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we not welcome with heartfelt, but cautious gratitude, him, who is thus made the instrument in the hand of infinite goodness of bringing to light this inestimable bles sing? And if the Arabian apostate who desolated mankind, by his blasphemy, the sword, and pestilence, bore the name of Abaddon, or Apollyon, the Destroyer; we may hail the instrument in the hand of providence, who thus gives health and life, as the preserver and benefactor of mankind." And again "the name of our Philanthropist is in the mouth of the divine, the statesman, and the physician, the enlightened philosopher, and the ignorant barbarian, the aged, and the infant, all pronounce it with gratitude" "millions now on earth break forth in his praise, and generations yet unborn will call him bles sed."

This is followed by an eulogium upon our country occasioned by the casual circumstance of the vaccine discovery originating here, and which Mr. Plumptre seems to consider as a special mark of the divine favour. It would afford us great pleasure if experience could substantiate his opinion that" we are the purest nation upon earth!"

That we are far from being the worst, is readily admitted, but we are of opinion that such language as this ill suits the pulpit, especially in a season when "the divine judgments are abroad in the earth" and when it is to be feared, our provocations of the Almighty have not been without a considerable share in thus causing his vengeance to be so remarkably displayed. Mr. Plumptre goes on in this strain of eulogy, by enumerating the many institutions and societies of a benevolent nature, which are continually forming in this kingdom. The characteristic of our nation undoubtedly is good-nature, or beneficence, but when we boast of it, foreigners who read the eulogies we pass upon ourselves, might perhaps, be apt to question the purity of our motives. It no more becomes a public preacher to panegyrize the community to which he belongs at the expense of others, than to sing his own praises.

To the sermon as preached in Mr. Plumptre's parish of Hinston, with an exception to that part which relates to Anti-christ and the rise of the small por at the same time with Mahomet, we have no objection. It is plain and well adapted to remove foolish prejudices from the minds of common people against the vaccine inoculation. Fol. VIII. Churchm. Mag. June 1805. 30 The

The numerous notes subjoined to the first sermon, shew that Mr. Plumptre has been very diligent in his enquiries, and they afford considerable information on this interesting subject.

An Account of the Life of Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON, from his birth to his eleventh year, written by himself. To which are added original letters to Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON by Miss HILL BOOTHBY, 12mo. pp. 144.

E sought for, and when found exhibited to the public.

VERY scrap of this great man has been earnestly

We could have wished that his over eager friends and admirers had thrown many of these into the fire, as he himself would have unquestionably done, had he known what use would have been made of them. The present. brief sketch is so far from being in this perdicament, that the perusal only makes us repent that the whole of the manuscript was not preserved, and that the illustrious author did not proceed farther in his memoirs. If other proofs were wanting to substantiate the authenticity of this sketch, the internal evidence alone would prove it to be Johnson's. The narrative is in the form of annals; and under the year 1712, we meet with the following remarks:

"

My father considered tea as very expensive, and discouraged my mother from keeping company with the neighbours, and from paying visits or receiving them. She lived to say, many years after, that, if the time were to pass again, she would not comply with such unsocial injunctions.

I's suppose that in this year I was first informed of a future state. I remember, that being in bed with my mother one morning, I was told by her of the two places to which the inhabitants of this world were received after death; one a fine place filled with happiness, called Heaven; the other a sad place, called Hell. That this account much affected my imagination, I do not remember. When I was risen, my mother bade me repeat what she had told me to Thomas Jackson. When I told this afterwards to my mother, she seemed to wonder that she should

begin

begin such talk so late as that the first time could be remembered."

A great part of the piece consists of an account of Johnson's school exercises, and remarks on his tutor, in which there is nothing particularly remarkable.

Miss Hill Boothby appears to have been a very sensible, devout and amiable young lady; though a little tinctured with enthusiasm. She died in 1756, aged 48, and Johnson was greatly affected by her death, as may be seen in his devotions on the occasion, contained in his prayers and meditations p. 25.

As a pleasing specimen of Miss BOOTHBY's talents and disposition, we have extracted the following Letter :

DEAR SIR,

"Tissington, December 29, 1753.

"You very obligingly say, 'Few are so busy as not to find time to do what they delight in doing. That I have been one of those few, my not having, till now, found time to answer your last kind letter, may convince you. My indisposition, and confinement on that account, made it necessary for me to double my application for my little flock; and, as my strength increased, I found occasions to exercise its increase also; so that I really have not had a moment to spare. I know you will be better pleased to infer from hence that my health is much mended, than you would be with the finest and most artful arrangement of abstracted reasoning that ever was penned. I have been a great moralizer; and, perhaps, if all my speculative chains were linked together, they would fill a folio as large as the largest of those many wrote by the philosophical Duchess of Newcastle, and be just as useful as her labours. But I have wholly given up all attempts of this sort, convinced by experience that they could at most afford only a present relief. The one remedy for all and every kind of sorrow, the deeply-experienced Royal Prophet thus expresses;

In the multitude of sorrows which I had in my heart, thy comforts have refreshed my soul.'

The sovereign Balm for every heart-felt wound
Is only in the HEAVENLY Gilead found:
Whate'er the sage Philosophers pretend,
Man's wisdom may awhile Man's pains SUSPEND;
But can no more-Wisdom DIVINE must cure,
And Love inspire, which ALL things can endure,

"As I think, I write; and express my thoughts in words that

302

first

first offer, sans premeditation, as you see. As I have told you before, I write to the friend, not to the Mr. Johnson who himself writes better than any man. I shall comply with your request, and not inclose this; though at the same time I am conscious I have so little claim to a place among your riches, that a waste paper drawer will be a much properer one for my poor productions: however, if they have this merit, and you regard them as proofs that I much esteem you, they will answer my purpose, which is that of being regarded as,..

Dear Sir,

Your affectionate

And sincere friend,

Н. Воотиву.

POETRY.

The GENEALOGY of CHRIST, as it is represented on the East Window of Winchester College Chapel. Written at Winton School, by BISHOP LOWTH.

T

[Concluded from page 396.]

RANSMISSIVE worth adorns the pious

son.

The father's virtues, with the father's throne.
Lo! there he stands: he who the rage subdu'd
Of Ammon's sons, and drench'd his sword in blood,
And dost thou, Ahaz, Judah's scourge, disgrace,
With thy base front, the glories of thy race?
See the vile king his iron sceptre bear.
His only praise attends the pious heir t
He in whose soul the virtues all conspire,

The best good son from the worst wicked sire.
And lot in Hezekiah's golden reign,

Long exil'd piety returns again;

Again in genuine purity she shines,

And with her presence gilds the long neglected shrines,
Ill starr'd does proud Assyria's impious lord,
Bid heav'n to arms, and vaunt his impious sword,
His own vain threats th' insulting King o'erthrow,
But breathe new courage on the gen'rous foe.

* Joatham.

it Hezekiah.

Sennacherib.

Th

Th avenging Angel, by divine command,
The fiery sword full blazing in his hand.

Leant down from Heav'n: amid the storm he rode.
March'd Pestilence before him; as he trod,
Pale dessolation bath'd his steps in blood.

Thick wrapt in night, through the proud host he past,
Dispensing death, and drove the furious blast;
Nor bade destruction give her revels o'er,
Till the gorg'd sword was drunk with human gore,
But what avails thee, pious prince, in vain
Thy sceptre rescu'd, and th' Assyrian slain,
Evin pow the soul maintains her latest strife,
And death's chili grasp congeals the fount of life,
Yet, see, kind heav'n renews thy brittle thread,
And rolls full fifteen summers o'er thy head;
Lo! the receding sun repeats his way,
And, like thy life, prolongs the falling day.
Tho' nature her inverted course forego,
The day forget to rest, the time to flow,
Yet shall Jehovah's servants stand secure,
His mercy fix'd, eternal shall endure;
On them her ever-healing rays shall shine;
More mild, and bright, and sure, O Sun, than thine!

At length the long-expected Prince behold,
The last good King, in ancient days foretold;
When Bethel's altar spoke his future fame,
Rent to it's base, at good Josiah's name.
Blest happy Prince! o'er whose lamented urn,
In plaintive song all Judah's daughters mourn
For whom sad Sion's softest sorrow flows,
And Jeremiah pours his sweet melodious woes.

*

But now, fall'n Sion, once the fair and great,
Sits deep in dust, abandon'd, desolate,
Bleeds her sad heart, and ever stream her eyes,
And anguish tears her with convulsive sighs.
The mournful captive spreads her hands in vain,
Her hands, that rankle with the servile chain;
Till he, great Chief! in heav'ns appointed time
Leads back her children to their native elime,
Fair Liberty revives with all her joys,
And bids her envy'd walls securely rise.
And thou great hallow'd dome, in ruin spread,
Again shalt lift sublime thy sacred head.
But ah! with weeping eyes the ancients view
A faint resemblance of the old in you i

Zerobabel.

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