Christian observer

              rO     .
NEW SERIES. NO. L57.
FOR THE DIFFUSION OF TRUTH AND THE SUPPORT OF THE PRINCIPLES OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN THE UNITED STATES.
soutJiem neiCflfous muatHph.
A. CONVERSE, EDITOR:—134 Chestnut Street.
PHILADELPHIA, FRIIMY, JANUARY 6, 1843.
VOL. XXII. NO. 1.
RELIGIOUS.
For tlie Christian Ot)server. GRAND OBJECT OP LIFE.
The great object for which it is the Christian's pri¬ vilege to live, is happil)' presented in the following ex- tract from a work by the Rev. Dr. SkinneRj entitled the '« Religion of the Bible,"
Be it, that you cannot do as much good or spend as much time in works of direct benefi¬ cence as did your Lord and Master, you can put yourself absolutely under the law of beneficence, and make doing good the grand object of your life; and while faithful in accomplishing that ob¬ ject, to the duties of your calling, and the claims of domestic relations, you may give the entire remainder of time and substance to deeds of ac¬ tive goodness; and thus may you have the whole of life stamped with beneficence.   The extent to which men can employ themselves in direct be¬ neficence, varies with different persons.   Some must give almost their whole lime to providing for their families or themselves. Some can spare several hours of every day; and some have their whole life at their disposal, and can devote them¬ selves absolutely to works of mercy.   All, how¬ ever, can live under the control of the beneficent principle; all can be actuated by that principle, and not merely by blind instinct or cold respon¬ sibility, even in domestic duties and labors; all, in this way, can  make the whole of life one scene of beneficent action.   The demand is, that every Christian be, to the extent of his ability, a practical philanthropist: be such in the world, in short, that he make doing good to his fellow- creatures, however related to them, the distinct object and purpose of his existence on earth.— This is the demand;  what Christian, with the consent of his own conscience, can resist iti * * Whether we might innocently give ourselves up to quiet contemplations, or private indul¬ gences, or projects for increasing our  perso¬ nal possessions, if we were among a race of sinless and happy beings, we need not inquire ; but can we pretend lo benevolence, and live for ^ny such purpose, while we have our residence amidst such scenes and circumstances as those in which we are passing our days'!    Too few, even of Christians, appear to be aware of their circumstances.    How little do any of us reflect that we cannot go abroad into the streets, with¬ out passing by some habitation of beggary, of disease, or of death ; or, what is worse, of igno¬ rance and crime, where benevolence might be doing works of goodness, at which angels would renew their songs of praise 1   While we are sit¬ ting together in the sanctuary, or rejoicing in the society of our friends, or pursuing our gainful business, how seldom or how slightly we think that men, not far distant from us, are groaning life away in want and distress, in dungeons and in chains ;  and that widows and orphans, pau¬ pers, prisoners, and others, ready to perish, far and near, and all the world over, are, by their deep necessities, crying aloud for our pity and assist¬ ance !    And more heart-rending still, that nearly the whole world are lying in the chains and un¬ der the curse of sin; and generation after gene¬ ration are led captive by the great destroyer, at his will, into the prisoa of eternal death !   But, should Christians be thus unmindful that it is in such a world they have their dwellings'!  If no¬ thing could be done by them to alleviate human wretchedness, they might well forbear beneficial effort, and live for other purposes than  to do good to men.    But, as this is a world of hope, as well as of sorrow, and as we have, through the bounty of Providence, and the sacrifice of Christ, ample remedies for both the temporal and spiri¬ tual ills of man, where is our benevolence, if we do not exert  ourselves to  make full proof of these remedies'!    Must it not astonish the holy angels, to see benevolent beings, in our circum¬ stances, unemployed in doing good! Is it strange, that, in these circumssances, our Saviour should have devoted himself to works of mercy and compassion 1   Where is the vigor of piety in the church, when but here and there can a Christian be found, who lives only to be useful to his per¬ ishing fellow-men ; and he passes, too often, for little better than a well-rneaning enthusiast!
my all should so inadequately express my sense of obligation."
--'»A/'y#^&@S ^*wv>»~-
BOUGHT 1VITH « PRECIOUS BLOOD."
The claims of Jesus Christ upon the unreserved services of the believer, are eloquently stated in the following paragraph from Dr. Harris' " Great Com¬ mission."
The Christian is evidently a fitting agent for Christ to employ. No other being in the uni¬ verse has the shadow of a claim to him, beyond that which his new proprietor may choose to grant. Every part and property of his nature, and every moment of his future existence have been bought—paid for wilh " precious blood," And as the new interest lo which he is pledged is opposed by every other, he cannot yield to any other claimant, even for a moment, without lend¬ ing himself, during that moment, lo a hostile :parly; so that he has no alternative but that of evoting himself unreservedly to Christ. Ac- ordingly the Saviour claims him for himself, rom the moment he fell the power ofthe Cross, duty became definite, imperative, one. If ery other member of the human tamily were indoned to live without control, his course uld yet be minutely prescribed. As if he e huldthe great secret ofthe Cross, and were equenlly the most important being on the S of the earth, his every moment is charged With an appointed duty. As if he had been re¬ called from the state of death ; yes, not merely if he had been called out of nothingness into istence—not iTierelyas if he had been selected d sent down from the ranks of the blessed ove—but with stronger motives still, as if his illy soul had been recalled from perdition, here the undying worm had found him,andun- nchablc flame had.enwrapped him, and his ssolved body recalled from the dust of death— d as if he had literally come out of the tomb - Christ, and had received life and salvation ^etherat the mouth ofthe sepulchre, at the' pd 0 Christ-all his new found powers are to hr st ^ ^^I^^.J^,^ Pr'^^-ioustrust for the service hrist. As If he had come forth from the se- Chrc at first with life only-and as if^his rea¬ son, knowlcdfro, aifectinn/      "^ f^ ir nis rea-
Bad there been   cS to hi '^'''^^' P'?P"'"'>''
[n succession, wi h a dfst nc inti'''r'''^' '"'^ nanvincr mrh ih. u '^'^""^^ intimation accom¬ panying each, that he received it back for Christ ^he ,s to look on himself henceforth aspart of the
ross   as taken  up tnto the   groat designs of
hrisl-as bound up   or life and death Yr^ the
lans of mercy     His character is to be a repto duction of the characlerof Christ.   The '' ¦    , estedness which appeared in Christ is to^'" ^'' pear in him.    The tenderness of Christ—hi-' ^' told solicitude for human souls, is to live
again in histonesofentreaty, his wrestling prayer for their salvation.   The blood ofthe Cross itself is, in a sense, to stream forth again—in his tears 1,""''/"""' V^' |of anguish, his voluntary self-sacrifice, to draw   nrS"    t.        ^ men to Christ.    And if tempted to lend but a par-   m? ,L A!!^   .^.' Iticle of his influence to any other claimant than IChrisl, his reply is at hand—"I am not my own, |l<im Christ's.    He has put it out of my power to ,give hun more than  belongs to him, for he has iputchased  and challenges  the  whole   through 'Veiy ,„„,„eni of time, and  out of mv will to l^^^ him less; for if I know any grief it is that
[The following sketch is abridged  from Dr. Vaughan's
Essay on the Modern Pulpit,]
SKETCH OF HUGH I.ATIMER.
Hugh Latimer was born in the village of Thur- caster, in Leicestershire, England, in 1470, His father, who was ayeoman, employed five or six men to cultivate his farm, and kept about a hun¬ dred sheep, and thirty cows. In those times it was the pride of a substantial yeoman to be able to furnish the king with a harness, to mount his own horse, and to present himself, duly accou¬ tred, at the royal call; and it was well remem¬ bered by Hugh that his father so presented him¬ self before his sovereign at muster on Black- heath field. Hugh had several sisters whom his father was careful to bring up in godliness, and all of whom he saw married, and gave them, on the happy day of their espousals, the sum of twenty nobles, or about five pounds in the mo¬ ney of that time, as a father's dowry. But while thus bountiful, from slender means, it would have been a sore grief to this prudent father, had he not found it possible to reserve something from his in-comings to be disposed of as alms to the poor, andsomething with which to show hos¬ pitality to his neighbors, who were much less wealthy than himself.
Around the winter hearth of this good farmer, little Hugh and his sisters would gather to receive the instructions of their parents, and, from what has since been known of him, it is believed that he was a lad of fine spirits. His features, as he grew toward man's estate, were all regularly and finely formed, the forehead being beautifully elevated, the nose slightly aquiline, and the mouth slightly characterized by an admirable mixture of firmness and intelligence, while the eyes which had their place in this goodly fellow¬ ship, always beamed with a mingled intelligence and kindness, and kindled, at times, in such man¬ ner as bespoke a keen relish of wit and humor.
This youth evinced an early fondness for books, and a father who possessed ability enough to manage all his worldly matters with so much discretion, was not likely to be inobservant of the tastes and capacity of such a son, though of a different bias from his own. Suffice it to say, the lad was kept some time at school, and was afterwards sent to Cambridge, where he passed through the u.sualcourse of education with cre¬ dit, and, being ordained a priest, became, after the manner of the more ardent spirits of those limes, a zealous papist. As he began to number the years of manhood, our native of Thurcaster distinguished himself on various public occa¬ sions by his opposition to the doctrines of the German reformers, particularly to some of the opinions of Melancthon. His zeal and talent called forth loud applause, and, in further re¬ ward of his services, on days when the univer¬ sity went forth in solemn procession, the office of cross-bearer was assigned lo this champion of orthodoxy. His honesty in this course no man doubted, not even Master Stafford, whose divini¬ ty lectures he had often publicly opposed on ac¬ count of the approaches toward a more scriptu¬ ral theology which were sometimes observable in them. But perfection is not in humanity, and it may be that the son of the Leicestershire yeo¬ man was not altogether insensible to the honor which attended him as a defender of the faith. However this may have been, it is certain that his zeal increased with his years, and that he meditated giving himself up more passionately than ever lo the prevailing superstitions, by re¬ linquishing his priesthood, and becoming a monk.
But it happened that there was in Cambridge at that time another priest, who, though less gifted than our zealous cross-bearer, was not a whit less honest, nor less ardent. This priesthad learned to account the worship of images and saints, and many kindred superstitions, as so much pitiable delusion, and washimself conside¬ rably enlightened concerning the true meaningof Scripture. This devout person, wilh a zeal which may be regarded as exceeding his discretion, pre¬ sented himself privately lo the cross-bearer, praying that he might be permitted to confess lo him, and, in the course of that confession, made such exposition and defence of his novel opin¬ ions, that the cross-bearer to the university be¬ came a disciple to Lutheranism. The good priest who did this kind office, afterwards proved to be the martyr Bilney, and his convert rose subse¬ quently to the dignity of abishop in the Reform¬ ed Church of England, became known, all Eng¬ land over, as a zealous advocate of the truth which he had once labored to destroy, appeared often as a preacher before kings, and closed his career in front ofBaliol College, Oxford, in the seventy-fifth year of his age, wilh all the digni¬ ty becoming the hoary-headed martyr in the cause ofthe Protestent faith. Such, in brief, was the career of Hugh Latimer, the father of pulpit eloquence in England.
liATIBIER AS A PREACHER.
No man ever applied himself to the office of preaching wito a more simple or considerate aim to communicate instruction, and to make the right impression, than did honest Hugh Latimer. He was a preacher eminently adapted to his own age, and one who would not havefailed to adapt himself to any age.   During some space before his time, it had been the custom ofthe clergy to substitute religious plays  in the  place of ser¬ mons. The imbecile, the indolent, and the face¬ tious in our monasteries, found occupation meet both to their capacity and their humor in getting up those rude dramas, which bore the name of "mysteries,"   In the said dramas some ofthe great facts and lessons of Holy Scripture were exhibited, and exhibited in such manner as was deemed most conformable to the tastes and ap¬ prehensions of the. people.   Our notions may scarcely bear the shock produced, on seeing the truths of revealed religion set before the people, much as the early dramatists of Greece had taught the principles of the Greek mythology to their countrymen ;butso long as preaching after this strange fashion found favor with the people, it was natural that preaching generally should partake strongl)'^ of the dramatic, being frequent¬ ly enlivened wilh dialogue, anecdote, and biog¬ raphy.   In most Roman Catholic countries, the tastes belonging to that stage in the history of preaching have come down to the present time. In such a school did the geniusof Latimer ex¬ pand itself, and from such causes did his memo¬ rable sermons derive the strong characteristics by which they are distinguished.    In his age the preacher was ihe only orator.   In vain was it in those times that the student of eloquence looked either to the .senate or the bar.   Even the print¬ ing press had produced little perceptible impres¬ sion.    It was a benefactor in chains, and its pro¬ ductions were few and far between.   The pulpit was to the people as the printing machine, the and the political debater, all in from the pulpit that the ordinances of Ihe state were made public, and it was from ^he pulpit that the people were to be instructed in their civil, as well as in their ecclesiastical duties.   Preachers, accordingly, scrupled not to express their opinions concerning the politics of the world, as well as concerning the spirituali¬ ties belonging to the church.   It was expected of them that they should be observant ofthe state
of society, and of the public manners, and that they should exercise their censonship on such matters with a freedom and boldness which could not fail to«ound in modern ears as harsh and in¬ trusive. But so great was the difference of opin¬ ion, and feeling, and usage in this respect, in the age of Latimer, thathis sermons becameso many vivid pictures ofthe times, and are,in fact,more valuable to us as documents of history, than as discourses on theology. His preaching was al¬ ways to men as individuals, and to individuals as belonging to a class, and men and classes are thus isolated and depicted, that the same un¬ shrinking fidelity might be meied out to them all.
It is observable, too, that the censor who could thus adapt himselt with equal ease to the yeoman and his menials on th^ borders, and to the king and his nobles at court, would seem to have been capable of exercising this versatile power with as much promptitude as skill. We learn from good authority, that Latimer was appointed, in a comparatively early period of his career, to preach a Latin sermon before the university of Cambridge, and that when he had made some progress in his discourse, the Bishop of Ely un¬ expectedly entered the church, and took his seat as a listener. Latimer well knew that the ob¬ ject ofthe prelate in so presenting himself was not Christian edification, but to disturb the preacher, and to catch him in his words. After a short pause, he began to diverge from his pre¬ vious course of argument, and commenced, from the resources of the moment, adelineation ofthe office andcharacterof a bishop. The portraiture was sketched with that directness and vigor which mark everything from the same hand, and touch after touch was felt as giving greater force to the contrast, between the character ofthe ideal prelate, and that of the right rever¬ end personage who had now become as much an object of attention with the auditory as the preacher. West, the bishop so admonished, is described as suppressing his resentment, but he could not bring his conference with the preacher afterivards to a close without betraying some feeling of that sort—"Well, well, Mr. Lat¬ imer, I perceive you somewhat smell ofthe pan; you will repent this gear some day," were the significant words with which his lordship dis¬ missed the subject.
Latimer had frequent experience of the incon¬ veniences attendant on this spirit of fidelity, but in no presence could he be deterred from pur¬ suing this course. When preaching on one oc¬ casion before Henry VIII.—a personage whose displeasure it was much easier to excite than lo control,—a courtier charged him, in the hear¬ ing of the king, with having uttered seditious words. 'What say you to that, sirl' was the abrupt inquiry of the half-offended monarch. 'Then,' says the reformer, 'I kneeled down,and turned me first to mine accuser, and required him—" Say what form of preaching would you appoint me to preach before a king ? Would you have me for to preach nothing concerninga king in a king's sermon 1 and have you any commis¬ sion to appoint me what I shall preach 1" Be¬ sides this, I asked him divers other questions, and he would make no answer to none of them all; all had nothing to say. Then I turned lo the king and submitted myself to his grace, and said, " 1 never thought myself worthy, nor I never sued to be a preacher before your grace ; but I was called to it, and would be willing (if you mislike me) to give place to my betters ; for I grant there be many more worthy ofthe room than I am ; and if it be your grace's pleasure to allow them for preachers, I would be content to bear their books after them. But if your grace allow me for a preacher; I would desire your grace to give me leave to discharge my con¬ science. Give me to frame doctrine according to my audience. I had been a very dolt to have preached so at the borders of your realm, as I preach before your grace." And I thank Al¬ mighty God, which hath always been my reme¬ dy, that my sayings were well accepted ofthe king, for like a gracious lord he turned unto an¬ other communication. Certain of my friends came lo me with tears in their eyes, and told me they looked I should have been in the Tower the same night.'
,1' J ;,», i ¦..»<v>^^#Q@^#^^A>^.»..i
For tbe Christian Observer. INFLUESrCE OF BOOKS IN INDIA.
The Rev. Dr. Scudder, Missionary at Madras, com¬ municates the following remarkable statements of the influence of religious books in India, the facts having been discovered by the Rev. Dr. Wilson, of Bombay, in a tour in the Mahratta country.   Dr. Wilson says,
"During our journey we witnessed some re¬ markable effects of former circulations of por¬ tions of the Bible and religious Tracts in the north of Gujarat. We found at the very extre¬ mity of the province, never before visited by a missionary, several individuals who, principally through Ihisinstrumentally, have been led to as¬ sume a particular form of professional Christi¬ anity.
On the morning of the 12th we met three na¬ tives at Dr. Robson's door, who said that they had been going about the camp in search of us, in consequence of the report of my having preached in the town of Disa. To my inquiry, " Who are youl" they readily and emphatically answered, ^^ We are Christians." We immedi¬ ately repaired with them to a bungalow in which we were holding our meetings, and I conversed wilh them and addressed them respecting the in¬ terest of their immortal souls. The individual who took the lead in the conference with me, staled that he is a Bhagat devoted to the service of Christ; that his name is Narottam Ladha, and that his class is that ofthe Lomana.
Narottam remarked that he teaches Chris¬ tianity to those who listen to him, and receives the support which they voluntarily afford. His knowledge, he said, he had received from books, and from conversation with a native convert from Bengal, named K. R. His profession of Christianity he had assumed, and his attempts to propagate Christianity he had commenced and carried on without consultation with Europeans.
Six years ago he received from a soldier in the camp bazaar at Disa, a copy of a Gujarathi Tract, entitled "The Great Inquiry," and a Ma- rathi Tract, superscribed "The First Book for Children." He read both of these little publica¬ tions with the greatest attention, and the conse¬ quence of his acquaintance with them was the awakening of great anxiety about the salvation of his soul,"
After various other remarks, Dr, Wilson pro¬ ceeds: "By the perusal of so me Gujarathi books, portions of the Bible, and Tracts which he ob-. tained, aud by conversation with his friends from Bengal, he became convinced that Jesus Christ is the only surety and Saviour of men, and resolved without consulting with flesh and blood to devote himself to his service, in which he has now been engaged for a considerable time. He reads and expounds the Scriptures ac¬ cording to the light which he has obtained, to all who will listen to him. Seven of his ac¬ quaintances, he says, have received the truth in the love of it, and avowed themselves to be the disciples of the Redeemer. About a hundred persons appear to be sincere inquirers. About twenty-or twenty-five of them reside in Disa: ten or fifteen at Falanpur, forty at Pattan; two
atVijapurandKadi; ten at Baroch, and five at Baroda, Many other individuals hold religious mtercourse with them, and there is in various places a growing attachment to the divine word. All his temporal wants are supplied by his fol¬ lowers: and A , a merchant, shows him par¬ ticular kindness."
After Dr. Wilson had concluded this interview with this interesting person and his friends, he remarks, "The simple spread ofthe knowledge of Christ in this moral wilderness, independent¬ ly of the hope which this case affords that real conversion may have occurred, demands the fervent gratitude of all his people, and forms a mighty encouragement to the dissemination of the Holy Scriptures and religious Tracts through¬ out the length and breadth of the land."
ILIiUSTRATIONS OP SCRIPTURE.
[From " the Oriental Key to the Sacred Scriptures."] " I, saith the Lohu, will be unto her a wall of fire round
¦bout, and will be the glory in the midst of her."   Zech.
ii. 5.
This is an an encouraging promise, made to the Jews when in captivity in Babylon, assuring them that they should yet again return to their favorite and favored city, Jerusalem, w^ere God was used to show the tokens of his favor to them, above all people on the face of the earth, and from which they were driven on account of theirgrievoussins. That city, indeed, looked de¬ solate, and its walls were broken down, but God yet promised to restore his people, and to pro¬ tect them, for he was unwilling to give them up to total ruin, if they would repent and turn sin¬ cerely to him. Then they would not have to fear any enemy that might come against them, even if they had no wall to defend their city: "For I," saith the Lord, " will be unto her," meaning Jerusalem, "a wall of fire round about, and will be the gloryinthe midst of her!"
A wall of fire seems a singular expression to us, for who ever built a wall of firel But it will be easily understood, by referring to a practice ofthe Eastern Shepherds and travellers, who, in order to protect their flocks and tents from the attacks of wild beasts, were accustomed, at night, to make fires all round them, over which the most furious animals dreaded to pass. In¬ deed, this custom is still adopted by travellers, in various parts ofthe world, where there are many wild beasts.
How many promises of protection God has graciously given to them that love him ! He is their shield, their buckler, their wall of fire. There shall no real evil come nigh them, and he will preserve them to his kiiigdom and glory, through Jesus Christ.
"Therefore behold, I will hedge up thy way wilh thorns."   Hesea ii, 6.
That thorn fences were cultivated for protec¬ tion, and that it was difficult, if not impossible to break through such a hedge, is evidently im¬ plied in this declaration, which is founded upon the practice of the Eastern people. Buckingham says, "As we rode through Ribhair, we perceiv¬ ed it to be a settlement of about fifty dwelling.s, all very mean in their appearance, and every one fenced in front with thorn bushes, while a wall ofthe same kind encircled the whole ofthe town. This was one of the most essential de¬ fences which they cauld have raised against the attacks ofthe Arab horsemen, the only enemies whom they have to dread, as neither will the horse approach to entangle himself in these thickets of brier, nor could the rider, even if he dismounted, get over them, or remove them to clear a passage, without assistance from some one within."
" And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way."    Matt. xvi. 8,
This custom still continues to be observed in the East, as we learn from Mr. Roberts, on whom this mark of honor was conferred. He says the people of the East have a robe which corresponds with a lady's mantle or cloak. Its name is salvi, and it may often be seen spread on the ground where men of rank are to walk. I was not a little surprised soon after my arrival in the East, Avhen going to visit a native gentle¬ man, to find the path through the garden cover¬ ed with white garments. I hesitated, but was told that it was for my respect. I must walk on them to show that I accepted the honor.
" Prepare ye the way of the Loitn,"   Mark i. 3.
•vAn allusion is here made to the custom of sending persons to clear the way for a passage for a great pjince. " When a man of rank," says Mr, Roberts, "has to pass through a town or village, a messenger is despatched to tell the people to prepare the way, and to await his or- ders. Then may be seen some sweeping the road; others, who spread their garments in the way, and some who are cutting down branches from the trees, to form arches and festoons, where the great man has to pass."
For the Christian Observer.
mr. webster on peace.
Influence of Public Opinion in Preventing War.—"With the advancement of society, and the improvement and diffusion of the means of education, a new and elevated tribunal has come into being, lo which the disputes of nations must in all cases be referred. I mean that of public opinion. Nations cannot now go to war, unless for grounds and reasons which will justify them in the general judgment of mankind. The influ¬ ence of civilization, the increase of knowledge, the extension of commerce, and, more than all, that heavenly light which beams over Christen¬ dom, restrain nations from gratifying an inordi¬ nate ambition, by the bloody scenes of war. It has been truly said, that every peace arrange¬ ment is a tribute to Christianity, and a new proof ofthe benign influences of the Christian faith."
These are noble, cheering admissions; but whence arose this power of public opinion for the preservation of peace'! From education, and knowled«^e, and civilization, and commerce, and Christianity ¦! True; but all these were in exist¬ ence and operation ages ago; and why did they not prevent the centuries of blood that have since rolled over Christendom itself T Howcame all these causes to fail of producing peace until 1815 the very lime when the friends of peace in both hemispheres began their joint efforts'! Why have causes, once so powerless for the peace of Christendom, now become so eff"ec- tual"! Strange that such a man should overlook, or refuse to acknowledge the source of this aus¬ picious change, found, under God, mainly in the efforts and influences which together constitute the cause of peace. We might, with equal fair- ness, specify the same causes to account for the temperance reform, without an allusion to what the friends of temperance have done to combine those causes in the formation of a public senti¬ ment effective for the prevention of intemper¬ ance. Nay, we appeal to Mr. Webster's own ex¬ perience. There was, for aught we know, as much of education, and knowledge, and civili¬ zation, and Christianity, when he made himself, in the Senate Chamber at Washington, his fierce war speech, as when he subsequently took back that speech, and set himself at work with so much zeal and success to adjust the difficulties of England and America without bloodshed. What made him change his lone and course . Not alone the general influences to which he al¬
ludes, but those influences combined in a popu¬ lar demand for the very policy he has pursued, and that demand, we verily believe, was main¬ ly the result of efforts in the cause of peace—ef¬ forts without which we should probably have been plunged into war, not only with England, but with France and Mexico:
Mr. Webster speaks of public opinion as hav¬ ing erected "a new and elevated tribunal to which the disputes of nations must in all cases be referred." But, if nations must even now re¬ fer their disputes to such a tribunal, why not pro¬ ceed without delay to establish it in due form, and invest it with acknowledged power for its work of peace 1 Why not recognize and adopt it as a substitute for war in all cases, and let it ac¬ tually supercede the whole war system 1 On this supposition, where is the necessity or the use of preparations for warl Why not appeal at once and only to this " new and elevated tri¬ bunal r» Erasmus. ¦ i .«»##»9^ja»»#»w»iii
MADISOW'S YIKMT OF IVAR AS FATAli TO LIB¬ ERTY.
*' Of all the enemies of public liberty, war is perhaps the most to be dreaded, because it com¬ prises and developes the genius of every other. War is the parent of armies; from them proceed debts and taxes; armies, and debts, and taxes, are the known instruments for bringing the many under the dominion of the few. In war, too, the discretionary power of the Executive is extend¬ ed, and all the means of seducing the public mind are added to those of subduing the force of the people. The same malignant aspect in re- publicanism may be traced in the inequalities of fortunes, and opportunities of/rawrf, growing out of a state of war, and in the degeneracy of man- ners and morals engendered by both. No nation could preserve its freedom in the midstof continued war."
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CONTRAST BETW^EEN SCRIPTURE AND TRA¬ DITION.
Awful, indeed, is the interest with which the reflecting reader passes from the last writer of the New Testament to the earliest ofthe fathers; and on the point of quitting with one foot, as it were, the Epistles of John, comes down with the other upon that ofthe Roman Clement. The read¬ er passes from the blessed company that heard, and saw, and touched the Lord of life—from those lo whom he gave in person his commission to preach his word to every creature—from those whom he endowed with miraculous gifts of the Holy Ghost for that purpose, on whose written re¬ cord and doctrine, therefore, he can securely rely, in whose authority lies the last appeal of Christian controversy, and whose lives and writings exhibit in lively characters the conversations which they once enjoyed with Christ in the flesh, and their sure and certain hope of rejoining him in a glo¬ rified body. From such he passes, at one step, to those who, with the exception of the privilege of having been the disciples of such men, and enjoying occasionally more than ordinary gifts of the Holy Ghost, (which privilege, however, extends but to the first two or three, are like to ourselves. He comes to the infirmities of human understanding, to the frailly of imperfectly evan¬ gelized tempers. The overflowingcharity of John; the mingled sweetness and dignity of Paul too soon meet their counterpart in the moroseness and harsh invective of Tertullian, in the inso¬ lent bearing of Victor; and for the study and commanding simplicity of Divine truth, he is presented with the tortuous or unstable deduc¬ tions of unassisted, if not erring, human reason. In short, he may enter upon this new field with much of the feelings of Adam when he quitted paradise, and entered upon the wide earth ; and if the ground be not cursed, yet it is, compara¬ tively speaking, unblessed. Far from plucking from the tree of life in all security, and gather¬ ing his fruit in leisurely gladness, he has now to eat his bread in the sweat of his brow, painfully lo select wholesome from amid noxious, and to pass over much ground for but little store. Le¬ gitimate types are to be adopted from a heap of fanciful allegory, good reasons from a tissue of loose argument, and credible facts from much careless assertion. His industry, his judgment, his charity, are kept in perpetual exercise.
[Evans* Biography of the Christian Church.
TESTIMONY OF A PIONEER.
[From the Home Missionary for January.] It is now more than thirteen years since I ar¬ rived in Michigan, under commission from your Society. There are now only three Presbyterian ministers here, who were then in the field. I have witnessed great changes. The population has in¬ creased from less than 30,000 to more than 200,- 000.   Large villages now exist, where then was an unbroken wilderness. More than 100 church¬ es now exist; then there were not more than 10 of our order. As a pioneer, I have struggled with difficulties and privations, buthave never regret¬ ted that I came to Michigan.   I thank God for sending me here, and permitting me lo labor .so long on this field. I was invited, nay, urged to take charge of two churches in the State of New York, each of them able and willing to sustain the ministry, but I had set my face toward this field, and declined the invitations.    I do not re¬ gret, nor have  I ever regretted my decisions. Although I have not all the social and religious privileges enjoyed by my eastern brethren, yet I have bad the privilege, in my feeble measure, to aid in laying the foundations for many gene¬ rations.   I have had the privilege also of seeing the superstructure going up, and the wilderness blossoming as the rose. My poverty has depriv¬ ed me of many facilities for studying the word of God. I have lived almost withouta library, but I have been permitted to see the divine seal laid upon my poor labors, and the wanderer restored to the favor of Heaven.
Shall I then regret that my lot has been cast in these ends of the earth 1 Here I may feed those who are hungering for the bread of life, instead of expending my little energies upon those alrea¬ dy surfeited. I rejoice then in my field of labor —I do not wish to exchange it. Here I have spent my best days of labor. Here I am willing still to endure privation, until my Master in heaven shall say, "Itis enough," and call me to his rest. Here I expect to die, and hope to rise and joy- fully meet some, who, through my unworthy in¬ strumentality, have been led to the Saviour, and who shall be welcomed to his glorious rest.
SUPBRFICIAI. INFIDELS.
Sir Isaac Newton set out in life a clamorous infidel, but, on a nice examination of the evi¬ dences of Christianity, he found reason to change his opinion. When the celebrated Dr. Edmund Halley was talking infidelity before him. Sir Isaac Newton addressed him in these or like words: " Dr. Halley, I am always glad to hear you when you speak about astronomy, or other parts of the mathematics, because that is a sub- ject you have studied, and well understand; but you should not talk of Christianity, for you have not studied it. I have, and am certain that you know nothing about the matter." This was a just reproof, and one that would be very suitable to be given to half the infidels of the present day, for they often speak of what they have never stu¬ died, and what, in fact, they are entirely ignorant of. Dr. Johnson, therefore, well observed, that NO honest man could bo a Deist, for no man could
be so after a fair examination of the proofs of Christianitt." The name of Hume being men"! tioned to him, "No, sir," said he, " Hume own¬ ed to a clergyman in the bishoprick of Durham that he had never read the New Testament with attention."
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9IISSIONARY SCENES IN SOUTH AFRICA.     ,
The Rev, Mr. Moffat, a native of Scotland, and a missionary of the London Missionary So. cicly, commenced his labors among the degrad¬ ed heathen in South Africa, about twenty-fivo years ago. The privations and perils he has en¬ countered, the great success of his mission, and the scenes which he has witnessed in that land of darkness, deserve to be known extensively to the Christian public. They exhibit the power of tli^ gospel in animating the servant of Christ to persevere in his philanthropic labors, amid privations, suff"erings, and dangers, which few men have the courage or hardihood to endure. They reveal the blessed influences of the same mighty agent in taming and civilizing the sa- vage warriors ofthe desert; and in the same vi¬ vid picture they disclose the barbarities and wretchedness of heathenism.
Mr, Moffat's journals were published in Eng¬ land ayear or two since, and we considerit re¬ markable that they have not been re-published in this country. They would no doubt receive at¬ tention and be circulated extensively. His re¬ viewers say—" we have seldom read any narra¬ tive which more powerfully stirs the sympathies than this of Moffat, or which interests the reader more deeply in the perils, conflicts, and person¬ al adventures of the actor, and in the display of those varied intellectual and physical qualities and resources, which, in the face of what seemed insurmountable obstacles, has enabled him to work what looks like miracles, among the bar- barous tribes for whose improvement he has la¬ bored with untiring courage—often cast down, but never despairing. He and his coadjutors may now be hailed as the civilizcrs of South Africa, whom they have conquered and subdued by the gospel."
The principal scene of his labors has been among the Bechuanas, and in prosecuting them he has wandered the deserts with the roving bar¬ barians, sharing their perils in order to acquire their language, and impart to them the gospel.' "He outdid Paul in accommodating himself "to all men, in order to save some. Paul never be¬ came a savage in lotto save savages. Many, in¬ deed, might thus "stoop to conquer/'but few could retain both their piety and philosophy in such society."
On one of his long journeys to Capetown, he married ayoung lady from England,to whom he had previously been engaged, and who has prov¬ ed his faithful companion in the wilds of Africa, where she has reared a large family. But we must turn from the personal labors of the mis¬ sionary, to notice the achievementsof the gospel among fierce barbarians, in whose minds there appeared to be no idea of a God, and no hope or thought of immortality. We begin wilh the
AFRICANER,  A CELEBRATED CHIEF.
About twenty-five orthirty years ago, Africaner was the scourge and terror ofthe country and of the Dutch settlers on the frontiers of their colo¬ ny. He was a fierce, daring, predatory chief, living by war and plunder, in which he was the leader of his tribe. The proximity of this cattle stealer and freebooter was the occasion of so much difficulty, that the missionaries were ready to abandon their work in despair. While things were in this state, this dreaded chieftain made his appearance one day at the mission station, and thus addressed the missionaries:
"As you are sent by the English, I welcome you to tbe country; for though I hate the Dutch, my former oppressors, I love the English ; for I have always heard that they are the friends of the poor black man."   .   .   .   Jager, the eldest son of the old man, from  his shrewdness and prowe.ss, obtained the reins of the government of his tribe at an early age.    He and his father once roamed on their native hills and dales, within   100   miles   of Cape   Town;   pastured their own flocks, killed their own game, drank of their own streams, and  mingled the  music of their heathen songs wilh the winds which burst over the  Witsemberg and Winterhock moun¬ tains, once the strongholds of his clan.   As tho Dutch settlers increased, and found it necessary to make room for themselves, by adopting as their own, lands which lay beyond them, the Hottentots, the aborigines, perfectly incapable of maintaining their ground against these for¬ eign intruders, were compelled lo give place by removing to a distance, or yielding themselves in passive obedience to the farmers.   From lime to time he found himself and his people becom¬ ing more remote from  the land of their fore¬ fathers, till he became united and subject to a farmer named P .   Here he and his dimin¬ ished clan lived for a number of years.    In Afri¬ caner, P found a faithful, and an intrepid
shepherd; while his valor in defending and in¬ creasing the herds and flocks of his master, en¬ hanced his value, at the same time it rapidly ma- tured'the latent principle which afterwards re¬ coiled on that devoted family, and carried devas¬ tation to whatever quarter he directed his steps.
Had P treated his subjects with common
humanity, not to say with gratitude, he might have died honorably, and prevented the catas¬ trophe which befel the family, and the train of robbery, crime, and bloodshed, which quickly followed that melancholy event."
We omit the tragedy, in which the farmer, by treachery, provoked his fate. When the horri¬ ble outrage was completed,
Africaner, with as little loss of time as possi¬ ble, rallied the remnant of his tribe, and, with what they could take with them, directed their course to the Orange River, and were soon be¬ yond the reach of pursuers, who, in a thinly, .scattered population, required time to collect. He fixed his abode on the banks of the Orange River; and afterwards, a chief ceding to him his dominion in Great Namaqua-land, it hence¬ forth became his by right, as well as by con¬ quest.
The subsequent wild adventures of this bold and generous outlaw, carry the imagination back to the days of Johnny Armstrong and Robin Hood, or of the "landless" Macgregor; but his end was of a very different character. The man who lived in continual strife wilh all around him* whose hand was against every man ; whose bu¬ siness is rapine, and whose passion revenge ; whose name was a terror not only to the colo¬ nists on tbe north, but to the native tribes of the south; "whose name carried dismay into the