failure, of unpopularity, or of odium, could, or ought to deter me. There have been, and still are, circumstances connected with this business more painful than any which I have ever experienced. I will not anticipate the still more painful circumstance of being found in contrariety to your views. For the considerations that urge prompt, and vigorous, and liberal measures for theological instruction in this diocess appear to me of the most impressive and imperious nature. I derive consolation, too, in the reflection that those may unite in diocesan measures, or, at least, may refrain from opposing them, who think it their duty to support the General Institution. If, however, the attempt to call forth the distinguished resources, and to apply the pre-eminent advantages of this diocess to a theological institution within its own bosom should fail, I must submit, under the consciousness, indeed, that I have done my duty, but in the disappointment of wishes which I have most solicitously cherished; because long and deliberate, and, I trust, conscientious reflection stamps them in my view as essential to the advancement and security of the highest interests of the church.

JOHN HENRY HOBART. New-York, October 20, 1826. A committee, consisting of the Bishop of the diocess, and the Rev. Thomas Lyell, the Rev. Cyrus Stebbins, the Rev. John Reed, the Rev. Orin Clark, Thomas L. Ogden, Esq. Abijah Hammond, Esq. Gerrit H. Van Wagenen, Esq. and Daniel W. Lewis, Esq. was then appointed to prepare and report to the Convention a plan for theological education in this diocess. And the Convention adjourned.

(To be continued.)

Extract from the Rev. WILLIAM BERRIAN'S Travels in France and Italy, in 1817 and 1818, just published. WITHIN a few paces stands the Coliseum, or amphitheatre of Titus. It is the most majestic ruin in the world. Will it not then appear like extravagance to say, that it did not correspond with my expectations? I had heard that the amphitheatre at Nismes sunk

into insignificance when compared with it; and this work had appeared to me so great, that my imagination had magnified the Coliseum beyond the gigantic attempts of Roman power. Three ranks of arches encircled the building, and the spaces between them were ornamented with Doric pillars in the first story, with Ionic in the second, and with Corinthian pilasters in the third. An attic rose above the whole. It contained seats for nearly eighty thousand spectators, and room for twenty thousand more. The circumference of this vast edifice is one thousand six hundred and twenty-one feet, and the height one hundred and seventy. Nearly one half of the outer wall remains entire ; the rest has fallen; but the circle is completed with a lower elevation by the wall of the next corridor within. On entering the arena we saw no seats, but merely the naked and crumbling arches which supported them. The two upper slopes are already destroyed, and the wall which rises above is only sustained by its own solidity. The rest are in a great measure preserved, but stripped of their covering, and broken into a variety of forms; and the interi our has one face of decay and ruin. Grass and weeds cover those parts which have suffered most from time and violence, and this solitary monument of fallen greatness inspires a deeper interest now than it could have done when it was perfect and uninjured.

When we consider the form and simplicity of this structure, so well calculated to resist the influence of the ordinary agents which destroy the works of man, the durability of the materials, the massiveness of the work, we cannot be surprised at the exclamation of the northern pilgrims, who saw it in the eighth century, recorded by the venerable Bede:-"As long as the Coliseum stands, Rome shall stand; when the Coliseum falls, Rome will fall; when Rome falls, the world will fall." But what neglect and the ravages of time could not have done, the struggles of contending factions, who intrenched themselves within its walls, the sale of the materials by some popes, the licensed plunder of the nobles, and the con

tinual depredations of the people, have accomplished; and neither the lofty buttress which is raised against the falling wall, nor the new supports which are built to sustain the tottering arches, by the liberality of the present pope, can save it, for many generations, from

utter ruin.

From the Coliseum we went to St. Peter's. Before we entered it we found ourselves surrounded with wonders. A double colonnade, formed by four extensive ranges of lofty pillars, sweep around, on each side, in a semicircle, and leave between them a beautiful and spacious court. From the inner extremities of these open porticos, two close galleries extend, almost in a direct line, to the front of the church. In the centre of the court, an Egyptian obelisk, eighty feet in height and nine feet square at the base, rises upon an elevated pedestal; and two superb fountains, at equal distances from it, throw up streams of water, which fall around in perpetual showers. The view is closed by the vast front of St. Peter's, the les ser cupolas, and the stupendous dome. It is difficult to give any suitable ideas of these extraordinary objects, or to express the feelings which they successively excited.

We then enter, by a fine marble staircase, of three flights, into a grand and elegant vestibule, about fifty feet in breadth and four hundred and fifty in length, graced with the equestrian statue of Constantine the Great at one end, and Charlemagne at the other.

But when we passed into the church itself, all that we had seen seemed as nothing. So vast in dimensions, so just in symmetry, so rich and gorgeous, and yet so sublime!-it surpassed all that we had conceived of this world's grandeur. We stood sometime fixed in amazement, uttering nothing but exclamations of wonder and delight. The vault, glittering with gilded bronze, rose one hundred and fifty feet above our heads, and the grand nave stretch ed out to the length of a furlong. We walked up this aisle till we came under the dome, which hangs over the transept, where it is intersected by the nave. The extreme point of the lantern is between four and five hundred

feet from the pavement. The light admitted from above throws a soft lustre over the rich mosaics with which the dome is inlaid; and while we gaze at the representation of our Lord in his glory, surrounded by apostles and martyrs, "the spirits of just men made perfect, and all the company of heaven;" the striking emblem can scarcely fail to awaken more lively ideas of the re ality. The greatness, the elevation, the unrivalled sublimity of this work, draw the eye from the rest of the edifice, and fix it, with increased admiration, on this noblest part of the noblest building in the universe. The column only which support the dome are sixtyfive feet square. The arm of the cross is five hundred feet long, and even wider than the middle aisle.

The grand altar, at the central point of intersection, is covered by a high canopy of bronze, resting on twisted pillars. Around the tomb of St. Peter, immediately beneath, a hundred and twelve silver lamps are always kept burning. At the upper end of the nave is the chair of St. Peter. The four doctors of the Latin and Greek churches are supporting it. Angels stand at the side; two above hold the tiara and the pontifical keys, and cherubim and seraphim worship it. This presumptuous monument is likewise of gilded bronze. The Holy Spirit, blessing and crowning the work, appears above all, in the form of a dove, on a ground of yellow crystal; and the light which comes through is so brilliant, and yet so subdued, that it throws around the dove a kind of celestial splendour.

It would be an endless word to describe the stately sepulchral monuments which fill the recesses; the various marbles with which the walls are covered; the columns scattered through the aisles and about the altars; the paintings, in mosaic, which ceil the numerous domes; the copies of celebrated pictures, taken by artists skilful in mosaic work, to perpetuate their beauties; the statues and other embellishments which enrich this magnificent temple. These give it the finishing graces, but it owes its incomparable majesty to the bold and simple features already described. Every thing here is

on a colossal scale; but whether it be from the numerous ornaments of the building, or from the perfect harmony between the details and the general plan, I could never realize the vastness and extent of St. Peter's. As we came in, one of the company called my attention to the statues of two angels which are placed by the fonts of holy water on each side of the middle aisle. They seemed, only a few paces off, to be about the size of a chubby infant, just out of the mother's arms; but, on drawing near, we found them larger than men. So also the bronze canopy over the altar, viewed from the entrance of the church, looks like a diminutive object, though it is nearly one hundred feet high. All that we see around us is grand and elevating beyond conception, and yet, from the actual dimensions, we would expect the aisles to appear longer, the roof more aspiring, and the dome dim and indistinct from distance.

When Julius II. ascended the papal throne Michael Angelo was invited to Rome. After some deliberation, it was determined that he should exert his skill in the erection of a mausoleum, which might associate the fame of the patron with the genius of the artist, and be a lasting memorial of both. He conceived a plan which was too vast -to be executed in the church of St. Peter without enlarging the building. But as it was already very old, Sangallo advised the Pope to raise a chapel expressly for the mausoleum; and this is the origin of that edifice, which exceeds every other in glory.

The vanity of Julius was, perhaps, then, the immediate cause of the Reformation. For it was in the eager exaction of monies, through the sale of indulgences, to build St. Peter's, that men determined to shake off their burdens, and break the fetters which bound them.

We confined ourselves, for the rest of the morning, to the gallery of pictures in the Vatican. As an apology for an appearance of presumption in the following remarks, I ought to state, that

my design in this loose journal is only to describe, with simplicity, the objects that pass before me, and to reVOL. V.

cord the impressions which they make on my own mind. Knowing little or nothing of statuary and painting, or of their rules and technical language, I judge of them only by their effects on a common and untutored observer.

On entering the gallery, the first picture that we saw was the transfiguration of Raphael. It is the master-piece of the author, and the most famous painting on earth. My expectations were proportioned to its reputation, and, in this instance, as in many others, I experienced a degree of disappointment. The excellencies are so great as to justify the most enthusiastic praise, but yet I was rash enough to find fault with it. Our Saviour, surrounded by a cloud of glory, is raised a little above the mount, as well as Moses and Elias on each side of him. This is a liberty with the narration of the evangelists which some may think justifiable, but, to me, it did not seem natural. The same objection might also be made against the introduction of two other personages_on the mount besides the apostles. For a similar reason I was not pleased with another group below, which is the admiration of all connoisseurs. It is the father and lunatic son, with the crowd of people which Jesus met the next day after he had come down from the mountain.

I cannot help thinking, where facts are the subject of a picture, any thing else which is brought in merely for effect, without a shadow of authority from the history itself, or any connexion of distinct incidents, differing both in time and place, is a blemish which no excellence in the execution can atone for or excuse.

If, however, we could for a moment suppose that the painter had copied the real account of the transfiguration, then our admiration of the piece would be unbounded. Our Saviour appears to be more than man; and Moses and Elias seem like glorified spirits. The apostles are wrapt in a kind of ecstatic trance; they are disturbed by the scene which is passing before them, though they see it imperfectly, and comprehend it less; they are bent down in attitudes of awe and astonishment, with their hands before their eyes to shield 3

them from the dazzling and insupportable brightness. The agitation and workings of the evil spirit in the person of the possessed; the ghastly appearance of his eyes, uplifted and turned aside; the demoniacal expression of the countenance, and the convulsive struggles of one tormented in body and mind; the surprise and horror in the wild gaze of the man who supports him; the just attitudes and natural looks of the whole group, are all proofs of the strong conceptions and exalted genius of the painter. Every figure in the piece is finished. Every head, when examined singly, is viewed with admiration. The colouring is rich and deep, but yet it is the colouring of life. No part of it that has not some striking beauty or excellence, and if in the representation of an historical fact fidelity to the story be not required, and painting be allowed a licence which poetry can only use with reserve, then the transfiguration may justly be considered the first piece in the world.

Excepting the Fortune of Guido, the only picture besides in this valuable collection which left a strong impression on my mind, was the Communion of St. Jerome, by Domenichino.

He is on the bed of death, and on the eve of expiring. He is sitting up, and just ready to receive from the hands of the priest the bread of life. His looks are divided between this memorial of salvation and that heaven which it assures him. Weak, pale, emaciated, and ready to give up the ghost, his countenance is nevertheless lightened with faith and hope. A friend, kneeling at his side, is melted by a sight so affecting. A woman is clasping one of his arms, and kissing his hand, in an agony of grief. An air of solemnity and sadness is spread over the faces of all the attendants. The dying man alone is unmoved-all earthly affections are gone-he is occupied only with the cross and the crown of glory.

Some familiarity with such scenes in the exercise of my ministry, made me, in this instance, more confident in my judgment; and I should have had no hesitation in pronouncing it a masterpiece, though I had not known the reputation of the painter.

Singular Preservation.

An interesting article upon the colony of the Cape of Good Hope, appears in a late English periodical work, in which is given a sketch of this region-particularly of that portion on which the emigrants are about to settle-pourtraying its advantages and disadvantages, with the situation the emigrant is likely to be placed in, on his first arrival. In noticing the unerring skill of the grazier (or Keboor) Colonist with his musket-the writer of the article relates the following little narrative-the hero of which was a person of the name of Von Wyk-and the story of his "perilous and fearful shot" is given in his own words.

"It is now," said he, "more than two years since, in the very place where we stand, I ventured to take one of the most daring shots that ever was hazarded. My wife was sitting within the house, near the door; the children were playing about her: and I was without, near the house, busied in doing something to a waggon, when, suddenly, though it was mid-day, an enormous lion appeared, came up, and laid himself quietly down in the shade, upon the threshold of the door. My wife, either frozen with fear, or aware of the danger attending any attempt to fly, remained motionless in her place, while the children took refuge in her lap. The cry they uttered attracted my attention, and I hastened towards the door; but my astonishment may well be conceived when I found the entrance to it barred in such a way. Although the animal had not seen me, unarmed as I was, escape seemed impossible; yet, I glided gently, scarcely knowing what I meant to do, to the side of the house, up to the window of my chamber, where I knew my loaded gun was standing. By a most happy chance I had set it in the corner close by the window, so that I could reach it with my hand; the opening being too small to admit of my having got in, and still more fortunately, the door of the room was open, so that I could see the whole danger of the scene. The lion was beginning to move, perhaps with the intention of making a spring. There was no longer any time to think: I called softly to the mother not to be alarmed,

and invoking the name of the Lord, fired my piece. The ball passed directly over the hair of my boy's head, and lodged in the forehead of the lion, immediately above his eyes, which shot forth, as it were, sparks of fire, and stretched him on the ground, so that he never stirred more."

A remarkable Dream of Dr. Dod

dridge.

(Communicated for the Baptist Magazine, by the Rev. Dr. Ryland.)

THE Doctor, and Dr. Clark, of St. Albans, had been conversing together in the evening, upon the nature of the separate state, and the probability that the scenes, on which the soul would enter upon its first leaving the body, would bear some resemblance to those with which it had been conversant while on earth; that it might, by degrees, be prepared for the more sublime happiness of the heavenly world. This, and other conversation of the same kind, probably occasioned the following dream.

The Doctor imagined himself dangerously ill, at a friend's house in London, and after lying in this state some hours, he thought his soul left the body, and took its flight in some kind of fine vehicle, which, though very different from the gross body it had just quitted, was still material. He pursued his course through the air, expecting some celestial messenger to direct him, till he was at some distance from the city; when, turning back and viewing the town, he could not forbear saying to himself, "How vain and trifling do those affairs, in which the inhabitants of this place are so eagerly employed, appear to me, a separate spirit." At length, as he was still continuing his progress, and though without any certain direction, yet easy and happy in the thoughts of the universal providence and government of God, which extends alike to all states and worlds, he was met by one who told him, he was sent to conduct him to the place appointed for his abode: from whence he concluded, that it could be no other than an angel, though, as he thought, he appeared under the form of an el

derly man. They went accordingly on together, till they came within sight of a large, spacious building, which had the air of a palace. Upon his inquiring what it was, his guide told him it was the place assigned him for his residence at present. Upon which the Doctor observed, that he remembered he had read, while on earth, that “ Eye had not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart conceived, what God had laid up for his servants:" whereas he could easily have formed an idea of such a building, from others he had seen, though he acknowledged they were greatly inferior to this in elegance. The answer his guide made him, was plainly suggested by the conversation of the evening: it was "That the scenes first presented to him, were contrived on purpose to bear a near resemblance to those he had been accustomed to on earth, that his mind might be more easily and gradually prepared for those glories that would open upon him hereafter, and which would at first have quite dazzled and overpowered him.”

By this time they were come up to the palace, and his guide led him through a kind of saloon into an inner parlour. The first thing that struck him was a large gold cup, that stood upon a table, on which was embossed the figure of a vine, and clusters of grapes. He asked his guide the meaning of it, who told him, "It was the cup in which his Saviour drank new wine with his disciples in his kingdom: and that the figures carved upon it, were intended to signify the union between Christ and his people; implying, that as the grapes derived all their beauty and flavour from the vine, so the saints, even in a state of glory, were indebted for their establishment in holiness and happiness to their union with their head, in whom they are all complete." While they were thus conversing, he heard a noise at the door, and was informed by the angel, that it was the signal of his Lord's approach, and was intended to prepare him for the interview. Accordingly, in a short time, he thought our Saviour entered the room, and, upon his casting himself at his feet, he graciously raised. him up, and with a smile of inexpressible complacency, as