THE BIBLE.

The Bible is the treasure of the poor, the solace of the sick, and the support of the dying; and while other books may amuse and instruct in a leisure hour, it is the peculiar triumph of that book to create light in the midst of darkness, to alleviate the sorrow which admits of no other alleviation, to direct a beam of hope to the heart which no other topic of consolation can reach; while guilt, despair, and death vanish at the touch of its holy inspiration. There is something in the spirit and diction of the Bible which is found peculiarly adapted to arrest the attention of the plainest and most uncultivated minds. The simple structure of its sentences, combined with a lofty spirit of poetry-its familiar allusions to the scenes of nature and the transactions of common life-the delightful intermixture of narration with the doctrinal and preceptive parts-and the profusion of miraculous facts, which convert it into a sort of enchanted ground-its constant advertence to the Deity, whose perfections it renders almost visible and palpable-unite in bestowing upon it an interest which attaches to no other performance, and which, after assiduous and repeated perusal, invests it with much of the charm of novelty; like the great orb of day, at which we are wont to gaze with unabated astonishment from infancy to old age. What other book besides the Bible could be heard in public assemblies from year to year, with an attention that never tires, and an interest that never cloys? With few exceptions, let a portion of the Sacred Volume be recited in a mixed multitude, and though it has been heard a thousand times, a universal stillness ensues, every eye is fixed, and every ear is awake and attentive. Select, if you can, any other composition, and let it be rendered equally familiar to the mind, and see whether it will produce this effect.

BENEFITS OF RETIREMENT.

He must know little of the world, and still less of his own heart, who is not aware how difficult it is, amid the corrupting examples with which it abounds, to maintain the spirit of devotion unimpaired, or to preserve, in their due force and delicacy, those vivid moral impressions, that quick perception of good, and instinctive abhorrence of evil, which form the chief characteristic of a pure and elevated mind. These, like the morning dew, are easily brushed off in the collisions of worldly interest, or exhaled by the meridian Hence the necessity of frequent intervals of retirement, when the mind may recover its scattered powers, and renew its strength by a devout application to the Fountain of all grace.

220

DR. PRIESTLEY.

The religious tenets of Dr. Priestley appear to me erroneous in the extreme; but I should be sorry to suffer any difference of sentiment to diminish my sensibility to virtue or my admiration of genius. From him the poisoned arrow will fall pointless. His enlightened and active mind, his unwearied assiduity, the extent of his researches, the light he has poured into almost every department of science, will be the admiration of that period when the greater part of those who have favored, or those who have opposed him, will be alike forgotten. Distinguished merit will ever rise superior to oppression, and will draw lustre from reproach. The vapors which gather round the rising sun, and follow it in its course, seldom fail at the close of it to form a magnificent theatre for its reception, and to invest with variegated tints, and with a softened effulgence, the luminary which they cannot hide.

HENRY MACKENZIE, 1745-1831.

HENRY MACKENZIE, the son of Dr. Joshua Mackenzie, an eminent physician of Edinburgh, was born in that city in August, 1745. After being educated at the High School and University of Edinburgh, Mr. Mackenzie engaged in the study of the law, and became an attorney in the Court of the Exchequer, in that city, in the latter end of the year 1766. In the year 1771 appeared, anonymously, the work for which he is chiefly celebrated, entitled "The Man of Feeling." It rose immediately to great popularity, and was followed, a few years after, by "The Man of the World," which, though somewhat inferior to the former, breathes the same tone of exquisite sensibility. In the first-named work, the author paints his hero as constantly obedient to every emotion of his moral sense; in the "Man of the World," on the contrary, he exhibits a person rushing headlong into vice and ruin, and spreading misery all around him, by endeavoring to grasp at hapIn 1778, having become a member of a piness in defiance of the moral sense. new literary society in Edinburgh, he suggested the institution of a new periodical paper similar to the "Spectator." The scheme was speedily carried into effect, and the papers, under the title of "The Mirror," of which Mr. Mackenzie was the editor, were published in weekly numbers, and were subsequently republished with the names of the authors,' in three duodecimo volumes.

To the "Mirror" succeeded the "Lounger," a periodical of similar character, Mr. Mackenzie was the most valuable contributor to both and equally successful.

“ Mirror Club” consisted of Mr. Mackenzie, the chief contributor, Mr. Craig. Mr. Cul

Com others.

these works. His papers are distinguished from all the rest by that sweetness and beauty of style, and tenderness of feeling, which form the peculiar character of his writings. Mr. Mackenzie, in the "Lounger," No. 97, was the first to appreciate the genius of Burns, in a review of his poems then recently published, by which the poet was brought into public notice, and prevented from quitting his country, as he intended, for the West Indies. After this, Mr. Mackenzie published a number of dramas; but, though they possessed considerable merit as literary productions, they were not successful on the stage. His celebrity is derived principally from his "Essays" and his "Man of Feeling," which are distinguished by a beauty of style, depth of pathos, and delicacy of imagination that will always render them popular. In private life, Mr. Mackenzie "was not more distinguished by the wit with which he enlivened a numerous circle of attached friends, than the benevolence and wisdom with which he counselled and assisted them." This ornament of his native city died at Edinburgh, at the advanced age of eighty-six, rather from the decay of nature than from disease, on the 14th of January, 1831.

Few modern writers have been more fortunate than Mr. Mackenzie in their appeals to the heart; and his fictions in the "Mirror" hold a conspicuous rank among the best efforts in pathetic composition. The story of "La Roche," in Nos. 42, 43, and 44, has been frequently republished as a tract, but it is too long to insert here. Scarcely, if at all inferior to this, in true delicacy and pathos, is the touching narration in No. 49-the "Story of Nancy Collins." In humorous delineation, also, Mr. Mackenzie has presented us with various specimens. The descriptions of the "Homespun Family” in the “Mirror,” and of the “Mushroom Family" in the "Lounger," are told in such a delicate vein of irony, satire, and humor, as to rival the best papers of that character in the "Spectator" of Addison.

THE HOMESPUN FAMILY.

To the Author of the "Mirror."

SIR: Some time ago I troubled you with a letter giving an account of a particular sort of grievance felt by the families of men of small fortunes, from their acquaintance with those of great ones. I am emboldened, by the favorable reception of my first letter, to write you a second upon the same subject.

You will remember, sir, my account of a visit which my daughters paid to a great lady in our neighbourhood, and of the effects which that visit had upon them. I was beginning to hope that time and the sobriety of manners which home exhibited would

A complete edition of his works was published at Edinburgh, in 8 vols. 8vo, in 1808. Sir Walter Scott held the talents of Mr. Mackenzie in great estimation, and, in dedicating to him the novel of "Waverley," styled him the Scotch Addison. In summing up his merits as a novelist and essayist, the same high authority observes: "The historian of the 'Homespun Family' may place his narrative, without fear of shame, by the side of the Vicar of Wakefield; and many passages in those papers, which he contributed to the 'Mirror' and 'Lounger,' attest with what truth, spirit, and ease he could describe, assume, and sustain a variety of characters."

222

restore them to their former situation, when, unfortunately, a circumstance happened still more fatal to me than their expedition This, sir, was the honor of a visit from the great lady in

to

return.

before I was just returning from the superintendence of my ploughs in green a field I have lately enclosed, when I was met on the my door by a gentleman (for such I took him to be) mounted upon a very handsome gelding, who asked me, by the appellation of honest friend, if this was not Mr. Homespun's; and, in the same breath, whether the ladies were at home. I told him my name was Homespun, the house was mine, and my wife and daughters were, I believed, within. Upon this, the young man, pulling off his hat, and begging my pardon for calling me honest, said he was despatched by Lady with her compliments to Mrs. and Misses Homespun, and that, if convenient, she intended herself the honor of dining Park, (the seat of another with them on her return from B

great and rich lady in our neighborhood.)

I confess, Mr. Mirror, I was struck somewhat of a heap with the message, and it would not, in all probability, have received an "Mr. immediate answer had it not been overheard by my eldest daughter, who had come to the window on the appearance of a stranger. Papillot," said she immediately, "I rejoice to see you; I hope Very much at your seryour lady and all the family are well." vice, ma'am," he replied, with a low bow; "my lady sent me before with the offer of her best compliments, and that, if conve"She does us nient"-and so forth, repeating his words to me. infinite honor," said my young madam; "let her ladyship know how happy her visit will make us; but, in the mean time, Mr. Papillot give your horse to one of the servants, and come in and have "I am afraid," answered a glass of something after your ride." he, (pulling out his right-hand watch, for, would you believe it, sir? the fellow had one in each fob,) "I shall hardly have time to meet On a second invitation, my lady at the place she appointed me."

however, he dismounted and went into the house, leaving his horse to the care of the servants; but the servants, as my daughter very well knew, were all in the fields at work; so I, who have a liking for a good horse, and cannot bear to see him neglected, had the honor of putting Mr. Papillot's in the stable myself.

After about an hour's stay, for the gentleman seemed to forget his hurry within doors, Mr. Papillot departed. My daughters, I mean the two polite ones, observed how handsome he was, and added another observation, that it was only to particular friends my lady sent messages by him, who was her own body-servant, and not accustomed to such offices. My wife seemed highly pleased with this last remark; I was about to be angry, but on such occasions it chrue un my shoulders in

silence, yet, as I said before, Mr. Mirror, I would not have you think me henpecked.

By this time every domestic about my house, male and female, were called from their several employments to assist in the preparations for her ladyship's reception. It would tire you to enumerate the various shifts that were made by purchasing, borrowing, &c., to furnish out a dinner suitable to the occasion. My little gray pony, which I keep for sending to market, broke his wind in the cause, and has never been good for any thing since.

Nor was there less ado in making ourselves and our attendants fit to appear before such company. The female part of the family managed the matter pretty easily; women, I observe, having a natural talent that way. My wife took upon herself the charge of apparelling me for the occasion. A laced suit, which I had worn at my marriage, was got up for the purpose; but the breeches burst a seam at the very first attempt of pulling them on, and the sleeves of the coat were also impracticable; so she was forced to content herself with clothing me in my Sunday's coat and breeches, with the laced waistcoat of the above-mentioned suit, slit in the back, to set them off a little. My gardener, who has been accustomed, indeed, to serve in many capacities, had his head cropped, curled, and powdered, for the part of butler; one of the best-looking ploughboys had a yellow cape clapped to his Sunday's coat, to make him pass for a servant in livery; and we borrowed my son-in-law the parson's man for a third hand.

All this was accomplished, though not without some tumult and disorder, before the arrival of the great lady. She gave us, indeed, more time for the purpose than we looked for, as it was near six o'clock before she arrived. But this was productive of a misfortune on the other hand; the dinner of my poor wife had bustled, sweated, and scolded for, was so over-boiled, over-stewed, and overroasted, that it needed the appetite of so late an hour to make it go well down even with me, who am not very nice in these matters; luckily, her ladyship, as I am told, never eats much for fear of spoiling her shape, now that small waists have come into fashion again. The dinner, however, though spoiled in the cooking, was not thrown away, as her ladyship's train made shift to eat the greatest part of it. When I say her train, I do not mean her servants only, of which there were half a dozen in livery, besides the illustrious Mr. Papillot and her ladyship's maid-gentlewoman, I should say—who had a table to themselves. Her parlor attendants were equally numerous, consisting of two ladies and six gentlemen, who had accompanied her ladyship in this excursion, and did us the honor of coming to eat and drink with us, and bringing their servants to do the same, though we had never seen or heard of them before.