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city could furnish, and placed him under the care of the Rev. Thomas Evans, master of Queen Elizabeth's Grammar School, a gentleman highly distinguished for his classical learning and fine taste. Afterward he was removed to Devizes, in Wiltshire, and placed under the superintendence of Richard Biggs, Esq., of a reputation at least equal to that of the Bristol master. It will be readily believed that the student would carry his natural ardor into his academic duties, for it has always been his leading characteristic, that what "he knew not he searched out." At this early period he became acquainted with John Harris, now "the eloquent orator," the distinguished divine, and the not less distinguished Principal of the celebrated Congregational College at St. John's Wood, London. Between them a warm and strongly attached friendship exists to this day.

For a short period John O. Choules endeavored to apply his energies to business, but could not draw his attention from books and from active benevolent efforts. Before he was eighteen he had become a Christian; and on September 9th, 1818, he united with the Baptist Church, Broadmead, in his native city, under the pastorate of the beloved and truly learned Dr. John Ryland. His new friends were at once impressed with the adaptation to usefulness which he so clearly manifested, and placed him, to pursue his studies introductory to the college course, under the late Rev. William Anderson, of Dunstable, Bedfordshire. This self-made man, though never popular as a preacher, possessed a mind of firm and comprehensive grasp, learning equally profound and clear, and a severity of criticism and of manners seldom met with. No man whose studies were directed by Mr. Anderson could rest on the surface of things; and we suspect that were Dr. Choules asked to tell the most important period of his youthful training, he would point to the straw-plait town of Dunstable, and to the study of William Anderson. With this gentleman he stayed some two years, preaching on the Sabbath in the neighboring pulpits of his own and other denominations with much acceptance.

He was now fully prepared for Bristol College, under the presidency of his venerated pastor, Dr. Ryland, of whom Dr. John Pye Smith used to bear a true witness when he described him as one of the

very first theologians of his day. We could, however, almost venture to say that, next to the profound lectures of the Doctor, Mr. Choules would derive most advantage from the "glorious library," as the students usually describe it; assuredly one of the finest collections of theological books in the world. Would that, in any denomination of Christians, we had such a library in the United States!

Toward the completion of his collegiate studies, Mr. Choules began to feel that, to a dissenting minister, especially to a young Baptist minister, little of a very inviting prospect could be presented in England, and with his usual promptitude he resolved on making the United States of America his residence for life. In 1824 he arrived at New-York, where he spent the following winter in occupying the pulpits of that city; and in the spring of 1825 became the principal of Red Hook Academy, in Dutchess County, in that State. Here he stayed but little more than two years, during which period, however, he acted on the minds of a large number of young men, not a few of whom have since become distinguished on the bench, in Congress, and in the pulpit. Here he began to acquire that public influence which has ever since been increasing, and which has never been used but for the advantage of society.

But it was not to be expected that our friend could long be hid, or that the Baptists would allow such a man to be buried, as the phrase runs, in a school. The ancient and honorable Second Baptist Church at Newport, in Rhode Island, formed so long ago as 1656, has always been distinguished for the piety, the learning, and the success of its pastors. One of these, the Rev. William Gammell, in the midst of a most eloquent and successful ministry, was suddenly called away by death, in the full vigor of forty-two, during the spring of 1827. The attention of the Church was almost immediately directed to Mr. Choules, as his successor. He was ordained its pastor September 27th in that year, the venerable Dr. Gano, of Providence, preaching the sermon. This large congregation was not only sustained, but greatly enlarged. God was pleased to give them under their new pastor a very blessed revival of religion; very large additions were made to their numbers and efficiency; and during six years Mr.

Choules occupied the position of its pastor with growing acceptance and success.

In 1833, the exceeding low state of his wife's health induced him to request his dismission from the pulpit at Newport, which was most reluctantly granted, and he became pastor of the Baptist Church at New-Bedford, Massachusetts. But the object of his removal was not realized. Mrs. C.'s health continued to fail, till death removed her from a scene of suffering to one of eternal rest.

At New-Bedford, as previously at Newport, the ministry of Mr. Choules was successful, and large accessions were made to his Church.

In 1835 Mr. Choules visited England, and in London a friendship with the present writer, which had previously begun by correspondence, became matured by much personal intercourse. Here he preached extensively; and from the pulpits of his now deceased friends Dr. Ryland, Abraham Booth, William Jay, and many others of the same class, he taught and preached apostolic doctrine. On not a few religious platforms was he seen, and was always heard with more than acceptance. In every class of society he became known, and received many proofs of cordial regard.

Not long after his return to New-Bedford, the family of Mrs. Choules (his second wife) determined on a removal to Michigan; and with the view of being nearer to them, Mr. Choules accepted a call to the First Baptist Church at Buffalo. Here he labored with great diligence, acceptance, and success; but it was soon discovered that his constitution would ill agree with the cold winds from the vast Lake of Erie. His health failed, bronchitis threatened entire cessation from pulpit labor, and after three years he was compelled to leave a station of great interest and importance. He removed to the city of New-York, where he supplied the Sixth-street Baptist Church for about two years, and in every possible way devoted himself to usefulness, both from the pulpit and the press.

In 1843, a number of wealthy Baptist families having erected residences on Jamaica Plains, one of the most lovely suburbs of Boston, they determined on building a church edifice, and invited Mr. Choules to settle with them, with a view of collecting a Church and society. He

acceded to their request, and one of the most beautiful church edifices in NewEngland soon added a fine ornament to the delightfully situated village. A prosperous Church was soon collected, and the commodious building crowded. Here he added to his usefulness and his income by receiving into his family, for mental and moral training, some five or six youths from wealthy families in New-York and elsewhere; and here, as we more than once visited him, we fondly hoped he was located for life. In all his settlements he had been happy, never once having any difficulty with his people, and certainly no prospect of difficulty ever presented itself at Jamaica Plains. Perhaps no pastor ever enjoyed greater happiness.

But who among us can say with any degree of confidence that a pastor is settled? The Church at Newport had never forgotten their beloved preacher, and more than one intimation was given him that he must return.

In the early part of 1847 this

Church was involved in great trouble: schism entered, division took place, and "the ways of Zion mourned because few were found in her solemn assemblies." In their state of distress, the few who were left turned their eyes to their old friend; and the public voice declared that Dr. Choules was the only man who could, under God, restore union and prosperity to the society. The Church of his first love recalled him, but the Church at Jamaica Plains answered with a decisive no. The call was renewed, and a committee sent on to urge its object with all the parties concerned. At length it was referred to a council, who after deliberation, to the great joy of the Church at Newport, advised his resumption of the pastorate there. On July 1st, 1847, he again became the pastor; the scattered elements of the Church and society began again to unite, and they have long since once more presented a very united and cheering aspect. At no period has its union been more complete than at present, and at no time have the additions been of a more gratifying character.

We should do great injustice to the subject of our sketch if we did not write a page as to his literary character. In 1826, the College at Princeton conferred on Mr. Choules the honorary degree of A. M.; and the College at Georgetown, Kentucky, followed it in 1846 with a diploma of D. D.

These were honors granted without solicitation, and which have been well sustained. We do not pretend to be acquainted with even half of the literary labors of the incessantly laborious Doctor; but we do know that his fine taste induces not a few authors to confide their MSS. to his careful, and often elaborate examination and improvements. We do know that for years past he has been the gratuitous editor of many magazines and papers. We remember, too, funeral sermons for General Harrison and Daniel Webster; a long historical sermon on the Church of which he is pastor; a series of lectures on Oliver Cromwell, carefully prepared and extensively delivered, which have done much to correct the public opinion as to that extraordinary man. We remember, also, two quarto volumes on the History of Missions, which first brought us in contact with him, and was one of the first publications to give him fame; he has also continued Hinton's History of America; and edited, with many curious and valuable notes, Neal's History of the Puritans, and Forster's Lives of the Statesmen of the Commonwealth of England.

Dr. Choules continues to prepare young men for college or for business, and, if we are correctly informed, has now eight or nine such residing in his family. In 1851, with three of these youths, he took a tour in Europe, and on their return the tutor and his pupils published a joint production under the name of Young Americans Abroad, which volume, we understand, has had a large sale. We will add here that the Doctor has an excellent library, of which an account appeared last year in one of the popular New-York Magazines, with the title, Hours in a New-England Study.

It is tolerably certain that the readers of the NATIONAL MAGAZINE will not say either that Dr. Choules is an idle man, or that here is a sketch of him destitute of incident. Idle! His activity is incessant, and has sometimes extremely vexed us. We have more than once sat down with him, according to previous engagement, for a cozy hour about matters and things of a literary character, and have just entered on our inquiries, when we have been greeted, "Well, now, you really must excuse me, but pressing emergency calls me away;" mentioning some case of distress which must be relieved; or some

instance of a poor lad that must be provided for; or some poor widow to whom he has engaged to render a service; or some poor prisoner for whom he must obtain a pardon;—yes, we have been vexed with him, and could only be satisfied by the recollection that our loss was the gain of others.

We have spoken of Dr. Choules on the platform, and few men in this country have performed more labor of this kind, or with more acceptance, than he. But, after all, it is in the pulpit that he appears to the greatest advantage, especially to those who have heard him most frequently. He is never dull, never wordy; nor did we ever see any of his hearers asleep. He has formed his taste very much on the study of the old Puritan divines, combining with them much of the more logical thinking and condensed style of the best men of the present day. Accustomed in his youth to hear such preachers as Hall and Fuller, Bunting and Newton, Ryland and Parsons, his profiting by them appears to all. Though in age he has passed over half a century, he was never more attractive to young persons than at present; and it is tolerably certain that he will think and feel as a young man to the day of his removal from earth. May that day be far distant, and when it arrives may it bring holy triumph to himself! To his friends, and to a large portion of the community, it will be a season of no small grief.

GENIUS.-Genius is lord of the world. Men labor at the foundation of society; while the lonely lark, unseen and little prized, sits, hard by, in his nest on the earth, gathering strength to bear his song up to the sun. Slowly rise basement and monumental aisle, column and architrave, dome and lofty tower; and when the cloud-piercing spire is burnished with gold, and the fabric stands perfect and wondrous, up springs the forgotten lark, with airy wheel, to the pinnacle, and, standing poised and unwondering on his giddy perch, he pours out his celestial music till his bright footing trembles with harmony. And when the song is done, and, mounting thence, he soars away to fill his exhausted heart at the fountain of the sun, the dwellers in the towers below look up to the gilded spire and shout-not to the burnished shaft, but to the larklost from it in the sky.-Kidd's Journal.

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THE TEST OF LOVE.

to go a

HE sun will set in a few minutes, and we have still ten miles to go. At our present rate of movement, my dear Deslaurius, we shall never arrive."

The speaker was a fine young man, about twenty-five years old, mounted on a powerful horse, which he managed with ease. His companion, who appeared to be some ten years his senior, instead of quickening his pace, pulled up his steed.

"My dear Sénéchal," said he, in a tone of the utmost composure, 66 at what hour this morning did we start?"

"At seven."

"And 'tis now five. Trotting for ten hours together, with only a few minutes' respite, may suit an experienced horseman like you very well; but I frankly confess that it has tired me exceedingly."

"If trotting fatigues you, we can gal

lop."

"Much obliged, friend, for your kind offer."

"You do n't intend, I presume, to sleep under the canopy of heaven?"

"No, my dear fellow," replied Deslaurius, blowing on his numbed fingers; "but I see beyond the next turn of the road half

a dozen smoking chimneys, and already I fancy that the delicious odor of the country hodge-podge soup has reached my nostrils."

"What can that matter? You know that a more fitting repast awaits us at La Martinière."

"Know, friend Sénéchal, that truffled partridges, ten miles off, would not tempt me half so much as a smoking bowl of vegetable soup separated from my mouth by only the length of a spoon, even should that spoon be pewter."

"Nonsense!" cried Sénéchal; "you shall not play me so false. You know very well we are expected this evening at La Martinière, and you ought to remember what dreadful anxiety our non-arrival would cause my beloved Juliet."

"Well, well," said Deslaurius, with a quiet smile; "you are really very young for your years. Dreadful anxiety indeed!' I'll tell you what, your beloved Juliet' will eat her supper with an excellent appetite, saying perhaps once or twice, when at a loss for conversation, 'Tis strange that these gentlemen do n't come.' Then, when closing the piano, preparatory to retiring for the night, she may probably remark, ‘M. Gaston will certainly arrive to-morrow morning; shall I wear my green or my blue dress?' And there 's' dreadful anxiety' for you, my poor boy!"

"You talk thoughtlessly, Deslaurius; but I forgive you, because as yet you do not know my Juliet. One reason for my wishing you to be present at our marriage is, that her virtues and attractions may forever vindicate her calumniated sex in your skeptical eyes, and teach you what admirable qualities a woman may possess." "So be it, then," rejoined Deslaurius, in a half-comic, half-doubting tone.

By this time the poor tired horses had stopped of their own accord at the door of a snug-looking country inn.

"I defy all the Juliets in the kingdom to make me stir from this to-night," remarked the elder traveler, as he stiffly got off the saddle.

"As you please," rejoined his friend. "Sup on brown bread and rancid bacon, and sleep on a flock bed between coarse damp sheets; but for my part I shall start again, as soon as my horse has had a feed of oats."

To any other traveler than M. Gaston Sénéchal that inn-kitchen would have VOL. III, No. 5.-FF

seemed an attractive resting-place. On a clean shelf, half vailed by a snowy-white napkin, stood a row of crusty, light-brown, freshly-baked loaves. A savory stew was simmering on the fire, before which a pair of plump fowls were revolving on a spit, with a gentle hissing sound. The bright tin and copper kitchen utensils, ranged against the wall, gleamed cheerily in firelight. A large cat was purring lazily on the hearth, in amicable companionship with the house-dog, that lay at full length, cherishing his nose between his fore-paws, while the crickets chirruped cheerily among the warm wood-ashes.

66

Supper, if you please, madame; and have a bed prepared," said Deslaurius, as they entered, to the mistress of the inn. "Certainly, monsieur; and for the other gentleman ?

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"I shall start for La Martinière as soon as my horse is fed."

"For La Martinière !" repeated the hostess; "I fear monsieur wont reach it to-night.'

"What should prevent me?"

"The late heavy rains have swollen the Galliotte, so as to make the ford impassable by night, and going by the bridge would take you a round of more than twenty miles. Languin, the muleteer there, will tell you the same."

""Tis all true," said the personage in question, who, seated in the chimney corner, was busily discussing a loaf and goats' cheese. "No one but a madman, or some one tired of his life, would attempt to ford the Galliotte now that 't is as dark as a wolf's mouth."

ly,

"Then," said Gaston, sighing profound"let two beds be prepared." Pending the appearance of supper, Deslaurius fell asleep in a straw arm-chair, and when aroused by the welcome announcement that the meal was served, he saw his companion in the act of putting up his pencil and closing his book, having been evidently penning some stanzas to the absent object of his attachment.

The muleteer had retired to the stable, and his place was occupied by a table covered with a cloth as white as snow. The ragoût and the fowls, done to a turn, and smoking hot, were served on earthen plates adorned with a pattern of unheardof flowers and impossible birds. After supper the hostess conducted the travelers into a snug double-bedded room, adorned

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