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THE GLEANER.

No. VII.

That should teach us, There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough hew them how we will.

HAMLET, Act v. Sc. 2.

precious. book which our opponent, from the hardness of his heart, is unable to appreciate; if we allude to the obvious fact, that there are numbers of real Christians, whose habits have entirely prevented their examining into the historical evidences of Christianity, and whose attention has never been directed to the convincing proofs which they afford, but who still possess this

will tell us, that we are only proving the truth of what he has advanced against us; that we are laying ourselves open to the charge of that delusion to which he is superior; that we have assumed the premises as true which he considers to be altogether false; and that

we must revert to some antecedent principles before we are to be allowed to rest upon these.

Narguing with the voiced sceptick, who has ventured to ridicule religion, and to treat the doctrines and consolations contained in the Bible as suitable" internal witness of the Spirit :" he only for a weak mind and uncultivated taste; there is one very forcible proof of the high claims upon our attention which they possess, which we can never urge upon him with the convincing energy which really belongs to it. We may point out to him the long and luminous train of external evidences which history affords; we may dwell upon the purity of the morality of the Gospel; we may defy our opponent to produce from the records of either ancient or modern times, a system so well calculated to subdue the evil passions, or to regulate the inordinate desires of man; and we may adduce the correct delineations of the real character of the human race, which the Word of God contains: and he will consider us as using weapons, which, whilst he feels the sharpness of their edge, he is obliged to acknowledge are such as we have a right to wield in the combat. But

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there is one proof of the divine origin of the sacred scriptures, which, though it may often throw a splendid ray over the volume of inspiration, whilst in the bands of the humble and pious Christian, will be regarded, however, by the infidel, when employed, as the mere production of that very credulity, which, in the pride of his boasted philoso, phy, falsely so called," he scornfully affects to despise. It is the heart-felt conviction of the truths of the promises of the Gospel; it is the expe. rimental acquaintance with their power to bind up the broken heart:" it is the sensible consolations which their "still small voice" whispers to the troubled conscience; it is the forcible demonstration they produce as they are engraven upon the mind as with the finger of God:" which convey to the bosoms of the meek and lowly disciples of the Saviour" a delightful evidence of their divine origin, which the sophistry of the unbelieving will in vain attempt to destroy. But if we urge these effects, and adduce them as so many proofs of the value of that

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But we are willing to join issue with him upon this point: we are willing to leave, for a while, all the external evidences and internal proofs of the authenticity of the scriptures: to relinquish, for the present, all the extrinsic demonstrations, and intrinsic value, of the sacred writings: and not only to assert our privilege to urge the evidence to which we have alluded; but also to declare, that were there, no other satisfactory testimony of the Divine inspiration of the scriptures, this alone would be sufficient to prove it

We will make the question one which shall become a matter of fact. We will not confine our inquiries to mere speculative probabilities, but will look to actual experience; we will not rest contented with theoretical reasonings, but will draw our arguments from prac tical results. And where, let us ask, in the whole history of mankind, in all the records of the human race, in all the investigations into the peculiarities of the constitution of the mind of man, will be found (if accounted for on mere philosophical principles) an explana tion of that power which the truths of the Gospel afford, to cheer and to support, to console and alleviate ? Is there any thing in affliction naturally calculated to soothe any thing in pain, to produce resignation? any thing in poverty, to comfort? in want, to enliven? in tears, to make the heart to leap for joy?" in sickness, to console? in distress, to gladden? Is the frown of the great, or the contumclious taunt of the vulgar, likely to promote the hap

piness of the object of their scorn? Are the deprivations of penury, and the miseries of pauperism, calculated to produce in the mind a thankfulness to the Providence which allots our condition? Is the comparison of our own distresses with the apparent bap piness of others, a probable prelude to submissive resignation? Are the bitter recollections of former prosperity, and the heart-rending contrast with present adversity, such as we might suppose to be nearly allied to a cheerful submission? Or (to venture on still holier ground) are the pangs of remorse, the convictions of conscience, the excruciating torments of a wounded spirit, "which none but he that feels it knows," the natural initiatory steps, which lead to that exquisite mental tranquillity, which makes the lately so agitated mind

"Calm and unruffed as a summer's sea, When not a breath of wind blows o'er its surface."

We alluded in a former Number to the objection against the existence of a superintending Providence, which the infidel has drawn from the prevalence of moral evil. This objection can only have any weight, on the supposition that nothing has been bestowed on man which would serve as a counteraction of that evil. But if, whilst its existence is a fact too palpable to be controverted, it can be proved that the calamities and misery which it has produced have been made instrumental in eventually adding to the happiness of those who have been exposed to it, the infer ence that is drawn from it is unfounded. The sceptick says, "You desire me to believe in a revelation which characterizes the God who bestowed it as possessed of the most glorious attributes, and amongst these compassion and mercy appear to shine pre-eminent. But I see around me the greatest misery and distress; and as I cannot suppose that these can proceed from such a Being as your Bible describes, I am justified in refusing my belief in its authenticity."-But what is the reply of the humble Christian, unassisted as he may be by the advantages of a culti vated mind, and unaided by the influence of commanding talents ?"True-Misery does exist-but the attentive perusal of this inspired volume, which you despise, affords an explanation of the apparent mystery, but melancholy fact. Misery is the punish

ment of sin, and sin has led to the introduction of misery. But amidst all the trials of life, and all the distressing events which occur, I can draw from this inexhaustible source-this neglected book-my most valuable comforts; and can derive, by its encouraging declarations, my purest pleasures from the very existence of those evils which you urge as a proof of my delusion."

And where else can we look for such effects as religion is able to produce Could any of the systems of the ancient philosophers, who were unblessed with the light which we enjoy, afford those consolations which the scriptures bestow? Can any of the visionary theories of modern speculators, who have refused to be guided by the rays of Revelation, remove one pang from the afflicted bosom, or cast a gleam of light across the darkness of affliction? Bid the man who is suffering under all the anguish that sickness, poverty, and want, can inflict, to bear up under bis accumulated load of sorrows, but make the experiment without any allusion to the reviving cordials of the promises of the scriptures, and his agonizing look will tell a tale that needs not words to give it meaning. Offer to the victim of pleasure, who is feeling the thorns that were concealed under the tempting roses of sensual gratifications, the system of Epicurus, and the verses of Lucretius, for his supports-Point the departing victim of disease to the writings of a modern infide!; and what will be the result? A foreboding dread of dissolution-a hope of annihilation chased by the fear of an hereafter-a wavering presentiment of those " new scenes and changes" through which he "must pass," accompanied by the anticipation of a day of retribution-recollections of a life contaminated by guilt, succeeded by a consciousness of its future punishment-and all the appalling attendant upon departure from this world, which render Death "the King of Terrors."

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But let us change the scene. the cobwebbed hovel of the firm believer in the truths of the Gospel; whose hours have been passed in their perusal, and whose life has been regufated by its precepts-whose feelings have been softened by the spirit of its tenderness, and whose prospects have been brightened by the splendour of its glories-whose afflictions have been

rendered by its promises the source of his joys, and whose scanty comforts have inspired the emotions of his gratitude-whose hopes have been elevated by the sublimity of its promises, and whose doubts have been dispelled by the inward witness of its truth: and say then, if that evidence of the divine inspiration of the " lively oracles," which is produced by the consciousness of their authenticity resulting from a personal application of the promises they contain, and an individual appropriation of the blessings which they proffer, is one of trivial importance, or little account?

And what can infidelity do for the poor man ? It may put an end to all the charities of home and of neighbourhood-it may untwist that band of sympathy which binds heart to heart -it may sever those links of friendship which unite man to his fellowman-it may destroy the finest sensibilities of our nature-it may rob as of the institution of the Christian sabbath, which a northern bard has so appropriately designated "The Poor Man's Day"-it may throw a gloom over the vale of life, and spread a cloud across the glory that bounds it: but it will never heal the broken in heart"-it will never "bring deliverance to the captives"-it will never be the recovering of sight to the blind"-it will never "set at liberty them that are bruised”—it will unfold to them "the acceptable year of the Lord"

"Where shall the living, weeping o'er his woes,

The dying trembling at the awful close ; Where the betray'd, forsaken, and deprest, The thousands whom the world forbids to rest;

Where shall they find; the comforts at an end

The Scripture yields or hope to finda friend?"

But this subject does not only appear in an interesting point of view, when considered as furnishing an additional argument in proof of the truth of the Christian religion, but as being calculated to afford the most pleasing reflections to those, whose minds are firmly established in the belief of the doctrines contained in the sacred writings. It sets a higher value on all the truths which they exhibit, and tends to bring them home to the conscience with a more convincing energy.

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It lays a foundation for the faith of those who are not able to investigate the external evidences of the authenticity of the inspired volume; and establishes in their minds the constant belief of their authority, which is so indispensible as a preliminary step to their cordial reception. It chases away the doubts that would question the wisdom of Providence; and resolves many of the mysteries that obscure the light of truth. The man of science may

draw his conclusions from the appearances of nature: the traveller may discover in many of the spots which have been hallowed as the scene of the fulfilment of predicted judgments; or in the ruinso f the cities of the East, whose names have); en handed down to us on the sacred page, a satisfactory proof of the truth of the divine Revelation: the close observer of the distinguishing intellectual features, and peculiar national customs of a particular people, may arrive at a similar conclusion: the learned historian may trace, in the annals of the profane, the firmest corroboration of the records of the inspired: the lover of elegant literature, who delights in classic lore, may pause in the perusal of his favourite authors, to draw from some remarkable passage a new evidence on the side of Christianity. The beauties of creation-and the lovely scenery which it exhibits: the structure of the world, and the "constellated canopy" which crowns it: the rivers which fertilize the earth -and the volcanoes that disfigure ils surface the rugged promontory-and the broken rock; the verdure of vege tation-and the strata that lie beneath it: the fallen grandeur of Babylon -and the stagnant lake that covers the cities of the Plain: the customs of the East-and the superstitions of its deluded idolaters: the scattered descendants of the faithful Abrahamand the wandering progeny of the banished Ishmael-may all afford to the diligent observer so many interesting objects of consideration, and may serve as so many proofs of the authenticity of the sacred record. But these are reflections which are confined to a peculiar class. They lie beyond the reach of the observation, and above the compass of the comprehension of thousands to whom the Gospel has proved a message of peace. The Bible appears as a messenger who brings his own credentials. Its lengthened train of in

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dubitable witnesses, and extended retinue of external evidences, may mark the dignity of the sovereign from whose court it issues, and whose commands it bears; but it requires not the im posing splendors, nor princely attendance of these, to prove its accredited authority. It contains within itself the noblest evidence of the source from whence it originated. It is the philosophy of facts: aud it will ever verify its own declarations, "that he who runneth may read"-and "that the wayfaring man, though a fool, shall not err therein." ALFRED.

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BIOGRAPHICAL REGISTER

OF

EMINENT PERSONS

RECENTLY DECEASED.

No. XXVI.

SIR RICHARD CROFT.

IR RICHARD CROFT, Bart. MD. served an apprenticeship to Mr. Chavasse, an apothecary, at Burtonupon-Trent, where he betrayed marks of a comprehensive mind. On the expira tion of the term of his servitude, his parents sent him to London, to complete his medical education. Here he became a pupil of the celebrated Dr. Hunter; and by the recommendation of Dr. Baillie (a fellow pupil), he boarded and lodged with Mr. Denman, an apothecary then living in Queen-street, Golden-square (being contiguous to Hunter's theatre in Windmill-street, whose chief dependance was on boarding and lodging the pupils of Hunter). In this family he and his friend Baillie met with that kind of rational amusement from the society of Denman and his two daughters (twins), which studious characters require to relax their minds, in order to enable them more effectually to prosecute their inquiries. The Duchess of Newcastle, who was then pregnant, and in a bad state of health, being advised by Hunter to go to Portugal, engaged Mr. Denman, on the recommendation of Hunter, to accompany her, chiefly for the purpose of superintending her labour. Her Grace having a good time, and the climate having greatly improved her general health, she and the Doctor returned to London. Soon after their arrival, Hunter discharged his debt to Nature: and her Grace exerted all her interest to secure for Mr. Denman Hunter's mid

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wifery practice. Mr. Denman finding that through her Grace's interest be should be established as the fashionable accoucheur in London, relinquished his shop and boarding-house, purchased a diploma, and started as a physicianaccoucheur; and to give an importance to his professional character, commenced lectures on the science of midwifery and the diseases of children, for all of which he was well qualified. Fortunate as this occurrence was for Mr. Denman, it was no less so for the medical profession; for it was the means of bringing forward talents which would otherwise have been lost to the world; and in this metropolis many are the practitioners who obtain a scanty livelihood by the trade of an apothecary, who only want the same good forto bring them into notice. Mr. Denman, by his lectures, proved himself to be a man of strong intel lect. great ingenuity, and scientific attainments; and to him we are indebted for the best general treatise on midwifery that has appeared in this or any other country. Sir Richard Croft commenced his career as surgeonapothecary and man-midwife at Tudbury, where a predeliction for the sports of the field introduced him to Lord Vernon. From Tudbury he went to Oxford, which he quitted for London. Dr. Denman being now in great practice, Sir Richard and Dr. Baillie renewed their acquaintance with his daughters, whom they soon afterwards conducted to the altar. Denman having acquired an independence by his practice and the liberality of the Duchess of Devonshire, he gradually withdrew from the fatigue of practice, in order to introduce his sonsin-law; and this he managed with so much dexterity, that Sir Richard in a short time succeeded to the whole of his practice- probably in consequence of Dr. Deuman's having intimated that he would give him his attendance in cases of difficulty. Dr. Baillie being also the nephew of Hun le a powerful interest was thus formed, sufficient to secure the best practice in the metropolis for the sons-in-law o Denman.

Sir Richard Croft succeeded to the baronetcy on the death of Sir Herbert Croft, a gentleman well known in the literary world.* Sir Herbert had been

*For a Portrait and Memoir of Sir Herbert Croft, vide April 1794, Vol. XXV.

some years at the Bar, which he quitted for the Church. On the lamentable affair of Miss Ray and Hackman, he related the story in a work entitled "Love and Madness," which formed an interesting miscellany, though relating principally to events of a melancholy nature. When Dr. Johnson was writing the Lives of the British Poets, not being sufficiently acquainted with the biography of Dr. Young, he applied to Mr. Herbert Croft (not then a Baronet) to supply the deficiency. Mr. H. Croft wrote the article requested, and has imitated Dr. Johnson's style so well as to give a uniformity to the whole of that treasure of biography. On the death of Dr Johnson, Sir Herbert was preparing to publish a new edition of his Dictionary, with the addition of many thousand words.

A CONVERSAZIONE. (Continued from page 42.) AM very anxious," said Mr.

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"to avoid the tædium of formal desertation; more especially as 1 perceive it acts with so paralizing an effect upon the witty energies of Lady S―, and the patient gentleness of my better half-I will, therefore, acquit myself of the remaining part of my task with as much brevity as the nature of the subject will allow.

"la order, therefore, not to lengthen my observations by repetition, 1 shall take it for granted, that when a wife bas laid aside all affection for her husband, whatever conformity she may condescend to shew to his commands, must originate either in a conviction that resistance is totally useless, or that it may produce worse consequences to herself, than the mere trespass upon ber convenience or the constraint upon her inclinations.".

"It is well known, that there are characters in society who escape the opprobrium of penal infliction by pos sessing more cunning thau honesty, and by adroitly contriving, in all their obliquity of unfair dealing, to keep just within the limits of the law-Such persons are certainly honest much against their wills, since, if it were not for the barriers of justice, they would overleap all bounds of honourable restraint, and correct principle-It is exactly so with those wives who obey because they must, but who resist when they can, the prescripts of their husbands."

Europ. Mag. Vol. LXXIII. Feb. 1819.

"Aye," cried the Baronet, "it is great pity that such disobedience is not included within the criminal code of the country; for of this I am confident, that there cannot be a more ruinous breach of the peace than that which destroys the happiness and unanimity of a family--And when a woman, who might be a happy wife if she would submit to the duties of her station, takes upon her to thwart her husband in his domestic hopes, she becomes as evil a violator of the general comfort of society, as any of those atrocious offenders who are tried, cast, and trans ported for robbery, whether perpetrated by swindling or breach of trust.-At all events, she who marries and promises to obey, by breaking her promise, marries with false pretences-and when she abuses the confidence of an affectionate husband, she defrauds him of his just expectations for he had a right to insist upon her part of the compact so long as he observes his own."

"All this, my good Sir," resumed Mr., is doubtless very true in the abstract but I cannot think there is any omission on the side of our pro visionary laws, of sufficient sanction in support of the husband's right to punish a refractory wife.-For instance, Sir B-, you remember the famous decision of Judge Buller, who with a consummate union of justice and mercy decreed that a husband might chastise his rebellious rib by applying, in answer to her wayward taunts and vexatious disputations, the argumentum baculi, provided the stick were not thicker than a man's thumb.

"He was a Daniel in judgment," exclaimed the Baronet, " for he thought it right, that both parties should rigidly adhere to the very letter of the bond."

He might be a Daniel in judgment," observed the Director's Wife, but I think he was no Solomon in his system--for who ever heard of a woman being beaten into love-she may indeed be awed into obedience-and were you to quote all the judges in Israel,-and all the prophets in Judea, in favor of your position, Sir B, I should set their authority at defiance, without the least scruple of conscience, whenever I chose to dispute the lordly injunctions of my husband, in justification of my own will."

"Then, Madam, you must abjure your religion," observed the Director, and tear the bond of your conjugal, p

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