blind to many things beside the meaning of those mysterious words. His eyes must be opened. There is something terrible about the faithfulness and yet the dignified calmness with which the prophet addresses him. Royal sinners do not often listen to such a sermon as that. Daniel begins by reminding him of the Being to whom his dynasty, and therefore himself, were indebted for the throne. He dwells on some of the principal events in the life of his grandfather, directing special attention to his power, his tyranny, his pride, his impiety, and his fall. He then taxes Belshazzar with the knowledge of all this, and with his folly and wilfulness in turning it to no good account. After this he leads After this he leads him to the act minated that evenphemies had culin which his blasing, the evidences of which were then before their eyes. He tells him that he had "lifted up himself against the Lord of heaven; and they have brought the vessels of his house before thee, and thou, and thy lords, thy wives, and thy concubines have drunk wine in them; and thou hast praised the gods of gold, of silver, of brass, iron, wood, and stone, which see not, nor hear, nor know." And he winds up the black catalogue of the royal offences by the most damaging charge of all, and yet a charge of universal application to a world of unregenerated men: "And the God in whose hand thy breath is, and whose are all thy ways, hast thou not glorified"-(V. 23.) How this discourse affected the consciencestricken potentate we have no means of knowing, nor was there much time to discover. The drama hastened on towards its tragical end; for now at last comes the desired though dreaded interpretation, in order to which the same mystic characters are distinctly traced by the spectral fingers again

MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UP

HARSIN"-"God hath numbered thy kingdom and finished it: thon art weighed in the balances and art found wanting: thy kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians."

The sequel is soon told. During that very evening, while the king was banquetting with his lords and ladies, while the vessels of the Lord's house were being defiled by idolatrous lips, while the shadowy hand was describing those magic characters on the plaster of the wall, while Belshazzar stood in the agony of his terror before his faithful, but, no doubt, benevolent reprover, the channel of the Euphrates is already dry, the gates of brass and the bars of iron are already cut asunder, and Darius is leading his hosts along the bed of the river to accomplish the great work of destruction with which Babylon had been so long threatened for her sins. And "in that night was Belshazzar, the King of the Chaldæans, slain." How or by whom the fatal blow was struck we have no means of conjecturing. What we do know is, that he past from the brilliancy of those halls, the strains of that idolatrous music, and the admiration of his favourites and flatterers, into the presence of the Judge of all the earth, and to the retribution which he himself will acknowledge to be righteous for ever.

And let us not forget that the same "balances' are in existence and in use yet, and that we shall be placed in them as surely as Belshazzar was. And if we go into them alone, we are as sure to be found wanting as he was; for the God in whose hand our breath is, and whose are all our ways, have we not glorified. What, then, can we do? How are we to make up the weight? What can we take in with us? The Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world. Taking him in the

arms of our faith, we have nothing to fear. Justice may adjust the balance with nicest care, our side cannot fail to outweigh every demand. My reader, when the weighing time comes, as it certainly will

come, let it be you and Christ, not you without Christ; then no hand shall write TEKEL upon the plaster of the wall of your dying chamber, but you shall have acceptance in the Beloved, and be complete in Him.

Sherfield,

Jan. 19, 1820.

MY DEAR FRIEND.-It is rather difficult for me to answer the question you proposed at the end of your letter, as to what my mind is thinking about. I must say that I have lately thought and felt more concerning my ignorance than any other subject. The difficulties and mysteries of every subject of thought to which I have directed my attention, have seemed to multiply upon me to an amazing extent, so that I have felt the gloomiest oppression of ignorance and weakness on my faculties, and sometimes almost determined to make no more efforts to think at all. However, I am rather pleased than discouraged, and grieved with such emotions, because I find they produce humility and modesty in the estimate I form of myself; they lower one's self-opinion, and raise an admiration for the talents and productions of others. It is a sure mark of a weak and little mind to feel no painful difficulties about any subject however profound it may be; so to feel them is some indication of being above the common rank of mortals, and in this point of view it affords consolation and encouragement. I have often been surprised to find, on

mentioning the perplexities of a subject to some persons, that they felt nothing of them; to their minds it has appeared surrounded with the clearest light. In the region where I have been entangled and benighted, they have seemed to pass on with freedom and brightness, though after a little more conversation, it has been evident that they never entered it. There is a mortifying circumstance attending laborious efforts of mind which has often pained and discouraged me. How very often, especially on religious subjects, is one obliged, after thinking with all one's might, for weeks and months on a topic, to come to the same conclusion and to embrace the same view of it which is generally held! How the labour and anxiety have seemed in vain with regard to the opinion entertained of you by others! The same views might have been obtained from books in a few hours or a day, and thus all the labour have been saved. I used to feel in this way, but I am wiser now. There is a noble dignity and pleasure in thinking for oneself, and besides the exercise of the facul

ties which it occasions, it produces a certain vividness and solemnity of convictions which the mere passive adoption of truth from books can never impress. And in every course

and journey of thought, even though it should bring us back to the place from whence we set out, many new prospects will have been opened to our view, and many fresh beauties discovered, which will bear ample reward for the time and labour employed. What a glorious and delightful attainment is expressed in that fine though simple phrase

"Seeing things as they are!"

I am just recovered from a visitation of the old disorder in my mouth, which, though it has not been so violent and painful as usual, has, for nearly two months past, produced dreadful pains in my head, and a great dimness and stupidity of mind. I have, however, read considerably, though not with all the advantage which a better state of health would have afforded. I have finished Hume, which inspired a great deal of interest and pleasure. I have derived from this profound and most noble piece of history very much instruction respecting government and general politics, as well as information concerning the past ages of the kingdom. I never expected to have felt so much affection for the First Charles, as Hume's view of his character has excited. Though there was very much to blame in his public conduct before the commencement of the disturbance, yet his mildness and patience and forgiving temper in the last scene of life were most admirable and delightful. I may mention, too, that I have just finished reading the two infidel chapters of Gibbon. There is a wonderful charm and majesty in his eloquence which carries the mind along without feeling how far it has advanced. In one respect he excels all the historians I have read. inspires so much of the feeling, that mingled with the events he relates; he makes one a complete Roman in thought and contemplation; he makes one a familiar inhabitant of the scenes

He

he describes. This seems to be the perfection of history. I have been very instructed, as well as charmed, with the eloquence of these said chapters. If I did not know they' were deemed to be highly infidel, I really do not think I should have thought them so-or, rather, I should say, I should not have been convinced that the author was an infidel. I mean to study these celebrated chapters, as well as what Bishop Watson and Dr. White have written against them. I am determined to take nothing for granted in any department of religious inquiry that I can examine for myself. It will not do to be thus deluded. I am astonished to perceive how much I have been so in time past about the characters and opinions of men, the truths of religion, and about everything else. It arises from not loving truth enough. I have lately felt much love for ecclesiastical history, and I mean to pay much attention to it as soon as I can obtain the necessary books.

What a character Hall gives of the funeral orations of the celebrated Frenchman!* I wish Frenchman! I wish you would read. them if they are within your reach, and tell me whether you know of any translation, and also give me your own opinion of them. I do not wonder that you should read the "Tales of my Landlord," for I would do the same, if I could obtain them;. but I can neither get them, nor the Eclectic, nor the Edinburgh_Review,. nor "Crabbe's Tales," nor indeed any thing else besides the few books I have of my own.

Feb. 23, 1820. My inability to sustain the expense of many letters has

* "The first of uninspired compositions, inferior only to those words unutterable that compose the songs of seraphs around the Throne." Written on a fly-leaf in Mr. Hall's copy of Bossuet.

some influence in inducing me to be less speedy in writing than I should otherwise be. I am now reduced to such poverty, that a shilling is become a great object. I am considerably in debt, and the poor people here have not given me enough to pay for my board and lodging. However, I feel very little trouble about this; something more serious has affected me.

Since you heard from me last, I have become so weak as to be scarcely able to do anything. It is with great difficulty and labour that I have been able to speak for a little while to this small congregation. If I am not better after next Sunday, I shall not attempt to preach any more. I fear my lungs are in a very bad state, as I can no other way account for such extreme weakness. For some time I have thought myself going down to the grave. You must not think that this is the effect of gloomy fancy and sadness, for my mind is in a state of the atmost tranquillity and repose, and cheered with the best and holiest light that has ever shone upon it. I have looked around on all mortal things, and felt most willing to leave them; a sacred exultation and gladness has inspired me in the prospect of leaving this sphere of evil and death. I have looked most seriously at death, and feel a triumphant assurance that it has no terror nor bitterness for me. I have looked into eternity, and feel nothing but a high and delightful solemnity in the anticipation of entering its regions, which have never been explored. How soothing and glorious to have such a firm and unlimited confidence in the Divine mercy and love, through the blessed Redeemer! How precious are the declarations of the Son of God-"Whoever keepeth my words shall never see death!" "Where I am there shall my servant also be !" If any man serve me,

t

him will my Father reward." I have a perfect faith in these consolatory truths, and can rely upon them in life and in death.

Children should not be vexed and questioned whether they are Christians, but should be taught how to become so. How much mischief has been done, and is still doing by bringing the metaphysics of religion so prominently forward. They no doubt lie at the basis of all real thinking in religion as well as in almost everything else, but you, and I too, have unfortunately seen them brought to the surface. I am perfectly convinced that the writings of Edwards and all others of the same kind have done much harm. I know it by experience It is melancholy

to reflect how little the devout and practical influence of divine truths is felt in the minds of Christians. I believe what you say, that you have never heard one serious practical religious conversation, and I can almost say the same. It was not till lately that I perceived and felt the true character of the religion of Christ, as that which is to pervade our whole being, to govern and purify all our emotions and sentiments. I have been enabled to attain more illumination concerning the truths of the New Testament, and imbibed more of its heavenly temper since I have been here, than during all my past life besides. I have brought the most powerful of these truths into my mind as vivid and operative principles, and I am astonished to see what they can perform in softening and subduing what is evil, and in imparting mildness and benevolence, and universal benignity. I wish I could tell you all the pure and blessed effects these truths have produced within me. I do hope and believe I am become a complete Christian-that the seeds of all holy virtues are implanted in

my heart, and that many of them are springing and blooming forth. I now perceive that these divine revelationscan do everything for us in raising us to a pure and saintly character, if we open our minds to them, and determine to be governed

by their power. To become thoroughly good is to bring the laws and doctrines of the Gospel into vivid operation on the mind and character. Ever yours most cordially,

W. R

SCOTLAND has seldom given to the South a richer gift than that received in the life and character of HENRY CRAIK. Scotch adventurers may be found everywhere, while her sons of toil, genius, and culture, adorn every land; but in our deceased fellow-citizen we have lost one whose adventurous spirit was controlled by a deep-toned piety, and whose ripe scholarship and unadorned eloquence of life and tongue made his presence amongst us of incalculable worth. Happily he was a man of appreciated goodness and felt power. In life he never affected to despise the judgment of others. Their approbation was ever welcome, if obtained in the service of his Lord. He knew well that to be esteemed was a power as well as a privilege; and often did he seek entrance for the truth into some heart into which already he had been admitted. Next to the approbation of God, was the approval of man. To know that by faithful preaching he won the affection and trust of his hearers, was the gracious help and reward that he knew came from his Father's hands. To feel that an abiding consistency of character was gradually subduing enmities and conciliating friendship, gratified his

*This Memoir is published as a pamphlet by Mr. W. Mack, 38 Park Street, Bristol.

heart. He accepted in his earthly pilgrimage the fellowship and smiles of his brethren with cheerful gratitude, and never did he refuse them but when they involved the frown of his God. If to be loved and trusted endeared life to him, his memory may be cherished as a fitting tribute to its worth. He was the last to desire a complimentary epitaph when gone, but the first to wish to hold a place after death in the memory and affection of the good and faithful.

We sincerely trust the memoir to be published of this esteemed servant of Christ will give to the public a definite and living portrait of his character. The events of his life were simple; they were neither startling nor unusual. By the side. of his esteemed colleague, the Rev. Mr. Müller, it appears tame and unimpressive. The Orphan House and its Christian missions have so striking an effect from their diffusive beneficence, and the thrilling report of their dependence and yet increasing progress, that the quiet ministrations of Henry Craik have almost escaped the attention of the public. But his life and character were full of incident and meaning. His character was unique, his life singular. They may be made productive of great good. Though dead he yet speaks. We sincerely trust that the