the colonel in all the simplicity, fervor, and energy of his character as a Christian, seemed equally solicitous to conciliate the good will of those of his readers whose dull formality disqualified them to relish the beauties, and to taste the excellencies of the power of godliness. This he did by apologizing for those unrestrained effusions of heartfelt religion which appeared in the writings of Col. Gardiner himself, and which gave such incontestable evidences of the genuineness of his religion and the fervor of his devotion. We do not, indeed, say, that the biographer of Mr. Smith has been guilty of the same fault; but it seems to us that he has marred the beauty of his narrative, in some measure, by the studied floridity of his style, and the highly figurative language with which he has sometimes recorded the most simple facts relating to the experience and exercises of Mr. Smith. These we judge to be faults in biographical writing, which, however, may be considered in a great measure atoned for, in the present instance, by the lively and energetic manner in which the major part of the memoir is composed. In reading biography we wish, as far as possible, to lose sight of the biographer, that we may look the more steadily and simply at the person whom he describes. We want to look into his very heart and soul, that we may perceive, as far as practicable, the secret springs of his actions, so as to be able to judge of the latter from the motives which gave them their existence. The above, however, are small defects when compared with the many excellencies which these memoirs posIn the mean time we may remark, for the benefit of those junior preachers into whose hands these memoirs may fall, that there are some things in Mr. Smith's conduct which it would be unsafe for them to think of imitating. We allude to his interference 'in street brawls whenever such presented themselves to his notice,' mentioned in p. 155, and some other places in the volume. Whatever may be plead in justification of such a fearless and athletic man as Mr. S. for such personal interferences, it certainly seems to us that, in general, the ministers of the Gospel should have little to do in such disgraceful squabbles. Let them indeed reprove sin with boldness, yet, at the same time, with meekness of wisdom; but their commission hardly authorizes them, unless it may be on some extraordinary occasions, to lay violent hands upon personal combatants in the streets, lest they themselves should become victims, by their own imprudence, to the virulence of wicked and deceitful men.'

sess.

We think also that Mr. Smith rushed with too much impetuosity upon the arrows of death. On this part of the subject, we would, however, touch but lightly. We know not how far a person should venture in self-sacrifice for the souls of men. But as the Lord does not require self-murder for sacrifice, it appears to be the duty of minis

ters to use all prudent measures for the preservation of their lives and health, as the more holy and useful a man is, the more good he can doand that too in proportion to the length of his days. And as the saving effect of our labors does not depend so much upon bodily exercise' as it does upon the energies of the Holy Ghost, may not those overstrained exertions of body, such as excessively hard and long speaking, which tend to prostrate the strength prematurely, be avoided? Such errors, therefore, it seems a duty to shun.

With these cautions to such as may need them, we most heartily recommend the book before us to our readers, hoping and believing that they cannot peruse it without catching some sparks of that fire which burned so steadily in the heart of Mr. Smith, and participating in that spirit of devotion by which he was so eminently characterized. And that they may witness the termination of a life thus sacrificed to the most sacred of all causes, we give here an extract containing an account of his last moments :

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'It was not till the last week of his life, that the truth broke on Mr. Smith's mind; and he felt that he was now to die. But it was no shock to him his spirit did not for a moment quail in the solemn certainty. He rested confidently on Christ, and calmly awaited the end. To a kind friend who attended him, he said, "It appears I shall die." "Yes, sir," was the reply, "there is no other prospect." Well," rejoined Mr. S., "God can carry on his work without me.” He continued, "I want more prayer," and begged his friend to pray with him. "What shall I pray for?" returned the other; "for I cannot pray for your life." Pray," said Mr. Smith, "as the Spirit shall direct you. Prayer,' as Mr. Bramwell once remarked, 'always brings one out on the right side." "" They then prayed together, and the Lord blessed the soul of his afflicted servant. At another time, he said to one of his medical attendants, with his accustomed promptness of expression, "Shall I die, doctor?" Observing that Dr. Y. hesitated, he added, "You need not fear to tell me; I am not afraid." Mr. W., his other medical friend, observed, "You must keep your mind constantly fixed on eternal things;" to which Mr. Smith answered, "My mind is constantly fixed there."

The friend, to whose communications this work has already been so much indebted, remarks:-"The prospect of meeting in heaven with Wesley, and Whitefield, and Fletcher, and Bramwell, and Nelson, and others whom he loved for their distinguished excellence, was pecùliarly dear to his thoughts, and often furnished matter for enlargement and glad anticipation, in his acts of devotion. The thought of not recognising the saints in the eternal state, never appeared to have any place in his mind; as it is, in fact, one of those refinements, which busy speculation has built upon the silence of Scripture respecting subjects which are only not distinctly enunciated, because nothing but the credulity of unbelief could have ever called them in question. By faith,' when he was dying, he gave commandment concerning his bones,

in

that they should lay them beside those of his friend Nelson :—thus attesting, not only his assured hope of a joyful resurrection, but of a glad recognition also of him whom he had known and loved on earth." To a person who visited him he said, "Mind your business, and take care of your family; but above all, see that you keep the love of God your soul. Be firm; and let nothing for a moment lead you to think of giving up your class, or declining any exertion in behalf of the cause of God." To a young man, whom he believed to be called to the ministry, he said, "Do, my brother, be diligent; play the man; play the man." Of his own experience and feelings, he remarked, "I rest in the atonement; I am hanging on the cross of Christ; this is my only hope." To one of his colleagues he said, " All is clear. I have had some success in my labors, but my happiness does not result from that, but from this: I have now hold of God. I am a very great sinner, and am saved by the wonderful love of God in Christ Jesus. I throw my person and my labors at his feet."

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When, on one occasion, Mrs. S. was speaking of his being about to be removed from her, he replied with solemn and tender emphasis, "The widows and the fatherless in Israel are God's peculiar charge." At another time, observing her extreme emotion, he would not rest satisfied without a promise from her, that she would claim the special consolations promised to those in her circumstances. One evening, when it was thought that he was about to enter into rest, she came to his bedside, and inquired, " My dear, do you think the Lord is about to take you home?" "Not just yet, perhaps," he replied. Then clasping his hands, and lifting up his eyes toward heaven, he exclaimed in the most impressive tone, "I commend to the care and protection of the Triune God, my dear wife. May she be supported and consoled. I commend to the same God my Ellen Hamer Smith," and then proceeded to name all his dear little ones separately, and to place them thus solemnly under the charge of a faithful and merciful God. He continued, "This body I give to be committed to the dust, in sure and certain hope of a joyful resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ. This immortal spirit I commend into the hands of him who gave it." "He then appeared exhausted, but in a short time revived again.

The salvation of souls was almost constantly the subject of his meditation and intercession. One day, when he supposed himself alone, he was obviously engaged in fervent mental prayer; and at length he broke out, "Glory be unto our God! Glory be unto our God! What god can deliver like unto our God?" Then extending his arms, while his countenance was lighted up with joyful confidence, he exclaimed, "Glory be to God! Sheffield circuit shall rise! Sheffield circuit shall rise! Sheffield circuit shall rise!"-a prediction which, during the last year, has been most happily fulfilled.

On Thursday, November 3, the Rev. Messrs. M'Lean and Holgate visited him, and while they engaged in prayer, a heavenly influence filled the room. The former, upon rising from his knees, exclaimed, Glory be to God!" To this aspiration of praise Mr. S. whispered an "Amen," which was the last articulate sound that he was heard to utter.

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It was the sealing of the volume: the closing testimony of an

unwavering spirit, the echo of which he was to catch, from myriads of ́immortal and redeemed intelligencies, in a world where the song shall never languish, nor the festival ever terminate. In the course of the morning, the medical gentlemen called. Mrs. D., an affectionate friend, who was present, followed them out of the room. Dr. Y. then told her that it was probable Mr. S. would not live an hour longer. Upon her return, he beckoned to her to tell him what they had said. For a moment she was silent. She then replied, "In less than an hour, sir, it is likely that you will be in eternity." A heavenly and triumphant smile played on his emaciated face: he turned his head on his pillow; and about a quarter before twelve o'clock, while several of his friends, in the attitude and spirit of prayer, commended his soul to God, he entered the realms of eternal praise.

MESSIAH'S KINGDOM;

A Poem; in Twelve Books. By AGNES BULMER. New-York: published by B. Waugh & T. Mason.

MUSIC and poetry sprung up together. In the ruder ages of society important events and transactions were recorded in verse, without, indeed, those artificial measures and symphonies by which modern poetry is distinguished, and sung to melodies which corresponded to the coarser harmony which characterized their ballads. Poetry seems to have had its origin in the nature of man, and hence it has existed in every age and every country, whether barbarous or civilized. Its beginnings were in the deserts and wilds, among hunters and shepherds, and waited not for the arts of refinement, to fledge its wings before it ventured its flight, and ere it was restricted by those rules which science would impose upon its pinions, it burst forth with an impassioned boldness, with energy and enthusiasm high into the region of fiction and romance.

But what is poetry? Without entering into a disquisition on the various definitions which have been given to this word, we will adopt that which Mr. Blair gives in the following words :-'It is,' says he, 'the language of passion, or of enlivened imagination, formed, most commonly, into regular numbers.' The historian, the orator, the philosopher,' he adds, ‘address themselves, for the most part, primarily to our understanding: their direct aim is to inform, to persuade, or to instruct. But the primary aim of a poet is to please and to move; and, therefore, it is to the imagination, and the passions, that he speaks. He may, and he ought to have, in his view, to instruct, and to reform; but it is indirectly, and by pleasing and moving, that he accomplishes his end. His mind is supposed to be animated by some interesting object which fires his imagination, or engages his passions; and which, of course, communicates to his style a peculiar elevation suited to his ideas, very different from that mode of expression which is natural to the mind in its calm, ordinary state.'

This definition is clearly expressed and admirably illustrated; and hence those who have supposed that poets have a license to revel at large in the fields of fiction and romance, without any regard to truth and facts, have excited unwarrantable prejudices against this sort of composition. Though poets claim the right to move he passions and to fire the imagination merely by the power of language, we cannot subscribe to the opinion that they are at liberty to propagate falsehood, and thus

to corrupt the morals of mankind by blinding their understandings. Nor do we adopt the sentiment of Johnson, that the attributes of the Deity, the day of judgment, &c, are themes altogether unsuited to the pen of a poet. Are not these attributes displayed in all His works and ways? In making, therefore, these works, and the events of His providence, subjects of song, do we not descant upon the attributes of Jehovah? And why may not all the attributes of the Deity, as they are exhibited in the book of revelation, or exemplified in the scheme of redemption and salvation, be presented to us in the charms of poetry? If Homer among the Greeks, and Virgil among the Latins, might be permitted to sing the glory of their false deities, why may not David and Isaiah be allowed, without degrading the dignity of their subjects, to celebrate the praises of the true God in the sublime strains of sacred poetry? Will it be said that the awful majesty of the latter so overpowers the mind that silence alone can express His praise? Let but the powers of him who is born a poet be consecrated to the service of his God, and he shall catch the inspiration which is needful to enable him to portray His perfections in the sublime strains of poetry, without deteriorating from the glory of His character, or of degrading the purity of that religion which He has revealed to man.

The word poetry, from the Greek word Tоiew, I make, we grant, seems to indicate that the poet was supposed to create a world for himself, as though he must move exclusively in a region of fancy and fiction. It is on this account that Plato is represented as having banished the poets from his Utopian republic, as pests to society; and from the same erroneous perceptions of the province of poetry some still entertain prejudices against it. But we can see no good reason why the poet should be excluded from the fields of truth and reality any more than the prose writer. The latter may write fiction and follow the dictates of an unbridled ima. gination, if he choose to abandon himself to the aberrations of his fancy, and thus delude the understandings of his readers with the same facility as the former. Have we not abundant evidence of this in the multitude of novel writers with which the world has abounded? Why, then, should poets only be held responsible for filling the world with shadows? Is it because they strive to elevate the thoughts of their readers to grand and sublime subjects by the lofty strains in which they sing, and to move the passions by a bold and figurative style? But may not these ornaments be enlisted, by the conscientious poet, in the cause of truth and virtue? Have not a Milton, a Young, a Cowper, and a Pollok, redeemed poetry from the curse of licentiousness, by laying it under contribution to the advancement of truth and righteousness? In the hands of such men this heavenly art need not be doomed to become the prompter to vice, nor the luxuriant field for feeding the corrupted imagination of the sensualist; but it may be made the handmaid of religion, and a medium for the propagation of pure and sublime sentiment.

But where shall we draw the line between poetical and prose compositions? Is verse essential to poetry? We think not. Many passages of sacred Scripture, which are truly poetical in their character, as well as such compositions as the Telemachus of Fenelon, and the Poems of Ossian, are proofs that neither the exact measure of lines, nor the symphonies of sound, produced by rhyme, is essential to poetry. Both of these species of composition depend chiefly upon the same principles, namely, a deep sensibility of feeling, a boldness and originality of invention, and an impassioned and highly figurative style. Specimens of this character of composition, unshackled by the modern rules of versification, containing all the ingredients of genuine poetry, might easily be produced to verify the truth of our remarks.

This is more especially the character of poetry as it existed in the ruder ages of society. Poetry, indeed, seems to lose its original character of boldness, originality,