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The monarch feels that his riches and honors are a mere vision, and that Death will shortly complete his triumph over them all. But John Hill feels the invincible strength and the unchangeable value of the riches of God's grace, and welcomes death with joyful contempt of his sting, and defies the grave to claim its victory. He thanks God, which giveth him the victory through CHRIST JESUS. These indeed are honours and riches, such as a man may well rejoice in. But to speak of honour, and dignity, apart from those hopes which are beyond the grave, is a burlesque. They are as a flower, which fadeth


Again take the Philosopher falsely so called, the despiser of revelation, the conceited idolator of human reason. Hear him prate of the dignity of man, the might and comfort of philosophy. Lay him on the Death bed. Surround him, if you will, with men of literature, admirers of art and eloquence, who have looked up to him and honoured him, and now stand around his bed, to contemplate the dignity of man, and to see the philosopher die. He may keep up the appearance of firmness and joy. But let "Common Sense" say, what grounds has he for one or the other, to be compared with those, which shed their influence in the breast, and sustained the fortitude of John Hill. Who are those friends assembled round him? Men to die, as he does! What are

their praises worth to him, who is soon to be given as food for worms? What real comfort, or strength. can they impart to his sinking soul and spirits? If he has any thought, or "Common Sense", how must his heart sicken at the jargon of the dignity of man. What is dignity such as that to him? What dignity can he have, who is to be in a few days a mass of mouldering corruption, and has not lived in hope of the "mighty working," whereby the seed buried in the ground, shall be raised again with the "glorious

body." What can he care for the praise and opinions, of Dust and Ashes like himself, if he is never more to see them, nor to remember them? Dignity indeed! Is this the dignity of a reasonable being? Is it not a farce, to compare it with that of the poor Catechist! In this life he has brought up a family bound together in Christian love, blessing him by dutiful attentions rendered on Christian principles. At his death they surround his bed consoling him, and sharing his consolation, with Christian hopethe hope that is not confined to this vain and perishing scene, but grasps the eternal world of heaven-the hope that does not grabble in corrup tion, but looks forward to incorruption---the hope, that is not the mere sordid and temporary conceit of a mortal body, but the noble aspiration of an immortal soul-a hope which invests its possessor not with a dignity as fantastic as an idiots' feathers, but with a dignity, permanent and enduring, worthy of a reasonable soul, and of a Spirit, in which the image of God has been shadowed and shall be yet more gloriously reflected. The life and the death of John Hill, and the account of his duteous and affectionate family, present a spectacle which may fill the poorest and most humble Christian with joy, and may shame many mighty, and many wise in their own conceits---and shew, that any other strength, than that of God, is weakness, any other wisdom, is folly.


(A Portrait by Cobbett.)

'Amid this knavery and mismanagement, Paine had not distinguished himself by conjugal tenderness to his second wife. He had now lived with her three

years and a half, and, besides cruelly beating, bad otherwise treated her wilfully and shamefully, in a manner which would excite the indignation and resentment of every virtuous married woman; and which must ensure to him the detestation of every honourable man. From an attention to the known delicacy and modesty of our fair country-women, we forbear, in this abstract, to state the particulars, though they are published at length in Mr. Oldys's pamphlet.- -The consequence of all this was a separation between him and his wife, upon the condition of her paying her husband thirty-five pounds sterling, and his agreeing to claim no part of whatever property she might hereafter acquire.'

'Paine now retired to London; but would not leave his wife in peace till they had mutually entered into new articles of separation; in which it was declared on his part, that he no longer found his wife a convenience, and on hers, that she had too long suffered the miseries of such a husband.'

This is the kind and philanthropic Tom Paine, who sets up such a piteous howl about the cruelty and tyranny of kings!-"I have known many of those bold champions for liberty in my time," says the old Vicar of Wakefield, "yet do I not remember one who was not in his heart and in his family a tyrant." What Dr. Johnson observes of Milton may with justice be applied to every individual of the king-killing crew: he looked upon woman as made only for obedience and man only for Rebellion." I would request the reader to look round among his acquaintance, and see if this observation does not every where hold good; see if there be one among the yelping kennels of modern patriots,* who is not a bad husband, father, brother, or son. The

Cobbett himself became a "yelping patriot." How far did his domestic life prove the truth of his remarks on the tyranny of such patriots? It is a fair Question.

same pride and turbulence of spirit that led them to withhold every mark of respect and obedience from their superiors, led them also to tyrannize over those who were so unfortunate as to be subjected to their will. The laws of nature will seldom, if ever, be respected by the man who has set those of his country and of decorum at defiance; and from this degree of perversity there is but one step to the defiance of heaven itself. The good citizen or subject, the good husband, parent, or child, and the good christian, exist together or they exist not at all.'


(A Portrait by Cobbett.)

'The civil disorganization of the state was but the forerunner of those curses which the Assembly had in store for their devoted country. They plainly perceived, that they never should be able to brutify the people to their wishes, without removing the formidable barriers of religion and morality. Their heads were turned, but it was necessary to corrupt their hearts. Besides this, the leaders in the Assembly were professed modern philosophers; that is to say, atheists and deists. Camus and Condorcet openly taught atheism, and Ceruti said, with his last breath, "the only regret 1 have in quitting the world, is, that I leave a religion on earth.” These words, the blasphemy of an expiring demon, were applauded by the assembled legislators. It was not to be wondered at, that the vanity of such men should be flattered in the hope of changing the most christian country into the most infidel upon the face of the earth; for, there is a sort of fanaticism in irreligion, that leads the profligate atheist to seek for proselytes with a zeal that would do honour to a good cause,

but which employed in a bad one becomes the scourge of society. The zeal of these philosophers for extirpating the truth was as great at least as that shown by the primitive christians for its propagation.'


In our Church History for the present number Cain's setting up his own judgment, or rather passions, against God is a remarkable feature. Cain would not bring his offering in that manner, or with those dispositions, which God had required. The offering therefore was rejected; and his brother Abel's for the opposite reason accepted. Instead of taking the right way-"Cain was wroth." He deter

mined to act according to his own pleasure, and assert the right of his own judgment. He was wroth and forsook and defied God. God therefore forsook him-and Cain became the hater, and persecutor, and at last the murderer, of his brother. Would that many dissenters, who have forsaken the Church and become haters of their brethren, would consider this example. How often is the origin of dissent from the Church to be traced to wroth, and the continuance of it to pride. Are we wrong in believing that, when it does not spring either from early education, or from thoughtlessness and indifference, it is generally caused by wroth?

Whatsoever may be the ground on which it is persisted in, many a dissenter will feel, if he will not acknowledge, that he first of all left the Church, because, like Cain, he was wroth. Perhaps he had not so good a pew as another; perhaps the Clergyman had said, or done, something to offend him; perhaps he fancied himself entitled to some advantage or distinction which he did not obtain. He is wroth at the supposed ill-treatment, and he allows his

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