condescend-in the easy and pleasing style which in a well-educated lady seems so natural. But when she speaks of the origin of the Christian dispensation as a matter of mythology, and treats the history of Moses and of Paul as something striking, but not at all supernatural, she may expect that men of sense will regard her not as an oracle, but as a sham; and men of religion will hope wistfully for the time when, instead of patronizing the Saviour, she may sit at his feet in her right mind.

A LETTER FROM ROME.*

ROME, Holy Week, 1848. ON ordinary occasions, a visitor at Rome finds himself laid hold upon by two mighty spirits, Popery and Antiquity; but just now a third, mightier than these, holds sway here-the spirit of Liberty. It is impossible at a time like this, when hope and foresight get no sleep, for a man to dream away his hours in the solemn past. He may even feel it a duty to be inspired with awe in sundry places; and yet hear nothing but the tramp of the civic guard, and see nothing but the tricolor, waving him to the rescue on the battle-field. Every one will, of course, give some time to the ruins, be the pomp of St Peter's or the stir in the city what it may; and although most, perhaps, will be disappointed as to the first emotions anticipated, few fail to have their ideas of old Rome considerably expanded. Nor is it a small affair for one to visit the Forum, the Coliseum, the temples, and baths of the Eternal City, although his fancy cower down under the hurtling realities of the present. The mind is richer for the memory of them: history is made clearer, the future more encouraging, and the building up of principles better worth living for.

"Have you seen the Coliseum by moonlight?" is one of the first questions among the visitors here. "You must certainly go to-night, and read Byron's description of it." Byron is of great profit to a man in seeing Rome; for just here he was least of all Byronic, and most truthfully human. Accordingly, I took this kind advice, and went to the Coliseum with the expectation of some edifying reflections. The night was splendid, and ideality all alive for the treat. What was my disappointment, then, to find at least twenty carriages there, and a crowd of rough fellows near the entrance, enjoying moonshine and liberty songs to the top of their bent. The arena, too, was lively as the Tuileries. Such a Babel of tongues could probably be heard nowhere else; for all nations seek Rome, and all must see the Coliseum by moonlight. English, however, was the noisiest tongue here, as it generally is, where there's any sentiment to be spoiled. Still, not even this could break the spell which rests upon this mighty ruin. Within so vast a pile hundreds scarce lessen its solitude, and as the throng disperses over the ruin, comparative silence reigns. What Byron wrote will be verified by every one favoured with even a few quiet moments here, in such a night; and if he "learn the language of another world," one may hear also the voice of martyrs' blood, calling to him from these sands. The magnificence of the ruin a man must feel, silence or not; and half an hour spent up in its arches by moonlight, is worth a wearisome ocean passage to reach it. In the palpable reality there was no disappointment; but when suddenly the notes of a violin made the old From the New Y. Evangelist.

walls ring again, it would have been a luxury to have hurled a fragment upon the head of the performer. It seemed an absolute profanation of the place-yet for a little while only. Soon was there a hurrying across the arena, and an appearance of audience pressing to the verge of the crumbling tiers. 'Twas music like Sivori's; and when at the close, "Bravo!" rang out from arches high and low, accompanied with shouts and clapping of hands, a spasmodic effort to fancy "There goes another brave lion," ended my meditations in the Coliseum by moonlight. The spirit of the past wrestled vainly with this master-spirit of the present, even here. And so goes the struggle everywhere in Rome. This incident is a fair illus tration of every day's experience here. The trumpet tones of liberty call the scholar from his dreams, the bigot from his mummery, and wake old Rome to the jubilee of the age.

From the steps of St Peter's, what a splendid sight is this on Easter Sunday, when the Pope gives his benediction from the balcony! Now one realizes the vast proportions of this basilica and its courts. Thirty thousand, they say, pour forth from the temple, and double the number are gathered without in the area of its colonnades, waiting a sign from him whose spiritual authority encompasses the world, and who claims the succession of eighteen centuries for his right and title as Vicegerent of God. The great of all nations are here to glorify the Pope, and nothing that wealth, or art, or taste can do, is wanting to the solemnity in progress. At this scene of the benediction the Papist asks with triumph, "Is not this the power against which the gates of hell shall not prevail?" Truly it looks a mighty power, and in the swell of music and roaring of cannon responsive to the blessing, we seem to hear earth's loud Amen. But follow this people to their daily haunts; follow the soldiery to their posts, and ask them on the morrow, "What is all this worth? what reality of temporal, or even spiritual power, was present in that scene?" There is but one answer as to the first: "A single conflict with the popular will, and the temporal power of the Pontiff is gone-that conflict approaches; it may be close upon us." The spiritual power is strong yet, but its strength is weakness compared with its show of authority. How is it that one may enter the Propaganda and argue that Popery is Antichrist, and yet part in friendship with its priests? How is it that one may discuss anywhere in Rome the tenets of the Church, and bring the argument down to a question of Bible authority? How is it that one so readily disposes of Bibles here to reputable Romanists? Why have so many able men of late abandoned the priestly ranks of this very city? Why are the Jesuits driven out? And why, in fine, are the Protestant pastors of the various embassies so full of hope and joy? Romans are beginning to think; and reason is a fire to burn over the wastes of superstition, and prepare the field for the gospel. At a distance, the spiritual power of Rome seems scarce diminished; but here the wisest and best of Popes is beset in council, on the one side by cardinals threatening schism if he declare war against Austria, and on the other by ministers threatening the separation of the civil and the spiritual power in him, if he do not. In either case the Papacy must suffer. That firm mouth of his tells us the sceptre is not easily to be wrenched from Pius IX. Yet Pius IX., at the head of the Italian league, and in the field against Austria, is a Pope

led captive by the age, and not its ruler; for his heart is not in the fight beyond the Po. However, as events in these times run before prophecy, we may well wait the issue of existing conflicts. It is well, moreover, to know what dreams amuse the zealots of the Papacy. "Providence," they say, "has caused to shine forth with new lustre two stars the most resplendent, the stars that are to guide humanity on the new and toilsome journey undertaken-Democracy and the Papacy."

There are many strange sights here in Rome about this time, which are interesting as exponents of Popish and democratic notions. One exhibition

combines them both-'tis a procession of Roman ladies, each with a beggar on her arm. Such extraordinary humility in the eyes of admiring thousands, can hardly be expected of them more than once a year. Another procession, seen daily, is impressive for its melancholy suggestions-'tis that of little boys from seven to fourteen, in black dress coats, black hats, black gloves, and white cravats. If seen in our own country, they would stand in danger of being caught up and kissed by the mothers in Israel as dear little ministers. But no such fate awaits

them here. In the walls of a monastery they will be nursed by superstition, and schooled to indifference to social ties, and even abhorrence of what God has made honourable in all men. Their young fresh life is given to gloom, their manhood is to be vexed with penances, and their old age made desolate-i.e., provided they aspire to be saints. If not righteous overmuch, they may get along more comfortably. A boy exhibition of an opposite character meets us at every turn. These are little, some as young as six even, in the costume of the National Guard, with true steel-swords made purposely for them. They are called the Battalion of the Sperenza; and are much noticed. As an escort to the floral procession of girls all dressed in white, they look charmingly. Such are the different phases of Papal and democratic education in Rome.

It is difficult just at this time, when spectacles and politics keep the world in a ferment, to satisfy one's self as to the degree of progress of evangelical truth in Italy, and particularly here in Rome. We see, however, many changes favourable to its progress, and have some cheering evidences on the subject. For instance, there is a wonderful readiness among intelligent people to receive the Bible. This readiness is, moreover, for the whole Bible, in preference to the New Testament only. The examples of Dr Achilli, in leaving the theological chair of the Dominican College, and of Dr Desanctiss, in forsaking the altar of the Maddalena, cannot be without powerful influence. They are not forgotten in Rome, for their paper, published at Malta, is working its way in here as well as into other parts of Italy. Dr Desanctiss is at this very time preaching in Italian at Florence, as he had previously done at Leghorn; and he is heard, too, with very great satisfaction, by many who have no thought of turning Protestants. It would be no strange thing, as matters are now going on, if both these brethren should be suffered to preach next winter in the English chapel at Rome. The priesthood might rise against them; but the popular sentiment so strongly in favour of this degree of toleration, that the government may find itself compelled, for the sake of peace, to overlook the matter. If you could realize the deplorable effect of a residence in Rome upon the great proportion of foreign visitors, you

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would not be backward to aid those who are labouring to introduce the gospel there. The German pastors sustained by the King of Prussia are doing much good there, in a way that commends itself to many serious Romanists. The doctrine of the Church is, that there is no salvation out of its communion; but pious Romanists find a way to get by this, when they find examples of holy living in Protestants; and would a thousand times rather see the foreign residents religiously inclined, after their own faith, than living, as they too often do here, in practical infidelity. If any of our clergy wish to preach here, the German chapel is at their service every Sabbath afternoon; and if they desire to extend their labours in the distribution of books, in connection with personal conversation, they can be abundantly furnished with such as they want from the Italian press, and they will find readers for them.

DR DUNCAN OF RUTHWELL.*

SELDOM have we perused a more interesting, instructive, and delightful biography than the one at present before us-Memoir of the Rev. Dr Duncan of Ruthwell, by his Son. Every one will easily conceive how difficult must be the task when a son undertakes to write a memoir of a revered and beloved father. How shall he avoid expressing his affection and esteem in terms with which the public may not Sympathize, and yet do justice to the merits of his parent? How shall he avoid the apparent affectation of a degree of impartiality for which the public will not give him credit? Mr Duncan has surmounted both of these difficulties so completely, that we are inclined to recommend the work primarily on the very ground of its being an almost perfect model of the manner in which a son should write a memoir of a father, though it will only be the power of Christian principle which will lift any man into an elevation of sufficient clearness and serenity to reach the standard.

The perusal of this Memoir has sent us back to the period of very early boyhood, and to reminiscences fresh records of those unforgotten years. One of the of Dr Duncan, which mingle considerably among the very first things that drew our attention to ecclesiastical affairs, was the frequent mention made, in every circle to which we had access, of Mr Duncan of Ruthwell. It seemed scarcely to be of any consequence what the subject-matter was, Mr Duncan was in someway connected with it-had made a speech on it in the presbytery or synod — or had written some clever or striking papers on it in the Dumfries and Galloway Courier. We began to entertain a strong curiosity about this singularly active minister, who seemed to have time and talent for everything; and we set about making inquiries in a way, for the purpose of satisfying that curiosity. It so chanced that we had the kind of acquaintance which a somewhat inquisitive yet diffident boy might characters, and professions. "What kind of a perhave with several people of very different stations,

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son is Mr Duncan of Ruthwell?" said we, to a fine specimen of the thorough old Moderate minister, very amiable, very gentlemanlike, and a good scholar. "What kind of a person is he? Why, he is the

*Memoir of the Rev. Henry Duncan, D.D., Minister of Ruthwell, Founder of Savings' Banks. Author of "Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons," &c., &c. By his Son, the Rev. George John C. Duncan, North Shields. Edin. 1848.

of a country minister, and to feel that a Church which could produce such men in its rural districts was not a Church that it would be either wise or safe to undervalue.

But we have gone beyond our first intention, which was merely to record some of the reminiscences of boyhood, with its fresh impressions and awakening aspirations, as these had been originally produced by what we then daily heard of Dr Dun- | can, and as they have been revived by the perusal of this exceedingly well-conceived and well-executed biography. It would be very easy to glean any number of interesting, instructive, and beautiful extracts from the volume, did we desire only to enrich our pages and gratify our readers. We might insert an amusing account of his early mechanical skill; we might produce some of his adventures in Liverpool, or some passages of his early pastoral life, or his first literary exertions; or we might direct attention to the graceful record of his geological discoveries, and the reputation which he thereby obtained in the opinion of those best able to judge. And some peculiarly beautiful extracts might be given illustrative of the cheerful activity, varied and extensive benevolence, and rare happiness of his life in the manse, bringing before the mind one of the most lovely pictures of a Christian household that ever we have been delighted to contemplate. Or we might turn to another department, and trace the course calmly and conscientiously adopted by Dr Duncan with regard to the duties and trials of the Church, and steadily prosecuted at all hazards, through good report and through bad report, till, with the most perfect composure and tranquillity of mind, he bade farewell to that manse which his taste and skill had so greatly beautified, and sought the shelter of a very humble cottage in his honoured and venerable age. As this succession of events and scenes passes before our own mental eye, we feel intensely reluctant to abstain from presenting them to our readers. But we place a strong restraint upon our inclination, and urge our readers to procure the book for themselves, and to peruse and re-peruse it, as we have done, and as they may often do, with increasing improvement and delight.

With one thing we think even the most unreflecting reader must be struck, in perusing this biography. No man can for a moment doubt that Dr Duncan was a man of a remarkably clear, even shrewd, business intellect. Early trained to business habits in a Liverpool bank-much conversant with mankind in all the phases of society-intimately acquainted with men of literature and science of every grade, and in all departments-occupying a position as editor of a newspaper, which led him to mark the character of politicians, and to scrutinize the inner principles and movements of the political world, he was in all respects the very last man to be likely to plunge into any rash movement through the mere impulse of enthusiastic emotion. Yet no man entered more cordially into the movements of non-intrusion and spiritual independence, and no man more thoroughly approved of the Disruption, or more willingly devoted himself to the cause of the Free Church of Scotland. Of this, his letters to Lord Brougham furnish ample and irresistible evidence; of this, his own repeated "flittings," in consequence of the pitiful opposition of certain parties, furnish sufficient proof; and it may most truly be said, that his death was itself a demonstration of his deep and

indestructible love of the same sacred cause, and his indefatigable zeal in the endeavour to promote its welfare.

Tendering our sincere thanks to the accomplished and able son of a rarely accomplished and able father, for the beautiful and interesting biography which he has produced-itself a noble memorial of the Disruption-we end our brief remarks with one extract, relating the closing scene of Dr Duncan's life:

"As he drove through Clarencefield on his way to Comlongon, the residence of his brother-in-law, Mr Phillips, the people flocked to their doors to see him pass. An affectionate old female parishioner rushed into the road to meet him, and, grasping his hand, both burst into tears, so that neither could exchange a word of greeting; and he passed on, his heart surcharged with the most affecting emotions of gratitude and joy. Once more amid scenes which everywhere reminded him of former efforts, not a moment was lost in prosecuting the work he had to do. It was on Friday, the 6th February, that he arrived; and, as if aware that his time was short, heedless of fatigue, he spent what remained of that day, and most of the next, at Kedar, giving necessary directions connected with the works, and particularly providing for the tasteful disposition, of the ground on which the erections were proceeding.

"The heart of the parish was stirred by his arrival. His last note to Mrs Duncan, written on the Tuesday, breathes activity and life, and shows his unabated energy on his last Sabbath on earth :

"I find it will be impossible for me to do all I wish here, and be in Edinburgh before Thursday. I have preached at Kedar and at Ruthwell village both. I have recovered my luggage, for which I am right thankful. I had been preparing a new sermon for Kedar; but having got my notes by the carpet-bag, I used what I had prepared for my evening service. There was a large attendance both at church and in the society-room; and I have been everywhere received with open arms. Yesterday I visited many families, although the weather was boisterous. Some of the sick I have seen twice. Hoping to meet you in health and enjoyment on Thursday, I am your ever-loving, 'H. DUNCAN.'

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Many attended church who had separated themselves from his ministry, but still retained an affectionate regard for his person. There was an impressive solemnity and earnestness in the services, which deeply affected his people. His text in the morning was from John iii. 18, He that believeth not is condemned already.' He told his hearers that he had not come among them to speak smooth things, or to flatter them in favourite delusions; that there were some among them of whom he stood auxiously in doubt, and that he felt as if he fulfilled his duty best by faithfully sounding an alarm. His mind had doubtless been dwelling on the hardening influence which seemed to have pervaded the hearts of too many, with whom he had often in vain pleaded on behalf of their souls; and he now left them his last warning, to flee from the wrath to come.'

"In the hurried course of visitation to which the two following days were devoted, hardly one old friend was omitted. His warm heart carried him indiscriminately into the houses of his parishioners, whether of the Free Church or of the Establishment, and by all he was cordially greeted. On the Tuesday, he was followed by the eyes of several of his people to the churchyard, at the gate of which they observed him. stop and fasten his horse. He then entered, and was seen to stand long by the railing that encircled the spot of earth where many years before he had laid a long-loved partner, and where, on the Tuesday following, he was himself to find a grave. What memories of former days then crowded on his mind we shall never know. Probably a shade of regret was there that he might not at last rest among those whom he had loved so much, and for so many of whom he felt all the tenderness of a parent for his children.

"He had been invited by an elder in the Establishment to hold a prayer-meeting at his house at Cockpool on the evening of that day; and, as it drew on to the time, he was noticed, with a step almost youthful, speeding from door to door in the village of Ruthwell, that, if possible, no kind heart might be * A sketch of this sermon, taken from the imperfect notes from which it was preached, appeared shortly after in the Christian Treasury.

wounded by an omission. He had a cheerful and a hearty word for each; and he finished this two days' labour of love, 'weary in body, but rejoicing in spirit,' by driving to the place of meeting, which lay about two miles westward. Here he was kindly welcomed. The house soon filled; and, as the sun had set, he proceeded by candle-light to conduct the services. It was remarked by his auditors, when the subsequent stroke had rendered every small movement matter of observation, that their minister was at this time free from agitation, and held his presence of mind, up to the moment when the first note of the final summons was sounded in his ear. The table on which the Bible was placed was low, and consequently the light did not reach the book when raised in his hand. Instead of making a bustle, by applying to the good❘ woman of the house for some means of raising the light, he cast his eye quietly around, and, with the old fertility in expedient and adaptation for which he was remarkable, took a jug which hung on the wall, placed it on the table, and on it set his candlestick, and then proceeded to read. After singing the 121st Psalm, and prayer, he gave out as his text, Zech. iii. 9, For behold the stone,' &c. It was while in the act of illustrating these words that the messenger of death met him. He had not spoken above ten minutes when his voice faltered, his whole frame trembled, and all the symptoms of paralysis became apparent. He was supported to a chair, but could not sustain himself upright. An attempt was then made to lift him into his conveyance, which was quickly prepared, but this was found impracticable; and at length it was suggested that a bed should be extended on a cart, on which he might be laid, and so carefully conducted to Comlongon, which lay at a distance of about a mile. This plan was adopted. Supported in the cart by one of his attached people, and followed by those who, not an hour before, had gathered together to attend on his instructions, he was silently conveyed to the house of his affectionate relatives.

"As the melancholy procession moved along, the moon looked down with chastened lustre, and the more brilliant of the stars shone unclouded over the scene. Lifting up his hand, though now scarce able to speak, he was heard, as he cast his upturned eye over the heavens, to utter the admiring exclamation, Glorious! most glorious!' Arrived at their destination, he was lifted by tender and willing hands, and conveyed to bed. Whatever sisterly affection and medical skill could accomplish was done. Among many disinterested and affectionate competitors for the office of sick nurse, there was one who had hastened to his chamber on the first alarm, claiming the post as her special privilege. She had long been a domestic in his family, and in her arms his departed wife had died. When he observed her by his bedside he held out his hand, and, taking hers, burst into tears. It need not be added, that the duty was discharged with tender anxiety and faithfulness.

"A letter has just fallen into my hands from one of the cottage daughters of the parish, to an old Bible class-fellow at a distance, which brings the scene with such truth and good sense before us, that the reader may welcome it as I have done:

"Mr Brown is very much cast down. I never saw him shed tears till to-day. He has been in attendance nearly all the time. They hold a prayer-meeting at Ruthwell to-night, and very unfit he is to speak. My mother is at Comlongon now, and I will not close my letter till the morning. Mr Brown said to him yesterday, I hope you are leaning on that Saviour whom you have so long served?' He replied, 'O yes, sir.'

"He took his sister by the hand and said, 'Mary, dear,' thinking Mrs Duncan had come, but he saw his mistake, and said, 'Not her yet.'

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Comlongon avenue has been crowded these two days. One stream of people going very mournful-like down, the other coming up. The parish is in deep affliction; and so they may. But I hope he is going to that happy land above, where there is no sorrow, and where the Lamb will wipe away all tears from his eyes. He has spent a long life-time in the service of his heavenly Master. Henceforth, I hope, there is laid up for him

"A crown that cannot fade,

The righteous Judge at that great day Will place it on his head.'.

"Friday Morning.

"DEAR M The storm is changed into a calm. Dr Duncan died last night, ten minutes before eleven. My mother was at his bedside. He had no pain apparent, but slept away. He took notice of no person. I hope his spirit has winged its flight to the mansions of everlasting bliss. Dear M, I say no more. Your well-wisher.'

"Never did worn-out veteran find a death more in keeping with his history. Struck down at the successful close of what he had long contemplated as his last campaign, with the weapons of his spiritual warfare still in his grasp, he died a Christian soldier's blessed death, amid scenes dignified by his unceasing labours, and in the midst of those who had followed the banner which, on behalf of Christ, he had nobly unfurled because of the truth. His duty done, the Master thus at its close called him to his reward."

MR COLLINS deserves the thanks of the biblical students of this country for placing within their reach, in so agreeable a form and at little more than a third of the cost of the American edition, perhaps the most valuable commentary, in the critical, philological, and exegetical department, which the English language has produced in modern times. The range of comparison, however, is unhappily very limited. The labours of foreign commentators have, to a considerable extent of late years, been made available to the English student by means of translations. But indi

ter, and he has come-but I think it is to end his days in Ruthwell. He came a long round out of his way to see us all; and who thought it was to be his last? I never saw him in better spirits in my life. He stopped at our door on Friday, and so cheerful he was! He went to Kedar on Saturday. He preached on Sabbath to a full church as ever I saw: he was on the danger of unbelief. In the evening, in the societyroom, on brotherly love; and I think since, he went through the whole parish-Moderates and Freemen, he made no difference, and they came all to hear him. This evening he went to Cockpool to preach, I think I may say his last sermon. Mr Brown wished to have spoken for him, but he said it was his last night, and he must preach. So he began once more to dispense the bread of life to sinners. He read the first chapter of Revelation, and his text was in Zechariah, Upon one stone shall be seven eyes.' He had not proceeded far when his countenance changed.

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tion of Dr Henderson's two works on Isaiah and the Minor Prophets, and Moses Stuart's Commentaries on the Romans, Hebrews, and Apocalypse, we have next to none. Time was when England had its Waltons, its Castells, its Lightfoots, its Pococks. In the Augustan age of theology, Britain contributed its full share, in the critical as in every other department, towards the literary splendours of the age. Nor in the last century was Britain behind its neighbours in biblical learning. It had its Mill, its Lowths, father and son, its Kennicott and Blayney, its Grabe and Owen, its Taylor (Heb. Concordance), its wellknown Doddridge, Macknight and Campbell, its reckless Geddes, its acute but unsafe Peirce and Wakefield. It cannot be denied, however, that for the last