their seats those who had usurped a prerogative belonging only to the parliament of the mother country, and of purifying the high places of government from the abomination which had polluted them, the populace lost no time in giving ample proofs of their determination to assert their rights, and maintain them with heart and hand.

In the month of April 1688, the inhabitants of Boston held a meeting for the purpose of prescribing a course that should free them from the arbitrary oppression of their rulers. The proceedings of a public assembly of citizens accustomed to unrestrained freedom of speech, are not usually distinguished by a great degree of coolness or discretion, when concerns of extraordinary moment call for attention. Each individual, inflamed by the commission of some petty wrong which has made him a sufferer, infuses into the minds of his auditors a portion of his own vindictiveness, and by the exaggerated representation of his ills, excites a strong sentiment of commiseration. The natural consequence is, that the assembly loses its character as a deliberative body; the force of argument yields to the fiery impetuosity of passion, and without any violent effort of the imagination, we can conceive that an ungovernable frenzy may actuate the whole multitude. In such a state, the resolutions most readily adopted bear the impress of the spirit which called them forth, and if, in their cooler moments, the actors in the scene have a momentary impression that their proceedings seem less the result of judgment than of impetuosity, they generally choose to abide by the consequences of their own rashness, rather than acknowledge themselves in error, or retreat one step from the stand they have taken.

The meeting to which we have alluded, is said to have opened with dangerous and horrible paroxysms. Mr Mather was present, and fearful of the evil that might ensue from such a beginning, rose to address the multitude. The turbulence partially subsided, and he called all his powers into action. His affectionate speech was like oil poured on the troubled waves of the ocean. The audience listened with respect, and he perceived that the accomplishment of his object was at hand.

Yet he stayed not his efforts till he found that he could control them at will. Many were moved by his eloquence, coming as it did from the heart, even to tears, and though their determination had been to give full scope to the revengeful spirit that was abroad in the land, they yielded to his persuasion, and united in the adoption of pacific measures.

But the fury of the people, though lulled for a time, was not entirely at rest. On the 18th of the same month, in a state of exasperated feeling at some new and flagrant outrage, they rushed with one accord to avenge their wrongs in a short and summary method, unwilling to wait the tardy retribution of the laws. Arms were resorted to, and the inhabitants in the vicinity of Boston, eager to join in the affray which now appeared inevitable, hastened to town in great numbers. They were ripe for any outrage, and Mr Mather's aid was again necessary to quell the commotion. He addressed the multitude in the open street, and arrayed the whole force of his arguments against them. As in the former instance, he gained the mastery, and when he had quieted their fury by an impassioned appeal, he resorted to his pen to complete the work so happily begun. It was mainly through his influence that those anticipated excesses were prevented, which but for his intervention, would probably have terminated in a bloody civil war. Andros and his adherents, who, on the occasion of this latter rebellion, were in danger of immediate death at the hands of the colonists, were deposed, confined, and afterwards sent to England for trial.

We have now arrived at a period equally memorable in the life of Mather, and eventful in the history of New England. The days of the Salem witchcraft are a kind of landmark in our annals, a convenient and conspicuous beacon, marking out the line of separation between "the olden times” and those sufficiently recent for the recurrence of memory. It was in the summer of 1692 that the "subtle devices of the arch enemy" first became apparent, and enkindled that flaming persecution which spread an alarm throughout the country, and threw a portentous gloom over the dayspring of its glory.

The name of Cotton Mather is generally associated with the horrors attending that spectacle of infatuation which attracted the observation of the whole civilized world. The prevalent impression is, that he was most strenuous in his exertions to convict those who were suspected of a demoniacal confederation. Yet a perusal of his letter to the public officers will lead the candid reader to the conclusion that he was less anxious for the effusion of blood, than for quieting the dissensions stirred up by the recent investigations; and more fearful that the reputation of his country would be tarnished, than that the great purposes of justice would be accomplished by awarding a capital punishment, on the feeble evidence of "a spectral representation." But the evil report has gone abroad, and Mather's belief in the demoniacal agency has been constantly misrepresented as his approval of the absurd and hasty examinations of the suspected individuals. The truth is, that in the letter to which we have referred, he besought the judges, on no consideration to sanction the condemnation of the accused, without the most satisfactory testimony,-without such testimony as they would require in a trial for murder. We would not in these remarks, insinuate his want of faith in the extravagant assertions of those who sought the gratification of personal revenge in accusing the inimical party of a league with the devil; his opinions on this subject are too strongly stated to admit a doubt. We would only explain his desire that the sentence of death should be pronounced with great caution, and in no case where there was not a palpable proof of guilt. That his earnest wish was to sacrifice his own indelible impressions, rather than hazard the life of a single human being, fully appears in a document that was addressed to the civil authorities of New England, signed by many influential individuals, and framed and presented by Mather himself. The interest however with which he listened to all the investigations that attended the charges of witchcraft, and the earnestness of his inquiries into the circumstances accompanying the alleged sufferings of the afflicted, were deemed satisfactory tokens of his determination to attain renown as the

promoter of a persecution, the memory of which would live in after ages. He was immediately assailed on every side by all those arts which grovelling malice knows so well to employ, and unsatisfied with the success of their attacks upon his character in the public presses and in the various domestic circles to which they could gain access, his enemies resorted to the use of anonymous letters, filled with the bitterest imprecations, and the vilest and most abusive language. He received these epistles with no other emotions than those of pity at the folly and weakness by which they were dictated, and preserved them in a huge bundle, which was labelled on the outside, "Libels: Father, forgive them."

In the year of 1703 Mr Mather was married for the second time, choosing as his future partner in life, Mrs Elizabeth Hubbard, who bore him six children. In 1710 he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity from the University of Glasgow, and in 1714 was made a Fellow of the Royal Society of London; from which time we may date the commencement of his correspondence with Sir Richard Blackmore, Dr Watts, Whiston and Desaguliers,-the two latter among the most eminent mathematicians of the age. In 1715 he was united in wedlock to Mrs George, and from this period to his first illness in December 1727-8, we can collect little that would be interesting to the reader. He was aware that death approached, and in a note to his physician said, "My last enemy is come, I would say my best friend." He died on the 13th of the following February, one day after completing his 65th year.

We have thus summed up the principal events of Dr Mather's life, and proceed now to the consideration of his character and writings. Of the former, though seldom brought into strong relief by his assuming any extraordinary attitude in public emergencies, we shall learn something if we observe its development in the domestic circle and in his discharge of professional duties; the merit and influence of the latter afford a subject for a more copious criticism than our limits will allow us to indulge.

Mather's character was a strange, we had almost said, an unnatural, compound. The ascetic gravity that enveloped his demeanor in his intercourse with society, was worn even in the midst of his family,—among his household gods, when, if ever, it would seem that the heart must leap up unconstrained, and assert its supremacy. And yet a quaint and awkward kind of humor accompanied this repulsive bearing, softening in some degree the asperity of his disposition; a humor that mingled itself with his devotional exercises and his discussions upon the attributes of divinity, more freely than with his worldly conversation. His familiar discourse, however, is represented to have been, at certain times, replete with the intrinsic wealth of mind, as well as with that which he had labored for, and dug deep to attain; to have blended instruction with entertainment, and counsel with reproof, the whole being seasoned with an ardent zeal for the advancement of religion. "His printed works," says one of his eulogists,* "will not convey to posterity a just idea of the real worth and great learning of the man. It was conversation and acquaintance with him in his occasional discourses and private communications, that discovered the vast compass of his knowledge and the projections of his piety."

The greatest infirmity of his nature appears in that superstition which is looked upon as the most striking peculiarity of his character. The modern philosopher smiles at the credulity of those whose imaginations could conjure up the apparitions of the departed from the flitting shadows of a cloud, and hear the wail of congregated spirits in the moanings of the night wind; and yet there have not been wanting the names of eminent men to give a semblance of authority to a belief in those spectres which have their birth in a diseased imagination. Johnson, the colossus of English literature, had implicit confidence in their existence, and Dr Watts, writing to his new correspondent, Mather, uses this language: "For my part (though I cannot believe that the spectral evidence

*Rev. Mr Colman.