and the other a miracle recorded by inspired writers? In the same manner, when we express our surprise that sixty millions of Hindoos should be converted by four men and sixteen guineas, he asks what would have become of Christianity if the twelve Apostles had argued in the same way? It is impossible to make this infatuated gentleman understand that the lies of the Evangelical Magazine are not the miracles of Scripture; and that the Baptist Missionaries are not the Apostles. He seriously expects that we should speak of Brother Carey as we would speak of St. Paul; and treat with an equal respect the miracles of the Magazine and the Gospel.

Mr. Styles knows very well that we have never said, because a nation has present happiness, that it can therefore dispense with immortal happiness; but we have said that, where of two nations both cannot be made Christians, it is more the duty of a missionary to convert the one, which is exposed to every evil of barbarism, than the other possessing every blessing of civilisation. Our argument is merely comparative: Mr. Styles must have known it to be so:-but who does not love the Tabernacle better than truth? When the tenacity of the Hindoos on the subject of their religion is adduced as a reason against the success of the missions, the friends of this undertaking are always fond of reminding us how patiently the Hindoos submitted to the religious persecution and butchery of Tippoo. The inference from such citations is truly alarming. It is the imperious duty of Government to watch some of these men most narrowly. There is nothing of which they are not capable. And what, after all, did Tippoo effect in the way of conversion? How many Mahometans did he make? There was all the carnage of Medea's Kettle, and none of the transformation. deprived multitudes of Hindoos of their caste, indeed; and cut them off from all the benefits of their religion. That he did, and we may do, by violence: but, did he make Mahometans? or shall we make Christians? This, however, it seems, is a matter of pleasantry. To

He

We are

make a poor Hindoo hateful to himself and his kindred, and to fix a curse upon him to the end of his days!— we have no doubt but that this is very entertaining; and particularly to the friends of toleration. But our ideas of comedy have been formed in another school. dull enough to think, too, that it is more innocent to exile pigs, than to offend conscience, and destroy human happiness. The scheme of baptizing with beef-broth is about as brutal and preposterous, as the assertion that you may vilify the gods and priests of the Hindoos with safety, provided you do not meddle with their turbans and toupees (which are cherished solely on a principle of religion), is silly and contemptible. After all, if the Mahometan did persecute the Hindoo with impunity, is that any precedent of safety to a government that offends every feeling both of Mahometan and Hindoo at the same time? You have a tiger and a buffalo in the same enclosure; and the tiger drives the buffalo before him; -is it therefore prudent in you to do that which will irritate them both, and bring their united strength upon you?

In answer to all the low malignity of this author, we have only to reply, that we are, as we always have been, sincere friends to the conversion of the Hindoos. We admit the Hindoo religion to be full of follies, and full of enormities; we think conversion a great duty; and should think it, if it could be effected, a great blessing; but our opinion of the missionaries and of their employer is such, that we most firmly believe, in less than twenty years, for the conversion of a few degraded wretches, who would be neither Methodists nor Hindoos, they would infallibly produce the massacre of every European in India*; the loss of our settlements; and, consequently, of the chance of that slow, solid, and temperate introduction of Christianity, which the superiority of the European character may ultimately effect

6

* Every opponent says, of Major Scott's book, What a dangerous book! the arrival of it at Calcutta may throw the whole Indian Empire into confusion; and yet these are the people whose religious prejudices may be insulted with impunity.

in the Eastern world. The Board of Control (all Atheists, and disciples of Voltaire, of course) are so entirely of our way of thinking, that the most peremptory orders have been issued to send all the missionaries home upon the slightest appearance of disturbance. Those who have sons and brothers in India may now sleep in peace. Upon the transmission of this order, Mr. Styles is said to have destroyed himself with a kime.

HANNAH MORE. (E. REVIEW, 1809.)

Calebs in Search of a Wife; comprehending Observations on Domestic Habits and Manners, Religion and Morals. 2 Vols. London, 1809.

THIS book is written, or supposed to be written (for we would speak timidly of the mysteries of superior beings), by the celebrated Mrs. Hannah More! We shall probably give great offence by such indiscretion; but still we must be excused for treating it as a book merely human an uninspired production -the result of mortality left to itself, and depending on its own limited resources. In taking up the subject in this point of view, we solemnly disclaim the slightest intention of indulging in any indecorous levity, or of wounding the religious feelings of a large class of very respectable persons. It is the only method in which we can possibly make this work a proper object of criticism. We have the strongest possible doubts of the attributes usually ascribed to this authoress; and we think it more simple and manly to say so at once, than to admit nominally superlunary claims, which, in the progress of our remarks, we should virtually deny.

Cœlebs wants a wife; and, after the death of his father, quits his estate in Northumberland to see the world, and to seek for one of its best productions, a woman, who may add materially to the happiness of his future life. His first journey is to London, where, in the midst of the gay society of the metropolis, of course, he does not find a wife; and his next journey is to the family of Mr. Stanley, the head of the Methodists, a serious people, where, of course, he does find a wife. The exaltation, therefore, of what the authoress deems to be the religious, and the depreciation of what she considers to be the worldly character, and the influence

of both upon matrimonial happiness, form the subject of this novel rather of this dramatic sermon.

The machinery upon which the discourse is suspended is of the slightest and most inartificial texture, bearing every mark of haste, and possessing not the slightest claim to merit. Events there are none; and scarcely a character of any interest. The book is intended to convey religious advice; and no more labour appears to have been bestowed upon the story, than was merely sufficient to throw it out of the dry, didactic form. Lucilla is totally uninteresting; so is Mr. Stanley; Dr. Barlow still worse; and Celebs a mere clod or dolt. Sir John and Lady Belfield are rather more interesting -and for a very obvious reason: they have some faults;

they put us in mind of men and women; - they seem to belong to one common nature with ourselves. As we read, we seem to think we might act as such people act, and therefore we attend; whereas imitation is hopeless in the more perfect characters which Mrs. More has set before us; and therefore they inspire us with very little interest.

There are books, however, of all kinds; and those may not be unwisely planned which set before us very pure models. They are less probable, and therefore less amusing, than ordinary stories; but they are more amusing than plain, unfabled precept. Sir Charles Grandison is less agreeable than Tom Jones; but it is more agreeable than Sherlock and Tillotson; and teaches religion and morality to many who would not seek it in the productions of these professional writers.

But, making every allowance for the difficulty of the task which Mrs. More has prescribed to herself, the book abounds with marks of negligence and want of skill; with representations of life and manners which are either false or trite.

Temples to friendship and virtue must be totally laid aside, for many years to come, in novels. Mr. Lane, of the Minerva Press, has given them up long since; and we were quite surprised to find such a writer as Mrs. More busied in moral brick and mortar. Such an idea,