of a Gamester could not honestly have called the career of his hero "delusion." He might have characterized his elaborate arrangements at the gaming table, and on the turf; his ef forts to form conjugal relations solely on mercenary principles; his refusal to attend his wife's dying bed, because he was found by the express messenger too deep in the orgies of play to be disturbed; all this, and a profligate life of eighty years, might have been readily smoothed down by an extenuating phrase. But if it were delusion, it was such as was arrived at in the steady courses of deliberate ini character" during his whole service; and the general impression is, that some infernal agent of overpowering might has suddenly made him the passive victim of his malice. But, as the period of the assizes draws on, there also steal out numerous expressions of suspicion, that the steward's domestic treason was only one crime among many. It then comes out, that, of late years, he had clandestinely formed connexions which portended no good. He became a speculator in abortive schemes; and his savings were lost. But an appetite was created for fresh experiments; and as his own funds were exhausted, there was a necessity for re-quity. Did not this gambler know all the sorting to those of another-and so the links of fraud were rivetted together, till all were at length burst asunder. Yet the man's heart was perhaps not so seared, but that he intended to restore the money, when his last project had succeeded. This theory, however, was never realized. He had his moments of delusion, and they were numerous enough to constitute hours, and days, and months of the deceitfulness of sin; but of that species which is not imposed upon us; but allowed to operate without strenuous endeavours, on our part, to oppose its intrusions. The uneducated people of this enlightened country, and some even of their superiors, find another, and an extraordinary, apology for sin, in the plea of their having been fated to defraud and destroy. The polytheism of the ancient world, which subjected even the gods themselves to the mystic influence of fate, the fatalism of the mosque, and the defence of sin as now described in our own island, illustrate the identity of human ignorance and superstition; as well as the universal efforts of fallen creatures to release their consciences from the burden of guilt, by transferring it to some unknown agent. The rustic thief will palliate his robberies, by pleading this same fate as at once the cause and the excuse for his dishonesty. And when certain divines account for the increase of crime, by the diffusion of Antinomianism, we are perfectly able to assure them, that there is no need to call in the aid of such allies. Our villagers and our manufacturers are already in possession of opiates to quiet the pangs of conscience; and they are too adequate to their intended effect. He who would reform mankind has to define to them the distinction between voluntary and involuntary submission to the devices of the tempter. We always know enough, did we faithfully obey the inclinations of the monitor within our bosoms, to pause at the first suggestions of evil-enough to avoid the evil, if perceptible and tangible. When it is shown indistinctly, and takes a shadowy and uncertain form, the case may be otherwise; but, without wandering into metaphysical subtleties, we must insist again, that sin is never so Bale dalsina sa ta daskan the mantal vision while what he was doing? Was conscience always preserving an inviolable silence? As far as we remember, we scarcely ever read the memoirs, either real or fictitious, of a reprobate and fictions of the kind in question are generally accurate copies of truth-without observing, that the worst life had its flashes of remorse, its momentary convictions of guilt. And we believe that so far there can be no delusion; and that Orchard might have been deceived just as much as, and no more than, Fauntleroy and Thurtell. In the mean time, a million of readers peruse with avidity such accounts as the one we have copied; and such among them as want the flattering unction applied to a disturbed conscience, when they are meditating the commission of crime, will find it ready prepared in such examples as that before us; and will pass on to sinful deeds, as to their moments, not of avoidable guilt, but of venial delusion; though a monitor may all the while audibly whisper within their bosom, "The end of these things is death." But Orchard, like ten thousand other executed felons, became gradually more and more resigned to his fate. On what grounds? Did he adopt the confession of the crucified penitent, "I indeed justly, for I receive the due reward of my deeds;" or, were the physical terrors of death removed by a gradual process, independent of the sighings of a contrite heart, and unaided by a deep contrition, similar to that of one who said, "Against Thee, Thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight!" We are by no means asserting that the unhappy man whose case we have alluded to did not repent; but, as far as the record goes, we find a dubious and undefined resignation to his fate the only substitute for repentance. Connected with this uncertainty it is painful to advert to the felon's four stanzas, as a kind of dying confession and creed. Look particularly at the last four lines, which express not a trembling hope, but a distinct personal assurance of salvation. Do they not directly speak of having boldness to enter into the holiest? We will not quarrel with the abstract theology of the hymn, but only pause at the awful inquiry, who can safely use such a hvmn? We know who said. “I know whom I in the mystical church; yet, at the close of the longest period supposed, he is but a novice; and, in his immature state, has surely no claim to adopt the high anticipations of an advanced and ripe believer. The infant in Christ cannot speak the language of the aged confessor or martyr. He may lisp out the attainments, such as they are, of his spiritual childhood. He may look to the privileges of future days. But there is still a salvation to be worked out with fear and trembling. There are, in prospect, alternations of hope and alarm. He has to try his defensive and offensive armour. There is in religion, as in other things, a beginning, a continuance liable to interruption, and an end. So taught the imaginative but sagacious author of the Pilgrim's Progress; and, in the course of that uninspired parable, what lessons of practical wisdom gathered from his own experience, and digested in the long and gloomy days of captivity, are developed. His Christian did not exclaim, Victory! victory! the moment he had entered in at the wicket-gate. Nay, he was well nigh overwhelmed in the waters of Jordan; and began his uninterrupted triumphs only when he had gained the opposite bank, and was welcomed by ministering spirits. It is distressing to a serious mind to retire from such a picture of the Christian life, with all its vicissitudes of pain and pleasure, and then to gaze at what may be termed the exhi bition of many modern religionists, who appear to attain, per saltum, a name and a place among the steady followers of Jesus Christ. The hymn which has called forth these remarks is surely an illustration of our meaning. Neither is it in the obituaries of felons, but of private, and, we will allow, real Christians, that we frequently observe with a certain misgiving, the language, as if uttered by rote, of exalted triumph. In the case, it is true, of all believers, of whatever degree of faith, the last enemy is destroyed; but it does not follow that they are all privileged with a joyful assurance of the victory. Many eminent Christians have lived well, and shone as bright examples to the world, and to their less consistent brethren; and yet have expired at last without any expressions beyond those of hope. Some also have left the world in a state of doubt or perturbation.-It is much to be desired that such ministers of religion as attend on condemned criminals, would look well to the depth of that repentance which ought to constitute a penitent's claim-not indeed to forgiveness, for that, blessed be God, is wholly free, through the mere mercy of our Creator, and the obedience unto death of his incarnate Son on our behalf-but to the character of those who are forgiven. The writer of the Gamester has introduced a pious physician to the death-bed of the wretched subject of his narrative; and has caused him to deliver to the dying man offers indeed of pardon, but with a distinct understanding, at the same time, that the acceptance of the offer would be attended with a corresponding humiliation and self abhorrence, not to be confounded with the remorse and despair which the offender actually felt. The offer was rejected; but the physician's Christianity was a system accurately adjusted, com parts consistent, in their various ope with each other, and so arranged and re as to produce an unity of effect. H have omitted all mention of redemptio cross of Christ, and thus have lowered tient to a yet deeper and darker abys spair. He might have omitted all exho to godly sorrow, pointed exclusively to Calvary; and elevated his patient with ture confidence. In either case, ther have been moments of delusion. But gion of Jesus Christ is indivisible. V take all or none. "Repentance towar and faith towards our Lord Jesus Chr the two pillars upon which the temple Its architecture is uniform and sym Wherever human ignorance has ende to distort its fair proportions, the cons has been such as we have been attem describe on the present occasion: me been deceivers of others, and of the Hence has risen the Antinomian he dear to the hearts of those who wou both worlds at once. Hence too, the e the self-righteous, who would make a c for eternal happiness, on the plea of th personal merits; or, as dividing the ho their salvation with One who will just teach, and rule, and glorify, without Such is the Prince of the kings of th who hath loved his people, and washe from their sins in his own blood. Th deemer is mighty; and we would remin selves, at the close of these remarks, th he exercised his might in saving a c felon in his last hours; and we fully that no jot nor tittle of his ability to say a character has been lost. Has he not to do what he will with his own? T shall be last, and the last first. We ha the least fear of this doctrine; beca equally believe that a felon now conver saved will give, or possess, evidences of rity quite sufficient to meet the object men who cavil at the gratuitous mercy in Jesus Christ.* We have no kind of ty as to the danger of exhibiting, wha would call, an unguarded Gospel. A which needs human protection never from God. If preachers deliver a di scheme of doctrine, they may have occa fortify their own system; but "the four of God standeth sure, having this sea Lord knoweth them that are his; an every one that nameth the name of Ch part from iniquity." The catastrophe of Dr. Dodd, in 17 nishes a further striking illustration of sitions. This person, in early life, was sociate of Bishop Horne, Jones of N and, we believe, of Mr. Romaine, and religious persons of that age; and it was that he would have continued in fell with them and their connexions. yielded to the seductions of the world, Frequently as the story of the P thief has been illustrated by practical d we beg to refer our readers to the inst remarks on this subject, of Mr. Basil V in our number for April, p. 202. giddy with popular applause, sought and obtained admission within the circles of high life, gained preferment and royal favour, and eventually was a stranger among the companions of his better days. He was conscious of this desertion, and, on one occasion-we quote from memory the anecdote in Jones's life of Horne,-meeting with a lady who belonged to the relinquished party, he asked her, what his former associates thought of him: she only answered, "Demas hath forsaken us, having loved this present world"-a reply which, at the moment, deeply affected its object. Dr. Dodd, however, pursued his career; and finally endeavouring, and with success, to defraud his former pupil, Lord Chesterfield, for into his society and confidence he had ventured, was convicted and executed. All who have read this man's melancholy story, will recollect the extraordinary, and, as many thought, merciless determination of his late majesty, in refusing to hear the universal prayer of the nation in his behalf. They will also call to mind the exertions of Dr. Johnson, and various other eminent men, in favour of the culprit. But we remember to have heard, many years ago, from a contemporary of Dodd, that the king persevered in his resolution, not merely because of the act of forgery; but from having been personally acquainted with the forger's previous conduct in many flagrant instances. When the king first heard of the fraud on Lord Chesterfield, it happened to be mentioned when the queen was also present; to whom his majesty instantly turned and said, "Why, this is the man who embezzled your charity funds;" the fact being, that Dodd, who was one of the Royal Chaplains, had been trusted by the queen as a private almoner. It was also then recollected, that he had offered anonymously a large sum of money to a lady of some political influence, if she would procure for him the living of St. George's, Hanover Square; for which conduct indeed, on being discovered, he had been dismissed from the office of king's chaplain. When therefore it is said, that Dr. Dodd was hanged for forgery, this is literally true; but it is not true, that this was an insulated act of criminality, perpetrated by a man who, up to a moment of delusion, had lived a stainless and honourable life --but by an offender, who having at length committed a deed cognizable by law as worthy of death, was delivered to the executioner, to pay the forfeit of life, after many years of secret depravity. We have recurred to the case of Dr. Dodd as confirmatory of the view we have taken respecting the real cause of men's being permitted to adventure into the snares of sin till they are fatally entangled, and perish; and especially, if they have been previously acquainted with religious principles. Blessed is the man that feareth always! We would also remind the thoughtful read and tendency towards despondent unbelief, let him not pass over the promises, as though they were not equally parts of the same revelation, which contains warnings, menaces, and denunciations of wrath against the hypocrite and impenitent. We are often tempted to disjoin what is inseparable; and either to write bitter things against ourselves, not transcribing the counterpart, or otherwise to place an idle reliance on cheering portions of the Divine word, without recurring to such condemnatory clauses as pronounce "indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish," upon those who neglect, pervert, or abuse the pure and undefiled religion of Jesus Christ. We have so completely lost ourselves in the moralities of our subject that we have forgotten the narrative which suggested them to our minds; and after so long a dissertation we have not time or space for an abridgment of the story, or for much in the shape of citation from it. Nor perhaps is it necessary: the work, whether fact or fiction, or both blended, is, as we have stated, the personal narrative of a successful gamester, but whose miserable success could neither render his life happy nor his death tranquil. We copy the following account of his closing hours from the addenda of the editor. The scene appears to be modelled upon Dr. Young's Altamont; but the lessons it conveys, terrific as they are, are so important, not only to gamesters and other open profligates, but, in their measure, to all who have been content to live "without God in the world," that we need make no apology for extracting the passage. "The doctor repeated his opinions very plainly, and urged the necessity of admitting the visits of a pious and intelligent clergyman, whose counsels might assist him in the great work of preparing to meet his God. All these endeavours were ineffectual. He heard him. with more patience than he would have listened to another person speaking the same things, but he resolutely refused compliance; he spoke of the ministers of religion with a hostile feeling, and continued to repeat his old assertionthat he had lived, and would die without them. "The physician finding all his efforts for this purpose ineffectual, and that his life was drawing hastily to a conclusion, explained to him the state to which he conceived him to be reduced, and the reason upon which his opinion was founded." pp. 224, 225. "I beg and entreat of you to consider yourself as standing on the very brink of eternity: you must speedily enter on it; diligently prepare for it.' "It is useless to talk of it,' he rejoined hastily; 'I have despised and rejected religion all my life; I am averse to it now-I cannot repent.' "I know of no other balm,' said the doctor, 'that can now yield you comfort or supportthere, and there alone, vou may derive strong scarcely been sensible of their sufferings, so great has been the peace and happiness they have experienced in the expectation of exchanging this mortal life for a glorious immortality!' "I cannot bear,' he exclaimed, 'to hear of such things; they might have been mine, but they are not. The people you speak of have served God in their health and strength, when I despised and rejected him-they went to the home in the diligent search and expectation of which they had patiently lived all their days. I have never entertained God in all my thoughts-I have endeavoured to banish him thence; I cannot meet him as my friend-I have all along been his enemy; I dare not meet him as my foe-and yet I must do it.--Oh! how shall I contend with One so much mightier than I?-I cannot submit to One whom I have so long and so heartily opposed. If you can keep my poor, tottering frame together for a few months something might be done; I might change my purposes.' 6 Alas! replied the physician, these are vain suggestions; a very few days must finish your earthly course: let me prevail upon you to employ them more profitably than in seeking to avoid what is inevitable. Mercy is yet to be found if you seek it with all your heart; God is nigh unto those who call upon him faithfully; and though your time is very short, yet enough remains to obtain pardon and peace if you seek it earnestly; but do not defer it--you cannot live through another week.' "Then,' he retorted in an agony, 'before the end of another week I shall be-(and he paused)-yet why do I hesitate to speak the truth plainly, when the fact will soon prove itself?-before the end of another week I shall be in hell-I shall be ?-I am there now-for what is hell but the truth seen too late? I now see and feel the truth I have so long despised and trampled on, and that is hell-it is begun already, and will continue for ever-it is the worm that never dies, the fire that never can be quenched.' 666 My friend,' rejoined the doctor, 'the conclusions you draw, as respects yourself, are hasty in the extreme; whilst there is life there is hope and mercy with God, that he may be feared: he may yet be found; only seek him whilst space and opportunity are yet afforded you.' "I cannot seek him,' he replied; 'I neither love nor desire him; I have lived in hostility to him all my days, and if he is willing to be reconciled to me I am not ready; I cannot change my feelings and propensities so quickly. Lengthen my days-give me space to conquer my aversion to him, his people, and his ways; these are all alike disagreeable to me, and I cannot change sides and go over in an instant. -O keep me alive for a few months, or we shall meet as enemies!-Even now I feel his strong hand upon- -O that he would destroy me-His fear terrifies me-and his mighty arm inflicts punishment greater than I can bear!' "His mental agitation became extreme, and dreadfully shook his enfeebled frame. He continued to reject with awful energy and perseverance, every solicitation to admit the visits of a clergyman, or to receive religious i tion and consolation." pp. 227-231. "I tell you, I do not repent. I can pent. Nay more, I have no sorrow sins; restore me my health, and I shall the same practices. I am only terrified consequences: I am not penitent for m deeds." 6 "And feeling the awful conseque sin,' interposed the other, will lead seek for deliverance from the cause as the effect. Consider how the promise i to the invitation-Ask, and ye shall rec "True,' said he, another proof, if a tional one yet was wanting, to demonstra I have no concern in it. I have neve God for any thing; what he gave me, me unasked, and I have employed all to his will. He will hear my prayers, and them with abhorrence. My parents we tender, and forgiving, but I wearied the and what can I expect from God? M similar conduct procure a similar rewar No,' resumed the physician, 'Go more kind and patient than any earthly more ready to hear than we are to pra wont to give more than we either de deserve.' "Ah,' he returned, 'that fixes anoth to rankle in my guilty conscience. H me abundance-advantages superior to more than I then desired, and, I no more than I deserved. How have I en all his benefits? To the injury of other now he turns the mischief upon my ow A gamester's hand is against every ma now he makes me feel his wrath, not a dividual sinner, but as a transgressor him and the whole family of his cre whose wrong I have ever sought, wher posed it might be for my private adv Why should I expect mercy who have shown it? I have trampled upon merc now slighted, abused, rejected mercy c cessantly for vengeance.' "After a short pause, which no one a ed to interrupt, as the horror which expressions, uttered with terrible ener evident distress, had silenced every o turned to the doctor, and began, Why thus plead with me? I tell you, I have b enemy of the human race; and woul plundered you or the best friend I hav earth. Why do you not join to torme Ah! you already have a powerful av your God has declared himself on you He has taken up your cause, and pour If this is only the a his fury upon me. tion, what will be the reality? Ŏ miser out end, and suffering interminable.'" -237. "The physician having interrupted remind him that length of time was cessary for repentance, and that the Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,' he "I have trodden that blood under fo is found upon me, it must be as a curse blessing. I have had the benefit of it me, but I have rejected it with unceasin ness and impenitence. Oh, the golden tunity that has been refused, and is n for ever! Is not that hell enough of What need be added to it? Then to bear the wrath of God for ever!-a fire burning, but not consuming; to be the sport and companion of devils to dwell with everlasting burnings!' "The debility which had gradually increased upon him for several preceding months, and by which he had been brought to a state bordering upon dissolution, seemed overcome by the impulse which the agitation of his mind communicated to his body. He experienced a temporary increase of strength, a morbid revival, under which he displayed an energy and activity of thought equal to what he had exerted at any former period of his life. The effect of this was only to exhaust the little corporeal power that remained, and accelerate his death." pp. 239, 240. "In the delirium which prevailed during the last few hours of his temporal existence, the same awful expectations of futurity harassed his disturbed mind, and he alluded with fearful dismay to many circumstances, besides those before referred to, but particularly to the widow and orphans. During one of these, he suddenly raised himself upon his bed, and, uttering a piercing shriek, he fell backward and expired." pp. 243, 244. From the Spirit and Manners of the Age. THE PASCHAL MOON. THOU Paschal Moon! memento, guide, and sign, Bright chronicler, pursue thy mystic way; That orb hath borrowed from a source divine Transcending glories to outblaze the day. I woo thee not, thou fair unconscious thing, Full to my heart the life-conferring theme: Majestic walking through the azure air, Vicegerent of the night, thy Monarch's praise declare. Say, what am I? a spirit dark with crime, In untold myriads crushed and swept away: Swept from this goodly realm of life and breath, To the deep reservoir of all-devouring death. Such as, in proud Egyptian's rebel land, O'er fields of devastation reckless trod, Mocked the deep scourging of the red right hand, And fierce defiance hurled on Jacob's God: They from whose path the rolling waters sweep, While charger-like, they tread, unstumbling, through the deep. Defiled with sin, dissolving into dust, Shone they more pure than Egypt or than me? Reigns He not yet who made the sinner just? Why speak'st thou not of red Gethsemane? Where fell thy beamings, coldly soft as now, On thy Creator's pale and agonizing brow. Oh, speak of Him! recal the bitter throes— That tale of awful mystery relate, For there my sins have met, my griefs repose, There bows Omnipotence beneath their weight. No crimson drop, wrung by th' unearthly strife, But teems with healing balm, and renovating life. Am I accurs'd and sinful? He was made Sin, and a curse-the righteous Lord is He? His righteousness is mine-His blood hath paid My ransom-thou beheld'st him on the tree, But floods of fire thy glimmering orb shall drown, When, summon'd from the grave, I claim my Saviour's crown. And can I dare I? shall this sullen tongue, That scantly, coldly murmurs forth His name, Swell the rich chorus of Hosannas, sung Where seraph hosts ecstatic joy proclaim? This soul that calls the cleaving dust her own Soar to the dazzling gates, and seek the sapphire throne. Oh thou, whose bidding earth and heaven fulfil, Whose awful word the trembling fiends obey, Conduct thy wanderer to the holy hill, My sun, my shield, illume and guard the way; A step more feeble, or a heart more frail, Have never linger'd here, to faint in Baca's vale. I seek not summer days and sunny skies, Nor flowers, in life's rough wilderness to bloom; But let me in thy likeness, Lord, arise Through the undreaded portal of the tomb! I'll ask no resting-place, till I repose On the sweet pasture plains where life's pure river flows. CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. From the Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine. MEMOIR OF MRS. MARIA CALDER, Late wife of the Rev. Frederic Calder: by the Rev. William M. Harvard. Fequire the fa |