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through the long vista of ages; and he is also able to bring about whatever he chooses. Hence he is not subject to any temptation from without to falsehood, and of course is less likely to employ it. All moral being act from motives; and God cannot, as we see, have any motive to falsehood.

When therefore we reflect on the never-violated agreement between God's declarations and the state of

things-between his promises and
his conduct; when we consider how
uniformly he praises truth and con-
demns falsehood; when we remen-
ber how steadily and severely false-
hood is punished even in this world:
and lastly, when we recollect that
there cannot be in him any possible
motive to falsehood: we have abun
dant reason to declare, "surely Je-
hovah is a God of truth."
N. J. C.

Miscellaneous.

For the Christian Spectator. On the qualities in Mr. Burke, which constituted him an Orator.

On the character of Mr. Burke's eloquence, it need only be observed, that a bold, vehement, copious, and figurative style, uniformly marks his performances. He grasped his subject with the hand of a master; held it in a light, where it was obscured only by splendour; and, in the language of Cumberland,

"With ceaseless volubility of tongue "Play'd round and round his subject, till at length

"Content to find you willing to admire, "tie ceas'd to urge, or win you, to assent." [Retrospection.]

The effects of his cloquence are too well known to need repetition. The qualities in Mr. Burke which gave him the power of producing these effects, are the objects of our present inquiry.

The brilliant achievements of this distinguished orator, result principal ly from a single trait in his original character. This was an invincible disposition to adhere to principles founded on facts; in other words, principles which have a foundation in human nature. Never was there more entire submission to true philosophy. This peculiar disposition,

which seems to have been a kind of natural endowment, together with a fancy brilliant and variegated, constituted in Mr. Burke what may be denominated genius.

But in connexion with his natural endowments, much too depended on the nature and application of his ac quisitions. In regard to the influence of Mr. Burke's peculiar acquisitions, we see illustrated in his particular case, a sentiment which Lord Bolingbroke considered of universal application; that "the man who in connexion with genius possesses experi ence and a knowledge of history, is an honour to his country, and a public blessing."

Both these qualities Mr. Burke pos sessed in an eminent degree; and they placed within his reach all the subjects which he treated, and in his power the minds of those whom he attempted to address. His knowl edge of the concerns of Europe, derived from history and observation, was exceeded by none. Of the whole system of the British government be was perfect master. He knew, for he had observed all the causes which could affect that complicated machine, whose extremities he could touch by his magic influence.

He did not, however, acquire his knowledge of human nature by sim

ply tracing the details of history. A more delightful field was opened before him.

"Burke, borne by genius on a lighter wing, "Skimm'd o'er the flow'ry plains of Greece and Rome,

"And, like the bee returning to its hive,
"Brought nothing home but sweets."
[Retrospection.]

All those works of ancient and modern times, in which principles of human action are developed, were familiar to him. He considered them as so many exhibitions of human character, from which, as experiments actually made, he derived knowledge of the heart of man. He knew that the writings of Homer and Sophocles, of Milton and Shakspeare, exhibit as many principles in the character of man, as the histories of Thucydides, of Tacitus, or of Hume exhibit. A perfect knowledge of these principles gave him immense influence over the minds of men.

But his success as an orator depended also on the manner of using his knowledge. Unlike the theoretical philosophers of his time, who delighted to distort nature, that they might destroy government, his mind was modelled to a happier frame. He regarded the history of nations as the natural history of man; nor did he regard government as an artificial frame, curiously fitted together by ingenious speculators, and designed to abridge the happiness of man. He considered it rather as it is, the natural or even necessary result of our condition, as imperfect yet rational creatures. The government under which he lived, he regarded as the natural growth of a soil genial to liberty, as a vine nurtured by the care of a kind Providence.

From this habit of observation on the characters of men and nations in their natural state, or as the world presents them, he derived that power which enabled him to sway the destinies of Europe. It was this which enabled him with prophetic skill to detect and resist the horrid consequences of the French revolution;

and this, with an imagination luxuriant as Eden, enabled him to charm and electrify the British empire.— Such was the manner in which Mr.

Burke employed his knowledge of human nature, derived from history, and from classic models of ancient and modern excellence.

This last species of learning afforded him also another important advantage. The style of Mr. Burke is highly figurative. No writer in moderu times has exceeded him in variety and splendour of diction; and no one has more nearly imitated nature in the design and delineation of his images. No doubt the richness and elegance of drapery with which he adorned his sentiments, were derived principally from works of taste and imagination. A more striking specimen of the utility of this species of reading can hardly be found, than is found in the writings of this distinguished orator. While from the master pieces of ancient and modern poetry he derived important principles of human action, he also derived that profusion of imagery which furnished them a costume both splendid and delightful. Here, then, is the secret of the eloquence of Burke; he had the world of human nature within his reach, and the imagery of the universe at his command.

But in what respects can the christian preacher derive benefit from a study of the character and writings of this eloquent man? In the three following particulars—the inductive philosophy; human nature; and classical learning.

1. Did Mr. Burke make principles founded on facts the basis of argument in his powerful harangues?— Such too should be the principles of argument with the christian preacher. They will preserve him on the one hand, from the errours of a mere theorist, and on the other from the miserable uncertainty of a sceptic, who doubts only because he is afraid to believe. Thus shielded, he is proof against the attacks of an opponent; and thus equipped, he can gain by

force a conquest over the mind. He evinces to his audience his own conviction of the truth of what he declares; and with arguments irresistible commands their assent.

agination; and which must first be allured from their lurking places, before they can be seized and compelled to submit. Shall, then, those beautiful combinations of fancy, that rich variety of imagery, and those bold conceptions and vivid expres sions which make even inanimate ob

2. An extensive acquaintance with the principles of human action is of the highest importance to the christian preacher. It is not his main busi-jects seem to speak, be passed over ness to discuss abstract principles which have existence only in the understanding; nor to amuse his audience with lessons of morality which attract only by the prettiness of his diction. His business is to raise emotion in the soul; to alarm the conscience of the careless sinner, and to animate the hopes of the desponding christian. In every discourse, he addresses men not only as possessing reason, but as being also endued with passions and affections. To enlist these in the subject of religion he considers of high importance; and to gain a conquest over them, and to bring them cordially to acquiesce in the truths of revelation, is, to attain the highest end of christian eloquence. Can the preacher accomplish all this, unless by a comprehensive view of human character, he sees all the secret windings of the heart; and learns like Burke, to move the whole machinery of the mind?

3. Did Mr. Burke derive advantage from an extensive acquaintance with classical learning? So may the christian preacher. If the fabric of Grecian and Roman literature, and all the beauties of modern taste and genius were only the factitious resem

by the christian preacher, and be employed only as ornaments of subjects, which comparatively are mere trifles of yesterday? Thus did not prophets and apostles. Under the inspiration of the Almighty and in view of the future glory of the church, the vivid imagination of Isaiah was awakened, and he saw all nature uniting with man in the most cheerful and animating expressions of joy: "The mountains and hills shall break forth before you into singing and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." The apostle John, too, in his dream of the holy city, summoned the material universe to contribute of its choicest gems to add beauty and splendour to the holy place.The illustrious examples of the sacred writers sufficiently prove, that a fig urative style is well accommodated to the sublime truths of divine revelation. Why, then, should not the preacher cultivate such a style; and why not adopt the same means of attaining this desirable end, which the eloquent subject of our remarks successfully adopted?

Sir,

M. K.

At a late meeting of the American Bible Society, I received the following letter which you are at liberty to publish, if you think it likely to be W. H. useful.

blances of capricious fancy, the To the Editor of the Christian Spectator preacher might willingly surrender them to the forum and the senatehouse. They would not become the dignity of those awful subjects, which fall within his province to be illustrated and enforced. But such is not the origin of ancient and modern figurative language. It has its foundation in nature; and is beautiful only because it is natural. It is adapted to those principles in the soul, which can be touched only by the more subtile powers of im

My Dear Husband,

WHILST you are this day attending the interesting meeting of the American Bible Society, our neighbours are collecting to pay the last

tribute of respect to the remains of Mrs. L.

I went to see Mrs. L. the morning after you left home. She was but just alive, but welcomed me with great cordiality, requesting the family to retire and insisting that all must go out not excepting Mary her only daughter. All having retired agreeably to her request, she pressed my hands with earnestness and in a very low voice asked whether I had not hard thoughts of her. I could not imagine why she spoke thus. She perceived my surprise and then observed" My hands have been tied. I could not give to the Bible Society, my husband was not willing. I do love Bible Societies, but I could not give. He is a good husband Mrs. H. good to me and good on many accounts, but he is not a charitable man. All people do not feel alike you know. I love charitable societies and charitable things, but I could not give-My husband was not willing. I wish he was. God have mercy on him. I was afraid you had hard thoughts of me. I greatly desired before I died to tell you how it was."* During this conversation she would not suffer me to speak lest the family should overhear me and thus find out the subject of her secrecy, for she wished not to hurt their feelings. I therefore expressed by pantomime as much satisfaction as I could in her past conduct.

She appeared thankful that she had this opportunity with me, and I am sure I was not sorry. She expressed great fears that it might injure my health to stay long with her and thanked me for coming. She was so very weak that I could not hold conversation with her, therefore after expressing to her my hope that we should meet in a better world I left her and returned home. Her strength failed fast. She seemed to have made an effort that hasten

Mrs. H. had previously been very active in forming female bible and other societies and had solicited assistance from Mrs. L. who with tears refused it without giving her reasons.

Vol. 2-No. VI. 38

ed her dissolution, she said but few words more and lived twenty three hours after. The bell is now tolling for the procession which is conveying her body to the tomb, but blessed be God there is abundant reason to believe that her spirit has fled to "A land of pure delight

Where saints immortal reign." I know that God accepts a willing mind and undoubtedly her reward now is as great as though she had given thousands of dollars. The situation however of those pious females who would cheerfully unite with substance to spread the word of life those who are contributing of their but are prevented by their husbands from indulging their charitable feelings, is peculiarly trying.

How is it possible that these husbands can deny their excellent companions so small but to them a precious privilege. When will they consider that to allow them a few

cents or even a few dollars from time

to time to drop into the Lord's treas ury will not on the whole make them less rich or less happy; since the Lord of the harvest can with infinite ease increase or diminish their wealth his own good pleasure. and their enjoyments according to

Your affectionate, M. H.

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298 On conferring and receiving the title of Doctor of Divinity. [JUNE.

vinity, because it answers to the title of Rabbi in the Jewish Church, for allowing that it does, I would ask are not we under a different dispensation? and are we in any danger of being as proud as the scribes and pharisees ?

No one is more sensible than myself of the evils resulting from the present mode of bestowing the title in question, but for all these I have a remedy, safe, pleasing and effectual. The title should be bestowed upon all ministers of the gospel, and for reasons which I shall proceed to state.

1. Those of us who are so diminutive as not to be thought worthy of so great honour as to have a doctorate conferred on us, are in danger of indulging improper feelings toward our more eminent brethren. Our feelings are often severely tried when we meet in councils, associations and societies, with those who are so much more highly esteemed of men than ourselves. We dislike to take our proper places, and we cannot but notice that there is much more respect paid to a Doctor of Divinity than to a plain clergyman, on these public occasions. He has one of the chief rooms assigned him, is placed in one of the highest seats at the feasts, receives much more attention from the common people, &c. &c. things are very cutting to our pride, as you may well conceive. I know we ought not to indulge such feelings, but it is impossible entirely to avoid them; and I have not always given my reverend superiours the title which some university, college or academy has recently conferred on them.

These

2. Some of our brethren who receive these high honours, are injured by them. No man can stand on an eminence without being giddy. Those whom the people "delight to honour" are in danger of being vainly "puffed up in their fleshly mind." I have indeed seen men, who have not appeared to be greatly injured by the honours conferred on them. They have retain

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ed their humility, their modesty, and even their respect for their brethren under all the flattering distinctions with which they have been favoured; they have even borne up and preserved a considerable degree of steadfastness under" a load that would sink a navy." But some of our Doctors, especially the "beardless ones,” “think more highly of themselves than they ought to think," in consequence of being so highly esteemed by others. "They are men subject to like pas sions as we are," they probably feel that their opinions are entitled to a greater degree of respect than those of a plain clergyman. They give their opinions with a dictatorial air, and when these are controverted, they discover impatience. There is rea son to fear that the bestowal of these honours, has greatly relaxed the zeal of some on whom they have been conferred. Having received the highest mark of literary distinction, they feel as if their fame is established for ever, and that there is no need of further exertion. It is thought by some good judges of human nature that society owes much of its refine ment to a principle of emulation.— Hence rewards are offered to those who excel. It is certain that some strong stimulus is necessary to overcome the natural sluggishness of the heart. The hope of receiving a degree of D. D. undoubtedly stimu lates many young clergymen to give themselves to arduous study. It is therefore injudicious to confer this high honour upon very young men. It would not be in our power to calcu late the injury, society may suffer for what has already been done in this respect. Our universities are cer tainly accountable for all the evils which may arise, from their taking away from some, all motives to continue their exertions; for having obtained the prize they will cease to strive. Many of your readers prob ably remember the story of the Car dinal who used to cover his table ev ery day, after dinner, with a fisher

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