e not utterly come to nothing. None, no ot the least remembrance of its very ruins, re. ains; not the shadow of an idea is left, nor ny sense, so much as one single one, perfect rimperfect, whole or diminished, ever did apcar to a mind within him, or was perceived by . Such a present, from such a thing, however worthless in itself, may not be wholly unacceptble to your majesty, the author being such as istory cannot parallel: and if the fact, which s real, and no fiction or wrong conceit, obtains redit, it must be recorded as the most memoable, and indeed astonishing, even in the reign of George II. that a tract, composed by such a hing, was presented to the illustrious Caroline; is royal consort needs not to be added. Fame, f I am not misinformed, will tell that with pleasure to all succeeding times. He has been informed, that your majesty's piety is as genuine and eminent as your excellent qualities are great and conspicuous. This can, indeed, be truly known to the Great Searcher of hearts only. He alone, who can look into them, can discern if they are sincere, and the main intention corresponds with the appearance: and your majesty cannot take it amiss, if such an author hints, that his secret approbation is of infinitely greater value then the commendation of men, who may be easily mistaken, and are too apt to flatter their superiors. But, if he has been told the truth, such a case as his will certainly strike your majesty with astonishment, and may raise that commiseration in your royal breast, which he has in vain endeavoured to excite in those of his friends, who, by the most unreasonable

and ill-founded conceit in the world have ima.

years together, live a stranger to its own pow ers, exercises, operations, and state, and what the Great God has been doing in it ar to it. If your majesty, in your most retire address to the King of kings, should think so singular a case, you may, perhaps, make your devout request, that the reign of your be loved sovereign and consort may be renowne to all posterity, by the recovery of a soul no in the utmost ruin; the restoration of one ut terly lost at present amongst men. And, shoul this case affect your royal breast, you will re commend it to the piety and prayers of all the truly devout who have the honour to be known to your majesty: many such, doubtless, there are, though courts are not usually the places where the devout resort, or where devotion reigns; and it is not improbable that multitudes of the pious throughout the land may take a case to heart, that, under your majesty's patronage, comes thus recommended. Could such a favour as this restoration be obtained from heaven by the prayers of your majesty, with what transport of gratitude would the recovered being throw himself at your majesty's feet, and, adoring the Divine Power and Grace, profess himself,

"Madam,

"Your Majesty's

"Most obliged and dutiful servant,

"SIMON BROWN."

A complication of distempers, contracted by his sedentary life (for he could not be prevailed on to refresh himself with air and exercise,) brought on a mortification, which put a period to his labours and sorrows about the latter end

f 1732. He was, unquestionably, a man of ncommon abilities and learning. His manage ment of Woolston shewed him to have also viacity and wit; and, notwithstanding that trange conceit which possessed him, it is rearkable that he never appeared feeble or aburd, except when the object of his frenzy was efore him.

Many curious circumstances have been menoned of Dr. Watts, respecting the strength of nagination; but, as it does not appear that ney are founded on any certainty, we shall enrely omit them here.

IMPLICIT FAITH.

THE Christian religion, says Dr. Campbell, as always been understood to require faith in ts principles, and faith in principles requires Come degree of knowledge or apprehension of hose principles. But the schoolmen have deised an excellent succedaneum to supply the lace of real belief, and this they have denomiated implicit faith, an ingenious method of reconciling things incompatible; to believe every hing, and to know nothing. Implicit faith has been sometimes styled fides carbonaria, from he story of one who, examining an ignorant collier on his religious principles, asked him what it was that he believed. He answered, "I believe what the church believes." The other rejoined, What, then, does the church beieve?" He replied readily, "The church believes what I believe." The other, desirous, if possible, to bring him to particulars. once more resumed

it is which you and the church both believe. The only answer the collier could give wa Why truly, Sir, the church and I both-be lieve the same thing."

66

THE INFIDEL ALARMED.

THE late Samuel Forrestor Bancroft, Esc accompanied Mr. Isaac Weld, jun. in his tra vels through North America and the two Ca nadas; a very interesting narrative of which i published. As they were traversing one of th extensive lakes of the northern states in vessel board of which was Volney, celebrated, o rather notorious, for his atheistical principles which he has so often avowed, a very heavy storm came on, insomuch that the vessel which had struck repeatedly with great force was expected to go down every instant; the mast having gone by the board, the helm quite ungovernable, and, consequently, the whole scene exhibiting confusion and horror. There were many female as well as male passengers on board, but no one exhibited such strong marks of fearful despair as Volney; throwing himself on the deck, now imploring, now imprecating the captain, and reminding him, that he had engaged to carry him safe to his destination, vainly threatening, in case any thing should happen. At last, however, as the probability of their being lost increased, this great mirror of nature, human or inhuman, began loading all the pockets of his coat, waistcoat, breeches, and every place he could think of, with dollars, to the amount of some hundreds and thus 33 he thought WAS prepar

g to swim for his life, should the expected reck take place. Mr. Bancroft remonstrated ith him on the folly of such acts, saying, that would sink like a piece of lead with so great weight on him; and at length, as he became very noisy and unsteady as to impede the anagement of the ship, Mr. Bancroft pushed m down the hatchways. Volney soon came o again, having lightened himself of the dols, and, in the agony of his mind, threw himIf upon deck, exclaiming, with uplifted hands d streaming eyes,—" Oh, mon Dieu! mon ieu!-que'st ce que je ferai, que'st ce que je rai!"Oh, my God! my God! what shall I o, what shall I do!-This so surprised Banoft, that, notwithstanding the moment did not ry well accord with flashes of humour, yet could not refrain from addressing-"Eh bi! Mons. Volney! vous avez donc un Dieu a resent." Well, Mr. Volney!-what you have God now! To which Volney replied, with e most trembling anxiety, "Oh, oui! oui!" yes! O yes! The ship, however, got safe; d Mr. Bancroft made every company which went into echo with this anecdote of Volney's knowledgment of God. Volney, for a considable time, was so hurt at his weekness, as he lls it, that he was ashamed of shewing himself company at Philadelphia, &c.: but afterwards, e a modern French philosopher, said, that those ords escaped him in the instant of alarm, but d no meaning, and he again utterly renounced