them with cheerfulness; and his house became the seat of absolute industry, peace, and good order. Breakfast was on the table precisely at six o'clock, dinner at twelve, and supper at six in the evening. After supper he neither made visits himself, nor permitted any of his family to make them. "His observation of the Sabbath was probably unexampled. When hired labourers were at work for him, however busy the season, even when his crops were exposed to destruction by rain; he dismissed them all so early on Saturday afternoon as to enable them to reach their own homes before sunset, the time when he began the Sabbath. His cattle were all fed, his cows milked, the vegetables for the ensuing day prepared, and his family summoned together, previously to this sacred period. Until nine o'clock he spent the evening with his household in reading and prayer, and at this moment they uniformly retired to their beds. No room in his house was swept, no bed was made, nor was any act, except such as were acts of necessity and mercy in the strict sense, done, until sunset on the succeeding day, when, in his opinion, the Sabbath terminated.' Vol. II. pp. 14. "While it was unfinished a bird flew into it; and, in endeavouring to escape, directed his course to a sky-light in the dome, over the centre of the house. As he was fluttering around the sky-light, one of the workmen on the floor struck with his hammer a smart blow upon a work-bench. The bird instantly dropped; and was taken up dead. Whether he was killed by the sound, or by the fall, cannot, perhaps, be determined.". Vol. II. p. 22. In one of his journeys Dr. Dwight visited the following very remarkable scene. "In a journey, which I took in 1798, I visited Hinsdale for the purpose of examining West River Mountain, reported many years since to have been in a very humble degree volcanic. A Mr. Butler of this town, to whom we were recommended for information, accompanied us to the spot. The mountain is in the northern limit of the township; and terminates on the Connecticut in a bold bluff, from eight to nine hundred feet above low-water mark. "About one hundred and fifty feet from the summit we found a pit, sixty or seventy feet deep, dug by the neighbouring inhabitants, with the hope of finding some species of ore. We had no means of descending into it, and were enabled to examine it only in a very imperfect manner from the surface above. From our guide and some other persons, whom we found at an inn, we received the following story: Twenty-three years before, the people of the neighbourhood were alarmed by a loud noise, proceeding from this mountain, and resembling the sound of cannon. A Mr. Barrett, who visited the place, found a hole, forced through the mountain by a blast, evidently, as he thought, the result of intestine fire. The hole was about six inches in diameter. A pine tree, which stood near it, was in ral substance, forced violently out of the a great measure covered by a black minepassage, and consisting chiefly of melted and calcined iron-ore, strongly resembling the scoriæ of a blacksmith's forge. It was forced out in a state partially liquid; and driven with such violence against the tree, as not to be separated without difficulty. The tree stood several years afterwards; but was cut down and carried away before we visited the place. The same calcined and vitrified substances were, however, still adhering to the rocks and earth in several places; and could not be broken off without a violent effort. From the whole appearance it was completely evident, that it' was driven against the cliffs in the same liquid state. The cliffs were of the common grey granite of this country, and exhibited no appearance of having been heated. At a little distance from the pit there was a large pile of calcined and vitrified ore. A quantity of yellow ochre, also, was dug out of the pit; a part of which, coarse, mixed with other substances, and unfit for use, was still lying in the vicinity. Specimens of the ochre, and of the vitrified ore, I brought to the cabinet of Yale College. "We saw, a little below the pit, two holes; one circular, the other of an irregular figure; which I at first supposed to have been made by animals. A nearer inspection convinced me, that this was impossible, and that they must have been formed by a blast of air from the bowels of the mountain."-Vol. 2. pp. 68, 69. In connection with an account of Dartmouth College, founded by Dr. Wheelock, principally for the purpose of educating Indian youth, Dr. Dwight makes some interest ing observations on that important subject. "The original design of educating Indians, and Missionaries to the Indians, has been frustrated. Two of the natives only have been graduated in this seminary. For three years after it was founded, a small number of Missionaries, and persons destined as candidates for this employment, were sent among the Indians. From that period, it is believed, all efforts of this nature have ceased. You are not to suppose that any blame is to be attached either to Dr. Wheelock, or any others entrusted with this concern. An Indian student cannot be obtained, ordinarily, without extreme difficulty. What is at least as unfortu nate, his habits are in a great measure fixed, before he can be brought to a place of education, and more resemble those of a deer, or a fox, than those of a civilized youth. In the literal sense, he must be tamed, and to tame him is scarcely possible. He may possess the average talents, or even those which are superior. He may learn (for some of them do learn) easily whatever is prescribed to him as a task. Still he is a perfect devotee to idleness and wandering, impatient of subordination, hostile to regularity of life, and enslaved to his gun and his dog. To ingraft litera ture and science on such a stock, de mands a degree of skill, patience, and perseverance, not often found in the mind of man. Few employments have been more hopeless than this, even among those which have been originally considered as desperate; and no instructor of Indians, since the commencement of Philip's war, except the Mayhews and Brainerds, has had much reason to congratulate himself on the success of his efforts."* Vol. 2. pp. 103, 104. * Since this was written, Missionaries have been stationed at Brainerd, and CONG. MAG. No. 65. We were about to finish the present section with this extract, when the following striking narrative met our eye, and induced us to extract it as a yet more interesting close. "In Benson a respectable clergyman Some time before we passed through had been settled eight or ten years. this town, a great part of his parishioners, influenced by the prevailing turbulence of the times, and by the vice which ne became to such a degree alienated from cessarily grows out of that turbulence, him in their affections, as to make him, and insult. A man of sense, learning, not unfrequently, an object of diversion and piety; of superior prudence and unexceptionable life, such as he is, could not be made ridiculous; yet he could be ridiculed. The heart could disrelish his excellence, although the conscience was compelled to approve of his character. The young people, particularly, became grossly hostile to him, merely because he was a minister of the Gospel, and a virtuous man. unworthy and licentious conduct rise, To such a pitch did this that the clergyman was giving up his cure as hopeless, and preparing to take a final leave of the congregation. At this moment, He, who has graven his church on the palms of his hands, produced in this waste a general revival of religion. The still, small voice,' which has so often hushed the storm and the whirlwind, was no sooner heard, than the people dropped their animosity against their minister; vice and licentiousness fled; peace, order, and good-will, took their place. This worthy man became at once endeared to his flock, the church was enlarged by the accession of multitudes; and all the blessings of Christian neighbourhood sprang up in the place of tumult and confusion. The thought of so happy a change smoothed all the ruggedness of this untoward country, to my eye, into elegance and beauty; and enabled me to realize what it is for the wilderness and solitary place to be glad, and the desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose."-Vol. 2. pp. 434, 435. We shall endeavour to condense into one more division of this article, the interesting matter which still lies before us. Elliot among the Cherokees and Choctaws, and their labours, hitherto, promise to be successful,--Pub. 2 M2. Literaria Rediviva; or, The Book Worm. The Gentile Sinner, or England's brave Gentleman: characterized in a Letter to a Friend, both as he is, and as he should be. By Clem. Ellis, M. A. Fellow of Qu. Coll. Oxon. The Second Edition. Oxford. 1661. Microcosmography; or a Piece of the World discovered; in Essays and Characters. By John Earle, D. D. THESE little works are examples of a species of composition once extremely fashionable, and culti vated in this country with great success. The taste of the multitude has usually led them to prefer antithesis, quaint conceit, and epigrammatic terseness and point, to the higher qualities of composition; and this appetite was abundantly and skilfully supplied by the authors who consulted the popular inclination in times of yore. The genius of our forefathers was, in a remarkable degree, dramatic, and the study of character and of habitual peculiarities and manner, was intimately connected with their pursuits. In modern days, this sort of literature has been superseded by a third, which, with more attractive interest, combines greater facility of execution, and is more injurious to intellect and morals, inasmuch as it holds out yet greater temptations to inferior writers, and panders yet more grossly to the indolence and sensuality of indiscriminate readers. We allude to novels and romances, a class of publications which blends dialogue and sketches of charac ter with narrative and description. We shall take this opportunity of expressing an apprehension that this track of reading is not avoided with sufficient care, by some of those whose training and whose principles should teach them bet ter things. There is something, to our minds, inexpressibly revolting in the attempt to combine the artificial excitement of mere fiction with the solemn truths of the Gospel; and we cannot but regard the success of these incongruous mixtures with feelings of regret and evil augury. There is another order of fabulous narrative, which has taken so strong a hold upon the public mind, and recommends itself by such specious reasonings, that it is counted a mark of wretched taste, or of ultra-puritanism, to question the expediency of familiarizing ourselves with its attractions. We shall not, however, be deterred from expressing our fears, that the appetite for these things, once awakened, may I grow with what it feeds on ;". that the interest felt in the "Scotch novels," as they are usually termed, may lead to habits of indulgence in this kind of reading, not only at variance with a right state of heart, but with a sound and vigorous constitution of understanding. Tastes of this sort are like rank weeds in hot-beds; they strike root in all directions, and spread in wide and rapid luxuriance till it becomes most difficult to eradicate them; they check the growth, and usurp the place, of useful and really ornamental vegetation, while they exhaust and render barren the soil which might otherwise be richly and lastingly productive. The branch of literature to which we are now to direct our attention, is not wholly free from this objection. The delineation of character can be safely trusted only to pure minds and clean hands. A depraved imagination, a satirical or malicious propensity, a gloomy temper, may here find an ample opportunity for the gratification of to be bound and led prisoners by the same hand fell'd them." Nicholas Breton was contemporary with Sir Thomas Over their evil dispositions; while, on the other hand, an elegant fancy, an amiable spirit, and a playful wit, may have sufficient room for their exercise and favourable dis-bury, and published a similar play. We could give large samples of these opposite styles; we have before us materials for an extensive inquiry into this department of literary history; but with the exception of a few citations and illustrations, we shall confine ourselves to the two works of which we have given the titles at the head of this article. One of the most popular publications of this class, is that which goes under the name of Sir Thomas Overbury, but was, avowedly, the work of different individuals. There is much talent about this little collection, but it is so strongly tinctured with indecency as to render it unfit for general reading. It is, indeed, truly painful to find the rich compositions of our old secular writers so deeply tainted with grossness; it might in some degree be the result of coarse habits of expression merely, but it is difficult to separate it from licentious morals. With respect to Overbury, the intimates whose society he affected, were as de-praved in sentiment, as they might be negligent of decorous observance; and he paid with his life, his want of prudence in the choice of his friends. Among his "Characters," the delineation of " fayre and happy Milke mayd," is perhaps the most exquisitely drawn. There is a freshness and delicacy in the picture that seems to show a purer mind than one hackneyed in the ways of courts. Her native charms, her innocent simplicity, her early rising, her untainted thoughts, are beautifully touched, and there is a delightful playfulness in the picturesque fancy, that "the golden eares of corne fall and kisse her feete when she reapes them, as if they wished a collection under the title of "The As we have already given a Divines, but declined the appointment. He was elected in the same year Chancellor of the diocese of Sarum; but the civil wars intervening, he lost his preferment, and followed Charles the Second to France, where he was made clerk of the closet and King's chaplain. On the Restoration, he reaped the benefit of his adherence to the royal cause; the deanery of Westminster was immediately given him; in 1662, he was consecrated Bishop of Worcester, and in the following year was translated to the see of Salisbury. When the court took up its residence at Oxford in 1665, during the prevalence of the plague, Bishop Earle attended his royal master, and died there on the 17th September of that year. Lord Clarendon speaks in the highest terms of his learning, piety, and amiable disposition; he describes him as pleasant in conversation, and negligent in dress. The mildness of his temper, and the graceful gaiety of his manners, seem to have procured him many friends. Bishop Kennet warmly praised him; Pierce, in his " Conformist's Plea for Nonconformity," described him as a 66 man that could do good against evil; forgive much, and of a charitable heart;" and Isaac Walton, in his life of Hooker, affirmed of him, "that since Mr. Hooker died, none have lived whom God hath blessed with more innocent wisdom, more sanctified learning, or a more pious, peaceable, primitive temper." The following letters which passed between this excellent man, and the admirable Richard Baxter, are so interesting, as illustrations of character, that we shall make no apology for inserting them entire. "MR. BAXTER TO DR. EARLE. "Reverend Sir,-By the great favour of my lord chancellor's reprehension, I came to understand how long a time I have suffered in my reputation with my superiors by your misunderstanding me, and misinforming others; as if when I was to preach before the king, I had scornfully refused the tippet as a toy; when, as the Searcher and Judge of Hearts doth know, that I had no such thought or word. I was so ignorant in those matters as to think that a tippet had been a proper ensign of a doctor of divinity, and I verily thought that you offered it me as such: and I had so much pride as to be somewhat ashamed when you offered it me, that I must tell you gave you no answer to your first offer, my want of such degrees; and therefore but to your second was forced to say, "It belongeth not to me, Sir." And I said not to you any more; nor had any other thought in my heart than with some shame to tell you that I had no degrees, imagining I should have offended others, and made myself the laughter or scorn which did not belong to me. of many, if I should have used that For I must profess that I had no more scruple to wear a tippet than a gown, or any comely garment. Sir, though this be one of the smallest of all the mistakes which of late have turned to my wrong, and I must confess that my ignorance gave you the occasion, and I am far from imputing it to any ill will in you, having frequently heard, that in charity, in gentleness, and peaceableness of mind you are very eminent; yet because I must not contemn my estimation with my superiors, I humbly crave that favour and justice of you, (which I am confident you will readily grant me,) as to acquaint whom, upon mistake, you have misinthose with the truth of this business, formed, whereby in relieving the innocence of your brother, you will do a work of charity and justice, and, therefore displeasing unto God, and will much oblige, Sir, "Your humble servant, June 20, 1662. "RICHARD BAXTER. "P.S. I have the more need of your denieth me access to those that have rejustice in this case, because my distance ceived these misreports, and because any public vindication of myself, whatever is said of me, is taken as an unsufferable crime, and therefore I am utterly inca remedying their mistakes. pable of vindicating my innocency, or "To the reverend and much honoured' Dr. Earles, Dean of Westminster, &c. These." "DR. EARLE, IN RÉPLY. "Hampton Court, June 23. "Sir, I received your letter, which I would have answered sooner, if the mes |