vine of the last century, but never his therto published, will, we trust, be acceptable, as we are sure they may be useful to our readers. They are applicable, in truth, to many books of the same class, as well as to the Life of Colonel Gardiner," and contain, we think, excellent rules for the guidance of the serious reader throughout all that description of writings."]

In an age like the present, when indifference towards religion is, at least, as general as enthusiasm, much good may be derived, I think, from the perusal of Dr Doddridge's" Life of Colonel Gardiner ;" and it does not appear to me that any harm can be done by it, to those who attend to such considerations as the following:

1. The disgust and detestation which, after the event that first led him to think seriously of religion, Gardiner expresses for his former vices and follies, may furnish a useful and striking lesson to those who throw away the vigour of health and talents on pleasures, as they miscall them, which lead only to present disgrace and remorse, and future misery. It was well observed by one of his gay companions, when Gardiner, after his amendment of life, was laying before them "his notions of virtue and religion," "We thought this man mad, and he is in good earnest proving that we are so." (p. 83.) If it be said, that such a lesson as this is hardly needed by persons who are of less lively and violent tempers than Gardiner, and, by their circumstances, less exposed to temptations, it may be answered, that it never can be unseasonable to be warned of the consequences of departure from duty, on the one hand, or of the blessedness of a pious and virtuous life on the other; each is the result of habit, of good or bad impressions cultivated or resisted, of the presence or the absence of the grace of God.

2. It is very pleasing to observe the sense of piety, the love of God and Christ, which ever occupied and animated Colonel Gardiner's mind, after that singular event which turned him from vice and folly. In this part of his character I see nothing enthusiastic. He was a man of quick and lively feeling, and this disposition remained with him, as was natural; and his feelings were still ardent, though directed to other and better objects than

those which once engaged him. The general indifference with which religious subjects are discussed, and the backwardness, too, observable to entertain the serious thoughts which religion presents, may induce many to think Gardiner fanatical. I confess he does not appear so to me. He speaks of himself with humility,-of the Almighty with the reverence and love of a truly pious and devoted heart,-of our blessed Redeemer with the sentiments which the contemplation of the mercies bestowed on us through Him would naturally produce in such a mind as his, especially when all the circumstances of his history are considered. The tempers of men are very various; and those who are of a disposition not easily moved to much animation, may wonder at the elevation of Gardiner; but this does not prove such elevation to be unnatural or unbecoming. Gardiner, probably, was equally animated in every other concern of life. The apostle St Paul, who was no fanatic, but who was a man of warm and lively temper, is transported almost beyond himself when he speaks of the love and mercy displayed in our redemption; and it becomes us to be cautious before we condemn the warmth, which is not unnatural, but, on the contrary, very probable and praiseworthy, because we may not, from the texture of our minds, be susceptible of it ourselves.

3. Another object of very pleasing consideration to the reader of this volume is the consistency observable in the whole life of Colonel Gardiner after his solemn determination to live religiously. Consistency is the test to which we ought all of us to bring our religious principles and conduct. It is not at one time, or on one occasion, or now and then only, that Gardiner is a pious, elevated Christian; but it is at all times, and upon all occasions. This is a beautiful and valuable trait in his character. This I do not hesitate to hold up to universal admiration and imitation. Gardiner, in the worst part of his life, (see pp. 29 and 36,) was no hypocrite. He pretended to no sentiments which he did not really feel. And, therefore, we may, from his example, when he was religious and good, learn the efficiency of true Christian principles in the general conduct of life. În this

sense the "Life of Gardiner" is very valuable indeed, for it is in consistency that all of us are but too apt to fail. 4. After thus remarking the good which may be derived from the "Life of Colonel Gardiner," I am obliged to lament, that, in some particulars, it may do injury to incautious readers. In the first place, the story of Gardiner's early life may be made use of, by a certain class of Christians, to induce weak persons to imagine, that, (to use the language of that class,) "to be a great saint, you must have been a great sinner." This is a very dangerous and wicked notion. But I confess that I am not so much afraid of the consequences usually apprehended from the indulgence of this notion, that is, of its driving men to sin, as I am of its effects upon those who cannot justly charge themselves with such offences as Gardiner's, and, therefore, having lived lives free from notorious and abandoned wickedness, are apt to think too well of themselves, and to grow indifferent about their progress towards perfection," the indispensable duty of every Christian. When such persons read of Gardiner's humiliation of mind, and abhorrence of his past life, they are inclined to say, "This may not be carried too far in Gardiner's case; but we, at least, whose hearts do not so condemn us,' do not need to be so humbled." Thus a check is given to the first right emotion in the heart towards that which is the true beginning of the Christian life; and such persons, whilst they very properly refuse to believe, that, "to be great saints, they must have been great sinners," are likely to be driven to as false, although a very opposite conclusion, and to conceive, that, because "they are not very great sinners, they are therefore great saints." It appears to me, that this is a danger to be apprehended from all such representations as these, especially when they are made with a kind of coarseness; and the reader is to be warned against this danger, and earnestly counselled to consider, that, if he examine his own heart and conduct "by the rule of God's commandments," he will ever find enough, even in the best life, to keep him humble and watchful, and diffident (not, indeed, in the grace and mercy of God through

Christ, but) in his own strength and resolution, and his own progress.

5. Again, this instance of a sudden conversion (for Gardiner's was such) may be dangerous to many. It may lead melancholy tempers, groundlessly, to despair. It may lead careless and presumptuous men to greater hardness of heart. There is no reason to doubt that it pleased the Almighty, by a sudden and singular (by no means miraculous) impression upon his imagination and heart, to change Gardiner from a life of wickedness to a life of virtue. There is no " gainsaying" the ways and wisdom of the Almighty. But such events, although we cannot doubt or deny them, are not common. They do not appear to be the ordinary course of Providence, although it be sometimes the case that great and permanent effects result from sudden impressions. Therefore they are not to be expected. No man is, with his eyes open, to persist in a course of wickedness until he be stopt by such an interposition, or under the notion that he is to be so stopt. We know who has said, "They have Moses and the prophets, let them hear them." To expect such interposition is dangerous and foolish. The ordinary means of grace and amendment which the goodness of God furnishes "sufficient for us," if we use them conscientiously and diligently. Let no man presume to neglect these, in the expectation of some singular and unusual mercy, which it may not please God to grant. Of all dangerous doctrines, the doctrine of conversion is one of the most dangerous.

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6. In a passage here and there there is, perhaps, an expression or two bordering on spiritual pride, a strong assurance of confidence in the favour and acceptance of God, which may seem inconsistent with the humility of mind generally observable in Colonel Gardiner, and always amiable in every Christian. I hardly think that these expressions will be found dangerous to the reader. Every one, it is to be hoped, will feel for the elevation of mind which would arise in such a man as Gardiner, when he looked forward through Christ to a future state. And of those who will copy him in his humility, I am not afraid that the minds should be injur ed by his occasional transports.

7. It may appear to some a trifling objection, but I must object to the bad taste in which this work is composed. Writers on religious subjects ought to take great care not to injure the acceptance of their works by a style of expression which must revolt many readers, even many serious readers. For this reason, I think that many extracts from Colonel Gardiner's letters would have been better omitted, as well as Dr Doddridge's hymns, which are very poor compositions indeed. In Gardiner's letters are no sentiments, so far as I recollect, with which I should seriously find fault in the private communications of one warm-hearted religious friend to another; but these expansions of the heart, when laid before the public, are absurd, and do not tend to give us any respect for the understanding and judgment either of Colonel Gardiner or his biographer; and, by losing that respect, many readers lose all the benefit they might otherwise derive from the work. It will probably be said, that this work was originally published before the refinement of the present day had taken place, and that many pious persons of this day read with pleasure language which accords so well with their own feelings. All this is true; but the work is continually appearing in new editions, and so may be reckoned a work of this age; and by several, even of pious readers, the style of writing alluded to is too commonly estimated as nothing better than cant. Nothing can be more absurd or improper than the dream recorded in sect. 72, p. 105, &c. Even in a private letter it was absurd; but nothing but an inexcusable want of judgment would have induced any person to put it into print. 8. On the story of Colonel Gardiner's conversion, (as it is called,) I will venture to make a few remarks. There is nothing in it, as it appears to me, that may not easily be accounted for. He was evidently asleep, when the vision was presented to his imagination. He had been sitting in riotous company, till late at night. He took up, to employ him for an hour, a book very little suited to his taste at that period of his life, and most likely, a very dull one, certainly a very dull one to him. That he should slumber over such a book is not very wonderful; and I think it is

very probable, that, in this book, he might cast his eye upon some passage containing expressions like those, which, in his dream, he supposed he heard uttered to him. These were the last images presented to his mind when he fell asleep; what followed may, therefore, be very well accounted for, without having recourse to any supernatural interposition, I do not mean, without acknowledging the hand of God; for I have no doubt, that the Father of mercies did permit his imagination to be thus forcibly affected, in order to the effect which was produced. He who constituted the mind of man, can influence it, when and how he pleases. But I contend, that there was nothing miraculous in the appearance presented to Gardiner's imagination; and that they who allow this instance of Colonel Gardiner to induce them to listen to the tales of modern Methodistical conversion, act very unreasonably; and, for their own present or future welfare, very dangerously.

9. On the whole, although I think that there are many books, of serious and useful piety, much to be preferred to this "Life of Colonel Gardiner," yet I see no reason to suppose, that it may not, if read with such cautions as I have here stated, be read with profit.

A relation of God's mercy in the recovery of a sinner, of the humility and penitence of a marr sensible that he was rescued from destruction; and of the devout and consistent conduct of that man after he was restored to religion and virtue, may certainly be always useful. I should hope, also, that most readers of this book, even in the present days of religious indifference, may be pleased and benefited by the ardent expressions of true piety, by the deep sentiments of the value and mercy of our redemption, and the unutterable importance of eternal things which abound in its pages; although they may regret, that such sentiments are not conveyed in a style of more good sense and good taste.

REMARKS ON THE LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

THIS unknown author reminds us of the nursery riddle of wind which used to puzzle our childhood, " What

is it that every one hears, many a one feels, and no one sees?" The chief attraction of these wonderful tales is, that they are not literally tales of wonder, but exact transcripts from real life, where the homeliest every day characters and occurrences have their place as in the scenes we daily witness. These appear, indeed, blended with, and made subservient to those beings whom nature and fortune have raised above the inferior classes, to be the more distinguished objects of our admiration, our sympathy, or our pity, such as, when acting or suffering have been justly chosen as subjects for the epic or the tragic muse, not merely from dignity of station or loftiness of character, but as possessing those powers of mind which exert a fatal or beneficial influence on the fate of those subordinate agents who happen to be connected with them. The operation of the passions and feelings which belong to our common nature, however differently modified by station and circumstances, are, accordingly, brought to view, and a wider circle is opened for the action of our human sympathies, as well as for our knowledge of mankind. Thus, if the poet's axiom be true, that "the proper study of mankind is man," we grow wiser by seeing him undisguised; and if we are capable of duly appreciating humble virtue, and powerful, though uncultured intellect, we shall grow better by giving a share of good will, and even respect, to those whom ignorant pride, and fastidious delicacy, regard with unmerited contempt.

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It is not merely the creative genius of Shakespeare that subjects our spirits to his fictions with the power of absolute reality. It is as much the uses and appliances in which he employs it. The edifices of the master of the drama are the dwellings of human beings, some of whom appear noble and exalted, and others familiar and domestic all, however, full of life and action, and each displaying the constituent feelings of human nature variously modified by outward circumstances. Shakespeare and our incognito do not merely present us with various modifications of character as they appear in different stations in life, and remote periods of time. They do more. They dispel that illusion, (Scoticé,) glamour, which our artificial modes of life have thrown over

our mental sight, and make us know and feel the workings of our common nature in its original elements, such as it exists among a class of our fellow creatures, to whom we are as strangers, though daily living in their sight, and moving about among them. By withdrawing the veil that our modes of life have interposed between us and the cottage hearth, the labourer's field, and even the haunts of the lawless wanderer, we have not only a more ample source of information and amusement opened to us, but of self-knowledge and moral feeling. Before the wild magnanimity and generous attachment of Meg Merrilies, the unblemished and unbending virtues of the poor awkward and pedantic dominie, the manly spirit, inflexible integrity, and cordial warmth of heart of honest Dandie Dinmont, and even before the stern commanding spirit of old Elspet, though dark with participated guilt, ordinary minds bow with unconscious homage, while the higher order of kindred spirits feel and acknowledge their relation to them, even when they appear sunk in poverty, obscured by ignorance, or soiled by turpitude, induced by their situation and connections. Neither the conceit and vulgarity of Baillie Jarvie, nor the predatory habits of the high-minded freebooter, his kinsman, are of power to obscure the uncultivated strong sense and rectitude of the first, or the noble daring, and resolute firmness of the other. We are taught to esteem what is in itself valuable, independent of the forms and modes to which we have been enslaved, and to know that where mind of the superior order exists, it sparkles through all the dross that may chance to environ it, and is, under all circumstances, recognized by its fellow minds.

Nothing can be more limited and monotonous than the habits of thinking, formed by moving always in the self same circle among our equals who have precisely the same views and opinions with ourselves. A sensible country gentleman, not unacquainted with letters, who, living in any remote part of Scotland among "thinking people," that is, among sagacious peasantry, has in his youth often exchanged the city or the college for the country, who has been accustomed, in pursuit of field sports, to mingle