be violated by transgressing the laws and institutions of God himself. We honour our superiors; but the same principles from which we do this, teach us to respect the rights of every other order in the church.

The Grave of Human Philosophies, ancient and modern; or, the Universal System of the Bramins unveiled. By R. DE BEICOURT, Translated by A. DALMAS.

-M. de Beicourt is one of those men who, false as may be their theories, deserve our personal sympathies. This gentleman, we understand, formerly held a lucrative situation under the French Government, which he resigned to his love of travel. The work before us, when offered as a system of true philosophy, is certainly as absurd a treatise as ever appeared in Europe: when, however, read as affording many curious specimens of Bramin philosophy, it is a very curious, and not altogether useless publication.

"Boast not thyself of To-morrow:" a Sermon on the Death of General Sir Harry Calvert, Baronet, G. C. B. By the Rev. HENRY BLUNT, M. A., Vicar of Clare, Suffolk; Curate of Chelsea, Middlesex, &c. London: Hatchard.

-The text selected by our preacher is taken from James iv. 13, 14; and the whole bearing of the sermon discovers an anxious wish to benefit the souls of the living, rather than to pass a poor paltry panegyric upon the deceased, however well his character might have deserved it. We were particularly pleased with one paragraph in this sermon, in which our preacher nobly and boldly avows his belief in the doctrine which is according to godliness. The whole sermon discovers considerable piety and ability; but we have room for only one extract-an extract which has been strongly censured by a contemporary journal. We think Mr. Blunt honoured by the "several objections which have been raised by that respectable periodical against the following remarks. And with this quotation we take leave of Mr. Blunt, hoping to have the pleasure, ere long, of reviewing some other production of his pen.

When I say, I trust he (the deceased) was prepared for this awful, this unexpected summons, I ground it upon the firm belief that he had fled for refuge to the hope set before him in the Gospel; that he had been brought to the vital knowledge of himself as a sinner, and of Jesus Christ as his only Saviour and Deliverer that he had cast off every dependence upon himself, and had come in sincere repentance and deep consciousness of his sins, and of his need of a free and full forgiveness, to the Cross of his Redeemer. This, and this alone, is the ground of my assertion; all the virtues and all the charities of life are nothing in the sight of God, except they are the fruits of a true and living faith; except they proceed from a heart renewed by the Spirit of grace, and truly reconciled to God by the death of his Son. And even then, valuable and absolutely necessary as they are, as evidences of our belief, it is not to them that we look for our acquittal, our acceptance with God; it is to the blood of the everlasting covenant, and to that alone. It is this lively interest in the blood of the Redeemer, this "being one with Christ and Christ with us," which alone can give a man peace at the last, and enable us to be "presented faultless in the presence of his glory." pp. 13-16.

397

MISCELLANIES.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE EDITOR AND A FRIEND FROM THE COUNTRY.

SCENE.-Freemasons' Hall :-The Platform.

Editor. Ah, brother, I am heartily glad to see you. So the public meetings have brought you to town?

Friend. What, brother, is it you? Why, yes. I have not attended before, these three years. I hope you are well. Really you are looking quite thin. How goes on the Review?

Editor. The Review? Why-hum-ha--What Review? Friend. What Review? Why, the Christian Review and Clerical Magazine, of which you are editor.

Editor. The Christian Review and Clerical Magazine, of which I am editor?

Friend. Yes. How is it going on ?

Editor. How should I know how it is going on? Who told you that I am the editor?

Friend. Come, brother, you and I are old acquaintance.

Editor. Well, then, I see you know all about it. But I thought it had been a profound secret. Who could tell you that I am the editor?

Friend. Why, you told me yourself. Don't you remember, when I came to attend your anniversary; and preached twice for you, besides speaking in the Town Hall?

Editor. Oh yes, now I remember all about it. But I hope it is not generally known. I have never told it, except as a profound secret.

Friend. But you may be assured it is, though. And as to telling things as a profound secret, that is the way of all others to bring them into general circulation. However, be assured of this: I have not betrayed your incognito. Nevertheless I have heard the secret, again and again: three times, before I left home, at different places in the country; once, in the coach, in my way to town; twice, yesterday, on this very platform; and once, this morning, since I entered the room.-Do you see that young lady to the right, in the reserved seats?

Editor. Her with the plain bonnet, looking rather pale?

Friend. Yes. As I was passing her in my way to the platform, I heard her say to her mamma, the lady sitting next her, in an audible whisper, "Mamma, here comes the editor of the Christian Review.' I looked round, as did five or six persons besides, and sure enough it was you.

Editor. By-the-bye, now I think of it, I recollect mentioning the circumstance, at a tea-party at which she was present. But I mentioned it as a profound secret.

Friend. Well then, my dear friend, to speak seriously, write with this reflection always present to your mind; that the things which you have spoken and written in secret," shall be proclaimed upon the house-tops."

Editor. It is indeed a serious reflection, and I thank you for it. What do you think of the first two numbers?

Friend. The first two numbers? Why-hum-ha-the first two numbers?

Editor. Yes. The first two numbers. What do of them?

you think Friend. What do I think of them? Oh, you wish me to tell you what I think of them.

Editor. Yes. Come now, tell me, as a friend. I think it is a duty, which friends owe to one another, to speak candidly. Friend. Why really-I have read—that is, I have looked over them-but

Editor (taking him by the button-hole). now you must tell me your sincere opinion. Friend. Why really

Come, brother,

Editor. Come, brother, you and I are old acquaintance. Friend. Well, that to be sure is a claim not to be denied. While the room is filling, then, I shall frankly tell you my mind. That is, as to the faults. The good qualities I reserve, till you are out of hearing. In the first place: I would advise you not your contributors quote

to let

Editor. Who is that tall person coming in, with spectacles? Friend. Secondly: why do you criticise trifles in good men? That is not your object.

Editor. That lady and her son are both members of my congregation.

Friend. Thirdly-it is a mere matter of taste, but I don't at all like the doing-up of your magazine. Do you mean to say, that you intend to beat people black and blue?

Editor. She must be very much crowded where she sits; but people will come so late

Friend. Fourthly say nothing more about the Bishop of London, for the next three numbers at least. People will think you are aiming a blow at an individual, which is not your intention.

Editor. There is a much better place here, just under the platform. I wish I could catch her eye.

:

Friend. Fifthly when you have said what is meant for a strong thing, add nothing, immediately after, to qualify or

justify it.

words.

It looks as if you were frightened at your own

You

Editor. Here, here. There are two chairs vacant. will see and hear much better. Take my advice. Come at once, or you will be too late. Yes-I have got a resolution.

Friend. Sixthly: do not talk so often, in your next number, of your limits, of wanting room, &c. It gives the idea of something better being left out, than any thing you have inserted; which must always make an unfavourable impression on the reader's mind.

Editor. There, now the place is lost.-No-no-stay where you are. It is too late.-How warm it is!

Friend. Seventhly in your review of Wolfe's Remains, why give the account of his triumphs at college, his ambition, &c.? This is quite below your work, if you aim at reforming the times, and restoring the true standard of Christian doctrine. And then, that essay on Briefs. What have you to do with Briefs?

Editor. The heat is really overpowering! What a trouble it is now to get tickets for the meetings! I think the committees are growing a little too strict.

Friend. Eighthly :

Editor. After coming on the platform this morning, I wanted to speak to a friend at the bottom of the room, but was told I could not return without shewing my ticket a second time; and that by a gentleman who knows my face as well as he knows his own. I went back for my ticket, but it had been put into a box with the lid nailed on. What was to be done? suppose if a lady should faint away, she will not be able to pass out, in time, without a ticket.

Friend. Put that in the next number of your Magazine. Eighthly:

Editor. The object of all these societies is to publish the free grace of the Gospel. Those who contribute do so in a free spirit. Every thing connected with such institutions should be done so as to leave men free and unfettered, as far as possible. You may tie up your own hands, and you may tie up other people's, by laws and regulations; but you cannot hinder ladies and gentlemen from saying, "This or that rule or restriction has too much of a stiff, sour, harsh, unbending, unaccommodating character: I will not collect for them any longer.”

Friend. I think the ladies and gentlemen who said so, would shew that they were rather too ready to take offence. Nevertheless, I agree with you as to the general principle. But with respect to your Magazine; as I was going to say, Eighthly:

Editor. Why, it is enough to offend any one, when he has come two or three hundred miles in order to be present at the meetings, and then, perhaps after having strenuously supported the cause in his own neighbourhood, finds he cannot have a ticket because he has omitted some unknown technicality in applying for it.

Friend. But then there are advertisements, to tell people how to proceed. I applied regularly, and got all the tickets I wanted. It would be as well, though, to try and discover some more effectual mode of preventing disappointments. But, as I was going to say, Eighthly:

Editor. Then, with regard to the doctrines, which some persons are attempting to force upon our societies, as to the management of their funds. It is wrong to think, that, because many of the contributors to them are poor persons, therefore the disposal of them should be niggardly. This is a bad argument, though we often hear it used. A religious society should not be a barrel, to receive and retain contributions; but a syphon, to convey them. And the nature of a syphon is such, that the moment you stop the running out, you stop the running in.

:

Friend. True. Put that in your next number. If I saw a bad feeling arising among the societies in this matter, I should think it a very serious evil and perhaps, by touching upon the subject in the Magazine en passant, you may prevent much mischief; and do away with the necessity for a paper, which I was thinking of sending you, on this very subject. But, to proceed. Eighthly:

Editor. Send me the paper at any rate, and I can keep it by me, to publish if necessary. I see a friend-Excuse me Friend. Stop. I was going on with my remarks on your Magazine. Eighthly:

Editor. My dear friend, the kind manner in which you have spoken your mind, demands my warmest thanks. You are always so frank and open. I shall pay particular attention to your hints. But now tell me your general opinion. That is what I wanted you to give your general opinion, as to the first two numbers.

Friend. Well, you have heard me with so much attention, that I cannot refuse your request. You know that I am rather backward to speak my mind; but when I do, it is generally pretty plainly.

Editor. Yes; and I like plainness by all means. Now tell me, plainly, your general opinion, as to the first two numbers. Have you read them?

Friend. I have read them; and I hope you will always go