and so provoked God, that though he could have repented, yet he could not have been pardoned, without satisfaction made to the Divine justice. This satisfaction man was not able to make, nor any other creature for him. Whereupon God in great mercy ordained a mediator, his own son God and man, between himself and his lapsed creature; who by the sacrifice of himself should effect two things, answerable to the double necessity of man: First, make repentance available, which otherwise would not have been so; and, secondly, merit grace for him, that he might be able to repent. And this is what is meant by the restoration or redemption of man, which thus far is universal and unconditionate. 10. But still, notwithstanding all that this Mediator hath done for him, man is only so far restored, as to be put into a pardonable and reconcileable state he is yet only in a capacity or possibility of pardon and reconciliation, which is then and then only reduced to act, when he truly believes, that is, with such a faith as is productive of all inward and outward holiness; with which he may, without which he cannot be saved, notwithstanding Christ hath died to save him. For the design of his death was not to make holiness unnecessary, but to make it avaible; not to procure a privilege of being saved without it, but that we might be saved with it. If this qualification be wanting, we shall be so far from being any thing advantaged from the redemption purchased by our Mediator, that we shall be accountable for it, to the great aggravation both of our guilt and misery. It therefore highly concerns man to improve with all diligence this great and only opportunity of adorning his mind with all Christian perfections; since with these, he may be happy, in all his capacities, and without them, he shall not only fall into a state of unutterable misery, but be also accountable for the possibility he had of escaping it, for per versely neglecting so great salvation," so glorious an opportunity of being saved. 11. These things being premised concerning the present state of man: First, that he can know but very little; Secondly, that the enjoyment of that little in a short and encumbered life, is by no means answerable to the labour of acquiring it; Thirdly, that there is no necessity of such a deal of learning and knowledge, either as to this world or the next, and that ere long he shall have his fill of knowledge in the beatific vision, one glance whereof shall instruct him more than an eternal poring on books, and undistinguish the greatest doctor from the most ignorant peasant; Fourthly, that there is an absolute necessity of his being holy, this being the condition not only of his happiness in general, but also of the accomplishment of his understanding in particular: and that now is the only opportunity for it: Lastly, that the attainment of happiness upon this condition, was the purchase of his Saviour's death, who has also merited grace for his assistance in the performance of it; which if he neglect, he shall not only miss of happiness, but also be answerable for so dear an opportunity of gaining it. From these premises, it will, I think, follow with no less than mathematical evidence, 12. First, That knowledge is not the thing for which God designed man in this station, nor consequently the end of his bestowing upon him those intellectual powers which he has. Secondly, That the end for which God did design man in this station, and the reason why he bestowed those powers upon him was, that he might so serve him here, as to be rewarded with perfect knowledge hereafter; And thirdly, That the principal care and concern of man, both for his own interest, and out of compliance with the design of God, ought to be, to live a Christian life, to accomplish the moral part of his nature, to subdue his passions, to wean himself from the love of the world, to study purity of heart and life; in one word, "To perfect holiness in the fear and love of God." And in particular, that he ought to pursue knowledge no farther than as 'tis conducive to virtue. (To be continued.) Dialogue between ROMULUS and No- other a warlike Prince. (From Fenelon's Dialogues of the Dead.') Romulus. So, you have arrived at last. Your reign, my friend, has been a long one. Numa Pompilius, Because it has been tranquil. The way, I found, to make it so, was to use the world kindly; never to misapply my influence; to act in such a manner that none might wish for my death. The Romulus. Yes! to live in obscurity, and die without glory. display of authority has no attractions at this rate. According to you, it is equally idle to make a conquest, and to keep it; to disregard death, and to be ambitious of immortality. · Numa Pompilius. What, let me ask, has befallen your immortality? How comes it (for I heard you ranked with the gods, and drank nectar) that I find you here? Romulus. To speak the truth, the senate placed me among the gods merely to rid themselves of my interference in their affairs as a mortal. They chose to deify me, rather than practise the obedience due to a king. Numa Pompilius. Do you tell me the assertions of Proculus were false Romulus. I do; and surely his reasons for making them must be known to one who persuaded the world to believe him inspired by the nymph Egeria. Proculus, who knew that nothing is easier than to make men credit what coincides with their wishes, when he saw the people disturbed by my death, contrived the fable you allude to, in order to quiet them. - Numa Pompilius. Thus without a doubt it was; and instead of gaining immortality, you died a violent death. Romulus. And yet on the other hand, altars were raised, priests appointed, sacrifices offered, and incense burned, in honour of me. mroment Numa Pompilius. And what in truth are these things worth? They have not hindered you from appearing in this place, where at the present will probably allow that you the happiness at least of a monarch is best founded on his moderation and justice, and the love of his subjects. He, indeed, may not be honoured as a divinity, but his health of mind is likely to be unbroken, the government of his empire will be easy, and besides he will have the satisfaction of benefiting mankind. Romulus. If I mistake not, you did not handle the sceptre early in life? Numa Pompilius. No. It was well that I did not get into power, inexperienced and ignorant, at a time when the indulgence of the passions is most dangerous; á misfortune to which you, who slew your brother in a fit of anger, and made yourself hated by your subjects, were exposed. Romulus. The faithfulness of a guard perhaps preserved you from a death like mine. Numa Pompilius. So far from that, my first act after ascending the throne, was to abolish those whom you had chosen, and distinguished by the name of Celeres. A man forced upon the seat of royalty, who remains there actuated by no motive but that of doing good, and would willingly quit it at any time, can have little fear of being put to death like a tyrant. For my part, I imagined it was doing a favour to the Roman people to place myself at their head. To enrich them, I lived sparingly myself. The adjoining states would have gladly had me for their ruler. Where then was the need of guards? Harmless as I was, the senate had no interest in conferting on me the dignity they decreed to you. The people looked apon me as a friend and a father, and in their affection I confided for the safety of my property and peace, and therefore, of my life. This confidence was mutual. Romulus. Would you have me suppose it was against your will that you ascended the throne, when you afterwards made use of the whole power the Romans had given you, to impose upon them your private principles of religion? Numa Pompilius. When their representatives came to me in my retreat of Cures, I professed my unfitness to govern a nation familiarized with conquest; told them to seek another Romulus; and added, that the manner of your death and that of Tatius was enough to deter me from accepting their offer: moreover, I urged that I had not ever seen a single action. Nothing however would do but my compliance, and I was made a king, but never departed from my first plain, temperate mode of living, nor was known from my fellow-citizens except by the title of a sovereign. The Sabine and Roman states were so firmly united by the means I took, that few accidents will be able to divide them. By me the golden age might be said to be restored. Not only the inhabitants of Rome, but of all Italy, enjoyed prosperity while I lived; and industry, under my auspices, tempered the savage dispositions of the Romans, and by attaching them to their own country, kept them from molesting their neighbours. Romulus. Peace and affluence only foster pride, rebellion, and dissoluteness in the people, and unfit them for incurring the fatigues and dangers of war. If it had so happened that your territories had been attacked, what step would you have taken, who are unacquainted with arms? The enemy forsooth would have waited till such time as you had consulted the nymph! Numa Pompilius. If I did not understand the art of war so well as you, I always found it possible to avoid it, and I obtained the respect and esteem of my neighbours. I gave the Romans laws that, enforcing probity, industry and sobriety, made them a match for any opponent. After all, I am afraid they still show too much of that violence in their proceedings, of which you set them an example. Sentiments of living Authors on the subject of War. [From Pictures of War, by Irenicus.] (Continued from page 87.) Thomas Scott, D.D.-War, in every case, must be deemed the triumph or the harvest of the first great murderer the devil, have proved a striking part of a viSouthey, (Poet Laureat).—It would sion presented to Adam, the day after the death of Abel, to have brought before his eyes half a million of men crowded together in the space of a square mile. When the first father had exhausted his wonder on the mul titude of his offspring, he would then naturally inquire of his angelic inmultitude had been assembled? What structor, for what purpose so vast a is the common end? Alas! to murder each other, all Cains, and yet no Abels! Hall, of Leicester.-How dreadful to hold every thing at the mercy of an enemy, and to receive life itself as a boon dependent on the sword! How boundless the fears which such a situation must inspire; where the issues of life and death are determined by no known laws, principles, or customs; and no conjecture can be formed of our destiny, except as far as it is dimly deciphered in characters of blood; in the dictates of revenge, and the caprices of power! Conceive but for a moment the consternation which the approach of an invading army would impress on the peaceful villages in this neighbourhood! When you have placed yourselves for an instant in that situation, you will learn to sympathize with those unhappy countries which have sustained the ravages of arms. But how is it possible to give you an idea of these horrors? Here you behold rich harvests, the bounty of heaven, and the reward of industry, consumed in a moment, or trampled under foot; while famine and pestilence follow the steps of desolation. There the cottages of peasants given up to the flames, mothers expiring through fear, not for themselves but their infants; the inhabitants flying with their helpless babes in all directions, miserable fugitives on their native soils! In another part you witness opulent cities taken by storm; the streets where no sounds were heard but those of peaceful industry, filled on a sudden with slaughter and blood, resounding with the cries of the pursuing and the pursued; the palaces of nobles demolished; the houses of the rich pillaged; the chastity of virgins and of matrons violated; and every age, sex, and rank, mingled in promiscuous massacre and ruin.....The injury which the morals of a people sustain from an invading army is prodigious. The agitation and suspense, universally prevalent, are incompatible with every thing which requires calm thought or serious reflection. In such a situation is it any wonder the duties of piety fall into neglect; the sanctuary of God is forsaken; and the gates of Zion mourn and are desolate? Familiarized to the sight of rapine and slaughter, the people must acquire a hard and unfeeling character. The precarious tenor by which every thing is held during the absence of laws, must impair confidence; the sudden revolutions of fortune must be infinitely favourable to fraud and injustice. He who reflects on these consequences, will not think it too much to affirm, that the injury the virtue of a people sustains from invasion is greater than that which affects their property or their lives. He will perceive that by such a calamity the seeds of order, virtue, and piety, which it is the first care of education to implant and mature, are swept away, as by a hurricane..... The morality of peaceful times is directly opposite to the maxims of war. The fundamental rule of the first is to do good; of the latter to inflict injuries. The former commands us to succour the oppressed; the latter to overwhelm the defenceless. The former teaches men to love their enemies; the latter to make themselves terrible even to strangers. The rules of morality will not suffer us to promote the dearest interest by falsehood; the maxims of war applaud it when employed in the destruction of others. That a familiarity with such maxims must tend to harden the heart, as well as to pervert the moral sentiments, is too obvious to need illustration.While the philanthropist, a fellow-worker together with God, in exploring and giving effect to the benevolent tendencies of nature, is devising means to mitigate the evil, and augment the happiness of the world; the warrior is revolving in the gloomy recesses of his mind, plans of future desolation, terror and ruin. Prisons crowded with captives, cities emptied of their inhabitants, fields desolate and laid waste, are amongst his proudest trophies! The fabric of his fame is cemented with tears and blood; and if his name be wafted to the ends of the earth, it is in the shrill cry of suffering humanity; in the curses and imprecations of those whom his sword has reduced to despair. Melville Horne. It is not the voice of the martial Godfrey, that calls Christians to slaughter, when they go forth to attempt the conversion of the Heathen. It is that of the Good Shepherd, who invites them to attend his steps, while he folds his sheep among the Gentiles. It is not for the land of malediction, nor for the sepulchre in which he reposed for a night, that they contend; but for his spiritual saving, and universal reign. With them no trumpet sounds, but that of jubilee; no sword is drawn but that of the Spirit; no blood shed, but that of joyful martyrs.. . . . If, in defiance of religion, reason, and policy, the rude eloquence of Peter of Amiens armed the nations of the West, and precipitated Europe on the head of Asia, shall Christians despair of a crusade to save and bless mankind, sanctioned by every principle of undefiled religion, sober reason, and sound policy? Then emperors and kings, princes and prelates, took the cross-superstition had its day, and a dreadful day it was. The day of Atheism, miscalled the Age of Reason, has succeeded; and bleeding nations display its trophies. It is time for the day of religion to take place; and for the wearied creature to rest in the peaceful and pacific kingdom of the Son of God. Dr. Chalmers, of Glasgow.-The mere existence of the prophecy in my text, (Isaiah ii. 4.) is a sentence of condemnation upon war, and stamps a criminality on its very forehead. So soon as Christianity shall gain a full ascendancy in the world, from that moment war is to disappear. We have heard that there is something noble in the art of war; that there is something generous in the ardour of that fine chivalric spirit which kindles in the hour of alarm, and rushes with delight among the thickest scenes of danger and of enterprise ;-that man is never more proudly arrayed, than when, elevated by a contempt for death, he puts on his intrepid front, and looks serene, while the arrows of destruction are flying on every side of him ;-that, expunge war, and you expunge some of the brightest names in the catalogue of human virtue, and demolish that theatre on which have been displayed some of the sublimest energies of the human character..... It is thus that war has been invested with a most pernicious splendour, and men have offered to justify it as a blessing, and an ornament to society; and attempts have been made to throw a kind of imposing morality around it; and one might almost be reconciled to the whole train of its calami ties and its horrors, did he not believe his Bible, and learn from its information, that in the days of perfect righteousness, there will be no war; that so soon as the character of man has had the last finish of Christian principle thrown over it, from that moment all the instruments of war will be thrown aside, and all its lessons will be forgotten; that, therefore, what are called the virtues of war are no virtues at all; or that a better and a worthier scene will be provided for their exercise; but in short, at the commencement of that blessed era, when the reign of heaven shall be established, war will take its de parture from the world, with all the other plagues and atrocities of the species..... I am not saying that the burden of all this criminality rests upon the head of the immediate combatants. It lies somewhere; but who can deny that a soldier may be a Christian, and that from the bloody field on which his body is laid, his soul may wing its ascending way to the shores of a peaceful eternity? But when I think that the Christians, even of the great world, form but a very little flock, and that an army is not a propitious soil for the growth of Christian principle;-when I think on the character of one such army, that had been led on for years by a ruffian ambition, and been enured to scenes of barbarity, and had gathered a most ferocious hardihood of soul, from the many enterprises of violence to which an unprincipled commander had carried them;-when I follow them to the field of battle, and further think, that on both sides of an exasperated contest, the gentleness of Christianity can have no place in almost any bosom; but that nearly every heart is lighted up with fury, and breathes a vindictive purpose against a brother of the species, I cannot but reckon it among the most fearful of the calamities of war-that while the work of death is thickening along its ranks, so many disembodied spirits should pass into the presence |