it oft' with a jest. I had rather, sir, said he, smiling, you'd let me see this fine old mansion house, that is to he de- molished to-morrow ; metliinks I'd fain see the house once before you pull it down. With all my hini innnedi apartments, and coming came uj), o( ]5ut, sir, higlier ? There is old lofts ful tlie turret, a 0, let m (lector, I lo the magnifi of fashion i VVhv, 'tv No, no, ! have seen i pray let us the doctor After th( large hous great room great deal says the (h ()! thai hecauiie tl the room J chests, CO! are i)iled ceiling. With tl for this w; he went tt but he foil had descri been told with the ( which wo On my J house gentle. 1 1 over, all in. np in a lay, vve ii'ch for linger, lat cost! scrap ol A'jis not I ogan to some of oil any [];ain to- iny best to part ne your I at the ir as to c house, uiigli he t many msented :c(l him with a ouM let > be de- le house I 133 With all my heart says the gentleman. So he took him iuuncdiately up ; lairs, shewed him all the best apartments, and all his fine I'urniture and pictures; aiid coming to the bead of the stair-case where they came up, oltered to go down again. But, sir, says the doctor, shall we not go up higher ? There is nothing thei ' — OBSERVATIONS ON DREAMS. THERE may be dreams without a[)paritions as there may be apparitions without dreams; but an apjiarition in a dream may be as really an apparition as if the person who saw it was awake: the difierence may be here, that the apparition in a dream is visible to the soul only, for the soul never sleeps : and an apparition to the eyesight is visible in common perspective. How is it then that wo see in our dreams the very faces and dress of the i)erson we dream of? nay, hear their voices, and receive due impressions from what they say, and oftentimes speak to them with our own voices articulately and audibly^ although \vg are fast asleep. What secret power of the imagination is able to represent the image of any person to itself, if there was not some appeaianco, something placed in the soul's view, by a secret but invisible hand, and in an imperceptible manner? wiiich something is ■ in all respi apparition, person wi DUilofic(d The Sci pressions this of ap 3. " God been said, him, there but God a( lech was as apparition, said to him the a p pari text does n talked to, fully: "A a righteous to expostui said he nc knew he w; remarkable hut the inai Again, ir xxxi. 24. ' by nigiit, a parition, an to him, and that lied rea: spoke to hi spake to me Certainly they aiiswe knew that the vision o There are sacred histo Solonion, I IHO in all respects and to all purposes, as completely an apparition, as if it was placed in open sight when the person was really awake. Lcacon and Walker n Di(i/o/ic((l Disquisition OH Spirils. 4to. 1611. The Scripture confirms this opinion by many ex- pressions directly to the purpose, and particularly this of appearing, or apparition in dream, Gen. xx 3. " God came to Abinielecli in a dream ;" had it been said, that Abimelcch dreamed that God came to him, there might have been exception to the parallel; but God actually came to him; and although Abime- lech was asleep and in a dream, it was not the less an apparition, for God came to him, and spoke, and Sciid to him : and in the 4th verse, Abimelcch spoke to the apparition. Whatever the shape was that the text does not mention, but Abimelcch knew whom he talked to, that is evident, for the text mentions it fully: "And he said. Lord, wilt tliou slay also a righteous nation? "and so he goes on, verse 5th, to exi)ostulate and plead for himself and his people, said he not unto me, she is my sister? so that he knew he was speaking to the Lord. The text is very remarkable ; it is plain that there was an apparition, but the man was asleep, and in a dream. Again, in the case of Laban, pursuing Jacob, Gen. xxxi. 24. " God came to Laban the Syrian in a dream by night, and said unto him." Here again is an ap- parition, and a speaking ai)i)arition too : God came to iiim, and God spoke to him : and Laban owns, not that lie dreamed of God's appearing, but that God really spoke to him, verse 29. "The God of ycflu' father spake to me yesternight, saying." Certainly in those dreams God spoke to them and they answered : and when they were awake, they knew that it was God that spoke, and gave heed to the vision or ap[)ariton of God to them. There are many more instances of the like in the sacred history ; as first, in the remarkable case of King SoloiHon, I Kings, iii. 5. "The Lord appeared to i ■ ] i > \ ' jr.iiiir I >iMi 110 h§ '1 1 • 1 '1 i " II Solomon in a dream by niglit, and God said, ask wliat shall I give thee." This is called in tlie Scripture, a dream, ver. 1.). "And Solomon awoke, and behold it was a dream;" and yet it is all confirmed: and the petition that Solomon made, though in his sleep or dream, is accepted and answered as liis real act and deed, as if he had been awake. That passage of Solomon is very remarkable to the case in hand : If my readers please to believe that there was such a man as Solomon, and that he had such a dream : they must allow also that it was a real apparition. God appeared to him in a dream. To bring it down a step lower : as God had thus personally appeared to men in dreams, so have infe- rior spirits, and we have examples of this too in tlie Scripture, Matt. i. 20. ''While he thought on these things, behold the angel of the Lord appeareil unto him in a dream." And again, ^Tatt. ii. l:). ''Behold the angel of the Lor[)ear in this manner, and to cause angels to appear also in tlic same manner, and upon special that occasions, so 1 make no fpiestion but the devil often appears in (beams too: and I mi^ht give but too iiianv examples of it, as particularly one in the Scrii)ture. It is ajiparent that God gave Satan a kind of general licence to alHict Job, oidy not to kill him ; with such a terrible conniiission, it might be expected that the devil would fall on him with the utmost fury he was capable of, or allowed to take : he ruined iiis for- tune, reduced him to misery, murdered his children, tormented him with boils and sores: in short kft him nothing but potsherds and an ill wife to relieve him : as he had worried him, to use a moderate pinase within an inch of life, he followed him in the night with a[)i)aritions, lest he should recruit nature with rest, and be a little refreshed with sleep, .lol) himself complains of it. Job vii. 14. "Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me with visions." Not that God appeared to Job in any frightful or terrible form ; but the devil to whom God was pleased to give a liberty of ali'ieting Job, took that liberty, and exerted his malice to the utmost of his power. We are not indeed told what methods the devil took bv to scare and terrify the poor distressed suHerei ; but as lie can show us nothing uglier ami more frightful than himself, so it is very likely he appeared to him in person, and that in the most surprising manner j)Mssible, with all the eircumstances of horror that he was able. But to pursue my subject. The great and perhr*^s one of the greatest ditTicul- tics of life, I mean that relates to dreams, is to dis- tinguish between such as are real apparitions, and sucii as are only the product of an encund)ered brain, a distempered head, or, which is worse, a distempered maid : but .some dreams are so significant, and tliere • 'P^ ..-ii m i 142 h ,.f| j . ;5;' 'fi ■ UK s follows such an immediate visible cflect, answering the designed illumination, that it cannot but be signifi. cant. — Beaumont on Spirits. The following story I had from the mouth of the very person who was chiefly concerned in it. 1 mean the captain of the ship itself. One Captain Thomas Rogers, commander of jl ship called the Society, was l)ound on a voyage from Lon- don to Virginia, about the year 1001. The ship was hired in London, and being sent light, as they call it, to Virginia, for a loading of tobacco, had not many goods in her outward bound, suppose about two or three hundreil tons, which was not counted a loading, or indeed half her loading, the ship being very large, about five, hundred tons burden. They had a pretty good passage, and the day before had an observation, whereupon the . jates and proper officers had brought their books and cast up their reckonings with the captain, to see how near they were to the coast of America; ihcy all agreed tiiat they were at least about an hundred leagues distant from the cape of Virginia. Upon these customary reckonings, and withal heaving the lead, and finding no ground at an hundred fathoms, they set the watch, and the captain turned in, (as they call it at sea,) that is, went to bed. The weather was good, a moderate gale of wind, and blowing fair for the coast ; so that the ship might have run about twelve or fifteen leagues in the niglit, after the captain was in his cabin. He fell asleep, and slept very soundly for about three hours, when he waked again, and lay till he heard his second mate turn out and relieve the watch, and then he called his chief mate, as he was going olf from the watch, and asked him how all things fared : who answered, that all was well, and the gale fresh- ened, and tliey run at a great rate ; but it was a fair wind and c slce|) again About a dreamed th did wake, tiling bade it was so sleep, and several tim reason, yet to sleep : a he heard it A NAUR A F HE now the ^ no one in he perceiv: relation of do I snller, ills fury ? pity is no as some ci from the to Httle, then that I was years, to pi led to him of millions of my tor Eternity ! words for € if \ P Ijcfore )roj)er tlitiir they I tliat 113 wind and a fine clear night ; so the captain went to sleep again. About an hour after he had b'^en asleep again, he dreamed that a man pulled him, or waked him, and he did wake. I am not sure, bnt I think he said, the thing bade him get up and look abroad. But whether it was so or not, he lay still and composed himself to sleep, and was suddenly awaked again, and thus several times ; and though he knew not what was the reason, yet he found it was in)possible for him to go to sleej) : and still he heard the vision say, or thought he heard it sa}^ turn out and look abroad. (to he conlinued.) A NAURATIVE OF THE DEATH OF THE HON. FR. F T SON TO THE LATE . Continued from pcf Jesus whom I have reproached, ridiculed, and abused in his members, nay, to whom I have induced otlieri to do the same. I know not what some divines mean, who say, "lie that desires to repent, in some measure does it," I experience the contrary. A fruit- less wish, that comes not to act, is no more than a conviction, which shall lay such persons under great- er damnation. You would have me supplicate thai mercy I Iiavc abused? Alas, that 1 have no hopes I but what depend upon abused mercy ! JJut whv suidl hopes? I have no hopes? My hopes are frus- trated, my expectations are cut of; and what remains behind? Why am I bid to hope and believe? what mockery is this upon me! To lind me in misery, and bid me be happy, witliout allbrding me any power of being so! but I am spent, and can complain no more ; would to God the cause of my complainings would cease ! the cause of my complain- 1 ings ! This renews my grief, and summons up the ' little strength I have left to complain again. Like an extinguishing llame, that collects at once all ih elementary matter, fur oiie great blaze before it expires. It is just so with me; but whither am I going? Ashe said this he fainted away, and lay in a swoon for a considerable time; but by the help of some spirits, we brought him to himself again ; as soon as he opened his eyes, he said, "O cruel, unkind friends! To awaken me from a dream in which I had a cessation from my tortures." This he spoke with so lively a concern, that no one of his relations could refrai but your ve tiitr person be one of ni hast it woi bu uiiiuituri troubled at friends, and uitli me; ii llie hittcrne: can be in ''dier house? Instead of that clouded night of a created sun, to see that clear and perfect gIor\ ." (To be concluded in the next.) The AinwiUTio^ o/' 8ni George Vilmers, faOnj of the iJwn Duke of Jjuehing/iam, lo one Mr. Parker to warn the Duke against sonicthin//, which if mi] prevented ivoxdd end in his death ; ivhirh so j'vll oul he not regarding the advice; and soun after he mil stabl)ed by one John Fclton an o//icer. INHERE were many stories scattered abroad at J- that time of several prophecies and predictions of the duke's untimely and violent death; amon^rst the rest, there was one that was upon a better founda- tion of credit. There was an oilieer in the kin<^\s wardrobe in ^yindsor Castle of good reputation ior honesty and discretion, and then' about the age of fifty or more. This njan had in his youth been^rcd in a school in the parish where Sir George \ illjers the father of the duke lived, and had been inuch che- rished and much obliged in that season of his age hy the said Sir (ieorge, whom afterwards he uever.saw About six months before the miserable end of the Duke of Buckingham, at midnight, this man bein-^ ill his bed very good of his bed, undrew th( him, and a The poo heing askei him, and 1 the presen clodies he seemed to I him to be t that he was from him, ^ his son, the (lid not son or at least t against him time. After tin man, (if he till niornini! considered i The next appeared to the same tin severe than done as he had not, ga\ he expected (lid not perl peace of min upon which njorning, wa exceedingly of all partici to persuade and consider from the dt lie ai). seless? o show . vvhich Js aii(i I'ejoic- of the ?e. Ir'i^her -rented father *(irkci\ if nut 11 out, ad ill ctioiis oiigst '.inda- ' 152 ■ • I 'H |] any admission to liis presence, much less to be be- lieved in what lie should say ; so with great trouble and unquietness, he spent some time in thinking wliat he should do, and in the end resolved to do nothinf^ in the matter. The same person appeared to him a third time witli a terrible countenence, and bitterly reproached him for not performing what he had promised to do. The poor man had, by this time, recovered the couraf^-e to tell him, in truth he had deferred the execution of his commands upon considering how dillicult a thm it would be for him to get any access to the duke! having acquaintance with no person about him, and if he should obtain admission to him, he never vvv)uld be able to persuade him that lie was sei]t in such a man- ner : that he should at least be thought to be mad or to be set on, and employed by iiis own, or the malice of other men to abuse the duke, and he should be sure to be undone. The spectre replied as he had done before, that he should never find rest till he had performed what he required, and therefore, he had better to dispatch it; that tlic access to his son was known to be verv easv and that fev/ men waited long for him ; and for the gaining him credit, he would tell !iim two or three particulars, which he charged him never to mention to any person but tiie duke himself; ami he siiould no sooner hear them than he .shoidd believe all tiie rest he should say ; and so, repeating his threats ho left him. In the morning, the poor man, more confirmed hv the last appearance, made his journev to [.oudon where tlie Court then was ; he was verV well known by h5ir Kalph Freeman, one of the masters of request^ wlio had married a lady that was nearly allied to the ' duke, and was himself well received by him To him this man went, and though he did not acquaint hiii, with all the particulars, he said enough to let him know there was something extraordinary in it; and the kno of the 11 desired t duke in be thou<: liini, aui privacv, Sir ^R tlic diik his i)lea; he did ii the man knew of The ci condcsce early to attend h land by the man walk am iiecessarv Sir li; morning, landing, aside in c vauts beii Sir italpl heiu* a wo and Willi easily ob. eve ahva^ the conlcj traoi'dinar The m; that when gain him iluYsi not i and he sw oulv bv I G 153 inie with 1 liini for lo. The uirage to :(ition of t a thinf le duke, n, and if v\)ul(l be I a man- mad, or e malice be sure that he iVliat he )ateli it; ry easy, for the Jv three ntioii to oiild no tiie rest lie left ined bv iondoii. known •equests I to the To him int him ct him the knowledge he had of the sobriety and discretions ol tiio man, made the more impressions on him • he desned that by his means he might be broii l^^^Z: C'aSXndTd'to tho.s'Ai7'M?7''l,''7,''^'"' ''y '"'■«« different au- Is Ion r ; '^."'^."''™'%'<=r, in a work of Ills. JjOin LJai'endens Historv ^t l?..„i j . M,'. ]Jakcr's Chronicle It k ^ 1 ^"8''?'"^ i ^^d Mr Fhvel i,i iV' ;• , '''^° mentioned by lui. 1 ia\u, in his licatise on the Soul. A DVIMG PROSTITI TE. A VOUNG man, scarcely nineteen and it .1,.* wi.l. the niostXndZ; f '^ZT^ X'^'Y t':; -s ^hX'' 7uri^'/? ^^^--5 " won.an, not mo:f t "' siLLTel ^ff "' ^n""^ certain day, which w-is l\T„ , 1 ^T ^ "S*"' *^n » tnie to the nlr, hoi.sel? ^' '',' """"' '^"h rap. -ti-iwe^ioexpt'r iifdircioT'o^:-; "^T "f '-. which seized him, whet, ir^^s XS"t 5i! I'' -ill ; ! i! 1 ^0 ■I ¥ Mi m m uiiliappy wretch died tli(3 preceding Fridiiv cveiiino- and that in a allocking manner, that humanity must shudder at the hare imagination ; and the bosoms of the guilty be eliilled with the terror at tlie thought. kSlie, witii great distress, (U^clared on Friday morn- ing, tliat she knew iierseli' to be struck with dcalli, and (hinined to all eternity, in her raving, sjie he- quently cried out, that the devil UAi] her so, and that he would drag her to endless torment at six o'clock. Her agonies were inexpressible, so that even the wretches, her com})anions and sisters in iui(|nity, whom she earnestly exhorted to repent, or they would assuredly follow her to the bottomless pit, were so much a/l'ected at it as to mention a necessity for sendiiig for a clergyman : but the mi- serable girl, \vith screams of horror exclaimed, no- thing could save her, that the fatal sentence was already pronouijced, and that there was no probabi- lity of foi-giveness or escape. The wicked man who kept the hou.sv, desired earnesaly to see her ! but she would by no means consent to his request. tell him, said she, that I curse him in the bitterness of my soul, and wish him with my latest breath, that he may veiy soon follow me to endless miserv. I shall long for his arrival, that I myself may help to torment him. It is to him 1 owe my destruction. Heat first seduced me to guilt and rnifi when I was but thirteen years of age. Perdition, no doubt, will be his portion, as well as of numbers besides, who, like him, have laboured for the destruction of inno- cence and virtue. She several times jumped out of bed, and screaming in a most dreadful' manner, cried out, "\ou fihali not have me yet! it is not six o'clock." 8he contiimed raving thus till tiie hour ;die had so often mentioned : the clock struck six and she expired. J Wli When m i\n(l deej A voice, The sold And lo! A shapeli Sullen. And flow Deep sun And swet At length And thu5 What £ Thou dari Is then th Pare as h What are 'J'liat mai The angel And issue Not of the But own 1 Shall then This lordh Who from And drop^ A\ hose cai Devourii]" Look rouii See grandt What mill iiotween tl 57 Tin; VISION. {I'rom the/ourlh v/i(fj)(cr of Jou,), ^^rWAS at tlio (lark and silent hour of night, J V> hen airy visions skim heloro the sight, ' When men entranced in hahny sleep are laid' i\ii(l deeper slnmhers every sense invade : A voice, shrill sounding, liierced my listein'mr ear TIjc solemn accents still methinks 1 hear. ^ ' And lo! arose before my wonderin"- eves A shapeless spectre of stupendous s^ze: »Snllcn, it liie approached with awlul grace, And IVowiiing dreadful stared me in the lace; Deep sunk my heart, my luur erected stood. And sweaty drops my shaking limbs bedevved. At length a voice the solemn silence broke : Am] thus, in hollow tone, the phantom spoke AMiat art thou mortal man ? thou breathing Jlod^ Jhou daring rival of thy author, God ? Is then this heap of ani^nated dust. Pure as his maker? as his maker just? "\\ iKit are the gifts to human nature given, 'J'hat man usui])s the attributes of heaven''^ The angelic hosts, that on the Godhead wait And issue forth his ministers of fate : ' Not of themselves perfoiin his great command, but own his guidance and o'er-ruling hand Shall then presumptuous man his actions sway, J Ins lordly tenant of a lump of clay ? AVho from a sordid man derives his birth, And drops again into his mother earth • J\ hose carcase mouldering in the silent tomb Devouring re])tiles mangle and consume. Look rouml the surface of this earthly ball • See grandeur vanish, and even nations fall '' What millions die, the race of being run, Between the rising and the setting sun ! ' II ! i 'tti li ' m s ; I^^H^H ' I 1 * ir)H ti>i i I i HI M I i ■ i ^tl ►See man cacli hour ivsign his iJoeling bieatl), And sink unliecdod in the jaws of death ! Thus falls tliy boasted wisdom, mortal man, A cloud its substance, and its date a span! 'J ny short perfection on thy life depends. At death's great period all thy knowle(Jge ends. li APPARITION 01" THE LAMM) OF COOL. V17HAT I know concenung the matter is this • ft The servant of Dr. iMen/ie, J^hvsician at Dumfries, told his master and many others, that the Laird of Cool, lately ihml, ajipeared to him, rode him down, and killed his horse : that he appointed him to meet him some time after, at such a place which he promised to do. J3ut Mr. W ( then minister of Dundries) advised him to break that promise. Mr. Ogilvie ( then im'nister at Imierwick, near Dunbar) on hearing this blamed AFr. Paton much, saying. Had he been there, he would not only have advised him to keep his promise, but would have gone with him. The ensuing relation of what fol- lowed, wrote in J\Ir. O's own hand, was found in his desk after his death, by Mrs. Ogilvie. «he gave to Mr. Lundie, now minister at Oldhamstocks, who gave it to me. JAMES HAMILTON. What follows is transcribed from IMr. Lundie's Copy. On Feb. 3. 1722, at seven o'clock at night as I was coming up the burial-road, one came ridin^ up after me. Looking back, I called., Who is there'^ He answered, the Laird of Cool. Thinking it was some one who wanted to put a trick upon me, I s ruck at him with my cane. It found no resistance, but flew out of my hand, to the distane of about ZJl%Jv u .^ ""^''^^'^^'^ ^'''^ ^^^^ ^^ "P' but found OO.U0 difhcuity in mounting, partly by reason of the ramping ran thro liiiii aga what is ♦' You Ik I asked He aiisw for advisi and said, .«elf!" C We that know nol fuilil yoi Dumfries into my t I do not 1- tion, that are in soi when von Hy \iiis and while or not, he with ama. noise, as Wiien I c«'i pale, inqui little uneas thereby ea; meditate oi On the 1 sun-set, n( Cool came not afraid : am not abr stronger th as safe fron us have a some in fori: liVJ , iio;ir mucli, r have 1 have It Ibl- in his Lve to who rainpin- of my horse, partly by a trembJincr which ran through my joints. Ho stopt till I came up to Iimi again, an( said - If you arc laird of Coo) u-hat is your business with me?" He ansvvpred' "\ou have undertaken what {^v, in Ridsdale would '' [asked in surprise, " What have I undertaken?" Ho answered - Last Sabbath you blamed Mr. Paton lor advising the young man not to kee.) his nromis,> '•"';' ;?'^;>'^;Vr'"^^l<''' 'V'^'"S to go with him your-' IV •'. ?^' V''V,"^°''""^' >'^^"' ^''^^t I .aid so? C We that are dead know many things that the living knmv nothing about. All 1 want is, that you would h.lhl your promise and deliver my commission to Dmnfnes upon such an errand? O. It never entered into my thoughts. C. What was in your thoughts do not know : but I can depend upon my infonna- tion, that these were your words. J3ut I see vou are in some disorder: I will wait upon you again when you have more presence of mind. Hy this time we were come below tli'e church-yard and while 1 was consideiing whether I had proiiiised or not, he broke Irom me through the church-yard with amazing violence, and with such a whizzing noise, as put me into more disorder than befon? When I came to my house, my wife seeing me verv pale, inquired, -what ailed me?" I told he^- I was a little uneasy, and desired something to drink. Beino- ihercby eased and refreshed, I retired to my closet tS meuitate on ihis astonishing adventure ' On the fifth of March, 1722, as I was riding about sun-set, near^ William White's Marsh, the laird of Cool came riding up to me again, and said, - Be not alraid : I will do you no harm." I replied - I am not afraid ; for I know he in whom 1 tru'st is stroiiger than all of you put together." C. You are as sale Irom me, as when 1 was alive. O. I'hen let us have a free conversation together, and give me ^ome luloimation about theaflairs of the oihei world i 1(>0 .wi I !. ^ - C. What iiiforiDation do you want from inc i^ () Are you in a sl:itc of happinoss or not!* C Tliat is a question I will not answer. Ask sometliiiH»- elsr O. 1 ask then, What sort of body is tluit y(ju aniioar in? C It is not the same body wherein 1 was wit- ness to your marriage, nor that in which I (]ie,|. That is rotting in the grave. But it is such a b(j(|y as answers in a mnnjeiit. J can fly as fast in this body as without it. Jf I would go to London, to Jerusalem, or to the moon, 1 can perform all these journies ecjually soon, for it costs me nothing but a thought. This body is just as llect as your lliouglit. In the same time you can turn your thoughts to Uo'nie! T can go there in i)erson. 6. But tell me, Have you not yet appeared before (iod, and recieved scu. ter.oe from h'm as a judge? C. Never yet. O, It is commonly believed,* there is a particular judgment day. C. TSo such thing, no such thing. Tliere'is ijo trial, no sentence till the last day. Tiie heaven j s/m// the son ^//.so himself he suhjecl unto him that put all fhint/s under him, that god may he all in all. SOME understand that by the Son here is meant only the human nature of Christ, hut tlie huniaii uatiire is subject now; and 8t. Paul speaks of a subjection that eommcnces n'hen all thin(js are suh. clued. Cameron and others, undej-stand it of a clearer display, of the natural subjection of tlie human na- ture of Clirist to the Deity than we have now, for now the Deity rcii,nis by the man ; but tlie human nature of Christ hath no share in the government of the church now. Tiie essential attributes of tlie Deity are inconi- munica' le, and so is the c.vereise of them. AVe sliail then indeed enjoy felicity as the human nature of Christ enjoys it now, by an immediate coinmunica- tion from God : but tliis will be owing not to Christ's subjection ; but to our elevation. 'J^he passage can- not be understood of the human nature merehi ■ because St. Paul says, the Son shall be subject • now it is not usual with St. Paul to express merdv t'le human nature of Christ by his word. Besides h^ opposes the .s7//^yVc//V7j of the Son to his dominion^ No\v it is certain he reigns by hi,, divinity, and I'lot merely by his human it}^ In short, the ai)ostle speaks of a momentary sub- jection, the last act of his meditoriat kingdom', con- sequently an economical act agreeing with his divine imtLire, without prejudice to his e(piality. It \s what St. Paul calls ver. 2\. a delivering up of (he hhn. domto the lather. Glorious act! the Sou pivsents to the lather, at the last day, an account of his whole economy, lor public approbation : The worM judged--t!ie rif-hteous rewarded— the wicked punish- ed-.devjls coidiiifd—death swallowed up in victory — clcrn holy ni t/tou ha.' is, all tl will ext absolute of man. God ] dividing |)0\vc)', ; God has (Inin, to kinds of lie will c tent, ass perfectioi in kind, , low degr /// a /I, he ces shall God also not all th erring, an not filled church. ours as m tan. llei of which but wiicn in the etej have the s luVS of till called nati assemblaiTi siinremelv il: a 103 -clcriial salvation finislie.I— heaven pooplp.l witl, lioiy n,nltitu 111 iiie miiituut cl.HKli. hill, tiouble, sickness, death, all these are m..s as ,...•» : or our. as fallen men deriving from Sa! tail. 1 ere in our ,est state, we resemble the , ooti « Inch hall only ,s illnminate.l ata time 1-11^2 I.U wnrn (.od becomes all in ,dl, we shall be immersed n the eternal light 01 our God, as tho,se, who at noon lui.e tie sunn, then- zenith, are all involved in the ciliulnali.ie nor grace, hut glorv ; for glorv is -in as.soiiibla;;e ol all ti.e I.ene.lictions of Goditaf degiS supremely perfect-filling the whole man. ^ iv • i iJfi 104 '^ .:i: j ? .1 A rcmarlahlc nnrraUve of (lie Apparition of a yoiDin fjcuilewoman to her sweetheart, taken down in writiii,, from the youufi man's own month, by the Edild'r, who, from the yonny mans sober beharionr, Ix;'. liives the Account to be true. THIS young genllowoman Jived at M. Tves', in Cornwall, and (lied of the sniall-pox in )Se})tein. ber, ]70i;and \\vr sweetheart was the son ol" Mi-. Haine, a very repuiable butcher and grazier, at Scar. about twenty miles from Plymouth, ' 'J he match was not approved of by the young' woman's friends; and during her illness, they would not suller the young man to come to see her though she greatly desired to see iiim. Al)out the time of her illness, he also was taken sick of a fever, and conhiied to his room ; so that it was above a month after her death, before she made her first apj)earancc to him ; which is as follows : After I had recovered from my illness, eavs he, 1 went out one afternoon on my father's horse for a little airing ; and, returning home just at dusk, about a niilo from my father' s house, 1 saw something, as on horse- back, pass very swiftly by me ; which so allVighted iiiv horse, that he tlev/ home with me as fast as possihlt", and I was also much alliighted. A short time jifter this she appeared again to me, and then J knew Im ; : iind .vhat is remarkable, when I was on horseha. she appeared on horseback : aiid when I wt.s on foot, she appeared so too; and her appearances to 3;ui were so frequent, that she became quite faniiliar, an- 1 T had Jio fear at all on seeing her ; which she never failtl to do if I wa{> abroad : but she never aj)peared to n.- in my father's house. It was above a month before I had anv power «dvra nie to speak to ber, although I thought to do itivom tune to time, but could not speak; though she LWe me all the opportunity she could, by walking oft( n bv my side, or very near me. 'I'his was a great tioublt to me, ti gi'cat W( [ rcla some o gave litt only [)h peiied, power t( My k worslii]) and one light the and can( she appe Now (loi the verv violently distance hand ; m what alii' had so oi there was nie in m\ story, ur^ me wiiai bad consc A kw tiler's hoi mind to u speak to went out appeared name of t me P and shrunk hi cold as ch speaking l liist night y not s] x'V:,' 166 » '!/oii)ui Edilo'r, 'Mu\ he. yes, ill V3J)U'1I1- of Mr. it Scar. tc'Ii was Is; and ug man 1 to see IS til ken that it ^ made s ; ! lie, 1 •a little a mile horse- ted JIIV CJS.sihle, e jifter -V hi ; ; seha- i ; I foot, f J were j T had failel to n.^ r givra IVom ; gave ten hv r 10 libit i to me, as well as to her; and it hegan to brin.^ -i threat weakness upon me. ^ ' [ related the thing to my father and motlier, a.nl some o hers ; but they, not believing n,y relalio gave httle heed to what I said, and thought wa only phrenzy; tdl the foHowing eircum.^ance hap- pened, which was a week before God -avo nl- power to speak to her. ^ My father and mother used to <^ro to n nl-,. r.f worship l,cIo,,,i„, to M. Wesley, alo.,T a , T off ! |ii.. o je eve.ui.g about ihis time, I went will, ll,ei,i t, i,g a Ihcm l,on,e, a.s 1 ofto„ ,lkl, wit), a hClam o ai»l can.lle, and coming 1„ me along theliiX™" j^^e ap,,ea,e,lto ,„c as nsnal ; I safd to n?faUe' AcHvciontyonseel.er:' the.e, there she isf an ai the von- n,on,ent I spoke, the lautho.n was twi ted vio Mil/ \' out fA ..... 1 I 1 ,1 »'»viDicii rable my no enlly out ol tny |,a„d and Hung to a coi.side . ..tuMce i,o,n n,e, ,|,e ring o( it' rcnaining i„ a,y li^ >" ; "V ather and mother uere now boU. so, e^ vhjU allnghled at tiiis, and began to believe wha I |a,l so often related to then, Sf the ap . " t'o „ uj there was some truth ir. it. A .ioetor, '« ho a t^ndev tne m my diness, to whom I had also related he story, urged n,e by all means ;o speak to her tell ne me what words to use ; and said, it .,i,r| t be of ba, conse,,uence il- 1 neglected it lo„«r A lew nights after this, as I was siting i„ mv fa- tl..'. s house, It was strongly ir.pressed upon ,nv :Snrcr'tS;g?;^:b!:.t''i^^^ kstii h," "■T;''"^"'''^^-""' """ --as the ve,y ,V itot spoken to ,ne now, said she, 1 should have SBH I-? :i \ i , I'J ' I 3', i i Iiad power to do you some mischief. Tiien she re- iated to me what she had to say about her faniily, who had crudlv hindered her from seeing some of her dear relations.* After telling me out her wliole mind, she gave me plain directions concernmg her- self. ' We conversed together near two hours, ill] twelve o'clock ; and I promised, if possible, to fulfil all iier instructions. Accordingly, 1 set out early next morning, rode near iifty miles, to dillerent parts, fulfilled her commands, and got back safe to my father's house. She appointed me to meet her that night, if 1 had done my business before twelve, at tlie church-door where she was buried ; tliis was about two miles from my fatlier's house. Slie met me at the .church porch, exi)ressed her entire ai)pro. bation of all that I had done, saying, she should now be at rest, and wou^ ' ' ouble me no more. After a short disco' se. which she cliarged mc never to divulge, she c: ' My time is nearly ex- pired, follow me into the church. The door open- ing, she entered the church, wliicli was illuminated with the most glorious light ; and my hearing the most soft and lieavenly music betokened her happi- ness. She bid me take notice when tlie music began to cease, to go then out of the church ; whicli T did; and being very glad that all my trouble in this all'air was ended, I hastened away and saw her no more. J. KAINE. * This younfr lady lived ami died with her relations, who having most other ])ro{HTty in llieir hands, concealed her sick- ness from her frifiids : their not bein^,^ siiliered to visit her, was supposed to he the cause of her disqniet, and of Mr. llainu"!* conlercncc with her. aniJoh U the E to those a five [)rinc( i have sc parts, and for thirty after so n the great* best estate i would Ci counsellor the whole hour's enj< else foisak prayer," A RE riMlE fo] JL by a Edal, in I Twenty came out ( moaial all countrv, t called the foiuid abo sinking ar One Jai a fortnight was most coiiscienet leu weeks 167 AN ANECDOTE. S]\l John MaaoUy Privy-counsellor to king Henry the Eiglitli, on his death- bed, delivered himself to those about him to this purpose : " I have seen five princes, and have been Privy-counsellor to four, J liave seen the most remarkable things in foreign parts, and have been present at most state transactions for thirty years together, and have learned this after so many years experience, that seriousness is the greatest wisdom, and a good conscience the best estate ; and was 1 to live my time over again, i would change the court for a cloyster ; my Privy- coiinsellor's business for a ([uite retirement ; and tlio whole life 1 have lived in the palace, for one hour's enjoyment of God in the eliapel ; all things else foi sake me, beside my God, my duty, and my praver," ^M i .j i/^i, I w^ t ^ 1 i ■ if^ A REHlAllKAliLE PUNISHMENT OF MURDER n^lE following melancholy account was given me JL by a worthy man, Mr. Thomas Marsha)! of Edal, in Derbyshire, Dec. J 7th, 1778. Twenty years ago, a young gentleman and lady oanie out of Scotland, as is supposed, upon a matri- iiioaial allair. As they were travelling through that country, they were robbed and murdered, at a place called the Winnets near Castleton. Their bones were louiid about ten years ago, by some miners who were sinking an engine-pit at the place. One James Ashton, of Castleton, who died about a fortnight ago, and who was one of the murderers, was most miserably aillieted and tormented in his conscience. lie had been dying it was thought, for len weeks; but could not di(3 before he had confessed iM iiiy ■hi V !Im I IGS llie wliole allair : But when ho had done this, he ilied iiunu'diaU'ly. He sdd, Nicholas Cock, Thomas Hall, John Bradshaw, Francis Ijiitler, and iiiniself, meeting the above senlleman and lady in the Winnets, pulled them o/i' their horse, and dragged them into ii ham belon« nig to one of them, and took iVom them two hundrcd ponnds. Then seizing on the yoniig gcMi- tleman, the young lady (who Ashlon siiid was Uie fairest woman he ever saw) intreated them, in the mosc piteous manner, not to kill him, as she was the cause of his coming into that country. But not- withstanding all her intreaties, they cut his throat from ear to ear! They then seized the young lady herself, and, though she entreated them, on liJi knees, to si)are her life, and turn her out naked : yet one of the wretches drove a miner's pick into her head, when she dropt down dead at his feet. IJaviiig thus despatched them both, they left their bodies iii their barn, and went away with their booty. At night they returned to the barn, in order to take them away ; but thev were so terrified with u frightful noise, that they durst not move them : and so it was the second night ; but the third night, Ashton said, it was only the devil, who would not hurt him; so they took the bodies away, and buried them. They then divided the rnoney ; and as Ashton was a coal-carrier to a Smelt-mill, on the Shellield road, he bought horses with his share ; but they all died in a little time. Nicholas Cock lell from a precipice, near the place where they had committed the nunder, and was killed. Thomas Hall hanged himself. .b)liii .I5radshaw was walking near the place where they had buried the bodies, when a stone fell from the hill and killed him on the spot, to the astonishment of every one who knew it. Fiancis Butler attempted many times to hang himself, but was prevented ; however, lie went mad, and died in a most miserable manner. Thus, justice, (' the hand < How tiue our path, i ways ! THOU IT was tl fathers excellent i i>(l are eni stippose tl the trans fi glorilied L tlien convc ministering creatiu'es b aiH/c'ls) ma service of aflections. more than Saviour to< of men. t: capacity c inclination properly st whom they came P It tians, that patriarchs, appeared tc the apparit have reason called ange a gCMl- Ls tlie n tile s Ihu iiot- tlii'diit JiUlj' I liur : yet f many ; vcver, iiiiier. Thus, tljoiigli they escaped tlie hand of human justice, (which sehlom happens in such a case,) yet tlie liaiid of God found tljeni out, even in this world, How true then is it, lliat tliou, O Lord, art about our pati), and about our bed, and spiest out all aur ways ! THOUGHTS CONCERNING SOULS DEPARTED. (Extracted from an ancient Author.) IT was tlie opinion of the most ancient and learned fLiti)ors of tlie greatest philosoi)hers, and many excellent men among the moderns, that souls depart- ed are embodied in ethereal vehicles. In such they suppose that tlie souls of 31oses and EHas appeared at the transfiguration on the Mount. They were not glorified bodies without souls ; for how could they then converse with our Lord ? Angels are said to be ministering spirits: but may not reasonable human creatures be made so too? and (as they are like unto aiu/cls) may they not be as proper at least for the suvice of men ! They have the same nature and affections. They feel our inlirmities, and consider us more than abstract spirits do. For which reason our Saviour took not upon him the nature of angels, but of men. Souls departed have life, sense and motion, capacity of being employed, and no doubt have inclination to it; and whither may they be more properly sent, than to those of their own nature, to whoni they are allied, and from whom they so lately came P It is supposed both by the Jews and Chris- tians, that the soul of the Messiah appeared to the patriarchs, and was the angel of the covenant. He appeared to St. Stephen, though then in glory. Of the apparitions of angels recorded in scripture, we have reason to think that some were human souls, called angels from their office. ^ z if Jiiif ' m ] '. v 170 ri 1 j ii i' 1 A NARRATIVE OF THE DEATH OF THE HON. JR. 5. — T, SON OF THE LATE • (Concluded from page 107.) MY business calling me away for a day or two, I came again on Thursday morning, pretty early. When I came in I enquired of his friends how he had spent liis time ? They told me his ex- pressions were much shorter than before ; but what he did speak, seemed to have more horror and despair in it. I went to his bed-side, and asked him how he did ? He replied, Damned and lost for ever ! I told him the decrees of God were secret. Perhaps he was punished in this life to lit him for a better,— He answered, " They are not secret to me, but dis- covered, and are my greatest torment. My j)unisli- ment here is for an example to others, and an earnest to me of my own damnation. I wish there was a possibility of getting above God ; that would be a heaven to me." I entreated him not to give way to so blasphemous a thought; — for — Here he interrupt- ed me. " Read we not in the Revelations of those that blasphemed God, because of their pains, I am now of that number. () how I do but envy the hap- piness of Cain and Judas /" But, replied I, vou are yet alive and do not feel the torments of those that are in hell." He answered, " This is eitlier true or false. If it be true, how heavy will those torments be, of which I do not yet feel the uttermost ? But I know that it is false, and that I now endure more than the spirits of the damned. Fur I have the .same torture upon uxy s])irit as they have, besides those I endure in my body. I believe that at the day of judgment the torments of my mind and body will both together be more intense; but as I now am, no spirit in hell endures what f do. How gladly would I change my condition for hell !" Here he closed his eyes a - now and but soon a again, and my minute the last pul cayed mai and hell! shall I say ah, the for to! Nothi Here his sf be (lying, v agony; in turned awa; to hinder hi gave over. not (ill som sters ! are y giving me i intolerable r your happii grace. H ' it? Ifhev for it ?" I God is be( strong as to signs me c none that is for I — Here struggle, ai covered, wil had been r insuperable pired. 171 his eyes a little, and began to talk very wildly every now and tlien, groaning and gnashing Ids teeth; but soon alter opening his eyes; he grew sensible again, and felt lus own pnlse, saying, " How lazily my minutes go on ! When will be the last breath, the last pulse that shall beat my spirit out of this de- cayed mansion, into the desired regions of death aiui liell! O! I find it just at hand ; and what shall I say now P Ani J not afraid again to die^^ ah, tiie forlorn hope of him that has not God to go to! Nothing to t\y to for peace and comfort '" Here Ins speech failed him ! weall believin«r him to be (lying, went to prayer, which threw hinr into an agony; in which, though he could not speak he turned away his laoe, and made wiiat noise he could to hinder himself from hearing. Perceiving this we gave over. As soon as he could speak (which was not (dl some time after) he said, " 'i^ygers and mon- sters ! are ye also become devils to 'torment me by giving me a prospect of heaven, to make hell more intolerable? "Alas ! Sir, said 1, it is our desire of your hapinness that casts us down to the throne of grace. 11 G(ui denies assistance, who else can give ^ . .1, )^/^ not have mercy, whither must we go for It : He rei.lied, " Aye, there is the wound : God IS become my enemy, and there is none so strongas to deliver me out of his hands! He con- signs ine over to Eternal Vengeance, and there la none that is able to redeem me ! Tliis cannot be : lor 1-Here his voice failed again, and he began to struggle, and gasp for breath : which having re- covered. With a groan so dreadful and loud, as if it had heen more than human, he cried out, the insutidrable pangs of hell and damnation!" and ex- pired. > J I 1 1^ 172 ill .'/ Mr. Thomas Halihurton. (Concluded from Page 150.) AFTER some time's silence, lie took leave of his wife and children, saluting and speaking to them all, one hy one. Then he said, " A kind and allectionate wife you have been to me. The Lord bless you, and he shall bless you." To a minister that came in, he said, " Brother, I am upon a piece of trying work. I am parting with my wife and children, I am resolv- ed, I bless his name ; thougli I have had one of the best of wives, yet she is no more mine, but the Lord's." Then to his son he said, " God bless the lad, and let my name be named upon him. But O, what is my name ! Let the name of tlie Lord be named upon him. Tell the generation following, how good God is, and hand down this testimony." After that he spoke to his servants, and said, " My dear friends, make religion your bufsinesis. 1 charge you all, beware of graceless masters; seek to be with them that fear the Lor(i." Then he said, " Here is a demonstration of the reality of religion ; that I, a poor, weak, timorous man, once as much afraid of death as any ; I that have been many years under the terrors of death, come now in the mercy of God, and by the power of his grace, composedly, and with joy to look death in the face. I have seen it in its paleness, and in all its circumstances of horror. I dare look it in the face in its most ghastly shape, and hope within a while to have the victory." A while after he said to those about him, " this is the most honourable pulpit I was ever in ! I am preaching the same Christ, the same holiness, the same happiness I did before. I have much satisfaction in that. — I am not ashamed of the gospel I iiave preached. I am not man in tl hoi)e of tl the death the begin] (as my st token for me a toke Then p Lord Jcsi breast, lik I hear hin come awa stumble n Then 1 prayer, sa wait as th^ am weary so long a delay ! O ! I ai gin or cut with me f is written the half ol me much in my life bones are me; and When c hand in lu find he is conqueror d-d!" I Gotl that i I am ; ai under m} martyrs c •■y \ w 173 preached. I was never ashamed of it all my days, and I am not ashamed of it at the last. Here am T a weak man, in the hands of the king of terrors, rejoicing in hope of the glory that shall be rovealed ; and that by the death and resurrect on of despised Christ. When the beginning of the trouble was upon me, I aimed (as my strength would allow) at tliat, show me some token for good ; and indeed, I think God hath showed rue a token for good." Tiien perceiving his spirits faint, he said, " Come Lord Jesus, receive my spirit, fluttering within my breast, like a bird to be out of a snare. — When shall I hear him say, the winter is past; arise my love and come away ; come and take me by the hand, that I stumble not in the dark valley of death!" Then he desired a minister to pray ; and after prayer, said, " Lord, I wait for thy salvation. I wait as the watchman watcheth for the morning. I am weary with delay ! () why are his chariot-wheels so long a coming ; I am sick of love, I am faint with delay ! O ! I am full of matter ! I know not where to be- gin or end. The si)irit of the Lord hath been mighty witii nief O the book of God is a strange book! It is written within and without. I never studied it lo the half of what I should ; but now God hath given me much of it together. Never was I more uneasy in my life : and yet 1 was never more easy. All my bones are ready to break; my hand is a burden to me ; and yet all is easy !" When awakened out of sleep, he said, " I am now hand in hand, grappling with my last enemy : and I find he is a coixjueiable enemy ; yea, I am more than conqueror." One said, "A strange champion, in- (Ii.:d!" He answered, " I, not I, but the grace of God that is in me. By the grace of God, I am what I am ; and the God of peace hath bruised Satan under my feet. I have often wondered how the martyrs could clap tjieir hands in the fire : I do not i i !■ 1^ -,%. ■-■^J <^ /] 7 '*> .^>' /^ X i A\-; %.v^ >«! CA J-ll IaL.' Sciences Corporation 23 WEST AAAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 145S0 (716) 872-4503 1( *i \.M ! i 174 wonder at it now, I could clap my hands though you held burning candles to them, and think it no hardship, though the flames were going about them. And yt^t, weie the Lord withdrawn I should cry, and not be able to bear it, if you but touched my foot." Monday, Sept. 22. At half an hour past two, he asked what hour it was, and said, " Early in the ^noruing my friends shall be acquainted, for [ expect this cough will hasten my deliverence. Well, well; I shall get out of the dark cloud ; within a little I shall be in Abraham's bosom ; yea, in his, who carries the lambs in his bosom; and am I sure of goodness and mercy to follow me. O how good is he to a poor worm ! Let us exalt his name together. It is the constant employ of all above, day and night. They see and sing : they have a clear vision. O when shall I see his face, who is fairer than the sons of men! Yea, who is brighter than the sun in his strength ! " To a minister he said, ''Could I have believed (but I am an unbeliever) that 1 could have had this pleasure in this condition : Once or twice Satan was assualting my faith. I walked in a sort of carnal frame, and I thought I had lost my Jewel ; but now he will stand by me to the end. What shall X render to him: my bones are rising through my skin: and yet all my bones are praising him." After struggling with a deduction in his throat, he said, " This is a messenger from God to hasten me home. The other day I would have gone away without this glorious evidence of the grace of God. But this is more for my advantage, that I am thus tried and comforted. 1 said. Why are his chariot- wheels so long a coming. But I will not say so any more. Yet a little whi: >, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry." Then he said, " If I should say that I would speak no more in the name of the Lord, it would be like a fire Avithi in a maze as thougl but the g that supp To his dear, at 'Tis an e more, am the body God, my ness." Then t much exh on my bn tarries foi do ? ilov part of thi Tis the ] give the c of pain, a long tin not a dis little sugg together, i had then c since the J posed thoi Some t Lord. E' must not \ post, but I work. Tl But 'tis ea salvation.' He mei a battle lli of the war rolled in b 175 fire witliin my heart." And some looking at him as in a maze, he said, " Why look ye steadfastly on me, as though by my might or power I were so ? Not I, but the grace of God in me. Tis the Spirit of God that supports me." To his wife he said, "Be not discouraged, my dear, at the unavoidable consequences of nature. 'Tis an evidence that there is but a very little time more, and death will be swallowed up in victory : the body will be shaken in pieces, and yet blessed be God, my head is composed as it was before my sick- ness." Then to some present he said, "My moisture is much exhausted this night, but the dew lies all night on my branches, the dew that waits not for man, nor tarries for the sons of men. O what cannot grace do ? How have I formerly repined at the hundredth part of this trouble ! O study the power of religion ! 'Tis the power of religion and not the name, will give the comfort I find. I have peace in the midst of pain. And O how much of that have I had for a long time past : My peace has been like a river ; not a discomposed thought. There have been some little suggestions; when my enemies joined in a league together, and made their great assault upon me. I had then one assault, and I was likely to fall. But since the Lord rebuked them, there is not a discom- posed thought, but all is calm." Some time after he said, " Good is the will of the Lord. Every one of these throes is good ; and I must not want one of them ; I must not fly from my post, but stand as a sentinel, for this is my particular work. This would be hard work without Christ : But 'tis easy with him, for he is the captain of my salvation." He mentmned the pain in his head, but said. " In a battle there must be blood and dust. Every battle of the warrior is with confused noise, and garments rolled in bl ^d. 'Tis meet I should be so hard put ItM mm m ! i Ml 17C to it, that 1 may know to whom I owe my strength. that I were at the thorne above, that the glimmer- ing sight were taken away, that this unsteady faith might terminate in vision !" Then lie said, " If I am able, though I cannot speak, I'll show you a sign of triumph, when I am near glory ! !" To his wife he said, " My dear be not discouraged, though I should go away in a fainting fit. The Lord's way is the best way. I am composed. Though my body be vexed, my spirit is untouched." One said, " Now you are putting your seal to that truth, that godliness is great gaij. And I hope you are encouraging yourself in the Lord." As a sign of it, he lifted up his hands and clapped them. And in a little time, about ieven in the morning, he went to the land, where the weary are at rest. A true account of the manner and conversion of Colonel Gardiner, a few years l>efore he fell in battle ; taken down in writing from his own mouth, by two intimate Jriends of his, viz. the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, and the Rev. Mr. Spears, Minister at Breutisland. — Also his death. THIS remarkable event (says Dr. Doddridge) happened about the middle of July, 1791 ; he thinks it was on a Sunday evening. The Major had spent the evening with some gay compaiiy, and had made an unhappy appointment with a married woman, whom he was to meet exactly at twelve o'clock. The company broke up about eleven; and not judging it convenient to anticipate the time appointed, he went into his chamber, to kill, as he said, the tedious hour with some book, or other amusement ; but it very providentially happened that he took up a religious l30ok, which either his mother, or hie aunt, had slipt into his portmanteau. The book was entitled, "The Chi written bj it, he shoi spiritual ii! some dive it for a fe' notice of j while the to me sev( in a very but to his the cross, glory, anc a voice, v\ effect, " C and are tl; an audibh senses, lit upon it as from God non, (saic I sunk do continued whetlier a while he c than us us during th that ciimii fore engro the chair, ceived; ai he was rei rnent and as the vih had all his by his sin now saw, derful a vi and acted 6 W'l 177 "The Christian Soldier, or Heaven taken by storm !" written by Mr. Watson ; and guessing by the title of it, he should find some phrases of his own profession spiritualized in such a ir,anner, as might afford him some diversion (as he said,) he resolved to dip into it for a few minutes, but yet he took no particular notice of any thing he read in it. But on a sudden, while the book was open in his hand, (as he related to me several times,) there was presented to his sight, in a very lively manner, not to his imagination only, but to his bodily eyes, the Lord Jesus Christ upon the cross, surrounded with a refulgent light and glory, and that a voice, or something equivalent to a voice, was impressed upon him, in words to this effect, " Oh sinner ! did I suffer all this for thee? and are these the returns?" But whether this was an audible voice, or a strong impression upon his senses, he did not presume to affirm, but looked upon it as a vision of an extraordinary nature, as from God ; and struck with so amazing a phenome- non, (said he,) " there remained hardly life in me ; I sunk down into an arm chair on which I sat, and continued (I know not how long,) quite insensible," whether asleep or not, he could not say, but after a while he opened his eyes, and saw nothing more than usual; nor did he, (as he declared to me,) during the remainder of the night, once recollect that criminal and detestable assignation, which be- fore engrossed ail his thoughts. He then rose from the chair, in a tumult of passion not to be con- ceived ; and walked to and fro in his chamber till he was ready to drop down in unutterable astonish- ment and agony of soul ; now appearing to himself as the vilest monster in the creation of God, who had all his life time been crucifying the Lord Christ by his sins, and disobedience to his precepts, and now saw, (as he assuredly believed, by so won- derful a vis^ion) all the horrors of what he had done and acted ; and yet, at the same time, he saw, (as he ^ 2 a mm 178 said,) both the majest}^ and goodness of God In sparing such a rebel, and the chief of sinners ; that he ever had abhorred himself, as disserving nothing at God's hand, but wrath and eternal damnation. And that, from this moment, he became the greatest penitent before God and man ; abhorring himselfas in dust and ashes; and so continued to the day of his death ; attributing all to the free unmerited grace of Christ, to one of the vilest of sinners : and never mentioned the name of God, or of Christ, but with the greatest reverence ; and yet the Lord so lilted up the light of his countenance upon him, at differ- ent times, and strengthened his faith in him, that he never after doubted of his salvation, through the above merits of the Redeemer. He had also a fore- sight of his death in a dream, as he related himself, " I thought, (says he,) I saw my Saviour walking before me over a large field, (the \ery field of battle where he fell,) and the Lord turned round and smiled upon me ; so that I never after doubted of his aid and protection, nor of rny interest in his precious blood. He died of his wounds received at the battle of Preston Pans. Though this, and the followihg relation are not of the most striking order of apparition stories, they, notwithstanding carry in themselves internal marks of a supernatural revelation in these latter times, and serve to prove in geiieral that providence has not left man entirely alone, but that his grace is yet sufficient. If any degree of credit can be given to any thing of this kind, the assent must be granted to respectable witnesses, who have no interest to delude, and whose characters remove them too far from the temptation of fraud to practise deceit. HE lay last ii no longer, comes out second ma the forecas and all we The mai know him answered, what's the Says th( very uneas own fancy I know no There a the mate. Says the South-v\ coast, and That's al some other to his cabii stood bv h a voice, " I Upon thi says the ca; water had ^ About ai Heave aj There's n but if you ] I don't ki I think, an( « 179 Observations on Dreams. (Continued from pafje 143.) HE lay in this uneasiness near two hours ; but at last it increased so upon him, that he could lie no longer, but got up, put on his watch-gown, and comes out upon the quarterdeck : there he found the second mate walking about, and the boatswain upon the forecastle, the night fine and clear, a fair wind, and all well as before. The mate wondering to see him, at first did not know him: but calling. Who's there? the captain answered, and the mate returns, Who, the captain ! what's the matter. Sir ? Says the captain, I don't know ; but I have been very uneasy these two hours, and Sv^mebody, or my own fancy, bid me turn out and abroad, though I know not what can be the meaning of it. There can be nothing in it but some dream, says the mate. Says the captain, how does the ship cape ? South-west by south, says the mate, fair for the coast, and the wind east by north. That's all very good, says the captain ; and so after some other usual questions, he turned about to go back to his cabin ; when, as if it had been somebody that stood by him and spoke, it came into his mind like a voice, " Heave the lead, heave the lead." Upon this he turns again to his second mate : Mate says the captain, when did you heave the lead ? what water had you ? About an hour ago, says the mate, sixty fathoms. Heave again says the captain. There's no manner of occasion, Sir, says the mate : but if you please it shall be done. I don't know, says the captain, 'tis needless indeed, 1 thn}k, and so was going away again ; but was. as I' Li " i'! 1', %{ 1 ' t ■ Its it Hi ' ' , i >'r. : 1 ' Wl] !' S- iii. 1. ; I ' '!§' 180 it were forced to turn back as before, and says to the mate, I know not what ails me, but I cannot be easy; come, call a hand aft and heave the lead. Accordingly a hand was called, and the lead being cast or heaved, as they rail it, they had ground ai eleven fathoms. This surprised them all, but much more when at the next cast, it came up seven fathoms. Upon this the captain in a fright bade them put the helm a-lee, and about ship, all hands being ordered to back the sails, as is usual in such cases. The proper orders being obeyed, the ship stayed presently and came about, and when she was about, before the sails filled, she had but four fathoms and a half water under her stern ; as soon as she filled and stood off, they had seven fathoms again, and at the nextcast eleven fathoms, and so on to twenty fathoms; so he stood off to seaward all the rest of the watch, tu get into deep water, till day break when being a clear morning, there were the capes of Virginia, and all the coast of America in fair view under their stern, and but a few leagues distant ; had they stood on but one cable's length farther, as they were going, they had been bump a-shore (so the sailors call it) and cer- tainly lost their ship, if not their lives. Now, what could this be ? Not the devil, that we may vouch for him ; he would hardly be guilty of doing so much good ; hardly an angel sent from heaven express, that we dare not presume ; but it was the work of a waking providence, by some in- visible agent employed for that occasion, who took sleep from the captain's eyes ; as once, in a case of infinitely more importance, was done to king Aha- suerus. This we may conclude, had the captain slept as usual, and as nature required, they had been all lost; the shore being flat at a great distance, and as I suppose, the tide low, the ship had been aground in an instant, and the sea, which ran high, would have broken over her, and soon have dashed her in pieces. all be out think thei when thej was to be tain it wa at night, have beer If this Scripture God in a ^ but here \ the captai nothing a went to hi that any i hcean cou calculatio and made satis lactic case to ht I come I take up( present at A pers( so proper if there si was unde der a pari present ca which wy liberty, 1 taken up senting it of state to resolve to to concea ment hav 181 How it liappened that the mates and other navi- irators on board should all of them iiave kept, and yet all be out in their reckoning, and that so much as to think themselves an hundred leagues from the coast ; when they were not above twenty or twenty-five, that was to be accounted for among themselves ; but cer- tain it was that if it had not for thus being alarmed at night, the whole ship's company might probably have been lost. If this was not an apparition, it must be what the Scripture calls it, in another case, being warned of God in a dream, which by the way is the same thing ; but here was something more than being warned ; for the captain owned he was in no dream ; he dreamed mi nothing at all, much less any thing of danger ; he went to his bed or cabin, with all the prudent caution that any man in that important trust of a ship in the ftcean could do; and then after having made their calculations, cast up their reckoning, set their watch, and made every thing sure, he laid down with all the satisfaction that it was possible for any man in a like case to have. T come now to another relation of fact, which also I take upon me to vouch the reality of, having been present at the very instant of every part of it, A person, says Dr. Beaumont, whose name is not so proper to mention here, but who may be produced if there should be occasion, being still living, that was under the disaster, a few years ago, to fall un- der a party censure, (the occasion is needless to the present case.) In hopes, upon the recess of the house, which was not far off, he should, (as usual) be at liberty, he withdrew himself, and avoided being taken up as much as he could j but the house re- senting it, a vote was passed, ordering the secretary of state to prosecute him at law ; this obliged him to resolve to leave the kingdom, and in the mean time to conceal himself with more exactness ; the govern- ment having issued out a pr clamation for appre- M '/» f ■? 182 bending liiin, with a reward to the person wlio should discover where he was, so as ho inight be iaken. In order to conceal himself more rliectually, he left his lofiging where lie had been hid for some time, and removed to Barnet, on the-edge of Hertfordshire; in- tending, as soon as he had settled some family adiiirs to go away north, into Scotland ; hut before he went away, he was obliged to come once more to London to sign some writings for the securing some estate, which it was feared might be seized by outlaw if the prosecution had gone on so far. The night before he had appointed to come toLon- don, as above, being in bed with one Mr. R — D— , he dreamed that he was in his lodgings in London, where he had been concealed as above, and in his dream he saw two men come to the door, who said they were messengers, and produced a warrant from the secretary of state to apprehend him, and that ac-» cordingly they seized upon and took him. The vision surprised and waked him, and he waked Mr. D , his brother in law, who was in bed with him, and told him the dream, and what a sur- prise he was in about it. Mr. , seeing it was but a dream, advised him to give no heed to it, but compose himself, and go to sleep again ; which he did. As soon as he was fast asleep again ; he was waked with the same dream exactly as before; he waked his brother again, as before; this disturbed them both very much ; but being heavy to sleep, Ihey both went to sleep again, and dreamed no more. It is to be ob- served, that he saw the very men that apprehended him, their countenance, clothes, weapons, &c., and described them in the morning to his said brother D in all the particulars. However, the call to go to London being as he thought urgent, he got ready in the morning to set off, resolving to stay but one day, and then set for- ward for Scotland. Arpnrrlincrlu hp wpnt fnr T.ondnn I in tiie nu walked it vate way Hornsev, All tilt oppn'sset walked w to Londc forebodin stopped a intending thing had As he 1 accidental door who to trust or he dwelt him, and Theini again at J there, but him word it was toe to Londoi pose; an( was taken ner as he same two the same ( described. This stc ed by Mr. he related above. I refer every circi I have not me, by > could thes i*^ I > 183 • in the morning, and, that lie miglit not be known, walked it on foot; that s^^ he mis^iit go l)v more pri- vate ways over Enfield Chase, and so to'Southgate, Hornsey, kc. All tiie way he walked, his mind was heavy and oppn'ssed, and he frequently said to his brother, who walked with him, that he was certain he wt:s going to London to be surprised : and so strong was ihe foreboding impression upon his mind, that he once stopped at Hornsey, and endeavoured to get a lodging intending to send his brother to London, to see if any thing had happened there, and to give him notice. As he had just secured a convenient lodging, he accidentally saw a gentleman standing at the next door whom he knew very well, but durst not venture to trust on that occasion ; and finding on inquiry that he dwelt there, he concluded that was no place for him, and so reso'- .h\ tu go forward. The impres.H . > his mind continuing, he stopt again at Islinj - deavoured to get a lodging there, but coul. ngth his brother brought him word he col . a lodging, except where it was too public. \\'(iii, says he, then I must go to London, and take what follows, or to that pur- pose; and accordingly went, and the next morning was taken by the messengers, just in the very man- ner as he had been told in his dream ; and the very same two men, whose faces he had seen, and with the same clothes on and weapons, exactly as he bad described. This story I had from his own mouth, and confirm- ed by Mr. R 1) , his brother in law, to whom he related his vision at the very moments of it as above. I refer it to any impartial judgment, to weigh every circumstance of this account, (thetruih of which I have not the least reason to question,) and to tell me, by what powers, and from what influence, could these things be performed, if there were no , 1 ^^1 ■ ■ fM ' *'■ If III f« m i Si ■ :n\\\'i 184 invisible world, and no inhabitants there who con- cerned tiiemselves with our atlhirs ; no good spirits which conversed with our embodied spirits, and gcve us due intelligence, notice, and vvarniiig of a[)i) >ach- ing danger. If tiiere is any difficultv in this case, it seems to ine to be ii' the ever?t of t! e thing, as in the case mentioned ; why v/as not t!ie intelligence made so complete, so forcible, t'nd tlit in)pression so plain, that the person in whose favou>- it was all done, niight have been effectually alarmed, his going forward stopped, and conse(pieiitly the mischief which was at hand, and which he liavi the notice uf, etlectually prevented ! It is not indeed so easy to answer that part ; but it may be resohed into this that the fault seems to be our own, that we do not give due attention to such notice, as might be sulHcient to our deli- verance. Thus, if the invisible spirits give a due alarm, they do their pari; if they jog us and awaken us in a deep sleep and pull us again and again, and give us notice that something is coniinj, that some dan- ger is at the door; if we still sleep on till it comes, if he will go on, happen whatever may, the kind spirit has done its duty, discharged its olKce, and if we fall into the mischief, the fault is our own, we can by no means blame the insufJiciency of the no- tice, and say, to what purpose is it; seeing we had due and timely warning, but would not take the hint? we had due notice of the danger, and would not step out of the way to avoid it, the fault is wholly our own. Another account I had a sufficient voucher for, though the gentleman is now dead, but I have great reason to believe the truth of it. A young gentleman of great birth and fortune, in the beginning of the late war with France, had a great inclination to see the woiid, as he called it, a(]d reso (lead, an< tlier'.s joi of course His m the army lie might the calan life. lie toll was all c expensive see the w liaps migl His -iM life, and h into the i come hoii prefernien Ei: TKR no thing, dep world of u the diurna tiite those cease to rt one seaso) Thus, \vh( will iippeu the iuture, God in p( tural evil, i t 1H5 mid ivsoIvimI lo go inio tlie uiiny ; liin I'litlier was (lead, and liad It'll iiiiit a go^d estate, Losides his ino- thei's jointure, wliicli at her death would fall to him of course. Ills mother earnestly entreated him not to go into tht'cuniy, hut persuaded him rather lO travel, that so \w jiiight see the world, as she ;;aid, without feeling the calamities of the war, and without hazarding his life. lie told her, travelling, irdeed, in time of peaee, was all a gentleman coiUl do, and was at best very expensive; but that now was the time a man might see the v»^orld at tli(; expense of the public, and per- ha])s might make his fortune too. His > mother represented to him the dai ger of his life, and bade him consider how many gentlemen went into the army, and of them, how'few had lived to come home again, much less to rise to any degree of preferment. To be concluded in out- nej'l. ieU ii. OxN Tin.; GLORIES OF REDEM TTION. ETKRNJTY rolls on like a boundless ocean; time is no interrupti(m to it, for time is only a relative thing, dependant on locality and circumstances. In a vvorhl of uninterrupted day, no period-, can be m >rked ; the diurnal and ammal revolutions of a planet consti- tute those dates called time; but shouhl the sphere lease to revolve, and fix at one point in its orbit, then one season continue!.', vviti' one perpetual day or night. Thus, when earth shall cease to revolve, eternity past will appear to have been uninterruptedly flowing into the future, and then will fully apjiear the wisdom of God in permitting the introduction of moral and na- tural evil, arul in producing such an infinity of good ' 2 B i i .■A 180 to man, and such an amazing display of the gioiy of his attributes, by such apparent contrarieties, that the creature's original desire of indepei-dance should give occasion for such glorious manifestations of wisdom, power, holiness, righteousness, and mercy ! Celestial intelligents were ac(piainted with the pow- er of God in the works of Creation ; with his goodness, in their own felicity ; with his awful holiness and justice, in the expulsion and punishment of apostate spirits. But what conceptions could they have of mercy who never sinned? who never saw it exercised? Who can say whether this transcendently glorious at- tribute, would not have been for ever hid from admir- ing angels ? — could have been manifest without objects of wretchedness, pain, and miser}^ for its exercise?— But guilt and misery, disease and death, appear; mer- cy, in harmon}^ with all the divine perfections, unfolds her glories, and all heaven is astonished with this new display of Deity ! Man is not merely forgiven — he is intensely belov- ed ; love connected with such power as will neitiier sutler the besieging, tempting, malignant subtlety of hell, nor the dei)rave(l, corrupt, obstinate will of the objects of his pity, to rend them from the upholding arms of his power, from the unchangeable atiections of his heart; and man shall know, and sensibly feel it, in that wonderful operation of mercy which converts his bane to his benefit; which is continually beaming forth with growing wonders, in the production of ever- lasting good from tenn)()rary evil. Thus the glories of redemption dispel the impene- trable gloom of transgiession, otlierwise impervious to every ray of hope. Gni/t shall be the occasion of conviction, remorse, repentance, pardon ; calamities, Iiumility ; pains, patience and resignation : debase- ment, exaltation; and the temporary influence of error, or relapsings to evil, shall eventually hum- ble and debase the creature, undermine his vain self- conlidence, cause him to cease from or be diffident of his OM convince is, with ( his use ii heart full and grow crease an liberty, a will, and ing in G roll back beloved, s enjoy mem and the t( cntting ref love, for I known no for ever an That m perverse w judgment, increased shines in t miration, be brough depra\'ity way in w human na' dlally eniL after the ev for entire union and nerate his his worshi example ; assaulted fr with a total his corrupt demand co 187 of his own judgenieiits, resolutions, or fortitude, and convince him that his strencjth is not in himself, but is, with every other needful grace, treasured up for his use in his everlasting head, and that shall, in a lieart full of corruption and abomination, take root and grow, and, maugre ever\ opposition, shall in- crease and spread, till its fragrance diffuses purity, liberty, and light through the judgment, memory' will, and affections, making man a new creature, liv- ing in God, and God in him, till disease and death roll back the checpiered scenes of mortality, and the beloved, sanctified soul, enters upon the everlasting enjoyment of his God ; when the solicitations of sin and the torturing provocations of temptation ; heart- cutting reflections for sin committed against light and love, for ungrateful returns for grace received, will be known no more, the law of sin in the members being for ever annihilated That man fallen, born witb corrupt affections, a perverse will, a darkened understanding, a perverted jiulgment, an innate enmity to God and his image, increased in proportion as that image conspicuously shines in the sanctified, full of self-complacency, ad- miration, &c. — that man, so circumstanced, should be brought to abhor himself; confess and deplore the depravity of his nature; implore mercy in the only way in which it is to be obtained, and to which human nature, without exception, is averse, to cor- dially embrace Christ in all his offices; to breathe after the everlasting enjoyment of his love, and long for entire conformity to his will ; to be brought into union and fellowship with the Son of God ; to ve- nerate his presence and attributes ; to be zealous for his worship and honour, and constantly imitate his example; and, though oppressed, weakened, and assaulted from within and without, should yet proceed with a total recignation to infinite wisdom ; denying his corrupt appetites, not only when they solicit, but demand compliance; mortifying his pride: and, in ■■■■ «ir I 1 i ■ ' ;! ' r I I I 1H8 tlie midst of disapointmeiits, losses, adversity, and acute bodily pain, Jiistifving God, and condemning himself; patient in tribulation ,- delighted in the re- proach of Christ; trium})liing over inbred corrup- tions; and, though the su])ject of a weakened and contracted nature, expanding with the most dignified sentiments; realizing a state of miseen existence, and ardently loving an unseen object, aspiring after llie eternal fruition of a being, who for ever stands dread- fully opposed to the shadow of a transgression, biii whom the renewed soul beholds by faith in the person of his 8on, and his everlasting Father; and in lan- guor, disease and death enjoying brighter views and firmer hopes of innnortality and glory — is the wonder of heaven, the envy of hell, the glory* of the cross, and the noblest work of God. STRANGE WARNING TO A RKPROBATK PURLTCAN. IN Bethnal-Green, and near the school-house, there is a public house known by the name of the Gib- raltar, which was long kept by one John Harris, a na- tive of Birmingham, a silver i)later by trade. This man for many years, encouraged by his great success in business, led a very irregular life, ins^nmch that he lost his trade in the public house, and getting into a disorderly way entirely, the parish officers and justice refused to renew his license, and for a whole year he was fain to keep his house close. During this interval, having dismissed his servants, and his wife having left him for some words which had happened ; as he sat by the parlour fire, it being the winter time, he heard the bar bell ring, which made him wonder nnicli, knowing there was u'shody in the house but himself! At first he paid but little attention, but upon hearing it distinctly a second time, he got up and went to the back door, suspecting some one had entered that way and was safe, he i the oddiv bell fell a as before, that pulle Disturb terniined t in his han he passed to ins grt that he w of a good much like back wind seemed to At first for thougl was somet clared her conscience memory c summoned tion, " wl knees in j is not noi liereafter h manners ; ing voice kv/ years train up y keep her i die young Consider li tie time w the evil tb accordingly ground wit leaving Mr IHv) M I lis success tliat lie into a justice ^'ear lie iterval, ing left he sat i heard much, iinself. and was putting a trick upon him ; but finding all safe, he returned to the fireside, wondering much at the oddness of the thing, when all on a sudden the bell fell a ringing again, though not in so ciuiok a tone as before, but somewhat more regularly, as if the hand that pulled it held it for a while. Disturbed at this extraordinary call, he got up, de- termined to (h'seover the cause, and taking the ])oker in his hand, being the first thing he could lay hold on, he passed through the bar into the back room, where,' to his great astonishment and terror, for he allowed that he was severely frightened, he beheld the figure of a good looking female personage, dressed in brown, much like a cpiaker, seated in a chair, between the two hack windows, and leaning upon a long stick, which seemed to support her. At first Mr. Harris was too much affected to speak, for though very a aliant and noisy in company, there was something about the figure before him which de- clared her not to be of this world ; besides, his own conscience upbraided him with more evil than his memory could just then recollect. However, he summoned power enough to put the old foolish ques- tion, '^what art thouP" and with that fell on his knees in a devout manner to pray, "What I am is not now business to relate, but what you may iiereafter become if } ou do not amend your life and manners; so get up man, and remember the warn- ing voice of one from the dead. You have but a (ew years to live, make the most of your time, and train up your daughter Phebe in a good way, and keep her from such and such company, or she will die young, violently, and by the force of justice. Consider her life is just now in your hands, a lit- tle time will place it out of your power to reverse the evil that awaits her. — Remember this and live accordingly." — Widi this she seemed to strike the ground with her stick and immediately dissappeared, leaving Mr. Harris much astonished at what he had M U)0 ii t n ^ IV I I ^ ^, . i I i botli heard and seen, and only lamented that he liad no witness to the trutli of this accident. Be it as it will, it procured a wonderful alteration in him for the best ; for though his former compani- ons laughed at him for becoming a methodist, he ever after adhered to the paths of i)rudence and sobriety. I knew him in the year 17C5, a very orderly and so- ber man, and from Ijis invariable relation of this mat- ter have no doubt of its truth. The prediction with respect to his daughter Pliehe was too fatally accom})lished a i'cw years since, she being burnt for treason as it is called, that is, for counterfeiting the current coin called a shillinir. Mils. TOOLY. AFTER her grandfater's death she was left sole heiress of his great estate : and being in the bloom of youth, and having none to control her, she ran after all the fasionable diversions of the time in which she lived, without any manner of restraint. But at the same time, she confessed, that, at the end of them all she found a dissatisfaction both with herself and them that always struck a damp to her heart, which she did not know how to get rid of, but by running the same fruitless ground ovor and over again, but all in vain. 8he contracted some slight illness, upon which she thought she would go to Bath, as hearing that was a l)lace for pleasure as well as health. When she came thither, she was led in providence to an apothecarv, who was a religious man. He inquired what she ailed ? Why, says she, doctor, I dog't ail much, as to my body ; put I have an uneasy mind, which I can't get rid of. Truly, said he. Miss, I was so too, till I met with a book that cured me of it. Books ! said vshe : I get all the books I can lay my hands on ; all the plays, novels, and romances I can hear of. But after I ha That mav this book of no oth but can \ seen it bef it. Pray, Miss, ans every one, says she. help you I will givt ed, If yoi you ; and filly : ant first, that j)romi^ed 1 curiosity' b it, he at la gave it he: looked at ii Why, Misi rcnieniber ] read it care Well, sa give it a re£ and it soor thing she 1 lasy in her now. 8he she got aw versions th( She lodged gentlewoma Saturday ni of uorsiiip liiember no the text: 1: upon her n Phel te ; all But 101 after I have read them, my uneasiness is the same That may be, said he : I don't wonder at it. But this book I speak of, I can say of it, what I can say of no other I have read ; I never tire of reading it • but can begin to read it again, as if I had neve^ seen It before. And I always find something new in it. Pray, says she, doctor, what book is that ? Nay Miss, answered he, that is u secret I don't tell to every one. But could I get a sight of that book ? says she. Yes, Miss, if you speak me fair, I can help you to It. Pray get it me then, doctor, and I wil give you any thing you please. He answer- ed, n you wdl promise one thing, I will brinff it you; and that is, that you will read it over, care- hlly : and, if you should not see much in it at hrst, that you will give it a second reading. She l)romi|,ed faithfully she would; and after raising her curiosity by coming twice or thrice without bringinff It, he at last brought it, took it out of his pocket, and pive It her. It was a New Testament. When she looked at It, she said, Poh, I could get that any time Why, Miss, so you might, replied the doctor: but rcnieipber I have your solemn promise, that you will read it carefully. *^ Well, says she, though I never read it before Pll givx^ it a reading. Accordingly she began to read it • and It soon attracted her attention. She saw some- thing she had a deep concern in, and if she was un- lasy 111 her mind before, she was ten times more so now. She did not know what to do with herself So she got away back to London, to see what the di- versions there would do again. But all was hi vain. She lodged at the court end of the town; and had a gentlew(^man with her, by way of a compaiMon. One Natuiday night she dreamed, that she was in a place <>l uorsliij, and heard a sermon which she could re- ij.eiMber notliing of when she awaked, exceiitiiiLr the text: but the dream made such an impression upon her '^•■"-' *'- —^ ^i • i . * mind, that the idea she had of the pi ace I iiil:. i ■ J 1} I ■ Wi • ■j 1 ] ■ j . ji IB!"i;.' v^ ^ !f I 102 and of tli(^ minister's face, was as strong as if slie had been acquainted vvitii both lor a number of years. SIk' told her dream to her companion on the Lord's clay morning ; and, after breakfast, said, she was resolved to go in quest of it, if she should go from one end of London to the other. Accordingly they set out, and went into this and the other church, as they passed along ; but none of them answered what she saw in her dream. About one o'clock they found themselves in the heart of the city ; and they went into an eating. house, and had a bit of dinner; and set out again in search of this unknown place. About half an hour after two, they were in the Poultry ; and she saw a great many i)eople going down the old Jewry. So soon as she entered the doov of it, and looked about, she turned to her compainon, and said, with some surprise, This is the very place I saw in my dream. She had not stood long, till Mr. Shower, who was then minister of tiie place, went up into the pulpit; and so soon as she looked on him, with greater sur- prise still, she said, This is the very man 1 saw in my dream j and if every part of it hold true he will take that for his text, Psalm cxvi. 7. " lleturn unto thy rest, O my soul : for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." When he began to pray she was all atten- tion, and every sentence went to her heart. Having finished prayer, he took that for his text ; and there God met with her soul in a saving way and manner: and she at last obtained what she so long sought lor in vain elsewhere, rest to her soul in him, who is the life and happiness of them that believe. ()\ THK VANITY OF THE WOR[,D. rip^EMPTlNG joys, and earthly pleasure, JL Faithless as the lleetijig wind ; All your toys and gilded treasure, Shall not gain my peaceful mind ; ^HE 19a Bounding as tlie hart I'll flee To liis breast who died for me ; Hide me in liis kind embrace, Secure from all the tempting race. Midst alluring snares 1 wander. Where the Siren's voice I hear ; Beauty, fame, and earthly grandeur, In attractive charms appear : Rise, my soul ; make haste away, Though the tempter bid thee stay ; Turn thine eyes, — thy heart command, And fly from this enchanted land. Darkness, death, and desolation, Tend the paths of vain delight : Fear, distress, and sore vexation. Leading to eternal night : Sons of pleasure softly glide Down the vain enchanting tide : Pleas'd with ev'ry prospect gay. Till pain and death conclude the day ! Wisdom's ways are peaceful, pleasant, Leading to eternal day ! Wisdom's joys are so transendent, Here I'll sing my life away ! Then my Lord shall bid me rise I^'ar above the earth and skies ; Rise to glorious worlds above. To sing, adore, and praise, and love ! Solitary Stanzas. WHEN will the heart's dire conflict cease. By anguish worn, by care distrest P Oh, bear me to the home of peace. And lay me where the weary rest ' ? '2c ■ rst I I \ 191 Mili in Again the l)itter tear-drops fall Again tlie sighs of grief ascend ; I call on death — in vain I call, Death still the foe, but not the friend I Olife! if eartirs contracted span Alone thy joys and woes contain. How worthless is the lot of man, Who lives, and thlni u M i APPARITION OF TI!K LAIKH OF COOL. (Continual from page \(S0.) rir^HE hell vvhicli the wicked suffer inmiediately II after death, consists in their wickedness, in the stings of an awakened conscience, the terrors of facing the great Judge, and of everlasting torments. And their misery when dead bears a due proportion to the evil they did while living : but some of these although not good, were far less wicked tlian others, and so are far less miserable. And on the other hand, some were not wicked in this life, yet had but a small degree of goodness. And their faces are not more various in life, than their circumstances are after death. O. To pass this, there is another question I want to ask : " How came you to know what 1 said to Mr. Patoni^" Were you witli us, though invisible!* C. I was not. But you must know, tliat not only angels are continually sent from heaven, to guard and com- fort good men, but also the spirits of holy men are employed on the same errand. O. J3ut has every man his guardian angel ? C, Not every man ; but many particular men have. And there are few fa- milies but have one attending on tiie- i. From what you have heard of spirits, you may easily conceive, how one may be servical)le to each menil)er of the family, even when far distant from each other. Yea, one powerful angel or dei)arted spirit is suilicient for some villages : but to a great city manv angels or de- parted spirits are assigned, who are superintended by one great angel. Now Satan in the government of his kingdom, apes the kingdom of Christ as much as possible. Accordingly he sends out missionaries too : but be- cause he has })]enty of them, he frecjuently connnissions two or three to attend one family, if it be of great power or evil ange ones. C tain the r employed that of til ence betw tween tht their kno some (lei)i in all thei Now b times of (good ani or kingd<: hear all t lated amc Indeed ai hood, if h Nay, in i the truth, But be meetings, other wh me of wl tends Mi waits on . Mrs. Pat' original ] this I wae asked, Ai mv famil' O; And* from 3'oui as he can nister on ror I canr mvself, I famil v, th ill 20' power or influence. O. I cannot understand liow the evil angels should be more numerous than the good ones. C. Whatever the number of devils be, it is cer- tain the number of wicked spirits departed, who are employed on this errand, is a!>undantly greater than that oi' the good ones. And there is as great a differ- ence between the good and bad spirits, as there is be- tween the good and bad angels, both with regard to their knowledge, activity, strength and faculties. Yea some (lei)arte(i souls exceed some of the original angels, in all these respects. Now both the good and e\il angels, ha\e stated times of rendezvous : at which the princi])le angels (good and bad) that have the charge of towns, cities, or kingdoms (not to mention villages or individuals,) hear all that- is transacted. Many things false are re- lated among the living, but nothing among the dead. Indeed an evil spirit would not scruple telling a false- hood, if he could gain any thing by it. But he cannot. Nay, in making his report, In.' must tell nothing but the truth, or woe be to him ! But beside their monthly, quarterly, and yearly meetings, departed spirits may take a trip to see each other when they i)lease. 'I'hree of these informed me of what^ you said ; * Andrew Akeman, that at- tends Mr. Thurston's family, James Corbet, that waits on Mr. Patoii's family, *^(and was looking after Mrs. Paton, when she was at your house) and an original Emissary, appointed to wait on yours. At this I was much surprised, and after a little thinking, asked. And is there an emissary from hell that attends my family ? C. You may depend upon it there is. 0. And what is his business!* C. To divert you from 3'our duty, and make you do as many ill things as he can. P'or much depends upon having the mi- nister on his side. On this I was struck with a hor - ror I cannot express. But after a time, recollecting myself, I said. But is tliere a devil that attends our family, though invisibly ? C. As sure as you breathe. • These wore Itilfly ilcul. ir \:V r ^ii 20^s M ' ! ( ill ) ^^ii 1 :f : ■ But tluMV is also a good angel, that attends your fa- mily, and is stronger than him. O. Are you sure of this? C. Yes: and there is one just now riding on your right arm. But he might have been elsewhere : for I meant you no harm. O. How long has he been with me? C Only since we passed I3ranskie: but now he is gone. O. I desire now to depart with you, and to see you another time. C. Be it so. I want your help of another kind. Now I bid you farewell. So saying he went off, at the head of the path going to Elmselough. (To he concluded in our newt.) THE AWFUL PROSPECTS OF THE WrCKED. THFi Wicked — My mind recoils at the apprehen- sion of their misery. It has studiously waved the fearful subject, and ^eems unwilling to pursue it now. But 'tis better to reflect upon it for a few mi- nutes than to endure it to eternal ages. Perhaps, the consideration of their aggravated misery may be pro- fitably terrible ; may teach me more highly to prize the Saviour, who " delivers from going down to the bottomless pit;" may drive me, like the avenger's sword, to this only city of refuge for obnoxious sin- ners. The wicked lie in their graves like malefactors in a deep and strong dungeon, reserved against the day of trial. "Their departure was without peace." Clouds of horror sat lowering upon their closing eye-lids, most sadly foreboding the "blackness of darkness for ever." When the last sickness : sized their frame, and the inevitable change advanced; when they saw the fatal arrow fitting to the strings; saw the deadly archer aiming at their heart ; and felt the envenomed shaft fastened in their vitals — Good God ! what fearfulness came upon them ! what horrible !i tlread ovei dering an excessivel; yet utterl} verge of li 0! vvh conspire t ward: am unrepente( ending, itself, but and a mo around th accomplic( to conside they had i snare. If gash into more, but rated by tl At last, other poss apply unt< faultering *' who kill deferred. Why have incorrigibl they have importuna might be the eleven snatched 1 almost clc can tell, w their comf miracle of may, for calamity, 1. i w 209 (Ireatl overwhelmed them! How did they stand shud- dering and aghast upon the tremendous precipice; excessively afraid to plunge into the abyss of eternity, yet utterly unable to maintain their standing on the verge of life. 0! what pale reviews, what startling prospects, conspire to augment their sorrows ! They look back- ward : and, behold ! a most melancholy scene ! Sins unrepented of, mercy slighted, and the day of grace ending. They look forward, and nothing presents itself, but the righteous Judge, the dreadful tribunal, and a most solenm reckoning to them? They roll around their affrighted eyes on attending friends. If accomplices in debauchery, it sharpens their anguish, to consider this further aggmvation of their guilt, that they had not sinned alone, but drawn others into the snare. If religious acquaintance, ii strikes a fresh gash into their hearts, to think of never seeing them more, but only at an unapproachable distance, sepa- rated by the unpassable gulf. At last, perhaps, they begin to pray. Finding no other possible way of relief, they are constrained to apply unto the Almighty : with trembling lips, and a faultering tongue, they cry unto that sovereing Being, " who kills and makes alive." But why have they deferred, so long deferred their addresses to God? Why have they despised all his counsels, and stood incorrigible under his incessant reproofs ? How often they have been forewa'-nf^d of these terrors, and most importunately intreatecl vo seek the Lord, while he might be found ? I wish they may obtain mercy at the eleventh, at the last hour. I wish they may be snatched from the jaws, the opened, the gaping, the almost closing jaws of damnation. But, alas ! who can tell, whether affronted Majesty will lend an ear to their complaint ? whether the Holy One will work a miracle of grace in behalf of such transgressors ? He may, for aught any mortal knows, " laugh at their calamity, and mock, when their fear cometh." 7. 2 E rit »!lft I 2\0 i vi:: I jliwii ,,! M . Thus they lie, groaning out the poor remains of life : their limbs bathed in sweat ; their heart strug. gling with convulsive th-oes ; pains insupportable throbbing through every pulse; and innumerable pangs of agony transfixing their conscience. In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Roves round tl- v;alls of her clay tenement. Runs to each avenue and shrieks for help ; But shrieks in vain ; how wishfully she looks On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! A little longer, yet a little longer, O ! might she stay to wash away her crimes. And fit her for her passage! Mournful sight! Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan ►She heaves, is big with horror ; but the foe Like a staunch nund'rer, steady to his i)urpose, Pursues her close through every lane of life, Nor misses once the track, but presses on : Till, forc'd at last to the tremendous verge, At once she sinks. If this be the end of the ungodly, " my soul, come not thou into their seciet! Unto their assembly, mine honour be not thou united !" How awfully accom- plished is that prediction of inspired wisdom ! Sin, though seemingly sweet in the commission, yet at last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. Happy dissolution ! were this the period of their woes. But, alas ! all these tribulations are only the "beginning of sorrows;" a small drop only 'from that cup of trembling, which is mingled for their fu- ture portion. No sooner has the last pang dislodged their reluctant souls, but they are hurried into the presence of an injured angiy God; not under the conducting care of beneficent angels, but exposed to the insults of accursed si)irits, who lately tempted them, now upbraid them, and will for ever torment them. Who can imagine their confusion and distress^. when tliev incensed < "The Go( The prince consigns t tai'les of ( public in ft wrath will The law have sligh goodness honour in the God tc arrow to t his inexon Resurre* immortalit they not I are forgoti deepest gk person, or must also i and meet pillars of 1 a Judge, < ate, but n born orteni Godhead ; Son, and ( his Spirit. 0, the seize the ii to the gre of severe Where? 1 which of themselves all in vain ances kno' 211 when tliey stand, guilty iind inexciisahlo, ix'tore their incensed Creator ? Tliey are received with frowns : "The God that made them has no mercy on them." Tiie prince of peace rejects tiiem with abhorrence. He consigns them over to chains of darkness, and recep- tacles of desi)air, against the severe