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the word of God?" To which it is replied, that, as we cannot always and with the precision which seems to be intended in the question, do this, so neither does it seem to be very necessary.' Mr. A. proceeds farther to explain and apply this in a rational manner. Indeed, we might collect much from this part of the work that is worthy of the reader's careful notice: the few following lines afford some just notion of the writer's opinion:

• I may conclude thep, I suppose, that the books now making up the volume, or canon, as it is sometimes called, of the Old and New Testament, which is confessedly the best and most curious single book in the world, are not however all of them, nor any one of them, perhaps, in all its parts, of the same equal and unvaried excellence, and of the same unitorm and high authority, however this notion of them may have in general prevailed, but may be reasonably read with something more of discrimination and taste, than the teachers and pastors of most churches have in general allowed, and would perhaps be more profitably read, and with greater cordiality and acceptance, if read under the influence of a Icss superstitious spirit, and with more attention paid to what we feel them to be in the reading, than to any such external characters and denominations of them, as may indeed silence, but do not always satisfy the reader."

In the first of these chapters, is introduced a short extract from a letter written by Dr. Lardner, many years ago, in reply to this author's inquiry concerning the best Harmony. "I think (writes the Doctor) Le Clerc's the best; and Dr. Doddridge agrees with that in the main:-but I think the study of harmonies of little importance: indeed almost vain and fruitless: for every Christian can carry on our Saviour's history in the order of time, as to the main parts: and on difficult and doubtful points the harmonies are seldom right, but wrong, and mislead men. Macknight is a good commentator: and would have been better, if he had not been an harmonizer: his harmony is perplexed and intricate to the last degree."

In the succeeding chapter, the writer returns to St. Paul, and endeavours to prove that his account of justification by faith is ⚫ the same substantially with our Saviour's doctrine of repentance and remission of sins, only reasoned on and stated in a more elaborate and systematic manner.' The conclusion drawn from the whole is

That by far the larger part of those controversies by which Christian churches have suffered themselves to be divided, are of an interminable nature; the appeal, in many of them, being made to writers whose commission was limited, and did not perhaps extend so far; and who being in the possession, by divine vouchsafement and revelation, of some few general and interesting ideas concerning the life, character, and resurrection of Christ, the necessity of repentance, certainty

certainty of pardon, and of a future state and judgment, were left, unless in some very peculiar and extraordinary cases, as in those of Acts xth and xvth for instance, to speak of them and represent them, very much in their own way, and agreeable to their respective educations, relishes, and natural temperament and turns of mind; which seem in fact to have been very different.-And why then, if this may have been the case, pursue with so much zeal and earnestness some of the more minute and nicer questions in theology, and seek the answer to them where, in all probability, it is not to be found, and from writers who might not perhaps, to cases of such a sort, be quite competent??

Of the tract on the prophecies of Daniel, which here forms ch. x. and is now, we apprehend, somewhat altered and abridged, we shall take no farther notice than by a reference to an account which was given of it when it first appeared as a separate work.. (M. Rev. vol. lv. p. 113.) Nor shall we detain the reader long concerning the chapter which follows, on the Revelation. Mr. Amner seems to think it mistaken and even illiberal to explain some passages in this book, and that of Daniel, as relating to the Pope and the church of Rome; in which sentiment we cannot concur with him. He plainly appears, indeed, to have considerable doubts as to the authenticity of the book of Daniel and of St. John's Revelation; concerning the latter, he says, 'I conclude that the writer of this book was certainly a Christian, and also a zealous Jewish Christian, who, feeling much for the sufferings of his brethren, has accordingly characterised, and even stigmatized, the two great authors of their sufferings, I mean the unbelieving Jews and idolatrous (meaning, heathen) Romans, by expressive and even bitter and sarcastic denotations of their respective head cities or residencies.'

It is impracticable for us to attend this writer in his Remarks on the Prophecies of Isaiah. He here proceeds with boldness of adventure, while he explains these predictions wholly of the Israelites and nations connected with them, and according to his plan totally removes any regard to that great object of Jewish expectation, the advent of the Messiah: by doing which, some parts of his paraphrase will to many if not to most readers bear an uncouth, and not, perhaps, the most reasonable appearance. Be this as it will, having observed that Grotius explains the last three chapters as relating to the wars and victories of Judas Maccabæus, whom he supposes to be the person coming from Edom with dyed garments, Mr. Amner proceeds to say,

• While the two Lowths, and with them probably the more general stream of commentators, rather choose to suppose, that not only in these, but some of the preceding chapters, we are got wholly away,

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as it were, from the affairs of the Jewish church, and into those of the Christian; and even into matters which will only come to pas in the last days of the world, as they explain some of the passages. Concerning which notions I can only say, that as I have not yet seen any satisfactory and convincing evidence of them, so I shall not, I hope, have any criminal and wilful objection to it, if ever aught of this kind shall hereafter seem to disclose itself; and until which time, it is humbly hoped, that the remarks of a different sort, which have been proposed above, will not be denied a patient hearing. Making no pretensions to praise, they will not, it is hoped, incur censure.'

A few pages on Baptism finish the volume; and in them we find some ingenious, sensible, and perhaps rather new remarks on the subject. It is clear that Mr. Amner has been industrious in endeavouring to attain biblical knowlege, and in the search after truth. His work contains many instructive and useful remarks, though it may sometimes excite doubts which it does not sufficiently remove. His style often reminded us of Dr. Lardner's language and manner. Occasionally, he speaks too contemptuously of his fellow-labourers who have preceded him in this line of inquiry, but we think that he has now made a little abatement in respect to Mr. Mede.

ART. XI. Arthur Fitz-Albini, a Novel. 12mo. 2 Vols. 78. sewed. White. 1798.

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HE chief object of this well-written novel seems to be to plead the cause of birth against fortune. It represents loftiness of sentiment, and disinterestedness of character, as exclusively allotted to the high-born; and as sources of perpetual mortification and disappointment to the possessor. Both of these representations, as universal axioms, we think, are contradictory to experience: but the general morality of the work is unexceptionable. -The story is simple. Fitz-Albini, a poor and proud young man of family, rejects an opportunity of advantageous marriage with Miss Pickman, a city-heiress, in consequence of his love for the well-born Miss St. Leger; whose pedigree at length produces her a great estate: but whose sensibility, irritated by an insolent protectress, carries her to the grave, on the eve of matrimony. Her distracted lover soon follows her.

It will not be easy to extract a passage more calculated than the following to display the author's prose, poetry, and opinion:

Once more the time arrived at which Fitz-Albini found himself extricated from such troublesome society. As he mounted his horse, twilight was coming on; and a drizzling rain hastened the close of the day. He walked, however, a foot-pace, and gave the full range again to

his expansive mind. "Detestable society!" said he to himself: "if this be society; rather let me wander all my days among the woods, that have never been marked by a human footstep! There at least I can enjoy a creation more consonant to my ideas of human dignity! My fancy will form to itself a world of its own, consistent with my early dreams of life!"-Thus he wandered on, lost in meditations; and at length digested his ideas in the following

SONNET.

• Along the lone wood shrieks the hollow blast;
And quick the doubling mists obscure the day:
Where the voice echoes, or the windows cast
Their distant glancing lights, I seek my way:

Before me, thick and sheety vapours spread,
Seem, like a lake, to level all the vale;
While drives the drizzling fog, and o'er my head
The bending clouds in pillowy darkness sail.
These are the scenes, in which, howe'er I rove,
In doubtful paths, my fancy loves to rise!
Ideal buildings people every grove,
And fairy forests bound th' approaching skies!
Clad in the grey obscurity, I view

More beauteous scenes than Nature ever knew!

• The exercise of this ride gave him a night of sound sleep; and he rose with refreshed spirits to indulge, uninterruptedly, in his own studies, and his own solitary walks.

• The Autumn was hastening on the greater part of the com had been already imbarned: and the leaves of the forest began to assume a golden tinge, the most rich and happy of all hues for the imitation of a painter. A kind of liquid splendour sat upon the whole surrounding scenery. Herds of all sorts peopled the stubbles, and the woods; and even the swine, which, at this time of the year while they move in numbers, are very picturesque, began to take a distant range to feed on the falling acorns, as well as the refuse of the sickle and the scythe.

• Amid such scenes Fitz-Albini forgot all his cares, and felt nothing but the most exalted pleasure. - He had crossed the most distant boundary of the park; and was already some miles advanced beyond it, immersed in his own reflections, when, from the top of an hill, he surveyed a large castellated mansion beneath him, which he soon recollected to be Penshurst, the venerable seat of the illus. trious family of Sidney.

• As he had not surveyed it for many years, he determined to hasten into the valley, and view it again. He enquired for the old housekeeper, who had shewn it to him, when a boy; but she was not still in her office.-He had, however, the satisfaction of hearing she was yet alive; and of visiting her at a neat house in the village, where the majestic old woman, at the age of 97, or 98, still retained not only the traces of her former beauty, but her facultiesand even her chearfulness-though she sighed at the fallen glories of

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the dear old hall, where she remembered so much splendour and hospitality, and at least five generations of its once-gay and renowned inhabitants.

• Fitz-Albini could scarcely walk over this stately building, now so chilly and deserted, without being overwhelmed with melancholy -the gallery of portraits the curious pictures, by Holbein, of Edward, the Sixth, the Duke of Northumberland, Sir Henry Sidney, and many others; the numerous likenesses by Jansen, Vandyke, Lely, &c. filled him with admiration. The recurrence to his mind of so many illustrious names, Sir Philip Sidney, Spenser, Ben Jonson, Algernon Sidney, and Waller, almost confounded him with the fulness of his ideas.

• He strolled slowly up the park; and sat an hour in listening to the screams, and watching the manœuvres of the heronry, still subsisting there.

• During this hour, the only ideas, that were sufficiently distinct to reduce themselves into language, assumed the following form

SONNET, written at Penshurst.

• Behold thy triumphs, Time! what silence reigns
Along these lofty and majestic walls!

Ah! where are regal Sidney's pompous trains * ?
Where Philip's tuneful lyre, whose dying falls
Could melt the yielding nymphs, and lovesick swains †?
Ah! where th' undaunted figure, that appalls
E'en heroes? Where the lute, that on the plains
The bending trees † round Sacharissa calls?
And are they fled! Their day's for ever past!
Heroes and poets moulder in the earth!
No sound is heard but of the wailing blast
Through the lone rooms, where echoed crowded Mirth!
Yet on their 'semblance Melancholy pores,
And all the faded splendour soon restores.

• To every mind, which reflects deeply, the extinction or decay of an antient or eminent family is a subject of real and very profound regret. It is true, that to antiquity and lustre of descent both understanding and virtue are often wanting. But, if ability be more frequently conspicuous in those who have climbed from a low origin up the steep and dangerous ascent of ambition, virtue in such families is undoubtedly by far more rare. Nor is ability always requisite to attain the point of rank and wealth. - And it is too certain that the prosperous road is generally through the defiles of corruption and vice. The corrupted heart, the interested sentiments, the debased, however acute, understanding, of a low man grown great, are too apt to throw a tincture over the characters of his family for at least a century; whereas that race which hereditary honours and affluence have long

** Sir Henry Sidney, Lord President of the Marches, who kept his court at Ludlow Castle.'

+ Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia.'

• † Alluding to Waller's lines, written at Penshurst."

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