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"When I was about eighteen years of age, in his dream, that a negro man entered the there was a dancing party at Middleborough, room, and coming up to him, said he also Massachusetts, which I was solicited to attend, could play on the violin, and asked permission and act, as usual, in the capacity of musician. to do so. He handed him the instrument, as I was fond of such scenes of amusement then, he thought, and instantly he began to play. and I readily assented to the request. I had As he proceeded, the sounds became richer and a pious mother; and she earnestly remon- sweeter, and the music surpassed any thing strated against my going. But, at length, he thought he had ever heard. In surprise he when all her expostulations and earnest en- turned to gaze on the strange performer-his treaties failed in changing my purpose, she appearance was changed-it was no longer said: "Well, my son, I shall not forbid your that of a common negro-he had grown to a going, but remember, all the time I shall spend gigantic stature-his eyes gleamed upon him in praying for you at home." I went to the like balls of fire-and he felt that his visitor, ball, but I was like a stricken deer carrying who was playing for him, was the devil himan arrow in my side. I began to play; but self and no mortal. Horror-struck he awoke my conviction sank deeper and deeper, and I and found himself tremb ing with the fright felt miserable indeed. I thought I would have the apparition had caused, and the cold sweat given worlds to have been rid of that mother's rolling from every part of his body. It is prayers. At one time I felt so wretched and needless to say, that the party of pleasure overwhelmed with my feelings, that I ceased anticipated on the next evening did not take playing and dropped my musical instrument place. Mr. B. had no more dancing parties from my hand. There was another young at his house. He never played the violin again. person there who refused to dance; and, as I We do not say, that his dream was the means learned, her refusal was owing to feelings of his conversion; nor do we put any implisimilar to my own, and perhaps they arose cit confidence in dreams. But we do know, from a similar cause. My mother's prayers it was the circumstance, which led to an outwere not lost. That was the last ball I ever ward reformation immediate and entire. And attended, except one, where I was invited to from that day Mr. B. began to attend on the play again; but went and prayed, and preached external means of salvation, which he had instead, til! the place was converted into a never done before, in consequence of which Bochim, a place of weeping. The convic- he became hopefully converted, and joined tions of that night never wholly left me, till the church with several other members of his they left me at the feet of Christ, and several family. It was after his connection with the of my young companions in sin ere long were church that he related the circumstances which led to believe the gospel also." we have just detailed. We believe he is still a resident of Lewis County in Kentucky.

We recollect a singular circumstance that was related to us in Kentacky, by Mr. B———, Mr. Cist, a veteran Editor in the city of who joined the church under our ministrations, Cincinnati, was recently invited to act as one when he was probably past fifty years of age. of the managers of a grand ball, proposed to He had been a man of the world, and given be given on a certain occasion. We were to dissipation and pleasure. He had a family pleased with his reply, and copy a portion of of several daughters, that were grown. He it for the amusement and profit of our readers; was particularly fond of dancing parties, which for since we have begun to write an article on he had frequently at his own house. He would this subject, we will write, and have variety play the violin, while the young folks danced, in it, at least. Mr. C. thus gives his reasons, for he took a pride in his skill in performing for declining the honor, that was intended on that instrument. A dancing party was to for him:

come off at his house on one christmas eve; "I fear that I should make a poor ball-room and on the evening previous, he had been bu- manager. I never danced in my life, and at sily engaged in making the necessary prepara- the age of sixty, should make an awkward tions, putting his violin in order, practising &c. figure in going through the elements of the But on that night he dreamed the party were performance.

met at his house, and all were happy and de- "Who drives fat oxen should himself be lighted that the dance was progressing, and fat? Who assigns places to dancers, and that he was the musician, applauded by all for superintends the exercise, should know how his performances. Unexpectidly, he thought to dance.

"I fear that I should be a fish out of water, | bitter tears of grief, but which no floods of in the midst of the gay throng. All my labors penitential sorrow, but only the immaculate make me more familiar with the head than the blood of Christ can wash out.

heels. Dancing has always appeared to me a very silly employment. To see a number of ladies and gentlemen springing and capering about for no other apparent or assignable reason, than that a negro or white fiddler is employed in rubbing the hair of the horse against the bowels of the cat, is in my eyes excessively ridiculous. I know that there are some persons who say that it is natural to jump and spring under the influence of rejoicing. That may be an appropiate mode of manifesting the feeling of joy-but in the ballroom, jumping is not the effect, but the contemplated means of raising enjoyment.

"But it is said, even the animal creation skip,and dance under the exhiliration of happiness. They do, in extreme infancy, the kitten and puppy, the lamb and the kid-frisking and capering about. But when these animals attain years of discretion, they dance and frisk no more."

And can a real christian have a love for such amusements? Without any hesitation, we answer, no! Religion is a thing that draws the soul to God. The christian must be spiritually-minded—for this is the very nature of religion. Mere pretenders may talk of innocent wordly amusements, and frame excuses for indulging in them; but they ought to remember that all such amusements are essentially carnal in their nature and minister only to the gratification of the carnal passions and appetites. But the joys of a christian are of a spiritual nature. He seeks his happiness in spiritual pursuits and employments—in maintaining communion with God-in cultivating christian knowledge-and in seeking to have the graces and gifts of the Spirit. The soul is a spiritual essence, and when it is not under the dominion of sin, and when its powers and faculties are rightly cultivated, its joys will be of a spiritual nature.

The christian therefore, or the professor of religion, who mingles or sends his children to mingle in the scenes of splendid and painted folly, where every sense is charmed, and all the passions of our nature are set on fire, so that even the voice of religion and conscience is drowned in the delirium of agreeable animal excitement produced, incurs thereby a guilt which will be followed soon or late, with

For the Casket.

THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH.

We love her for her stern high heart,
That church so nobly firm and true-
We see her first 'midst Alpine snows,
And by Geneva's waters clear and pure,
Raise high her standard to the light,
And call on man to rouse from slavish fear
And claim from God's most holy book,
To worship him with heart and con-
science clear.

Again, upon old Scotia's mountains high,
She spreads her banner's glorious fold.
We hear once more the joyous cry,
Of truth redeemed from error bold;
And then, alas, 'midst cold and storm,
In rocky cave, in lone and barren heath,
We see her strive to shield her form
From dire oppression's savage wrath.

Long was that fearful conflict borne,
And England's bloodhounds bayed in
vain,

Long did her martyred children mourn,
And with their blood their valleys stain,
Till Scotland's firm and valiant sons
Stood forth in battle's fierce array,
And for the covenant, even as one,
Her thousand hearts were joined for aye.

And now once more, she calmly stands,
In freedom's holy chastened light,
And lifts to Heaven her outstretched hand
For strength to run the race aright,
And Caledonia's glens and mountains free
Re-echo still the thrilling strain,
To Father, Son, and Spirit three,
We raise our songs of praise again.

And look, far out upon the sea,
A lonely vessel plows her way:
That flag is floating high and free,
The wanderer's only hope and stay,
Upon a vast untrodden, world,
It bids the pilgrims find a home,
And brightly there its light unfurls,
Beside Atlantic's boisterous foam.

On green Columbia's virgin soil,
An infant church is formed with prayer,
Which springs to giant strength and toil,
In freedom's pure and healthful air.
See, the poor Indian seeks her shade,
And gives to God his simple faith,
On mountain height, in forest glade,
He fears no more the spirit's wrath.

And when old England sought to crush
Her children's onward path to fame,
And bade her alien armies rush
To bathe in blood t'.eir lovely plains,
Once more our church raised high her
voice,

And bade her fellow man be free,
And make at once, the noble choice,
Of death or glorious liberty.

Again that banner spread its folds
Beside the eagle of our land,
And where loud battle thunder called,
She lifted high the suppliant hand,
And called on God with steadfast heart,
To bless her struggling country's laws,
Then rushed to bear a noble part,
And shed her blood in freedom's cause.

And in Columbia's council hall,
See Witherspoon, with calm, prophetic
eye,

Upon his wavering comrades call,
And raise to Heaven his generous vow,
Then one and all, they sign the deed,
And independence shout is heard,
The news far o'er the land they speed,
And patriot hearts with hope are stirred.

We love our church, say, do we not?
Is there a heart to freedom cold?
Are liberty's dark days forgot,
When she her sacred flag unrolled?
No patriot heart will ever cease
To look with reverence on her form,
And wish long days of joy and peace,
To her who bore life's darkest storm.
TENNESSEE.

THE LATE ARCHIB. ALEXANDER DD. Professor in the Princeton Theological

Seminary.

We think it important to preserve, in the pages of the Casket a brief record of the life and death of this illustrious man, who has so recently left this stage of action, on which he

performed so conspicuous a part. He has left his image on many a mind and character, and the influence which he exerted will never be calculated in this world.

Many sketches of his life and labours have lately been published, among which we select the following from the 'New York Observer.'

"Those who have known him only when bowed with age, and his countenance impaired hy the loss of teeth, and his voice attenuated by long service, can hardly realize the descriptions we have had of him from those who knew and heard him in the flower of his youth. He was remarkably handsome in person, erect, of ruddy face, and pleasing address: with a silver voice melodious as a flute, persuasive in his tones, and powerful in his appeals; even in his youth he was famed as an eloquent preacher, in a region of country where the eloquence of Patrick Henry had been often heard, and Samuel Davies, and Waddell, and others, had made the pulpit illustrious as the source of 'thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.' As a missionary preacher through the mountain regions of Virginia, and in parts that now belong to Ohio, he traveled widely, proclaiming the way of life to the ignorant and destitute, and gathering the lost into the fold of Christ. Preaching without notes, with strange discrimination of personal experience for one so young, and with an energy of thought and pathos of delivery rare in the young or aged, he spread the doctrines of divine truth wherever he went, and sowed seed that has yielded successive harvests for more than half a century, and will continue to bear fruit till the angels are sent forth to gather the last sheaves.

"But the power as a preacher, and the reputation for genius, piety and learning which he acquired at a period of life when most men begin to preach, may be learned from the fact, that at the extraordinary, early age of twentyfive, he was called to the Presidency of Hampden Sidney College. This was in 1797. Probably in no country, unless we except the case of William Pitt, Prime Minister of England at 22, was a more distinguished reputation won so early: never was one earned that was purer or more enduring. In addition to his labors as President of the College, he was pastor of three churches in Prince Edward, Charlotte and Cumberland counties. Such service was beyond the physical abilities of the youthful President, and in 1801 he resigned his post : but resumed it again after spending part of the year 1802 in traveling by horseback

in the Northern and Eastern States. Before tion, and harmony, until they were parted like he made this tour, he had fears that he was the two Prophets, Elijah and Elisha, by the declining into pulmonary consumption: sea- ascension of one to his reward and joy, in the sonable respite enabled him to recover health nonth of January 1850. and strength, and a long life of usefulness was saved to the church and world.

"About forty years have passed since Dr. Alexander came to Princeton. In the calmness "In the midst of the forest, on the old post- of his well-balanced mind, and the beauty of a road that leads off froin the Eastern counties character more symmetrically developed than to the Blue Ridge, stands a weather-beaten we often are permitted to look on, he there building, in which a blind ‘old man eloquent' spent the noon and autumn of his life, in the was wont to melt his hearers with his words bosom of his family, and surrounded by the of tenderness and power. His name was young men who regarded him always as their Waddell, and William Wirt has drawn his father and personal friend. Without robust portrait, and told us of his wondrous eloquence health, he has ever enjoyed such a measure of in his graceful sketches under the name of strength as to enable him to perform without 'The British Spy.' That 'old man's daughter,' interruption all the duties of his office, and at (he was then not so old,) became the wife of the same time to maintain an extensive corthe young President, is now his mourning respondence, and to contribute largely and widow, the mother of one daughter and six honorably to the religious literature of the age. sons, all living, her pride and solace in her sorrow, and the support of her declining age. What a life is crowded in that brief record! Her father's name is perpetuated in her son, James Waddell Alexander, D. D., pastor of the Duane Street Church; Joseph Addison forts for others were made through this line of Alexander, D. D., Professor and Commentator, is another eminent divine: Samuel Miller Alexander, is a young pastor at Freehold, N. J.; two are in the Legal and one in the Medical profession; inheriting by father and mother's side, the genius of their sires.

Few men placed so high an estimate on the press as an engine of usefulness. The welcome signature 'A. A,' assured the reader that these letters would guide him to something worth reading, and they never misled. His last ef

doing good. A few months ago he told us in private conversation that he was doing the same amount of labor in the Seminary, and in his study, that he had always done. The weight of eighty years he bore with his harness on, and when the Master came he was found ‘so doing.””

"In 1806, Dr. Alexander accepted a call to the pastoral charge of the Third Presbyterian When this great and good man lay on his Church in Philadelphia, corner of Pine and death-bed, he gave to the world the sum of Fourth street. Here he was an eminently use- his Theology. Though he had studied Theolful preacher and pastor, and here he might logy more than sixty years, yet he could say, have stood till he died, an able, learned and when dying, and it will be long before the repersuasive minister of Jesus. But the Pres- mark shall cease to be repeated after him, yet, byterian Church had felt the need of a Semi- on his death-bed he could say: “All my Theonary for the systematic instruction of her sons 1ogy is reduced to this narrow compass: Jesus in the Word of God, preparing them for the Christ came into the world to save sinners." ministry of reconciliation. She looked around The election of Dr. Alexander as the first among all her pastors and men of learning and Professor in the Princeton Seminary is thus wisdom, for the man to be a guide to her youth, described by one who was present, and is now to mould their minds and form their views in nearing his four score. It was an occasion of the great science of divine truth. There were thrilling interest. giants in those days, and among them all, the "In the year 1811, the General Assembly, mantle was thrown on the shoulders of Arch- then in session in the city of Philadelphia, reibald Alexander. Single handed and alone he solved to go into the election of a Professor. was sent to Princeton in 1812, to lay the found-The Rev. Mr. Flinn, of Charleston, S. C., ation of that School of the Prophets from which was Moderator. It was unanimously resolved has now been taken its 'master and head.' In to spend some time in prayer previously to the 1813, he was joined by Dr. Miller, who was election, and that not a single remark should called to the Seminary from the First Presby- be made by any member with reference to any terian Church, New York; together they la- candidate, before or after the balloting. Sibored, with mutual respect, confidence, affec-lently and prayerfully these guardians of the

On green Columbia's virgin soil,
An infant church is formed with prayer,
Which springs to giant strength and toil,
In freedom's pure and healthful air.
See, the poor Indian seeks her shade,
And gives to God his simple faith,
On mountain height, in forest glade,
He fears no more the spirit's wrath.

And when old England sought to crush
Her children's onward path to fame,
And bade her alien armies rush
To bathe in blood t'.eir lovely plains,
Once more our church raised high her
voice,

And bade her fellow man be free,
And make at once, the noble choice,
Of death or glorious liberty.

Again that banner spread its folds
Beside the eagle of our land,
And where loud battle thunder called,
She lifted high the suppliant band,
And called on God with steadfast heart,
To bless her struggling country's laws,
Then rushed to bear a noble part,
And shed her blood in freedom's cause.

And in Columbia's council hall,
See Witherspoon, with calm, prophetic
eye,

Upon his wavering comrades call,
And raise to Heaven his generous vow,
Then one and all, they sign the deed,
And independence shout is heard,
The news far o'er the land they speed,
And patriot hearts with hope are stirred.

We love our church, say, do we not?
Is there a heart to freedom cold?
Are liberty's dark days forgot,
When she her sacred flag unrolled?
No patriot heart will ever cease
To look with reverence on her form,
And wish long days of joy and peace,
To her who bore life's darkest storm.
TENNESSEE.

THE LATE ARCHIB. ALEXANDER DD. Professor in the Princeton Theological

Seminary.

We think it important to preserve, in the pages of the Casket a brief record of the life and death of this illustrious man, who has so recently left this stage of action, on which he

performed so conspicuous a part. He has left his image on many a mind and character, and the influence which he exerted will never be calculated in this world.

Many sketches of his life and labours have lately been published, among which we select the following from the 'New York Observer.'

"Those who have known him only when bowed with age, and his countenance impaired hy the loss of teeth, and his voice attenuated by long service, can hardly realize the descriptions we have had of him from those who knew and heard him in the flower of his youth. He was remarkably handsome in person, erect, of ruddy face, and pleasing address: with a silver voice melodious as a flute, persuasive in his tones, and powerful in his appeals; even in his youth he was famed as an eloquent preacher, in a region of country where the eloquence of Patrick Henry had been often heard, and Samuel Davies, and Waddell, and others, had made the pulpit illustrious as the source of 'thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.' As a missionary preacher through the mountain regions of Virginia, and in parts that now belong to Ohio, he traveled widely, proclaiming the way of life to the ignorant and destitute, and gathering the lost into the fold of Christ. Preaching without notes, with strange discrimination of personal experience for one so young, and with an energy of thought and pathos of delivery rare in the young or aged, he spread the doctrines of divine truth wherever he went, and sowed seed that has yielded successive harvests for more than half a century, and will continue to bear fruit till the angels are sent forth to gather the last sheaves.

"But the power as a preacher, and the reputation for genius, piety and learning which he acquired at a period of life when most men begin to preach, may be learned from the fact, that at the extraordinary, early age of twentyfive, he was called to the Presidency of Hampden Sidney College. This was in 1797. Probably in no country, unless we except the case of William Pitt, Prime Minister of England at 22, was a more distinguished reputation won so early: never was one earned that was purer or more enduring. In addition to his labors as President of the College, he was pastor of three churches in Prince Edward, Charlotte and Cumberland counties. Such service was beyond the physical abilities of the youthful President, and in 1801 he resigned his post: but resumed it again after spending part of the year 1802 in traveling by horseback

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