and the hopes of mankind. It has been employed to empty earth, and people hell; to make angels weep, and fiends triumph, over the deplorable guilt and debasement of the human character.-Sermon 31, Vol. I.

We murder our fellow-creatures in duels, and wreathe our temples with garlands dyed in blood. We slaughter thousands and millions in war, plant laurels amid the bones, and nourish them with the blood of those whom we have destroyed. We raise our thrones on the cemetery of buried nations, and mistake the groans and shrieks of surviving parents, widows, and orphans, for the trumpet of fame. In a word, all that ought to humble us in the dust, all that ought to clothe us in sackcloth, and cover us with ashes, is converted by us into the means of pride and exultation.

The meek and humble virtues are the constant character, the essential attributes, the peculiar glory, of thrones, dominions, principalities, and powers. (Col. i. 16.) But these virtues, and those in whom they are found on earth, "man, who is a worm, and the son of man, who is but a worm," regards with contempt. Men glory in being proud, in being wrathful, in being revengeful, in being tyrants and oppressors, in being heroes and butchers. To men of these characters, statues are erected; nay, temples have been built, and altars smoked with victims. To them the page of the historian and the harp of the poet are consecrated. To their praise the sculptor bids the marble breathe, and the painter teaches his canvass to glow. They live in palaces, and are entombed in mausoleums. Shouts and hosannas follow them through life; and at their death, nations re-echo the cries of lamentation, and kingdoms are covered with sackcloth and ashes. How strange is all this to the eye of reason.

In the invisible world, these things are wonderfully inverted. There the meek and lowly virtues claim the

esteem and love, and engross the kind offices of beings possessed of the highest wisdom and excellence, and obtain the everlasting favour of the infinite God. On these virtues, angels smile with complacency, while fools and sinners regard them with hatred and scorn.

But if we would be like angels, if we would be admitted to their glorious company, if we would share in their immortal blessings, if we would dwell in the house of their Father and our Father, of their God and our God, we must esteem the things which they esteem, love the things which they love, and do the things which they do; we must renounce the haughty, revengeful character, which we are so pleased to assume; become "meek and lowly of heart," like the divine Redeemer, and in the midst of provocations, however great, must be ready cheerfully to say,

and it has often been shewn to be criminal on various principles. But it seems hardly to have been enough noticed in what chiefly consists its essential guilt,-that it is a DELIBERATE PREFERENCE of the favour of man before the favour and approbation of God, (and that) in articulo mortis,in an instance wherein our own life and that of a fellow-creature are at stake, and wherein we run the risk of rushing into the presence of our Maker in the very act of offending him. It would detain us too long," he proceeds," to enumerate the mischievous consequences which result from this practice. They are many and great. ... But there is one observation which must not be omitted, and which seems to have been too much overlooked. In the judgment of that religion which requires purity of heart, and of that Being to whom thought is action,' : he cannot be esteemed innocent of this crime who lives in a settled habitual determination to commit it, when circumstances shall call upon him so to do.

This is a consideration which places the crime of duelling on a dif ferent footing from almost any other; indeed there is, perhaps, No other which mankind habitually and deliberately resolve to practise whenever the temptation shall occur. It shews, also, that the crime of duelling is far more general in the higher classes than is commonly supposed, and that the whole sum of the guilt which the practice produces is great, beyond what has, perhaps, been ever conceived."Wilberforce's Practical View, chap.

iv. sec. 3.

whether the

The utter "unreasonableness of the whole practice, as Mr. Wilberforce here intimates, is palpable: a duel has no tendency to settle any question whatever, save one, parties FEAR GOD OR FEAR MAN MOST. No instance, we may well believe, can be adduced in which the sentence of our Lord is more forcibly illustrated, "That which is HIGHLY among men is ABOMINATION in the

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sight of God." Nor do any circumstances seem to proclaim more loudly than those which tempt a man to fight a duel, "Choose ye this day whom ye will serve," the God and Saviour in whose name ye are baptized, or that being who is styled the god and prince of THIS WORLD, and whom ye have vowed "to renounce, with all his works: " and, alas! the duellistyes, and, as Mr. Wilberforce observes, every one who lives resolved to be a duellist "whenever the temptation shall occur," but too plainly declares on which side he, at the world's bidding, makes his election. I would earnestly entreat every such person to inquire whether he can be a Christian more than in name, who in words, indeed, may confess Christ, but in works deliberately denies him, and resolves to act in defiance of his commands.

Is there any one case in which such a person can say, "This did I not, because of the fear of the Lord ?" Is there any one sin whatever which he might not on like principles, commit, provided THE WORLD sanctioned it, and required it of him? Sir, I write in unfeigned sorrow of

heart,- -sorrow for the ANTI-CHRISTIANITY of our professedly CHRISTIAN POPULATION. I feel that the case before us calls for a protest; and there are some reasons why it calls for it from me; and therefore I flinch not from making it. I mean no offence to any individual; but I would take occasion to remind, or to inform, a number of young men rising up around us, how this subject has ever been viewed by all persons, whether lay or clerical, who really took the Scriptures for their guide. "KNOW

THOU THAT FOR ALL THESE THINGS

GOD WILL BRING THEE INTO JUDGMENT." I am, Sir, &c.

Hull, October 29, 1832.

JOHN SCOTT.

P.S. I rely upon you, Mr. Editor, to protect my letter from being carped at anonymously. A real signature can only be met fairly by a real signature.

Let an opponent not be ashamed to put his name to what he writes, and then let him write what he thinks fit,

Duelling Legislators. [From the Christian Advocate.], SIR,-Observing in your last, thut you express a hope that the barbarous and wicked practice of duelling was on the decline, I regret to say that last week two duels took place in this neighbourhood, both arising from real or fancied offensive expressions that were uttered in the speech of the candidate for the northern division of the county of Durham. The first was between Mr. Braddyll, the candidate for the county, and Mr. Bowlby, a solicitor, and an intended candidate for the representation of South Shields, at some future opportunity. These parties fired, each once, and then thought fit, rather than murder each other, to do what is called apologizing. The second duel was between the same Mr. Braddyll, and Sir Hedworth Wil liamson, another candidate for the north division of the county. These parties, not content with one chance of going unbidden before their final Judge, fired a second time, again without effect, and then agreed, by apology, to let each other live a little longer.

Are such men as these, who break the laws both of God and man, fit to be sent as the legislators of the country? Let the country from end to end respond, No! and give not one vote to any man that will be guilty of intending murder. I am happy to say, that several of the electors, resident in this place, have determined not to vote for either of the above candidates, to mark their abhorrence of the practice. W. L. P.

Sunderland, Oct. 4, 1832.

The Old Soldier. I HAVE often occasion to pass through a village on the St. Albans' road, at one end of which there is so tidy and convenient a public-house, that I

always give my horse his bait there, if I happen to be travelling in my gig. I had frequently observed an old soldier, who having lost an eye, a leg, and an arm, in the service of his country, had pretty well earned the privilege of idling away the rest of his life in a manner particularly congenial with the habits of one of his calling. He would sit on a bench, outside the door of this inn, with a pipe in his mouth, and a can of beer by his side; and thus he would pass all the fine months of the year. In winter, he merely changed his seat. He was constant to his pipe and his can; he took both with him to the warm chimney-corner; and thus he enjoyed his out-pension. During the hour of baiting, I have often talked with this old man. He had served last in the early part of the war on the Peninsula. He was loquacious enough on other subjects; but if one questioned him concerning these last military services, he became on the instant morose and uncommunicative, and one could not but perceive, that the topic was disagreeable and painful to him.

What most interested me about this man was his love for young children. He was generally surrounded by a parcel of curly-headed urchins; and often have I seen the mistress of the little inn consign her infant to the protection of his one arm, when, by an arrival, she has been called upon to attend to the business of the house. The old fellow never appeared so contented as when thus employed. His pipe was laid aside, his beer forgotten, and he would only think of amusing and caressing his charge, or of lulling it to sleep. The bigger children would cluster round him, clamber over him, empty his pipe, upset his can, take all sorts of liberties with him, yet never meet with a rebuke. At times, however, he would appear lost in uneasy thought; gazing with earnestness upon the features of the sleeping infant, while tears would course each other down his cheeks.

As I drove one morning up to the door of the inn, and passed the bench on which the old soldier was, as usual, sitting, with his little flock of children playing round him, one of them, a very young one, suddenly backed into the road, and in another moment more would have been crushed: but the old man sprang forward; with a vigorous and wonderful effort he seized the child with his only arm, and threw it several feet out of the way of danger; he fell with the exertion, and was among my horse's feet. In suddenly drawing up, I had unwittingly done my very worst by the poor fellow; for I had caused the animal to trample upon him a second time, and a wheel had likewise passed over his body.

We

He was taken up insensible. carried him to a bed, and after a little time he recovered his recollection. But he was so severely injured, that we feared every moment would be his last.

The first words he uttered were, "" The child! the child!" We assured him that the child was safe; but he would not believe us, and it became necessary to send into the village to search for the little creature, who had been hurried home with the others upon the confusion that the accident had occasioned. He continued to call for the child, and was in the greatest distress of mind till we had found it, and had taken it to him as he lay. His delight at seeing it alive and unhurt was intense; he wept, he laughed, he hugged it to his bosom, and it was not till he grew very faint and weary that he would suffer us to remove it. A surgeon arrived, and pronounced that the poor man was so much hurt, inwardly as well as outwardly, that nothing could be done to save him; and desired us merely to give him cordials or cooling drink, as he should appear to wish for either. He lingered for a few days.

I had been the cause, although innocently, of the poor fellow's death: of course I took care that all was done

that could alleviate his sufferings; and, as long as he lasted, I went every day to pass a few hours by his bedside. The rescued child, too, was brought to him each day, by his own desire. From the moment he had first ascertained that it was unhurt, he had been calm and contented. He knew he was dying, but he could part with life without regret; and the cloud which I had so often observed upon his weather-beaten countenance before the accident never after returned.

The day before he died, as I was watching alone by his side, he asked me for a cordial. Soon after he had swallowed it, he laid his hand upon my arm, and said," Sir, if you will not think it too great a trouble to listen to an old man's talk, I think it will ease my mind to say a few words to you."

He was of course encouraged to proceed.

visions; it was many days since we had heard the creak of a commissary's waggon, and we had been on very short commons. There was no reason to expect much in the village we were now ordered to. The French, who had just marched out, would, of course, have helped themselves to whatever was portable, and must have previously pretty well drained the place. We made a search, however, judging that, possibly, something might have been concealed from them by the peasants; and we actually soon discovered several houses where skins of wine had been secreted. A soldier, sir, I take it, after hot service or fatigue, seldom thinks of much beyond the comfort of drinking to excess; and I freely own that our small party soon caused a sad scene of confusion.

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Vino! vino!' was the cry in every part of the village. An English soldier, sir, may be for months together in a foreign land, and have a pride in not knowing how to ask for anything but liquor. I was no better than the rest.

"Vino! quiero vino!' said I, to a poor half-starved and ragged native, who was stealing off, and hiding something under his torn cloak ;- Vino ! you beggarly scoundrel! give me vino!' said I.

come right upon him in a forsaken alley, where I suppose the poor thing dwelt. I seized him by the collar. He was small and spare, and he trembled under my gripe; but still he held his own, and only wrapped his cloak the closer round his property.

I

“Vino ! quiero vino !' said I again; give me vino!'

666

Nada, nada tengo!' he repeated. "I had already drawn my bayonet; am ashamed, Sir, to say, that we used to do that to terrify the poor wretches, and make them the sooner give us their liquor. As I held him by the collar with one hand, I pointed the bayonet at his breast with the other, and I again cried ⚫ Vino!'

"Vino tengo-nino, nino es!'and he spoke the words with such a look of truth and earnestness, that, had I not fancied I could trace through the folds of his cloak the very shape of a small wine-skin, I should have believed him.

"Lying rascal,' said I, 'so you won't give me the liquor? then the dry earth shall drink it!' and I struck the point of my bayonet deep into that which he was still hugging to his breast.

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Oh, Sir, it was not wine that trickled down,-it was blood, warm blood!—and a piteous wail went like a chill across my heart! The poor Spaniard opened his cloak, he pointed to his wounded child, and his wild eye asked me plainer than words could have done,—' Monster! are you satisfied!'

I was sobered in a moment. I fell upon my knees beside the infant, and I tried to staunch the blood. Yes, the poor fellow understood the truth; he saw, and he accepted my anguish, and we joined our efforts to save the little victim.-Oh! it was too late!

The little boy had fastened his small clammy hands round a finger of each of us. He looked at us alternately, and seemed to ask alike from his father and his murderer that help which it was beyond the power of one