were blown up. Their cries and groans were distinctly heard amidst the roar of cannon, and the shouts of the conquerors. And but for the humanity of the English, who assisted, at the hazard of their own lives, in saving many of their fallen foes, thousands more than actually fell would certainly have perished. In this engagement Cranfield was at his post, and wonderfully escaped unhurt, excepting only a slight wound in the leg, caused by a splinter from a rock.

After the siege had lasted nearly four years, it was broken up. Cranfield was now speedily married to an amiable young person, one of the only two marriageable women in the garrison. Very soon after this event, he left Gibraltar with his regiment, reached England in safety, and was, subsequently, joined by his wife. He now determined to leave the army, and obtained his discharge, to the universal regret of his comrades and officers. But if he was in favour with men, he was still an enemy to God, and under the curse of his righteous law. His heart was not melted, though wonderfully saved from death. He had pursued a course of constant rebellion against his heavenly Benefactor and Preserver. He had not been renewed in the spirit of his mind. He had not believed the record which God has given concerning his Son; nor poured forth his heart in humble and fervent prayer; nor raised to God his song of grateful praise; nor cherished one serious or useful thought. He was still "dead in trespasses and sins."

But such were not the circumstances of his father, in whom, during the absence of his son, a great change had taken place. Strolling one sabbath morning along the streets of London, he came near to the church of St. Ann's, Blackfriars, and as several of the congregation were entering, prompted by curiosity he went in, and heard the late excellent Rev. W. Romaine. The truth came to him, "not in word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance." He became convinced of the evil of sin, and of his need of salvation through the Redeemer, and feeling deeply the value of the Bible, he sat down at the age of fortytwo, to learn his letters, and by the aid of his wife, was soon able to read the Scriptures. He now wrote to his son, urged him to read the Bible diligently, and to pour out his heart before

God; but his recommendation was of no avail.

There was, however, one thing which might still be done. He knew the command, "In every thing by prayer and supplication with thanks giving let your requests be made known unto God," and this was obeyed. Constantly did he bear his absent son on his heart at the throne of grace. It is also worthy of remark, that just before the bombardment of Gibraltar, some poor and aged people met with this pious father and mother for social prayer, when it was most earnestly implored that God would preserve his life, and restore him again to his family and friends.

Abundant was the encouragement afforded to this exercise by the remembrance that God is the hearer and answerer of prayer. Proofs of this may easily be gathered from the holy Scriptures, and from the histories of those who fear the Lord. One occurs, at this moment, to the mind of the writer, which is peculiarly appropriate from its taking place in the British navy. A seaman in the Mediterranean, in the fleet under the command of lord Nelson, desirous of doing good to his messmates, began with a man who was sick, talked to him till his mind was awakened, and he became truly pious. Another, seeing the change wrought on his messmate, and observing how kind his companion had been to him, listened to their conversation, till his mind was also brought, by the grace of God, under saving impressions. Nine of the men were serious; and before the battle of the Nile, when they saw that the engagement would soon commence, they assembled as many of their friends as they could together, spent a few minutes in prayer, commending each other to God, and then took leave of each other, expecting never to meet all together again. But after the engagement, in which a great number of their ship's company were killed, they sought for each other, and though some of them had been stationed at different guns, where several of their shipmates had been killed, not one of them was even wounded.

The God who thus mercifully interposed for them, had, as we have seen, spared Cranfield also; and the father received his long lost son with feelings which cannot be described. He considered him as being sent back by the

K

hand of God, alone and entirely in answer to prayer; and he often mentioned this circumstance afterwards, as an encouragement to parents similarly situated, to persevere in prayer for their ungodly children. Early on the morning after his return, Cranfield accompanied his father to hear the Rev. R. Cecil, but though interested, he derived no real benefit. On the following day, he visited some of his old companions, and returning home late in the evening, in a state of intoxication, he found his father engaged in family prayer. Reduced by drunkenness below the level of the beasts that perish, he became very troublesome, and swept every thing with his hand from the mantle shelf. His father said little to him that night; but in the morning, he severely reproved him for his sin, urged on him its awful consequences, and stated that he must find some other abode if he persisted in his evil practices. This remonstrance appeared to have produced its desired effect, and on the following sabbath, Cranfield asked permission to accompany his father to the house of God. In one of the discourses of the Rev. W. Romaine, to whom he now listened, as that esteemed and useful minister dwelt, more than usual, on the depravity of the heart, and showed that its opposition to the dominion of God required a change of nature, he became, in some degree, convinced of his awful condition as a sinner, and of the necessity there was that he should become a new creature in Christ Jesus.

At first, his impressions were slight; but it was soon made manifest that God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, was shining in his heart, to give him the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, 2. Cor. iv. 6. He renounced all hope from his own doings, and trusted alone in "the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.' His pious father, who was on the watch for the first tokens of true penitence in his son, now observed with satisfaction and gratitude, the decided change in his conduct, and took every opportunity of encouraging him in his new and heavenward course.

ample of her father-in-law, she had become "a partaker of the grace of life. He wrote to her relations, who were then in Ireland with their regiment, and urged on them the care of the soul. His old comrades, too, shared much of his solicitude, and in the hope of being instrumental to their conversion, he tried to obtain his former situation in the regiment. And throughout his future course, which did not end till he was eighty years of age, did he deny himself and labour unceasingly with the hope of saving souls from death, and of hiding a multitude of sins, and thus render applicable to himself the words of the apostle, "Poor, yet making many rich," 2 Cor. vi. 10.

What a change was this! It proves the folly and wickedness of infidelity, by showing the reality and power of true religion, which can be wrought in the soul alone by Him who is almighty. Have you, dear reader, experienced this change? If not, let this narrative awaken your deep anxiety; for, unchanged, you are condemned of God, and in danger of his wrath for ever. If he received unto his favour those only who were free from gross offences, it may be that your heart would at once sink within you; but here you see that his voice is still heard saying, "Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool,” Isa. i. 18. Well may we look upward and say, "Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage? he retaineth not his anger for ever, because he delighteth in mercy,' Micah vii. 18. Addressing the Ephesians, the apostle says, He "hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus: that in the ages to come he might show the exceeding riches of his grace in his kindness toward us through Christ Jesus," Eph. ii. 6, 7.

Great and aggravated, then, as have been your iniquities, for you there is hope. The God of grace bestows his favours not merely on the undeserving, but on the hell deserving. His arm is not shortened that it cannot save you:" his ear is not heavy that it cannot hear you. Attend to the declarations of his written word, listen to his preached There he appears as waiting

to be gracious, as ready to pardon, as able to do for us exceeding abundantly above all we can ask or think. Oh, take him at his word, cast your soul on his mercy; plead, as the only ground of your hope, the mediation of the only begotten and well-beloved Son of the Father. Shake off delay. To think of lingering another week, or day, or hour, may issue in the ruin of the soul. Now is the time to seek the Lord. The misery which sin has brought into your soul says, Now; every tolling bell says, Now; every open grave says, Now; the gospel says, Now; the eternal Father says, Now; the gracious Redeemer says, Now; the Holy Spirit says, Now; "Now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation," 2 Cor. vi. 2.

EDUCATION IN CHINA.

W.

A LARGE portion of the time allotted to education in England is spent in the study of ancient languages. By this practice, the mind of a youth is brought betimes into an immediate contact with the arts and achievements of the most famous nations in antiquity, and the thoughts are trained to look beyond the confines of one's native country. A Chinese, on the contrary, has no conception of any language more ancient than his own, and dreams not that there are any literary monuments which would amend or improve those of his country. Among us, the study of the French, Italian, and German literature not only enlarges the boundaries of our knowledge, but makes us esteem those nations from whom we derive our pleasure and instruction. The Chinese who live in Macao acquire a knowledge of the Portuguese language for the purposes of buying and selling, but seldom trouble themselves about the syntax, much less about anything that might be found in books from Lisbon. Many learn a few English terms for the transaction of business, and the natives of Canton have proceeded so far as to publish a vocabulary of our language in about a score of pages. And this, they idly think, includes all the words we are capable of using. As they have only a very limited acquaintance with the Portuguese, and that of the lowest kind, and a most penurious stock of English, they are necessarily led to think meanly of foreigners, and consequently of every thing which a foreigner might communicate in the way of information. Nothing, therefore, of

this kind enters within the sphere of educational training.

The mathematics, pure and mixed, are strangers in China to the purlieus of the school and the college, though there be persons in the country who have made some proficiency in these branches of science. Arithmetic is left to the shopman, who learns it of another, or buys a book in which the principles are laid down in connexion with the swanpan, or calculating table. The elementary steps of philosophic research are also excluded, so that there is nothing to expand the mind, or to give it a bold and healthy tone of investigation.

The first years of a youth are spent in learning the characters of a copious language, which native genius has never reached far enough to reduce to any kind of logical system. The learner is therefore obliged to toil at what fairly appears to be an endless task, and to pick up knowledge a grain at a time, without any plan to keep the parts together. Analogy never seems to lend, either the master or scholar, any of her timely succours; authority alone gives laws, and memory has the whole burden of keeping ideas in the mind. The characters are learned simply by inspection, and fastened in the retentive faculty by daily iteration. And as all the scholars study aloud, the school room is a very Babel, from the varying sounds that meet and conflict together. After the pupil has made some progress in reading, he begins to use the pencil, and to portray those characters which he has been gazing at for so many weeks. In this exercise, the master announces the word from the desk, which the scholar converts into a symbol with his brush, which in China fulfils the office of a pen. In this way the art of writing is acquired, and the mind is stored with sentences. A tasteful and exact method of executing the characters, and a playful and wellselected assortment of phrases, constitute the peculiar accomplishments of a Chinese gentleman. To put his thoughts upon paper, with freedom, exactness, and beauty, is what a student aims at, as the practical exponent of the proficiency he has made in learning. A deficiency here ruins his credit, as there are no mathematics, philosophy, or general knowledge upon which he can build a reputation. Without borrowing any of those straitlaced vestments in which Chinese education is dressed, we might take a hint,

As the student advances, the noise of the school is exchanged for the private study, or the academy, where a small number of pupils peruse the ancient classics, under the guidance of some experienced master. The writer visited one of these academies, and was delighted with the studious aspect which every thing wore in the apartment dedicated to literary pursuits. Each student sat at a desk by himself, with his books spread before him. The object of his lucubrations was to make himself master of the meaning of the ancient text, by the help of commentaries. Young men, who cannot afford to pay a private tutor, or the charge for education in one of those institutions, which are here, for the sake of analogy, called academies, retires to his attic, where, illumined by the rays that dart through the skylight, he plies his task from morning to night, with an assiduity which, in a few years, would render him master of some noble science. In this way he labours to fit himself for an examination, which turns upon a knowledge of ancient ethics, and the merits of composition.

At these examinations, the candidate is put into a kind of pew or cell, where he remains for several hours. When he is tired, he leans back and loses himself, for a few minutes, in a refreshing nap. A theme is given, upon which he is required to write, without the opportunity of consulting books, or asking the assistance of a friend. If he is able to write upon the subject, he sets down his thoughts as they occur to him, and then proceeds to refine and beautify them, with a perseverance which harmonizes well with the diligence he had displayed throughout a tedious preparation. The words and sentiments of ancient sages are interwoven with his style, as far as memory will serve him; but he is not allowed to write a cento or patchwork of quotations, but must have so far digested what he has read, as to make the borrowed thoughts and expressions his own.

these examinations, are very tyrannical, and treat the humble and fearful aspirant with very little ceremony. It is said that when an examiner comes up to the desk of a candidate, he looks at the essay superciliously, and then, if the composition displeases, strikes his inky brush across the face of the unfortunate writer. It is generally admitted, that amidst much ostentatious display of fairness, that the most meritorious have but little chance of success, unless they can afford to fee the examiners. It would not be fair to say, that the Chinese are not distinguished sometimes for acts of generosity and kindness; but money sets at nought all opposition, and seems to be the soul that gives life to every thing, not only in the market, but also within the retirement of the college.

This fashion of confining education solely to morals, is peculiar to the Chinese. Religion has no share in the business, except we call that religion which enjoins upon the son the duty of paying respect to the dead. And though the term worship is applied to the rites which are rendered to departed worth, those feelings of awe, dependence, and love, which enter into our idea of that word, have no part in them. The word pae, commonly rendered "to worship," denotes a bow, with or without some other forms of respect. And it does not appear, that the mind of a native travels beyond the outward act. The Chinese ethics insist much upon the duty which a subject owes to his prince, and are not less emphatic when they inculcate the obligations which a prince owes to his subjects. They deal very plainly with him, and declare that the happiness and obedience of a people depend entirely upon his wisdom and goodness. He is directed to look back upon the annals of his country, and to collate the prosperity of the states, with the virtues of good kings; and the gloomy aspects of some periods with the folly and wickedness of those who guided the helm of affairs. If he wishes to have a touchstone to try the correctness of his views, or the prudence of his administrative measures, he is told to look abroad, and ascertain what is the general posture of affairs throughout the country. If the people live in plenty, he may impute this propitious circumstance to his own wisdom and foresight; but if the people be impoverished, and

consequently discontented, he may lay the blame upon his defects in the management of his domain.

There are two postulates constantly assumed, by the Chinese, in all their discussions about what appertains to a prince. The first is, as hinted before, that the general happiness of a people depends upon the chief magistrate. The second is, that if the people enjoy the smiles of their king, and a competent supply of food, they will always be happy and contented. They will never complain or seek for a change. It is by an extension of the principle contained in the first postulate, that government officers are now held responsible for the conduct of those over whom they preside. It is easy to infer, that this mode of proceeding must lead to many acts of injustice, and is, at the same time, an abuse of the doctrine delivered; for the poor officer is not a legislator, but merely the executor of certain orders, which may not be, after all, very remarkable for either their wisdom or their goodness. But there is a practical corollary to this principle, which is followed in China, and which deserves our attention, as it helps us to account for that tranquillity and comfort, which, in a large measure, pervades the Chinese empire. For the government, notwithstanding its despotic nature, postpones the gratification of arbitrary will, or the adherence to abstract principles, to the general satisfaction of the people. It aims at popularity in obedience to the rules laid down in the national ethics, and to this obedience it seems to owe a part of this stability.

Self-possession, temperance, and universal benevolence are inculcated, and often enforced with all the strength of argument and beauty of language, which writers of the greatest talent and application can command. But filial duty is the fort of every Chinese moralist, a subject which he pursues with the utmost eagerness, and descants upon with such a mixture of idolatry and dotage, that however beseeming a reverence for parents may be in practice, it becomes fulsome in Chinese theory. The duty of elder and younger brothers is enforced with a research and earnestness, which places it next after that of child and parent. By this rule of moral conduct, the younger brother yields implicit obedience to the elder, while every man is taught to look for an elder brother

in every one he meets, and consequently to give him the precedence in all things. "In honour preferring one another," is substantially a leading maxim in Chinese morals. The duty of a prince and a father, which is regarded as strictly identical; the duty of a son; and the duty of a younger brother, or of one man to another, in connexion with benevolence, chastity, temperance, and self-possession, are the subjects which lie at the foundation of all the educational lore in China.

It would not be easy to estimate the amount of temporal good that is accomplished by such a system, or to say how far the people are upright, kind, and temperate in virtue of a moral nurture; but many facts, which occurred during the writer's sojourn among them, indicated the existence of mental habits, that seem not to be the effects of untutored nature, but the results of a good education. The people are industrious and frugal in their habits. They enjoy a measure of personal comfort, which is not surpassed in any other nation of the world, if we except Lewchew, and, perhaps, Japan. An anxious and care-worn face is a phenomenon in China, at least among the honest part of society. The harmony among a company of workmen, or a crew on board a native vessel, are every day examples of the high degree to which social feeling is carried in China; and wherever our investigations turn, new and striking instances of its developement will be found.

The results of moral training upon the minds and habits of the Chinese, will appear in an interesting light, when viewed in reference to the work of a missionary. Morals will not prepare the heart for the reception of the truth, they will not convince a man of sin, nor prevail upon him to renounce the world for the sake of Christ; but they supply the Chinese with a judgment, whereby he can discern, at once, the moral excellence of the Christian, and is compelled to award it his unqualified commendation. The writer has been struck with the keenness of their discernment, and the prompt and spontaneous manner in which they have expressed their approbation of Christian virtues. It is delightful to reflect, that the national morals, on which the people value themselves so much, may hereafter become one instrument in mortifying their pride, since they lend the natives an eye to discern