tion; but it failed in eliciting from him that confession which is the only reparation that can be made to his fellow-men, by a cri minal about to appear before an Almighty Judge, to answer for the commission of the horrible crime of murder. But though the hapless creature faintly denied his guilt, yet he did so in a manner that shewed his words and his conscience were at variance. He wished not to be pressed on the subject, and though he said the witnesses were all combined against him, he did not attempt to contradict the truth of a single fact adduced. On Sunday night, he slept but little, and yesterday morning he wished the holy sacrament to be administered to him. Previous to complying with his wish, the chaplain again entreated him to make the only reparation in his power, by a confession of his guilt, of which no man who heard his trial could entertain a doubt. Coombs appeared in some measure subdued; but he declined either to acknow. ledge or deny the crime for which he was to die, though he confessed that he had led a dissolute and wicked life. Under these circumstances, the Rev. gentleman very properly did not administer the sa crament to the culprit, who evinced

• Coombs was outwardly civil, but far from shewing "respectful attention"

to me.

no anxiety on the subject. A few minutes before 11 o'clock, the under-sheriff and chaplain again exhorted Coombs to make a po, sitive declaration on the subject of his guilt; but he still refused, de claring that to press him further would drive him mad. The workings of his mind at the moment operated so forcibly upon him, that he begged to be permitted to sit down, or he should sink on the ground. He was immediately seated; and it was found necessary to give him some wine, to preserve him from fainting. At 11 o'clock, the melancholy procession set out from the prison, in the midst of a tremendous shower of rain. On ar riving at the scaffold, the chaplain ascended the waggon, and prayed with the culprit, who joined him without any appearance of earnest. ness. The executioner then proceeded to perform his dreadful office. When placed under the beam, Coombs remained unchanged: he spoke not, but his lips occasionally moved, as if he was inwardly praying. The executioner several times asked him if he had any thing to say to the spectators of the me lancholy scene; but he replied that he had not, and he met his fate with a sullen composure, or we may say a savage indifference, that was any thing but the demeanour of an innocent man," &c. &c.

A Tribute of Parental Affection; containing some Account of the Character and Death of Hannah Jerram (fourth Edition); with an Appendix, giving a short Account of the last Illness, and Death of her elder Brother. By their father, CHARLES JERRAM, Vicar of Chobham Surrey. London. 6s. 1824.

THE present publication, in having reached a fifth edition, seems to CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 279.

demand of us some notice, both from its own excellence, and in deference to the voice of public opinion so strongly given in its favour. To those readers who admit or require the relish of story to be infused into works of religious instruction as a legitimate means of superior attraction, we recommend it on a double account: first, because they have here a story of a very interesting and affecting nature to arrest their attention; and, whe Y

ther or not they will regard that as giving additional value, a story circumstantially and literally true; and next, because they will find in the course of its pages some highly useful observations on a taste for the perusal of such tales as are not true,-stories founded altogether on fiction, or, what are often equally false, tales pretending to be founded in fact. We are strongly inclined to introduce the amiable and lamented Hannah Jerram to our readers, by an abstract of Mr. Jerram's observations on this very subject; and we may perhaps be allowed the liberty of prefacing these by a single introductory remark of our own. The remark, then, we have to make on this confessedly hackneyed subject is, that, however paradoxical it may seem, the circumstance of a story, even a religious story, being true, in the proper sense of truth, is no peculiar recommendation to it in the eyes of ordinary religious story readers. As the great drawback to mere didactic exhortation is this, that there is something told us to be actually and merely done; so we believe a corresponding drawback to the actual verities of religious biography arises from this circumstance, that there is something to be actually and faithfully imitated. Now mere religious story-telling is disencumbered from both these weighty drawbacks. There may perhaps be something to be felt, to be admired, to be even wept over, and dreamt over, but nothing to be done; and for this plain reason, that the thing never was done; and nothing to be imitated, for a reason equally plain, that we may, or may not, at our own option, assume the description to be inimitable. The religious novelist, whether writer or reader, has indeed surprising advantages. The selection of incident is left entirely to the judgment of the one, as acting upon the feelings of the other. The writer has to put the reader into the newest possible and most imaginative, world; to en

rapture him like "the poet's eye, rolling from earth to heaven, from heaven to earth;" to make him forget, we had almost said, his own condition and proper self, and to make him appear, to his own view, the very hero, tragic or epic, which is described in the piece. Hence, in the most compendious possible way, the man is made a Christian, a Christian parent or child, master or servant, landlord or peasant, a Christian soldier, or pastor, or merchant, or missionary, according to the character assumed in the tale; without a single effort, outward or within, in heart or hand, to become what he imagines himself for the time to be. The delightful heroes and heroines, "without fear or reproach, which were conjured up in the moral world, in the Grandisons or the Pamelas of past ages, are not in truth converted to Christianity by the same exquisite machinery adapted to religion. Nor with regard to the reader, any more than the hero or heroine, is this desirable effect very certain: if it were, how delightful would it be to reflect upon the great increase of eminent Christian characters among the admirers of these productions! For, in imagination at least, many a sickly sentimentalist becomes self-invested with the sturdy virtues of a veteran missionary; whilst perhaps the robust and Herculean contemplatist may be most meritoriously dreaming over the peaceful duties of a cottage maid. Such portraits as that one traced in the affecting pages of Mr. Jerram, from real life, possess none of these recommendations. The writer, for the most part, here delineates not for the imagination but the conscience of the reader: and his business is not to make the most agreeable composition, but the most faithful portrait; a portrait so faithful as to apply itself to the circumstances and feelings of fellow-probationers in this mortal state. And hence, to the mere imaginative reader a faithful biographical memoir is not so at

tractive as a highly wrought fiction. This or that circumstance might have been modified, or might have been omitted; the exhibition might have been a little differently dressed; and the real state of the case needed not have been fully exposed. The virtues above humanity, the imperfections but too consistent with it, form not the beau ideal of imagined perfection; or something in the Christian experience happens to be inconsistent, according to our views, with the Christian character that is pourtrayed. In short, what we are, what we may be, what we ought to be, and what we must stand prepared to do, to suffer, to experience in the Christian life, are lessons of too serious import to be learnt in the exact position of novel readers; and indeed to such persons even an interesting biographical detail will appear, perhaps, scarcely relieved from the wholesome dryness - of mere instruction.

This, however, which is the very charm of Scripture itself—namely, that it pourtrays things and characters as they really are-is that which we consider the recommendation of the little work before us. And now that we may sanction our own observations, which we fear by some may be considered as rather of an invidious and carping nature, against the very innocent race of story readers, we shall proceed, as we promised, to give a very important passage from Mr. Jerram, on the same subject. It occurs in his mention of the classical pursuits of his beloved and regretted Hannah; and comprises in its extent a general review of the various classes of fictitious tales, beginning with those of the ancient poets, proceeding to those of the moderns, dismissing at once those wretched tales, whether in verse or prose, which are written in professed opposition or professed indifference to moral instruction; and tracing the line through every higher department of moral intention, till we arrive at that very point of direct religious novel with

which it has been our object to confront the more chaste and severe muse of faithful and legitimate biography. Having justly contrasted in their respective effects in the nursery, the tales founded on mere general morality with those in which "every principle is placed and retained in its proper situation, Christ being made the centre, and attracting, enlightening, beautifying, animating, and fructifying every part," Mr. Jerram proceeds as follows, in reference to this last and least exceptionable of all modes of fiction.

"This system of education, I am happy to observe, has been advocated and supported by numbers of individuals of both sexes and of the first order of talents: and it affords me a sincere pleasure to have an opportunity of offering my tribute of respect to those numerous females who bear on the best interests of the rising have brought their excellent abilities to generation. It is impossible to mention the names of More, and Trimmer, and Sherwood, and Taylor, and several others, fusion of Christian principles; a large inwithout associating with them a wide difcrease of domestic happiness; and much of that active zeal which has been recently displayed, and especially by females,

in support of the great institutions which are spreading throughout the world the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour. They have smoothed the rugged course of education by their appropriate and lucid elementary books. They have furnished

:

us with the best materials, embellished with all the ornaments and attractions which the subject will admit, for storing the memory and forming the character of precepts by such a variety of interesting exour youth and they have illustrated their amples, that they can scarcely fail to make an indelible impression, wherever they are read. It is not easy to conceive any thing morals, more rich in variety, more perfect more sound in doctrine, more purè in in execution, or more beautiful and elegant in form, than the library with which their united efforts have supplied the younger branches of our families: and 1 am persuaded that at this moment thousands of

parents and children are reaping an abun dant harvest from their labours.

After bestowing this justly merited praise, it may appear somewhat ungracious to say any thing which may seem to detract from the value of their performances: and yet I have my doubts whether some inconvenience may not arise, both from publications, and the style and nature of the continually increasing number of these their composition. Scarcely a month

passes, without some addition being made to the already abundant stock; and it is easy to perceive that invention is somewhat tortured to find any thing in the shape of novelty. The result is what might be naturally expected. Many of the recent performances are considerably inferior to those which first appeared: the reader feels a diminished interest in what is put into his hands; and there is some danger of the most valuable of these publications thus falling into discredit.

"But it is from the nature and style of these compositions that I anticipate the principal mischief. For the sake of illustrating principles, and giving the weight of facts to lessons on virtue and vice, imaginary characters are introduced with great effect; and no doubt make a more lasting impression on the mind and memory than abstract rules and dry lectures upon morals. But there is some danger even

in this. Imaginary characters seldom

bear an exact resemblance to real life. They are generally highly wrought, and wound up to a pitch of excellence or depravity which have rarely any counterpart in fact. Hence, real occurrences make a feebler impression than they would have done, from their falling short of what we had previously read in books: ordinary virtue passes as of little worth; and commmon suffering produces scarcely any sympathy. The feelings, having been frequently and powerfully excited, require a continually increasing stimulus to keep up their tone; and from the difficulty of obtaining this, the mind at length sinks into listless apathy, from which the customary events of life are incapable of arousing it. A habit also is acquired of overstating facts, in order to excite interest. Perceiving that what appeared important to ourselves excites but little attention in others, we are tempted to set things out with a false colouring, and give them an appearance, with which the facts themselves have

scarcely any correspondence. Every person, who pays a scrupulous regard to truth, has often been exceedingly distressed at hearing statements which he is sure are any thing but correct; and it is not unreasonable to suppose that this inattention to strict veracity may be owing, at least in part, to the circumstance on which I am animadverting.

"There is also so close an affinity between works of this nature, and the common class

of novels, that there is some danger of gliding imperceptibly from one to the other and thus acquiring a taste for those pernicious publications which have poisoned the minds, and corrupted the hearts, of so many of our youth.

"It will not have escaped the notice of many of my readers that, among many professing Christians, a sort of sentimentalism has usurped the place of experi mental religion. The sober views and feelings, which the facts of our case, and

the nature of the Gospel, might be supposed to occasion, are superseded by sensations of a more exquisite and inexplicable nature, and by undefined and romantic notions of imaginary excellence and enjoyments. May not this evil also have some connexion with the writings which we are now considering?" pp. 51-56.

We shall dismiss this subject with so far qualifying both our own and Mr. Jerram's observations, as to say, that no imputation can be intended on the legitimate exercise of one of the most valuable and most operative faculties with which the Almighty Creator has graced our nature. And it is impossible not to concede the greatest weight to the example set by the first of all teachers, in his own powerful appeals to the imagination, through the medium of his divine parables. We only add, in reference to this great example of perfect instruction, that' as the Parables of our Lord establish the lawfulness of a fictitious assumption of facts, for the purpose of illustrating moral truth, so they assign its best possible limit; they place the imagination in direct contact with plain palpable truth, and borrow their highest interest from the doctrine they illustrate.

We shall now pass to a brief notice of this interesting little memoir of real life, which, with no fictitious appeal whatever to the imagination, will, we are fully assured, speak loudly to the heart and to the conscience; and will combine, for the lover of real instruction, all that is interesting in family or personal detail, with all that is edifying in solemn practical appeal.

The subject of the memoir, Hannah Jerram, seems to have been one of those early and rare productions of a superior nature which are seldom found to join à long duration with intenseness of excellence, and, having been shewn to the world for the instruction of survivors, are removed from its contaminating influence for their own higher blessedness; and perhaps for the real, though mysterious, benefit of those also who might have leaned

too fondly on their presence amongst them. She was the daughter, the only and beloved daughter, of Mr. and Mrs. Jerram; the name and qualifications of her father as Vicar of Chobham, Surrey, and now Minister of St. John's, Bedford Row, being too well known to need any further designation. Her short earthly career was comprehended within the limits of April 4, 1800, the day of her birth, and May 9, 1823, the day of her death. But, in point of many useful and invaluable attainments, of much happiness enjoyed and diffused, and of large attainments of piety made and perhaps imparted, it was a long life. Too short indeed to the natural feelings of the bereaved parent: the recollection of it, as expressed in the early pages of his memoir, seems to have reproduced what we read of the ancient parental grief in recording its losses,

"Ter patriæ cecidêre manus;" yet, for relief of his own mind, for a memorial to the family bereaved, and for profit to mourners under similar afflictions, he proceeds. The first anecdote he records, in proof of the early interest which his daughter had engaged in his parental care, is as follows:

"The only time, as far as I recollect, when I had occasion to use any thing like severity, was when she was in her second year; and 1 record the circumstances of it, as exemplifying my views of an important preliminary step in the training of children. We had a family party. Her grandfather and grandmother, her uncles and aunt, were dining with us; and our little Hannah was permitted to be seated at the table. On something being presented to her by one of her relatives, she was desired to say Thank you,'-a sentence which she had but recently learned to pronounce; but upon this occasion she was too eager to enjoy the kindness, to acknowledge her obligation to the hand from which she received it. I repeated the injunction, but without the desired effect. The affair then assumed another aspect, and an important principle was in agitation. Excuses were offered by her fond relatives, and the tears of the child appealed to my feelings; but I considered that a compromise in this case involved future consequences, and that the point between us must sooner or later be decided. I knew that the victory of the

child would lead to fresh attempts upon her yielding parents; and thus I should hereafter, with a much greater expense of feeling, and to a greater disadvantage, have to renew the contest. I therefore took the child into another room, and desired her to say Thank you,' which she did immediately. I supposed from this that the conquest was complete; but to my surprise, on returning to the dining-room, she had lost the power of uttering this short sentence. I had again to retire with her, disobedience; and again, when alone with and administer a slight correction for the me, she repeated the difficult words; but being a second time placed at the table, the task became insuperable, and she said, 'I tan't say so.' feelings overcame, on this occasion, their Her relatives too, whose good sense, joined in thinking the child could not repeat the words; and some of them united their tears with the child's in urging me to proceed no further. The duty now became difficult. The yearnings of my own heart, the entreaties of those around me, and the sobs of the sweet child, were all on one side; and only a sense of duty on the other. I stifled, however, my feelings, and again retired. I had no doubt of the ability of the child to pronounce the words, because she had done so every time of my withdrawing with her, and I was determined to go through with my task. After four or five attempts, I at length succeeded; and, with a throbbing heart and flowing tears, the little creature sobbed out, 'Tank - - - you. The victory was on the side of the parent, Every thing now was properly settled. who knew how to make a suitable use of it, instead of the daughter, who would have abused it: the tears were soon dried up; our friends were satisfied that all was right; and the dear child never made another attempt with papa for the mastery." pp. 14-17.

Mr. Jerram dwells on this little incident, and proceeds to some further observations, with some minuteness, and even exultation at remaining master of the field on so important an occasion; but as reviewers are not parents ex officio, we shall leave to those who are so to fix their own limits as to the imitable or inimitable nature of this parental act of authority.

The reminiscence of those amiable and endearing qualities which marked the mind of his daughter in her adolescent state, naturally calls forth the fullest and strongest expressions from the father. He knew at once the source of all true excellence in man and woman kind,