reflections are just," rejoined Herbert: either the goodness of these two young creatures was too dazzlingly pure to remain longer with safety in the world, or the attachment of their parents to them had grown to such a height that it threatened to divert and estrange their affections entirely from heavenly objects: in either of these events Providence was wise in interposing its hand. But come, the moon is risen and lends us a mournful light; let us all three go and take a melancholy look at his once happy mansion. I know it is an occupation that will harmonize with your feelings, and I cannot offer you at present one more suitable."; "You read my very soul," said I, "that is the utmost of my wishes: I would fain indulge with you and Mr. Charleton in one more placid contemplation of the blissful scene ere the house becomes the property of another." We walked accordingly by the nearest way to the park: our steps were slow, and our conversation sparing. In a short time we drew near the chief aspect of the house, and here we made a pause, while my two friends left me for a few moments to learn of some of the domestics at the back whe gained strength, the difficulty of her breathing. increased, the hectic pageant of counterfeited health seized on her cheek, and all the assembled powers of medicine proved unavailing to save her from the tomb. Within one year, the grave numbered among its victims two of the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed on English ground. I attended by permission the funeral of Marietta, the destitute mother standing over the grave with the leaden calm ness of despair, seemed to expect, and even wish for, the blow that should consummate her own destruction. The father in silent ago ny cast his eyes to heaven, and tears were the only evidence of his suffering; but I saw that his heart. was broken, and his spirit for ever subdued. I was not mistaken in my forebodings; this accumulation of sorrows struck deeply to his heart, and he languished several weeks in utter impotency of soul. This torpor, in a business so extensive as his, could not long exist ·without ejudice to it; and his wealth, commerce soon began to waste away under his fingers. What could be done? Exertion was the only refuge from ruin, yet of this he was incapable, and with mute and apathetic horror he saw all his_ther our observations were likely to worldly prospects, in two years, be noticed in front. While they lessen entirely from his view. Enter- were gone on the errand I was hurprises stood still, demands increased, ried by the recklessness of my feelresources diminished, creditors grew ings to walk rapidly across the clamorous, and at length one was ground before the house, with my persuaded to put the statutes of eyes fast rivetted on the windows. bankruptcy in force against him. By the changing light of the moon This is the concise history of his I saw the form of some object in the woes: he still lives in the beautiful drawing-room window; it stood house you so much admired, but it motionless, and I stopped also. I is only by permission, and he will recognised the wasted features of. soon be compelled to remove and the venerable Montague, and, tremuseek out a smaller." "Gracious Healous as was the light, I perceived ven!" I exclaimed, "thy dispen- that he too was struck with the resations are doubtless merciful, yet membrance of mine. I saw, at the how inscrutible are thy ways. Is. moment of his observing me, the human felicity a good so essentially sigh that laboured in his breast; I opposed to duration that, when it beheld his quivering lip, his eve bears the promise of too settled a upturned to heaven, and the discontinuance, thy mercy to man calls tressed contortion of his features., upon thee to remove the tempting I saw him turn with agonized pre-, object out of his sphere? Lend us cipitation from the window; I felt a a portion of thine own spirit to bear sympathetic dimness swim over my thy chastisements with resignation, eyes; and, covering my face with, and in thy severest dispensations to my hands, I burst into tears. discover a parental hand." "Your CRAYONIDES, SKETCHES OF POPULAR PREACHERS. (Continued from page 219.) THE VERY REV. Gerard anDREWES, D. D. DR. ANDREWES is the Dean of Canterbury, and the Rector of Saint James's, Westminster. When we contemplate an oak, whose withered branches and decaying leaves proclaim that it is rapidly verging to wards that state of nothingness to which the irrevocable fiat of nature consigns her material existences,when we remember that it has reared its head in proud defiance of the storm, that it has expanded into beauty beneath the warm touch of the bright vivifier of nature, that it has afforded shelter and protection to myriads of living things, and that its glory is now passing rapidly away with every wind of heaven, we sigh with regret over the victim to the corroding influence of time, and are sorry that our power avails nothing to arrest the progress of the destroyer, > If such are the sensations produced by beholding the approaching extinction of mere vegetable exist ence, how much more intense a character do they assume, when we view the decline of a human being whom we have admired and valued in the zenith of life; who has contributed to the extension of truth, the advancement of morality, and the increase of religion; who has employed the best powers of his intellect in checking the progress of whatever is erroneous in opinion, or pernicious in practice. Such a man is Dr. Andrewes. Placed in a situation, to fulfil the duties of which required the energies of a gifted mind, discharging those duties with zeal and assiduity, he must have proved heaven's instrument of good to mumbers of his fellow creatures; many who are now sleeping in the dust, could they speak from the grave, would attest the benefits he has conferred, while many who are living probably remember with gratitude the lessons of virtue he has taught. Dr. Andrewes's mind is of that species which consists in the equal counterpoise of its faculties to each other, and not in the high elevation of any one of them above the rest. His sermons are not distinguished for pathos, sublimity, or the loftier graces of eloquence, but embody the conceptions of a sensible and culti vated intellect. His explanations of Scripture satisfactorily and ingeniously elucidate what is difficult or obscure, and are strictly consonant with the doctrines of the Church of England. He preaches more to the understanding than the heart, and consequently more frequently succeeds in convincing the judgment, than in interesting the feelings. His discourses have a direct tendency to improve the morality of his hearers, to render them more solicitous to discharge their different relative duties, more anxious to curb into submission the passions which incite them to transgress. His Janguage, which is plain and simple, often exhibits vigour of thought and force of expression. His deportment is earnest, animated, and energetic; it apparently originates' in a deep conviction of the truth and importance of the cause to which he is devoted. His voice is clear, harmonious, and well modulated;" his enunciation distinct. He reads well; his emphasis is so pointed, and at the same time so correct, that he invariably places the sense of what he is reading in the most obvious point of view, and presents beauties to his hearers which they had probably never before observed in this respect he' certainly has no superior. One defect attends both his reading and preaching, I mean too great rapi dity of utterance; I am convinced that this is the effect of inadvertence, and not of a determination to hurry through the sacred duties› he is performing; for it is impossible, even for a moment, to divorce the idea of piety from Dr. Andrewes. THE REV. JOHN DANIEL HASLEWOOD, A. M. THERE is an excellence which consists in the absence of defects; which, though it demands no admiration for the splendour of its genius, and arrogates no homage for its pre-eminent talent, yet presents a picture where the colours are so beautifully blended, and the finish ing is so perfect, that the eye of the critic reposes on it with pleasure, even though it presents no claim to rank in the bigher departments of the art. The Rev. J. D. Haslewood, the Minister of Bedford and of Margaret Chapels, is of this class of excellence; he is calculated to excite esteem and respect, rather than delight; to impress on his hearers the conviction that the component parts of his intellect harmonise so well with each other, that the absence of what is brilliant is neither felt nor acknowledged. The tone of his voice is remarkably beautiful, and, though not powerful or capable of great variety in its modulations, it falls like musick on the ear, a sweet unbroken stream of harmony. It is impossible to listen to Mr. Haslewood, either in the desk or pulpit, without the conviction gradually stealing on the mind that he is unaffectedly pious, mild, gentle, and serious in his deportment. The ordinances of religion derive additional attractions from his ministration, especially when we remember it is that religion alone which has imparted so pure a spirit of devotion. pressly to combat with, and conquer all that is vast or difficult in human attainments, but it comprises quali, ties adapted to render him a valuable Minister of Christianity. He exhibits the correctness of his judg ment in various ways; he avoids the thorny path of religious controversy, and confines himself to the fertile and productive field of practical divinity; he softens guilt to contrition by touching delineations of the mercy and goodness of God, by representing the misery consequent upon a life of crime, even when considered only in reference to its results on the different parts which compose the social system; by exposing the enchaining tendency of procrastination, which rivets more firmly the fetters which it promises, but promises in vain, to break. Among the various weapons which an orator selects to attain the end he has in view, the one Mr. Haslewood employs is persuasion; while some are content to address the understanding only, and think that by winning the judgment they have atchieved the victory they desired, he endeavours to subdue the heart and the affections, to attach them to Christianity by indissoluble ties, to separate them from earth and its disquietudes, to elevate them, purified by faith, to heaven. Destined to exercise a gentle mastery over the mind he does not appear endowed with the qualities necessary to constitute an acute reasoner; his intellect is not cast in that gigantic mould which appears formed ex Those of Mr. Haslewood's hearers who have found this world a vale of tears, who have beheld each ray of light disappear from the horizon, and have watched the departure of the last fading beam even of hope itself, must have imbibed patience and resignation from many of his discourses; imbued as they are with the spirit of genuine Christianity they must have fallen upon the sorrowing mind like dew upon the desart, like the breath of spring upon the plant which has drooped beneath the violence of the winter's storm. They enforce submission upon the principle that evil is the inevitable result of the present constitution of sublunary things, "that by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made bitter," that the Divine Author of our religion endured without a murmur every species of suffering incident to mortality. One of Mr. Haslewood's chief merits is that he is a practical preacher; he constantly endeavours to render the morality of his congregation more consonant with the principles they profess; he imperceptibly wins the mind to love and admire what is good, though the frailty of one's nature, and the force of long indulgence in habits of evil, may frequently retard, and even prevent the performance of it. His pathos is simple and unaffected, and therefore appeals strongly The Orphan. to the feelings when it is employed in depicting the misfortunes of life, and in soothing the mind to acquiescence under the afflicting dispensations of heaven. As a reader Mr. Haslewood is serious and devout; indeed, his whole deportment is that of a man deeply conscious of the importance of religion. His language is elegant but not forcible, smooth and harmonious but not energetic; his style is easy and natural without being familiarly colloquial. Possessing taste and discrimination his sermons are free [APRIL, from the inaccuracies which sometimes characterize the productions of the first order of talent when destitute of these qualifications; he is, in every sense of the word, a ChrisGospel for his principles, his detertian Preacher; he resorts to the ments, his encouragements,—and, consequently, as the well is pure, so must the stream be which is drawn irrigate and refresh, to produce ferfrom it, and which is sent forth to tility and beauty, wherever its influence shall extend. CRITICUS. THE ORPHAN. CAN I describe the hapless Orphan's state The sable garb is but the sign of woe, But deep short sighs are language of the heart; She feels of grief the agonizing load. No mortal here can fill a Father's place, A Mother's fond affection none can show; And on her pillow sheds her bitterest tear. The kiss, the blessing, that she once received, The kind good night, pronounced with fondest love, Are her's no longer of her all bereaved She feels how slow the tedious minutes move. ; But wretched mourner, to thy Bible turn, A few short years shall swiftly slide away, Thou with thy parents evermore shalt dwell. MARIA ANNE.. MEMOIRS OF DISTINGUISHED FOREIGNERS. NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. (Continued from page 238.) NAPOLEON, on his arrival at Paris, resumed that solitary or private mode of life which he had adopted on his return from Rastadt, and upon several other occasions." He seldom appeared in public, associated chiefly with men of science, and, if he dined with the Directors, it was en famille. He was obliged to accept the splendid fête which the Council gave him in the Temple of Victory, (St. Sulpice) but it was observed that he staid there but one hour, and then left the place in company with Moreau. The conspiracy against the Directory had now be come general, and all classes anxiously directed their views towards Napoleon. Augereau and Bernadotte, the leaders of the democrats of the Menage, offered to place him at the head of the Government; Fouché and others entreated him to overthrow both the Directory and the Manege. Sieyes urged his putting himself at the head of the moderate party and establishing a free constitution. Barras, Moulins and Gohier, advised him to take the command of the army of Italy, dreading lest their ambitious views should be crushed by his superior genius. Napoleon, in the mean time, had well considered every circumstance, and was convinced that the Abbé Sieyes was the only person whose united honesty and wisdom rendered him worthy of confidence. On 8 Brumaire, Barras had entertained Napoleon at a dinner, and had in the most artful manner proposed to him plans which must ultimately have tended to the establishment of the power of Barras. Napoleon made little reply, but gave the Director that deep look which convinced him that his machinations were penetrated. From this entertainment Napoleon repaired to the Abbé Sieyes; Barras was informed of this visit and gave up all for lost. Napoleon and Sieyes had fixed their perations for the 15 to 20 BruEur. Mag. April, 1823. maire. On 15 Brumaire, Napoleon again conferred with Sieyes, and they fixed on the 18th for effecting the Revolution. The garrison of Paris had served with Napoleon in Italy, and the forty-eight Adjutants of the Sections of Paris were of his nomination. At break of day on 17, the Commander, the garrison, and the forty-eight Adjutants of the Sections, were invited to repair at seven o'clock the next morning to the Rue Chanteraine. Every officer on whom Napoleon could depend was also invited, and so little was the plan known that most of them conceived that Napoleon was about to take his departure for the army of Italy. Moreau and Macdonald had offered to contribute to the plot; at the appointed hour all were assembled, and Napoleon was led forth by his brother Joseph. At half after eight a messenger from the Council of Ancients brought a decree of the Council to Napoleon; it constituted him Military Commander of Paris, and invited him to repair the next day to the Council. He read this decree to the assembled military and the air was rent with Vive la Republique and Vive Buonaparte; Napoleon made an energetic address to the military, and repaired to the Council with the chief of his staff. He addressed them with vigour and received their plaudits. He immediately reviewed the troops; 10,000 men occupied the Thuilleries under General Lannes. The command of the Luxemburgh was given to Milhaud, that of the Palace de Cinq-cent to Murat, whilst Marmont commanded the artillery; Moreau served as Napoleon's Aid-de-Camp. At ten o'clock the Directory were astonished to find themselves divested of all power as if by magic. They sent their orders to General Lefevre, who, instead of obedience, replied that he was under the command of Napoleon; Moulins and two of the |