at his resurrection. He conquers and subdues that death the first Adam brought in, and reigns over it by his grace, Rom. v. 21. Christians, would you aspire after the resurrection of the dead, as Paul did? Phil. iii. 11, direct all your aims, build all your hopes, on Christ's resurrection: because I live, ye shall live also, John xiv. 19. This living head will in a little time have no dead members; with his dead body shall they arise, Isa. xxvi. 19. (To be continued.) JOHNSON'S TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT LEVET. We have long admired the tribute of affectionate regard which Johnson paid to the memory of his humble friend Levet, to whom he had afforded a home and patronage for several years, and who died very suddenly. We insert the verses, and the title which he prefixed to them. On the Death of Mr. Robert Levet, a Condemned to Hope's delusive mine, By sudden blasts, or slow decline, Our social comforts drop away. Well try'd through many a varying year, See Levet to the grave descend, Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend. Yet still he fills Affection's eye, Obscurely wise, and coarsely kind; Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny Thy praise to merit unrefin'd. When fainting nature call'd for aid, 'The toil of every day supply'd. -his powers were No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way. Miscellaneous. A MINIATURE SKETCH OF RURAL LIFE IN THE HIGHER CIRCLES. ESSAY III. "I made me gardens and orchards, and planted trees in them of all fruits. I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees." This is a map of improvements made by Solomon. In other places he has not only unrolled more of the map, but enamelled it with a gloss which ages have not worn away. He was fond of natural history, for he wrote of the "cedar of Lebanon, and of the hyssop, that springeth on the wall." He could lay aside the cares of empire, and conceal his sceptre in the herbage of the field, while he mixed with the peasant tribes over which he ruled. The taste of men varies but little essentially, as ages roll away. Standing in sight of many dwellings at this day, we are constrained to sketch the outlines of the same exquisite picture, which once fell from the pencil of the Hebrew monarch. "Some minds by nature, are averse to noise, And hate the tumult, half the world enjoys: To them, the deep recess of dusky groves, This taste prompts many to pour wealth over the lap of some chosen spot, on which rises the English cottage, the Gothic mansion, or the chateau embowered in the forest. Here they prepare to train the plant of happiness to its full proportions, and account all that lies beyond the ring of their own woods, a blighted heath. Many gain their object. Their outline has a filling up, commensurate with their warmest desires. Kings have their rural palaces, noblemen their manors, and hundreds beside, live retired on their estates. Rural life has not reached so high a measure of refinement in this as in some other countries.* Its enjoyments are not tasted with so keen a relish, our hedges are not so thickly set, nor our streams led into channels so serpentine. Still, among us there are glades that have been filled by the hand of opulence, and spots from whence the wild luxuriance has been trimmed away. With a sky of uncommon softness, overhanging mountains of uncommon grandeur, and woods of deeply tinged foliage, it would be ingratitude not to record on the rinds of our trees-"The lines have fallen to us in pleasant places." We envy not the crowded accommodations of elegant life. On the contrary, when we stray away and overlook the enclosures of the man of wealth, the heart becomes joyous, and songs of praise "Mix with the sweet bells of the sauntering herds." The garden drew reflections from the mild and grateful Addison, and over its walks Hervey See Irving's Rural Life in England, Carter's Travels, Professor Green's Notes of a Traveller, Griscom's Year in Europe, and Silliman's Journal. Ch. Adv.-VOL. X. poured the effusions of a pious heart.* Its gates shut in every herb for the use of man. Its trees are cut into every variety of shape. The summer house is planted on its sylvan knoll. Its buds break into fruitage, and its tendrils into ringlets. Its grounds are thrown into landscape. On its lawns the green lemon is pendant to the eye, and the yellow orange is pendant to the hand. To this may be added the element of water, thrown from the height of the precipice, or led about from tree to tree; or at every turn we may meet statuary. In Dodsley's description of the Leasowes, we read of nothing but rural temples, and bridges, and cisterns holding the purest waters, and tablets sacred to friendship, odes at the fountains, and statues every where, rock-work grottoes in the dales, and flocks on the hills. The turrets of the man of wealth may overlook wide prospects, in which interesting objects may detain the eye of the beholder. The skiff may be seen afar; and the angler watching for his prey; the wood-crowned island may rise out of the lake, or Alpine mountains may bound his horizon. To all this, painting + may add its selectest productions. The canvass may show delicious fountains, parks with troops of deer, wood-lands, cool water-falls, brought away from the mountains of Switzerland, the gay fields of France, or from the lochs of Caledonia. The voice of music is heard in the stillness of rural life. We speak not of martial airs, which suit the battle field, but there is music from the aviaries, from the bells of the flocks, from lawns and lakes, from the reed and the pipe, the guitar and the harp. It follows the sportsman as he tracks and scenery * Bacon, Thomas Fuller, Shenstone, Sir W. Scott, have all written on gardening and planting. 7 See Sir Joshua Reynolds' Discourse, and Roscoe's History of Painting. 2 X the brakes, in search of the wild fowl in their devious way, or as he casts a look to the nest of the ringdove. It pursues the huntsman-Of all rural sports, there is none that comes over the heart with such an absorbing influence as the chase. Thus the seasons go round, in swift and pleasant alternation. Well might Cowper say, he never formed a scheme of happiness, without laying the scene in the country, and well might the muse of Burns teach him to sing "Then crowned with flowing hay, came rural joy, And Summer, with his fervid beaming eye: All cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreathed with nodding corn; Then Winter's time, bleached locks did hoary show, By Hospitality-with cloudless brow." This sketch of rural life in the higher circles, might be filled up with many other objects, but it may be well to close this essay with a few reflections. We do not wish to be fastidious; still there are pursuits far more innocent than the noisy chase. Inde pendently of that cruelty to which it leads, it is apt to generate idle and criminal habits, and to be the forerunner of accumulated evils. Let all decide whether the country gentleman be more dignified in his kennel, or among his books. But it is delightful sometimes to trace among the opulent, piety blending itself with every action. The prejudices of some, indeed, are so great, that they can discover no piety in the elevated ranks of life. May not such forget who were the persons that anointed the body of our Redeemer with spices? Rural life has pleasures, for all who use it aright. In the practice of piety their days flow smoothly on, like the brook of Siloa. By such, wealth is not regarded as a hindrance in the pursuit of heavenly bliss, for when benevolence calls, they deal out their riches with a lavish hand. In the midst of their enjoyments, they can use the prayer of Bishop Heber"When gaily clothed and proudly fed, In dangerous wealth we dwell, Remind us of thy manger bed, And lowly cottage cell." But many do not use rural life to aid them in aspirations after the heavenly state. What though every pleasure be drawn around their firesides, and every gratifying object replenish their grounds, if the heart be a wilderness, and there be not even a wild flower in the affections! There must be in such, unsubdued passions, fastidious tastes, morbid feelings, anxious thoughts and corroding cares. Place pirates and Indians in rural life, and they will display their characteristick qualities. Such persons are not prepared for the changes of life. These changes are numerous. Human vicissitudes extend to our retreats, and from such retreats we see many expelled. The girdle which enclosed us is loosened, and we are sent away to roam over an unfriendly world. The queen of France felt the fluctuations of life, when she distributed rings to her maidens, each ring containing grey hair from her head, and around the hair written, "bleached by one night's sorrow." But though the follower of the Saviour may experience reverses, he is on his way to a world which change cannot enter. He seeks not his happiness in Elysian fields, in Hesperian gardens, or in the fortunate isles, but he draws it directly from heaven; and when he lies down in his sylvan urn, it is not without a good hope in Him, who for us was laid in the new hewn tomb of the garden. Every object in rural life is calculated to nourish piety. With this view, men in every age have sought seclusion. But we need not seek the cell, or the cloister. Our Creator is every where present, in fields or woods. The woods stand in their simple attitude. The poet loses his power to embellish them, even when his eye is turning itself over them in deep devotion. They are one of our Maker's temples, whose summits rise like a thousand altars. To this temple repair a thousand birds, that traverse its sunny avenues, and flock into its open courts. The sun pours out light on this stupendous dwelling place of our Creator, and we enter with sublime adoration in our heart. But there are times when the verdant foliage of the woods undergoes a change, and their summits are transformed into purple altars, on which the affections of the heart, ripe in devotion, may be deposited. Then the leaves begin to fall, and each falling leaf whispers admonition to the pensive meditant. The shores of the sea are lined by shells of all hues, but their tints are not more diversified than the hues of autumnal foliage. At such seasons, the sylvan temples become forsaken, and the birds cease to fill them with melody. But spring is on its way, gliding forward with her green mantles; and this cessation of melody will be like the transient pause in music, preparatory to nobler sounds, which shall break from choirs of birds, rejoicing in the exuberance of divine goodness. ROMAN CATHOLICK CONTROVERSY. B. The following letter has been put at the disposal of the Editor by its author, the Rev. John Breckinridge, late of Baltimore, and now the Corresponding Secretary and General Agent of the Board of Education of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church. It appears, that certain stric tures on the Novel entitled "Father Clement," by a member of the Roman Catholick communion, came into the hands of a lady under the pastoral care of Mr. Breckinridge, in Baltimore. The novel, together with the strictures, were sent by the lady to her pastor, and the following letter was the ultimate result. Mr. B. has sent us a copy of the strictures, along with his letter, and has submitted the propriety of publishing both. We have carefully perused both, and being satisfied that Mr. B. has in no respect misquoted or misrepresented the strictures, we think there can be no unfairness in publishing the letter by itself; and our scanty space requires that we husband it on all occasions as much as we properly can. Mr. B. states certain errors of the Romanists, and offers remarks to show their absurdity. His statements and remarks must stand or fall on their own merits; the former as to their correctness, the latter as to their pertinence and conclusiveness. In our opinion, some of the undeniable and most pernicious positions of Romanism, are ably combatted and fairly confuted in this letter; and we publish it as a seasonable counteraction to the insidious and unwearied efforts of the Papists to make proselytes in our country. We only regret that we are obliged to divide it; but the division is so made that it will not weaken the argument. Baltimore, My Dear Madam,-When you first put into my hands "Father Clement," with the strictures of an anonymous writer, I cursorily looked at his remarks, and sent you in reply, a work called the "Protestant"-originally published in Edinburg-as containing a full and satisfactory refutation of those strictures. You have since informed me that a written answer would be more satisfactory-nay more, that it was in some sort triumphantly demanded as impossible. You are fully aware, that the points at issue between Protestants and Papists, are numerous-and vital-and that it would require far more leisure than I ever can command, and far more talent than I possess, to do justice to this dis cussion. Nor is the writer, to whom I am requested to reply, in the proper sense, a responsible one. His name was for some time withheld; and when, at my request, it was given, the author, though highly respectable and intelligent, did not appear to me an accredited defender of his principles; though in all likelihood as wise as his teachers. He may not be acknowledged as authority, by those whom he here represents. I would add, that we do by no means consider the little work on which he so severely animadverts, as a standard author, on the points in controversy.-And, therefore, though it contains many things well said, and many well fitted to alarm the friends of Romanism, we are not to be held responsible for its possible mistakes. Notwithstanding these things, however, I feel your call to be imperative. As your pastor, it is my duty and my privilege to do all in my power to aid you in arriving at a knowledge of the truth, and in repelling attacks on our precious faith. And when to this is added the declaration, that we do not reply to such things because we cannot; when our delay, arising from pressing avocations, from dislike of controversy, or from a delicate regard to what is proper in the mode and spirit of conducting it, are triumphantly appealed to as evidences of the conceded weakness of our cause, it appears in deed our duty to take up the challenge. So far as I can reduce to order the desultory remarks of the author, they embrace the following points: I. The antiquity of the Church of Rome is asserted, in proof of its being the true, and the only true Church. On this subject the following language is employed;-" Where was the Protestant church 200 years ago?" Or, as he says-" The true purport is simply this. Was there prior to, and at any time during the 1500 years that preceded the Reformation, any church in the whole Christian world, which professed and taught the doctrines professed and taught by any one of all the protestant sects of the present day; and if so, where, and which, was this church?" 1. My first remark here is, that the history of the Albigenses and Waldenses must be unknown to the writer. Their creed is, in most respects, the same with what is now held by the Evangelical Protestants. The Centuriators of Magdeburg, vol. iii. century 12. c. 8th, give it in detail. Some of the items are these "The sacraments of the church of Christ are twoBaptism and the Supper of the Lord." "Masses are impious-and it is nadness to say them for the dead." "Purgatory is an invention of men." "The invocation and worshipping of dead saints is idolatry." "The Pope has not the primacy over all the churches of Christ; neither has he power of both the swords." "Vows of celibacy are inven tions of men, and occasions of Sodomy." But we have the testimony of a Papal writer, Reinerius, who wrote in the year 1254. He was a |