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work on "Practical Christianity," which met with such remarkable success that not less than five editions were called for within the first six months; and it exerted a most powerful influence in stemming the tide of irreligion and nominal Christianity. In 1807, after twenty years of anxiety and unremitting labor, he had the high gratification of seeing the slave trade abolished by act of Parliament. From this time forward, until he quitted the House of Commons, in the year 1825, his parliamentary labors were devoted to a ceaseless watchfulness over the interests of the African race, and he lived to witness the consummation of the struggle for the abolition of slavery throughout the British dominions. He died July 27, 1833, when within a month of completing his seventy-fourth year, and was interred in Westminster Abbey, near the tombs of Pitt, Fox, and Canning. "Few persons," says Lord Brougham, "have ever reached a higher or more enviable place in the esteem of their fellow-creatures, or have better deserved the place they had gained, than William Wilberforce. His immense influence was no doubt greatly owing to the homage paid to his personal character, but he possessed many other qualifications which must of themselves have raised him to a great eminence." As a public speaker, he enjoyed great and well-merited celebrity. Sir Samuel Romilly esteemed him "the most efficient speaker in the House of Commons ;" and Pitt himself said repeatedly, "of all men I ever knew, Wilberforce has the greatest natural eloquence." But of what worth is eloquence when not joined to purity of character, and enlisted in the cause of God and of humanity? Few think of William Wilberforce as an orator; but as a philanthropist his name will be revered by the good in all time to come.

1 It is said that nearly one hundred editions have been printed in England, and it has been translated into the French, Italian, Spanish, and German languages.

I cannot but subjoin here a few extracts from an admirable notice of his character, in the sixty-seventh volume of the "Edinburgh Review." "The basis of Mr. Wilberforce's natural character was an intense fellow-feeling with other men. No one more readily adopted the interests, sympathized with the affections, or caught even the transient emotions of those with whom he associated. To this vivid sympathy in all human interests and feelings were united the talents by which it could be most gracefully exhibited. Mr. Wilberforce possessed histrionic powers of the highest order. If any caprice of fortune had called him to the stage, he would have ranked amongst its highest ornaments. He would have been irresistible before a jury, and the most popular of preachers. His rich mellow voice, directed by an ear of singular accuracy, gave to his most familiar language a variety of cadence, and to his more serious discourse a depth of expression, which rendered it impossible not to listen. Pathos and drollery-solemn musings and playful fancies-yearnings of the soul over the tragic, and the most contagious mirth over the ludicrous events of life, all rapidly succeeding each other, and harmoniously because unconsciously blended, threw over his conversation a spell which no prejudice, dulness, or ill-humor could resist. The courtesy of the heart, and the refinement of the most polished society, united to great natural courage, and a not ungraceful consciousness of his many titles to respect, completed the charm which his presence infallibly exercised.

"It is scarcely an exaggeration to say of him that God was in all his thoughts. He surveyed human life as the eye of an artist ranges over a landscape, receiving innumerable intimations which escape any less practised observer.

THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE.1

MR. SPEAKER-I cannot but persuade myself that whatever difference of opinion there may have been, we shall this day be at length unanimous. I cannot believe that a British House of Commons will give its sanction to the continuance of this infernal traffic, the African slave trade. We were for a while ignorant of its real nature; but it has now been completely developed, and laid open to your view in all its horrors. Never was there, indeed, a system so big with wickedness and cruelty; it attains to the fullest measure of pure, unmixed, unsophisticated wickedness; and scorning all competition or comparison, it stands without a rival in the secure, undisputed possession of its detestable pre-eminence.

But I rejoice, sir, to see that the people of Great Britain have stepped forward on this occasion, and expressed their sense more generally and unequivocally than in any instance wherein they have ever before interfered. I should in vain attempt to express to you the satisfaction with which it has filled my mind to see so great and glorious a concurrence, to see this great cause triumphing over all lesser distinctions, and substituting cordiality and harmony in the place of distrust and opposition. Nor have its effects amongst ourselves been in this respect less distinguished or less honorable. It has raised the character of Parliament. Whatever may have been thought or said concerning the unrestrained prevalency of our political divisions, it has taught surrounding nations, it has taught our admiring country, that there are subjects still beyond the reach of party. There is a point of elevation where we get above the jarring of the discordant elements that ruffle and agitate the vale below. In our ordinary atmosphere, clouds and vapors obscure the air, and we are the sport of a thou

In every faculty he recognized a sacred trust; in every material object an indication of the Divine wisdom and goodness; in every human being an heir of immortality; in every enjoyment a proof of the Divine benignity; in every affliction an act of parental discipline. The early development of this habit of mind appears to have been attended with much dejection and protracted selfdenial; but the gay and social spirit of the man gradually resumed its dominion. A piety so profound was never so entirely free from asceticism. It was allied to all the pursuits and all the innocent pleasures of life. A fusion of religious with secular thoughts added to the spirit with which every duty was performed, and to the zest with which every enjoyment was welcomed; and the triumph of Christianity was eminently conspicuous in that inflexible constancy of purpose with which he pursued the great works of benevolence to which his life was consecrated. No aspirant for the honors of literature, or for the dignities of the woolsack, ever displayed more decision of character than marked his labors for the Abolition of the Slave Trade."

From his speech delivered on the 2d of April, 1792.

sand conflicting winds and adverse currents; but here, we move in a higher region, where all is pure, and clear, and serene, free from perturbation and discomposure

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm;
Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Here, then, on this august eminence, let us build the temple of benevolence; let us lay its foundation deep in truth and justice, and let the inscription on its gates be "peace and good will towards men. Here let us offer the first fruit of our prosperity; here let us devote ourselves to the service of these wretched men, and go forth burning with a generous ardor to compensate, if possible, for the injuries we have hitherto brought on them. Let us heal the breaches we have made. Let us rejoice in becoming the happy instruments of arresting the progress of rapine and desolation, and of introducing into that immense country the blessings of Christianity, the comforts of civilized, and the sweets of social life. I am persuaded, sir, there is no man who hears me, who would not join with me in hailing the arrival of this happy period; who does not feel his mind cheered and solaced by the contemplation of these delightful scenes.

THE REWARD ATTENDANT ON WELL-DOING.

MR. SPEAKER-I cannot but believe that the hour is at length come when we shall put a final period to the existence of this abominable-this unchristian traffic-the slave trade. But if, in this fond expectation, I should be unhappily mistaken, be assured, sir, I never will desert the cause; but to the last moment of my life, I will exert my utmost powers in the service of that unhappy country. In truth, if I were not to persevere, I must be dead to every generous emotion that can actuate and stimulate the mind of man. Can a noble object interest? or the consciousness of an honorable office? What object so noble as this of relieving the miseries of thousands upon thousands of our fellow-creatures; introducing Christianity and civilization to a fourth part of the habitable globe? I am, indeed, conscious of the honorable nature of the office I have undertaken, and grateful to God for having permitted me to take the lead in the communication of such extended blessings. My task is one in which it is impossible to tire; my work repays itself: it fills my mind with complacency and

peace. I lie down with it at night with composure, and rise to it in the morning with alacrity. If it obliges me to be conversant with scenes of wretchedness, this is but like visiting a hospital from motives of humanity, where your own feelings repay you for the pain you undergo. No, sir, no; I never will desist from this blessed work; but I cannot help persuading myself that there will be no call for my perseverance. I will not allow myself to doubt about the issue, and cheerfully await the event of your decision.

THE EFFECTS OF RELIGION.

When the pulse beats high, and we are flushed with youth, and health, and vigor; when all goes on prosperously, and success seems almost to anticipate our wishes, then we feel not the want of the consolations of religion: but when fortune frowns, or friends forsake us; when sorrow, or sickness, or old age comes upon us, then it is that the superiority of the pleasures of religion is established over those of dissipation and vanity, which are ever apt to fly from us when we are most in want of their aid. There is scarcely a more melancholy sight to a considerate mind than that of an old man who is a stranger to those only true sources of satisfaction. How affecting, and at the same time how disgusting, is it to see such a one awkwardly catching at the pleasures of his younger years, which are now beyond his reach; or feebly attempting to retain them, while they mock his endeavors and elude his grasp! To such a one gloomily, indeed, does the evening of life set in! All is sour and cheerless. He can neither look backward with complacency, nor forward with hope; while the aged Christian, relying on the assured mercy of his Redeemer, can calmly reflect that his dismission is at hand; that his redemption draweth nigh. While his strength declines, and his faculties decay, he can quietly repose himself on the fidelity of God; and at the very entrance of the valley of the shadow of death, he can lift up an eye, dim perhaps and feeble, yet occasionally sparkling with hope, and confidently looking forward to the near possession of his heavenly inheritance, "to those joys which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." What striking lessons have we had of the precarious tenure of all sublunary possessions! Wealth, and power, and prosperity, how peculiarly transitory and uncertain! But religion dispenses her choicest cordials in the seasons of exigence, in poverty, in exile, in sickness, and in death. The essential superiority of that sup

port which is derived from religion is less felt, at least it is less apparent, when the Christian is in full possession of riches, and splendor, and rank, and all the gifts of nature and fortune. But when all these are swept away by the rude hand of time or the rough blasts of adversity, the true Christian stands, like the glory of the forest, erect and vigorous; stripped, indeed, of his summer foliage, but more than ever discovering to the observing eye the solid strength of his substantial texture.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, 1772-1834.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, "the most imaginative of modern poets," was the son of the Rev. John Coleridge, Vicar of Ottery, and was born at that place, in the year 1772. Losing his father in early life, he obtained, by the kindness of a friend, a presentation to Christ Church Hospital, London. "I enjoyed," he says,' 1.44 'the inestimable advantage of a very sensible, though at the same time a very severe master, the Rev. James Bowyer, who early moulded my taste to the preference of Demosthenes to Cicero, of Homer and Theocritus to Virgil, and again of Virgil to Ovid, &c." He made extraordinary advances in scholarship, and amassed a vast variety of miscellaneous knowledge, but in that random, desultory manner which through life prevented him from accomplishing what his great abilities qualified him for achieving. His reputation at Christ Church promised a brilliant career at Cambridge, which university he entered in 1790, in his nineteenth year. In 1794, he became acquainted with the poet Southey, then a student at Baliol College, Oxford, and a warm friendship soon ripened between them; and at Bristol they formed the resolution, along with a third poet, Lovel, of founding what they termed a Pantisocracy, or a republic of pure freedom, on the banks of the Susquehanna, in Pennsyl vania. In 1795, the three poets married three sisters, the Misses Fricker, of Bristol, and thus the whole pantisocratic scheme was upset.

After his marriage, Coleridge settled at Clevedon, near Bristol, and projected many plans of industrious occupation in the fields of literature; but he soon became tired of this retreat, and removed to Bristol, where he was materially aided in his designs of publication by that most generous and sympathizing publisher, Joseph Cottle. He first started a weekly political paper, called the "Watchman," most of which he wrote himself; but from his indolent irregularity, the work stopped at the tenth number. Failing in this, he retired, in the latter part of 1796, to a cottage in Nether Stowey, in Somersetshire, on the grounds of his friend and benefactor, Mr.

Biographia Literaria.

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