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applied for baptism to a Baptist minister in the city. For a man in his position, and in a country where Baptists are so greatly in the minority as they are in Scotland, it must have required a little moral courage to take this step. However, there can be no doubt that, as the result, Dr. Wilson subsequently enjoyed much more peace of mind than if, like many, he had trifled with his convictions of duty, and tried to satisfy himself with the thought that if Dr. Alexander and other good and learned men were unconvinced as to the importance of baptism, he surely might neglect it without serious blame. Let us all remember that we are responsible for acting up to our personal convictions. We cannot throw the responsibility of deciding what we ought to do upon others. If all the world be on the other side, yet if a still small voice within whispers, "This, after all, and not that, is the right way," we ought to follow conscience in preference to all mankind. The truth on this subject is well embodied in a little poem of Dr. Wilson's; for, in addition to his other accomplishments, he was a writer of verses, some of which are full of genuine poetic grace and fire. subject of this poem is Athanasius, the famous Christian father who in the fourth century stood forward as the champion of the doctrine of Christ's divinity. There is, as is well known, a certain Creed, popularly, though incorrectly, ascribed to him. There is also a sentence or motto attributed to him on better authority, in which the brave man declares that he, Athanasius, "against the world" will set forth and maintain what he believes to be the true doctrine concerning the Trinity and the person of the Saviour. It is this sentence which forms the text of the verses in question. They are as follows:

ATHANASIUS CONTRA MUNDUM.

The

O ATHANASIUS! thy too subtle creed
Makes my heart tremble when I hear it read,
And my flesh quivers when the priest proclaims
God's doom on every unbeliever's head.

Yet I do honour thee for those brave words
Against the heretic so boldly hurled,
"Though no one else believe, I'll hold my faith,
I, Athanasius, against the world."

It was not well to judge thy fellow-men;
Thou wert a sinful mortal like us all;
Vengeance is God's; none but Himself doth know
On whom the terrors of His wrath will fall.

But it was well, believing as thou didst,
Like standard-bearer with thy flag unfurled,
To blazon on thy banner those brave words-
"I, Athanasius, against the world."

Thy faith is mine; but that is not my theme;
'Tis thine example I would preach to all;
Whatever each believes and counts for true,
Of things in heaven or earth, or great or small,
If he believe it, let him stand and say,
Although in scorn a thousand lips are curled-
"Though no one else believe, I'll hold my faith,
Like Athanasius, against the world."

But George Wilson, having become a Christian, not only felt it his duty to be baptized, but also to work for Christ. His daily work as a teacher of science he endeavoured increasingly to perform, not so much with a view to the approbation of man, as from a regard to the will of God. “Duty,” as he said, "had become a big word to him." He began to ask himself, too, what he could do for his Lord of a more distinctively evangelistic character. One method of doing good which suggested itself was writing letters of a religious character to invalids. He had discovered that sick people who would not bear a word of religious advice from their neighbours in health, were more disposed to take kindly the admonitions of a person who was in a manner one of themselves. Another good work to which he devoted himself was the delivery of lectures to Ragged Schools, Working Men's Institutions, and the like. Occasionally, also, he gave addresses on religious subjects to the students of the University. As he remarked on one occasion, "The students say they don't care about addresses from ministers; but they'll listen to a lecturer on chemistry; and I hope I shall succeed in speaking a seasonable word." And seasonable, indeed, were the words which he was enabled to speak not unfrequently.

Our limited space forbids our dwelling upon the cheerfulness with which he bore affliction, the ready kindness with which he responded to all applicants for information or help, the affectionateness of disposition combined with gentle playfulness of manner, which won for him the love of all who came in contact with him. At his death all Edinburgh seemed to mourn, as though each one had lost a personal frieud. A public funeral followed, attended by sorrowing thousands of all classes. "Never before," says Dr. Alexander, was such a tribute of respect and

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General Baptist History.

love offered at the grave of any of our citizens."

We end our paper as we began, by remarking that in the instance of Dr. Wilson, especially during the later years of his life, we see religion and science in beautiful harmony. Long before his day the world had seen them blended in the cases of Boyle and Newton, Pascal and Euler; and since his departure that company of great souls has been joined by a kindred spirit, that of Michael Faraday. In the presence of these names let no one deem it a mark of superior intelligence to despise religion or its professors.

Christianity asks of doubters that they will examine her claims in the spirit of true science; that is, that instead of theorizing as to what they suppose ought to be, they will reverently and candidly exainine facts. Say, that they find it difficult to see how the Christian doctrine of prayer

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harmonizes with the fixity of Nature's laws. Let them cast aside preconceived notions and consider facts. Dr. George Wilson, as we have seen, was all his life engaged as a natural philosopher in the careful examination and study of facts, and in this examination he displayed remarkable acuteness and candour. Now what does he say, this man thus trained, so fair, so cautious and candid,-what is his testimony? "I have felt assured," he says, "of answers to prayer already." Then to every honest doubter we say, "Try, my brother, for yourself the power of prayer. Ask, and you shall receive; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Try for yourself in a spirit of candour, and with an earnest desire for the truth only, and we have not a moment's doubt as to the happy result."

GENERAL BAPTIST HISTORY. REV. GEORGE CHEATLE.

GEORGE CHEATLE sustained the pastoral office in the G. B. church, Lombard Street, Birmingham, for more than fiftytwo years prior to the commencement of the labours of its present minister. He departed this life Feb. 24, 1870, and his remains were interred in the burying ground of the Baptist chapel, King's Heath, near Birmingham, on March 2. This last resting place the deceased had selected because the spot was rendered dear to him by his having in his younger days, amid much opposition and serious insult from the rude inhabitants, first introduced the preaching of the gospel, and then, with others, erected a chapel in which, summer and winter, he often proclaimed the unsearchable riches of Christ.

Mr. Cheatle was a native of Castle Donington, Leicestershire, and he became a member of the G. B. church there at the age of 16, being baptized in the river Trent, at Sawley, Sep. 7, 1806, by the Rev. B. Pollard, of Quorndon. His first visit to Lombard Street, Birmingham, was in Sep. 1809, and his temporary services were so much approved by the church that he was unanimously invited to the pastorate.

Guided by the Rev. T. Pickering, of Castle Donington, under whose kind care and instruction he had enjoyed great advantages, the invitation was accepted, and he commenced his stated labours at Birmingham, January, 1810.

At this period the chapel was exceedingly small and the attendants very few. In a pastoral epistle, written in 1860, he refers to the discouraging prospects under which he commenced his labours.-"Looking at the chapel as it was, standing in an isolated spot, far away from the main body of the inhabitants, I wondered that a place of worship should have been erected there. The situation in which it was placed was a serious obstacle to the advancement of the cause. While other chapels stood surrounded by large populations, the one belonging to the General Baptists was erected in a locality comparatively deserted." Ministers of the gospel will understand the feelings of a young man commencing his labours under such discouraging circumstances.

Mr. Cheatle often referred to this period, and frequently in his latter days humorously spoke of "the elderly ladies who came to chapel in the even

ing with their lanterns, walking in a row to avoid a ditch by which they had to pass." "Those to whom the spot is known can scarcely imagine that such was ever the case, thickly built upon as it is now.

Turning to the pastoral epistle before referred to, we read, "Who hath despised the day of small things?' Fifty years ago there were no schoolrooms belonging to our place of worship; but now there are school-rooms, and the chapel house standing at the back of the chapel." The small place of worship to which he came in the year 1809 has, during his ministry, been enlarged to its present size. Again he says: "I have preached 7000 times, and have baptized about 700 persons, many of whom I visited in their afflictions, and followed to their graves, who are doubtless now in heaven. To God be all the praise."

For many years the deceased anxiously desired to see a second G. B. church established in Birmingham, and he did what he could towards the realization of this object. The last denominational attempt in this direction resulted in the visit of the late Rev. J. Goadby and the Rev. H. Hunter not very many years ago. These gentlemen were appointed a deputation for the purpose of selecting a spot whereupon to erect a suitable place of worship, and, accompanied by Mr. Cheatle, they inspected different localities; but on account of the high price required for freehold land, the project was abandoned, notwithstanding the frequently expressed desire of the leading ministers and laymen of the Society that so desirable an object should be accomplished. This circumstance, terminating as it did, caused Mr. Cheatle to give up all hope of seeing the desire of his heart fulfilled, and he frequently expressed the opinion that "if ever a second church is established in Birmingham, persons connected with the present church will have to do it." Process of time has proved that this opinion was correct. About four years ago seventeen persons who were (or had been) connected with the first church were formed into a second, and by much patience and perseverance they have succeeded in erecting a large place of worship in a good position, and likely ultimately to be an acquisition to the General Bap

tist body. The church commencing with 17 members has increased to 170. This building cost £2300, and Mr. Cheatle "had the honour" (as he frequently said) of contributing the first £5 towards the amount. There is a circumstance connected with the opening services which may be mentioned. Many who saw and heard will never forget the old man of nearly fourscore years, as he ascended the platform, and in tremulous voice offered prayer to Almighty God on behalf of this infant cause. As he sat among his friends his deep anxiety and interest were visibly evinced by the sublime pleasure which gleamed in his aged eye; and to those who knew his real worth it appeared as though he were charmed with the consciousness that he sat there after a long life beneath the smile of an inspecting and approving Deity, and that now he could retire from labour to the calm repose of closing years.

Mr. Cheatle was not, nor did he ever pretend to be, a man of extraordinary talent, but his worth may be properly estimated by any who desire to know it, and the power he possessed over the sympathies and affections of his brethren in the ministry, and over Christians of all denominations among whom he so long lived, may be seen in the pamphlet recording his jubilee services in 1860. He was emphatically a mau of peace, naturally quiet, and of timid disposition; and when any circumstance arose in the church which was likely to cause dissension and division, he could not rest day or night until peace was restored; but when, after serious thought, he became assured that a certain course was right, and that in pursuing that course he was discharging his duty as a Christian minister, his natural quietude and timidity left him, and he faced opposition as one whose mind was inured to fortitude and vigilance, contemning the danger of sacrificing personal friendship for the sake of the principles of the gospel and the prosperity of Christ's kingdom. To his firm adherence to principle, sustained by an unwavering confidence in the teaching of the New Testament, may be attributed his long standing in the honourable position he occupied. The gospel was the theme of his ministry, and he preached it faithfully, regardless of

The Art of Blaming.

fear or favour. He was earnest in his work, and always anxious for the conversion of souls. He writes: "I have ever endeavoured to fulfil the injunction, 'Preach the gospel to every creature,' prominently upholding the divinity of the Saviour's person, the merit of His sacrifice, the necessity of faith, and the importance of a holy life." It may be truly stated that the talents of the deceased were devoted to the improvement of the condition and elevation of the character of his fellows, and, as far as he was able, he

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reflected the light of instruction on the dark recesses of ignorance, and sown broadcast and thickly the seeds of comfort and consolation on the wild wastes of calamity. As he approached the solemn hour of death he did not fear, but spoke of "another and a better world" with joy; and when his mind was composed, his languid eye glistened as he quoted some favourite hymn or passage of Scripture. He left this world calmly, and his spirit rests in the bright mansions of eternal peace. J. S. CHEATLE.

THE ART OF BLAMING.

THE Romans of Republican times did not leave their blaming to be done by anybody. The most important part of the Censor's duties, and that which caused the office to be revered in the Roman Commonwealth, was the control and direction of private and public manners. These Censors were the appointed conservators of virtue and morality, and were bound to maintain the old Roman habits and character both in the home and in the state. Censure was thus reduced to a system scarcely less exact than that for crime; and blame had its modes of expression prescribed with a minuteness of detail equalling the regula tions for the sale of goods. In modern. society every person is a critic, and is at liberty to follow caprice or conscience, or neither, in the exercise of the functions belonging to the self-assumed position. The smallest man in the smallest circle of life thinks himself an ordained critic, and treats his varying and contradictory opinions as the offspring of an infallible inspiration; and the greatest man, instead of being shielded by his dignity and goodness, is the more exposed to the poisoned shafts of unscrupulous foes. Seven-eighths of our conversation are heavily weighted with censure. Nothing is so easy, nothing so common, nothing so lawless, nothing so pleasant. Life shorn of the luxury of fault-finding were dull as an Irish bog, and repulsive as Arctic seas.

From this irregular blaming some men shrink as from the sharp and glittering edge of the surgeon's knife. They greatly prefer to be flattered and weak, than cut to the quick and made strong. Every voice. that fails to echo the sweet music they sing to themselves is incurably dishonest and essentially wicked. Clothed from head to foot with the sensitive garment of selfconceit, you cannot touch them at any

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point without starting their indignant remonstrance. They are impatient of the undisciplined host of fault-finders; and they are here! The idea is absurd. them seek some other clime. Men and societies grow out of their prejudices and vices by the bracing service of courageous censors who spare nothing weak, or low, or bad. The art of blaming has been well understood by the chief benefactors of men. The "seers" have been masters of sarcasm. Flattery may pleasantly waft us into the fool's paradise of self-satisfaction, but severe exposure of faults and whirlwinds of obloquy are much more likely to put us within the gates of the kingdom of heaven. He who has on His head now the "many crowns" of dominion wore here the "crown of thorns." Incontinent blame is better for most men than the

best regulated praise. "There are," says Lord Bacon, "so many false points of praise, that a man may justly hold it in suspect." Augustine writes in his ninetythird epistle, "Every one who spares you is not your friend, nor every one who strikes you your enemy; it is better to love with fidelity than to deceive by good nature. And a higher authority than either embraces every extreme when He says, "Blessed are ye when men shall say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake."

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Of course the benefit derivable from this enforced and painful discipline depends in no small degree upon the spirit and habits of the men who are subjected thereto. If a man will make up his mind to look bravely, honestly, and without selfish bias into the heaviest censure, he will often find, not indeed a satisfactory test of his praiseworthiness, but at least a "sidelight" that may warn him of approaching dangers, or guide him to forgotten and

unseen good. Sometimes discomfort will disappear upon the merest inspection of its cause, and the dark cloud of condemnation give place to the rainbow of a promising future. The lively squirrel is not abashed or less sportive because of the scowl of the crawling sloth. The true artist gives not up his brush at the instance of a stone-blind critic; nor does a man change his plans or bate his ardour at the bray of an ignorant zealot. He asks "whence it comes," and the answer is enough. What can you expect from the savage spleen of a dyspeptic dolt? There is no music in the shriek of the byæna, but it is natural.

Moreover the blamed man knows that opinion is more variable than the wind, and that it is no rare thing for rasping satire to give place to the sweet cadences of praise. Oliver Cromwell is already canonized, and who will say that our children will not hold Henry VIII. to have been an exemplary saint. I heard a man berate another exceedingly last week, who, if he survive his erring friend, will be the first, I doubt not, to cast immortelles upon his coffin. There is only one court from whose judgment there is no appeal, and whose sentences are not given to change. Let a man justify himself there, and he will not always think it necessary or wise to explain and justify himself to men, but will say, amid storms of scornful censure, as he patiently seeks to turn even the tempest to good account, "It is a small matter to me to be judged of man's judgment. He that judgeth me is the Lord."

But the efficacy of censure as a means of improvement is determined more by the spirit and aim and method in which it is offered than by anything else. Three rules at least should therefore be diligently observed by such as desire to turn to the best account their exercises in the art of blaming. First, the spirit of all profitable censure is the spirit of love. Unless

blaming is baptized with tender pity and yearning affection for the erring, it will, however just, end in indignant talk and general displeasure. No new purposes will be quickened into life. No holy aspirations born. It will scathe and wither like the lightning, not refresh and fertilize as the dew. To discharge the difficult duty with gracefulness is one of the highest achievements of sanctified hearts. Robertson truly says, "To blame is easy enough; with some it is all of a piece with the hardness of their temperament; but to do this delicately, how shall we learn that? I answer, Love; and then say what you will, men will bear anything if love be there. Nothing but love can teach us how

to understand such a sentence as thisHe looked round about him in anger, being grieved at the hardness of their hearts."-Lectures on Corinthians, p. 333.

The one aim of all profitable blame is improvement. The critic is little if he is merely the judge. He has not performed half his work. He is meant to be an instructor. Righteous censure is a wellaimed and disinterested endeavour to promote what is the truest, and best, and loveliest. It seeks perfection and withholds disapprobation if nothing is to be gained by it beyond hearing the critic talk. Its aim is noble and unselfish, and it scorns to make a man an offender merely for a word or to punish him for an illustration, when the principle he enunciates is sound and good. With every sentence shaped to such a worthy end, and saturated with such a loving spirit, fault-finding becomes what it ought always to be, a "means" or channel "of grace;" even of that grace of God which teaches us that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world."

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But even if we have attained these excellencies it will be well for us to observe the third canon in this art, which is that the mould in which all profitable censure is cast is that of self-remembrance. How much blame would be hushed in perpetual silence by healthy obedience to this simple maxim! Stillness would settle o'er a thousand circles now noisy with the din of censure. Sentences that have gone forth against men would be instantly recalled. If, as Burns sings, some one had "The gift to gie us,

To see ourselves as others see us," it would instantly gag myriads of critics and greatly moderate the vehemence of those who might feel themselves called to speak. Have you not heard men blaming others who only needed for a single moment a faithful mirror before them, or one leaf of memory turned over, to force them to pray for the earth to open and swallow them up? When Oliver Cromwell was beseiging the Castle of Edinburgh, he was himself beseiged by hosts of letters from the Presbyterian ministers, who were insisting that he was something very bad indeed, and ought to reverse his policy in accordance with their directions. In answer to these divines Cromwell wrote a letter in which this passage occurs,"Dear brethren, I beseech you think it possible you may be wrong." This is a great discovery to make in any department of life, but in none more important than in the art of blaming.

J. CLIFFORD.

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