207 .... On the Indefectibility of the Saints. Thus in chapter iii. 6. and 14, we have ἑανπερ Karaoxwμev, If we hold fast; vi. 3. EαVTED ETITOεπμ & EOS, If God permit; xii. 7, 8. ε Taideiav VTOμEVETE, If ye endure chastisement; & dε Xwoic 858 raideias, If ye be without chastisement. Accordingly, had the apostle intended to mention the falling away of these persons only in a contingent way, while all the other circumstances enumerated were positive and certain, referring to events which had actually occurred; after using the aorist participles in the former cases, he would have altered the mode of expression in verse 6, and have written εανπερ παραπεσωσι, οι εἰ μεν παραπίπτεσι. In the Latin version of Theodore Beza, we find the former participles rendered by the relative pronoun, with verbs in the perfect potential; which answers pretty well to the Greek aorist. But in the sixth verse he very unwarrantably introduces the idea of contingency, of which there is not the least trace in the original; and renders паρажεσоvтas by si prolabantur. This error appears not only in our version, where we read, If they shall fall away; but also in the French, s'ils retombent; in the Italian, se cadono; in the German, wo sie abfallen; and even in the Hebrew New Testament, published by the Society for promoting Christianity among the Jews, where the words stand thus, 55-. This would not have been the case, had the authors of those versions invariably adhered to the sense of the original, instead of endeavouring to accommodate it to the tenets of a peculiar creed. This passage, therefore, when correctly translated, and have fallen away, instead of if they shall fall away, establishes an important truth. It proves not only the possibility of the case, that persons, once truly converted to God, should altogether fall away; but that there actually were such persons at the time this epistle was written; persons, whose character, conduct, and state, were well known to the apostle, and to those whom he addressed. Here is no supposition whatever; no allusion to any mere possibility; but a reference to a plain matter of fact. These persons had been enlightened; they had tasted of the heavenly gift; they had been made partakers of the Holy Ghost; they had tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come. These expressions unequivocally indicate a genuine conversion to God, and prove that the individuals referred to had possessed, not the form only, but the power of godliness; that they had been true and sincere believers in the Lord Jesus, 208 and, as such, had shared in those blessings which none but real Christians can receive. But, after all, they had fallen away; and, by their apostacy they were now crucifying the Son of God afresh, and putting him to open shame. Hence, the apostle compares them to barren ground, which is nigh unto cursing, and whose end is to be burned. They who maintain the indefectibility of the saints, sometimes demand an instance from Scripture of any one truly converted to God, and afterwards falling from grace. This demand is fully answered by a reference to the above-mentioned passage. It is true, indeed, that we have not the names of any of the persons concerned but it should be remembered, that the inspired writers are extremely cautious in furnishing any names of individuals, who have died in their sins, and are gone to the place of endless torment. The subject of the eternal destinies of men is so solemn and awful, that it appears as though the Spirit of God had purposely abstained from giving positive and direct assertions, relative to the final ruin of any specified individuals. Many persons indeed are mentioned in the sacred volume, of whom we have no rational ground whatever for believing that they died in a state of favour with God, and meetened for the glory of heaven; but every reason to think the reverse. Still it is not expressly asserted, that they are gone to hell! and this consideration should teach us to be very cautious in speaking on the subject. Cain is said to have been of the wicked one; and of this he gave an awful proof in killing his righteous brother Abel. Yet the Scripture no where asserts, even of Cain, that he is gone to hell. If he remained till death in the same temper and state of mind, in which he was when he murdered Abel, there can be no doubt of his perdition; but that this really was the case, who can prove? Who knows but that Cain, in the subsequent part of his life, repented, and found mercy with God? It is not my object to hold out hopes of the final salvation of Cain; but only to shew that it is somewhat presumptuous in us, to speak in positive and peremptory terms relative to the final perdition of any particular person. The same may be said of the case of Solomon. That he was a man eminently favoured of God, and that he was in his early days truly pious, cannot be doubted. That he fell most foully and awfully, is also certain. The facts are stated in Scripture; and the historical account of his reign closes with a recital of his idolatry and other sins. The book of inspiration does not any where say that he repented of his crimes, or that he made any efforts to undo the evils which he had done, by eradicating idolatry with its concomitant vices, and re-establishing the pure worship of Jehovah throughout the land. Hence, many have asserted, positively, that he died in his sins, and consequently perished. Others have maintained that he repented and found mercy, and that his book of Ecclesiastes is a monument of his contrition and restoration. Scripture, however, does not positively decide the question. It does not affirm, either that Solomon repented and was restored, or that he continued impenitent till death; either that he was finally received into glory, or that he sunk into perdition. And it is our safest way not to attempt deciding a point, which God in his holy word has left undecided. But if any insist upon it, that the absence of all scriptural evidence relative to the repentance and recovery of Cain is equivalent to a proof that he did not recover, but died in his sins; let it be remembered, that the case of Solomon stands on the same ground. If the argument be valid in reference to Cain, it is equally valid in reference to Solomon, and will certainly prove that this illustrious monarch died an apostate and an idolater. And, if so, his case furnishes an affecting and a tremendous demonstration, that the doctrine of inamissible grace and absolute perseverance is unscriptural and false. ings of genuine and experimental religion, may fall foully, finally, and everlastingly. Hence, all Christians should lay to heart that important caution—Ὁ δοκων έςαναι, BETET μn Tεon. Let him that is fully persuaded that he standeth (or, that most assuredly standeth) take heed lest he fall. Exeter, Nov. 1827. W. P. B. PHOEBE'S GRAVE. "And spring adorns with flowers her humble grave." In a retired spot, near to which three roads met, I observed two labourers removing the earth, and supposing they were going to erect a direction-post, I stopped to inquire of them which road I must take to get to 66 MTurn to your right hand, replied one of the men, and then, without attending to me further, resumed his work. However, as I am naturally inquisitive, I interrupted him again by remarking, that a guide-post was absolutely necessary where the roads intersected each other, as they did at this place. "Ah, but it is no guidepost matter we're about," said the man: to be sure, it may be called so in one sense, inasmuch as it will point out a wrong road. But I guess no bairn, or grown up body, will care to pass it after dark for some time to come.' I begged the man to explain himself. "Why, you see, it's a grave we're making. Ah, you may well look sad; but so it is, and there's one to be buried in it too. You, perhaps, knew Phoebe Ward of our village, as pretty looking a lass as one may see. Well, the squire Osborn took a liking to her, and in a short time it seemed pretty certain he meant to marry her. And he did marry her; but what came of it? Why, in a few weeks after, he told her that the marriage was all sham, and offered to provide for her, if she'd leave him, and not trouble him. The poor thing took the matter to heart, and went mad, as they say; and tho' she came to herself a little a few days back, she has never been right since the affair. Well, yesterday the woman that attends on her left the house for a moment, and when she came back, there lay Phoebe with a knife (how she got it God knows) buried deep in her side. The woman raised her from the floor, and spoke to her-but she might as well have spoken to my pick-axe-the poor thing was dead enough." Unfortunate I conclude, therefore, that the verses girl! said I. "Then," resumed the man, alluded to prove, beyond all reasonable "the corner came at night, and after it doubt, that they who have been truly con- had been well shown to him, as I think, verted to God, and have enjoyed the bless-that she was beside herself, he made use of It would perhaps be difficult to find, even among the worst characters mentioned in the Bible, a dozen individuals, of whom we are fully warranted from the written word to say they died in their sins, and will be found on the last day on the left hand of the great Judge. Hence, it is unreasonable in those, who are advocates for the indefectibility of the saints, to require scriptural proof that any specified individuals, having once enjoyed the converting grace of God, lost it, and sunk into final condemnation. It is enough for us to learn, that this is a possible case—that the writer of the epistle to the Hebrews alludes to some with whom this actually was the case; and although no names are given us, it is very probable, if not certain, that the apostle himself, and the Christians to whom he wrote, were personally acquainted with some of those, whose awful state is here described, and brought forward as a warning to others. some hard words which I cannot recollect, and ordered that she should be buried in the cross-road; and so, you see, the grave's for her, and she'll be brought here in the dark of the night." I observed, while the man was speaking, that the tears fell down the time-furrowed cheeks of his companion, a silver-headed man of some fourscore years. "That's Phoebe's father," continued the man; "he would not leave the management of her grave to me, but has come himself to assist in making things as decent as they may be. Poor old man, if he stays here till night, it's my thought they may be buried together; and again, sir, if he goes back to his cottage, he'll die of grief. Ah, it's a heart-rending case, tho' some people think lightly of it, and say, it's fitting that one who has killed herself should be denied Christian burial; but I say, that no one who knows what he is doing would lay hands on himself. And I count it of little consequence that she's to be buried here in the high-way, if she is now, as I trust in God she is, happy in heaven, and looking down upon her enemies with pity. To be sure, what we're doing may break her poor father's heart, or go nigh to do it, and will gather a noisy crowd together to disgrace us all as Christians and men,, but what purpose more it can answer, I cannot tell." It is necessary, said I, that some legal penalty should attend a crime, which is in its consequences so ruinous; but how far such cases as the present act as warnings, I am not able to say. Man's judgment is fallible, and human laws must frequently compromise private injury, whilst they aim at public good; so that an appearance of injustice will frequently attach to acts of human jurisprudence. But whatever may be the decision of an earthly tribunal, we may rest assured, that the Almighty will not sit in judgment on the deeds of a distracted suicide. "What you say," replied the man, "is very good, no doubt, if I could understand it. Well, sir, you see that low cottage among the old elms. That is the old man's dwelling. It's worth your while to visit it, if it be only to see the little garden in front, which Phoebe took pains to keep in order, and which was admired by all, till of late it has lost something of its beauty. And if you enter the cottage, you'll agree with me, that her father could want for nothing in such a comfortable dwelling, while Phoebe was alive to wait on him and comfort him. But the old man has drooped sadly of late. When he returned at night 212 from his work, he found Phoebe at home to be sure, but it only saddened his heart to look at her; and I have often heard him at such times wish she was in heaven. Form. erly, sir, you might have seen her, as the day was closing, when the sun was shedding its last light on yon little wood-night after night you might have seen her open the wicket that leads to the house, and skip over the fields to meet her father. And the old man's supper was always ready for him when he reached home; for she was careful to prepare that, and make all ready before she set out. But night comes on apace, and our sad preparations for Phoebe's burying are not finished. Turn to your right hand, and the road will lead you directly to MGood-day, sir." My heart was too full to answer him, and any attempt to console the afflicted parent would have been as impotent as the hand of an infant laid on the mane of the stormy sea. I turned from them in silence, and continued my way to M When I reached the populous city, I expected to find a gloom on every countenance. Phebe's history had melted my heart to sadness, and I was a stranger to her; but at M- a distance of only two miles from her dwelling, the tale of her sorrows must have been well known, and, thought I, every eye will weep for her. How was I deceived! My feelings, I am aware, had risen to a romantic height. It was not wonderful that I met with no tokens of commiseration for Phoebe's fate in the faces that passed. The crowds which thronged every street were too much occupied in the pursuit of gain or of pleasure, to suffer an unprofitable pity for another's fate, to interfere with their important avocations. The busy look, and the joyous countenance, were all I could meet with; and if it were possible to judge from appearances, I might be said to have been a solitary mourner in a city of joy. Shortly after my arrival at a small inn, nearly adjoining to the principal hotel, my attention was drawn to a splendid equipage which had stopped at the latter. The bearing was once noble, but considerable abatements I observed had been inserted in the shield. I asked of one who stood near, whose carriage that was which had just come up. "Tis the Osborns," said the man, 66 and they who are alighted from it, are the squire himself, his lady who is to be, and her sister. I thought," continued the man, "that the squire would get a new wife before his old one was dead, but there's no danger of that now, for she is to be put out of the way to-night." He then related to me Phoebe's tale, but with so little of sympathy or manly emotion, that I could not help drawing a comparison between the artless feelings of a rustic, and the cold and callous heart of a citizen. Nature certainly teaches her children well; and the keeper of sheep, thought I, is, to this day, more virtuous than they who dwell in the cities of the plain. "The squire gives a concert and ball at the hotel this evening,” said my companion, "and all the fashionables in M- have been invited. The public are allowed to witness the preparations which have been made, and if you are not otherwise engaged, you will perhaps like to see them, and step into the hotel with me." I made no objection, for though I had determined on witnessing Phoebe's interment, I chose to cast a look on these splendid prepara- | tions, that I might be able to contrast the guilty greatness of her murderer, with the afflictive circumstances which must attend her lowly obsequies. We ascended the great staircase, and entered the principal room of the hotel, which was set apart for such uses as the present. The arrangements which had been made were in exceedingly good taste, and the room might, with little effort of the imagination, have been converted into the palace of Oberon. The construction of the orchestra brought to one's mind all the prodigies of the Orphean lyre; and the whole room seemed a fit place of resort for the fabled divinities of other times. But I could not help associating Phoebe with this gorgeous scene; and when I did so, I viewed all who were about to " trip it on the light fantastic toe," as a set of unholy spirits, preparing to weave their dance around the victim of their leader. moment the lowest depth of human misery was unveiled to me. On a low table, in the middle of the room, stood the coffin of the deceased, which was in fact nothing more than a rough deal box; the lid was still off, and the father had entreated, from time to time, that it might be so a few minutes longer. The humanity of the officer, who was in attendance to enforce the verdict of the coroner, was highly creditable to him. He endeavoured to soothe the old man, who was now become almost childish, and, excepting when an attempt was made to close the coffin, he seemed to be under no great weight of affliction. He was past feeling, and insensible to every thing, save that something valuable to him, and with which he was unwilling to part, lay before him. It was agreed that I should take him aside, and amuse him with the little preparations I had to make, while the coffin was screwed down. I looked on the deceased; her countenance was pale as marble, but extremely beautiful, and her features were as composed as if she had been enjoying a gentle sleep. It is not so difficult a thing as some may deem it, to alleviate the weight of another's affliction. Listen with an attentive ear to his tale of woe,—shed a tear of sympathy while he recounts his sorrow, and when the case will admit of it, speak a few words of comfort to him: these are, perhaps, in many instances, the only lenitives which can be used; yet simple as they are, their effect is by no means inconsiderable. In the present instance my little preparations for his Phoebe diverted her father's solicitude for her remains, so far, that he allowed the coffin to be closed. A few outward signs of mourning were given to the four men, who stood ready to bear the body to its "narrow cell;" and Phoebe's father, her attendant, and myself, were decently habited as mourners. The officer threw a piece of crape over his staff, and the father's eyes were immediately filled with tears. prepared to set out for the grave, which was at no great distance from the cottage. The men raised the body slowly, and placed it on their shoulders: the father stood close to them as chief mourner, the attendant was Some time before I reached the cot- next, and the officer advanced in front of tage, I could hear the indecent noises of a the coffin. Every thing being now armultitude; and when I arrived at the spot, ranged, I opened the door, and the mournthere was not less than a thousand persons ful procession set out; as it passed through of the worst and lowest order: some were the wicket, I threw a dark covering over wrestling, some fighting, others shouting, the coffin, which the officer himself adand a very few crying shame upon them.justed, then closing the gate, I followed at I made my way through the throng, and some little distance. was admitted into the cottage. At that The shouts of the crowd that was col I returned to my inn, and after taking some refreshment, prepared to retrace my steps to Phoebe's cottage. Before I set out I procured a few things, which would impart some little solemnity to her funeral, without interfering with the legal restrictions. Many persons passed me on the road, whose behaviour would have induced one to think that they were going to a merry-making, rather than to a sight of woe. We lected round the cottage gave the signal to the whole multitude, and a general rush towards the spot took place. But when the mournful spectacle came in open sight, the crowd fell back. They had expected nothing of the kind, and had only prepared themselves to see the body hurried indecently along, and unfeelingly cast into the pit. When they beheld the simple, yet decent procession, and marked its slow and solemn pace, even they were ashamed to offer it an insult. The vast multitude formed a double line, extending from the cottage to the grave, and in a few moments all commotion had entirely ceased. The moon threw her silver light over the wood and the meadows, and her image was reflected unbroken from the little stream, as were also the thousand thousand lamps of heaven. Under this glorious canopy we walked, and the silent minstrelsy of those beautiful orbs was the funeral dirge. Arriving at the place of interment, the coffin was rested on the ground, while the cords were adjusted for lowering it into the grave: then without a word it was consigned to the earth. Her father threw the first earth upon it, and having cast "a longing lingering look" upon the remains of his child, he withdrew himself from the spot. His fortitude at this moment was more than human; he was not now be. wildered and childish, but calm and collected, and, grasping my hand in one of his, he walked with considerable firmness back to his cottage. But when we had reached it, he sunk down in the little alcove where his daughter used to sit at her spinning, and appeared to be absorbed in thought. In a moment his countenance changed; the fortitude which he had lately shewn was like the last effort of the expiring taper, which revives for a moment, then vanishes for ever. Without a sigh or a groan, his head fell upon my bosom; at the same instant, a smile, not of earth, beamed in the old man's features, and his spirit passed from him. 216 REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF SAGACITY IN A DOG. WE are constantly hearing proofs of the extraordinary sagacity of this animal. The story of the Pointer and the Magpie, in your late number, col. 18, brought to my recollection the following circumstance. On the grounds of a farm near my house, several sheep had been destroyed, and their mutilated remains furnished proof that they were devoured by some animal. Suspicion at length fell upon the great house-dog; which was known to be very sagacious. But then he was always, during the night season, when these depredations were committed, confined to the kennel. On examining the dog closely, however, the paws and mouth exhibited faint marks of blood. This circumstance was sufficient to establish his guilt, as being either principal or accessary in the mischief, and a servant was stationed to watch his motions. At length, in the dead of night, he sallied forth; having released himself from a strong chain by forcing the strap over his head. When he returned he washed himself in the pond, and betook himself to the kennel again, slipping his head through the collar. When day-light appeared, another sheep was found dead, and some of the flesh had been devoured. The servant charged the dog with the mischief, and told him he would be shot, upon which he instantly forced off the strap with his paws, and bounded away. Several years have since elapsed, but the dog has not yet been heard of. DUKE OF WELLINGTON. C. With some difficulty I was enabled to This illustrious individual was scarcely place his remains beside those of his daughter. I well knew that no other place was more an object of universal attention, when consecrated in his eye, beyond the spot he overthrew Napoleon on the plains of where she rested. Their ashes lay together Waterloo, than he is at present, from the for some time unhonoured and despised, conspicuous rank which he sustains in the but within these few years the roads there- British cabinet. The following is an exact about have been much diverted, and the fac-simile of his Autograph. grave, which originally stood beside the three roads, was lately in the middle of a pasture ground, till the squire, as some retribution for the injuries he had done, purchased the field, and converted it into a shrubbery. He has very recently erected a |