exception, minister to the sick-bed, and they more from duty than from love. Terror seizes the whole court at the contagious nature of the disease; and if prayers are offered, it is, that the fearful scene may soon terminate. The curtain is falling; let us step behind it before it drops.

On that couch lies all that remains of a once petted and applauded monarch of France; whose life, when in his early reign threatened with assassination, was regarded as so important to the welfare of his subjects, that they prayed for him as "Louis the well-beloved." There are no sighs nor prayers now; the lease of love is long since worn out! Subjects are weary of his extravagant rule; virtue shudders at his name. No man ever more dreaded to die. Though he sometimes, in very morbidness, visited graves and sepulchers, he was ordinarily impatient of the slightest hint on the subject of his own death. It was, however, come at last, and every foul thought which the hot-bed of his own depravity had engendered, gib- | bered round him like specters, in his dying hour.

The scene was equally remarkable and disgraceful. Two opposite court parties fought almost at his bedside for preëminence the one contending that the king's danger was imminent, and that the last offices of religion ought to be forthwith performed; the other maintaining that the crisis was not yet alarming, fearing lest the guilty minions of his vices should be dismissed from the court. Accordingly, one party endeavored to re-assure the monarch, and the other to work upon his fears. One speaks of confession and the sacraments; the other threatens personal chastisement if such a word be uttered in the monarch's hearing. But the king becomes himself aware that his case is desperate. He demands his confessor, and utters, at the dictation of the Grand Almoner, that which was called amende honorable to his court. "Although the king is bound to answer for himself to God only, he declares that he repents of the scandals he may have caused to his subjects, and that he desires only to live for the sustenance of religion, and the happiness of his people." Poor miserable monarch! Hast thou no ampler repentance for the outrages of an ill-spent life? -no hope better than that which arises

from the administration of the sacraments in a dying hour by the Grand Almoner? Nothing more worthy of confidence is at least recorded. Courtiers, booted and spurred, await in awful silence the close of the drama. Favorites have departed amid the execrations of those who remain. The king's ante-chamber is crowded by anxious multitudes, who await in impatient silence the last intelligence. It is over. The noise of a thundering body of courtiers, rushing in haste to pay their respects to the new monarch, proclaim to the Dauphin and Dauphiness that their predecessor had ceased to reign. The lifeless remains are left in the solitude of the palace, unattended, unwept; and so falls the curtain upon almost the last of the kings of France!

Reader, who hast before thee thine own passing away from the stage of life, despise not the admonition that the curtain will close on thee! Neglect not the only means whereby thy last end may become happy and dignified. Thy bark will only ride safely in the storms of a dying hour as it is anchored on the hope furnished by the gospel of Jesus Christ. The renewed heart, the holy life, the active obedience, all based on the promise of salvation by faith, will alone afford thee comfort then. The constant death unto sin is the only pledge of an eternal life to blessedness.

VALUE OF TIME.-Lord Brougham, the most indefatigable man in England, often does not quit his study before midnight, and he is always up at four. Dr. Cotton Mather, who knew the value of time in everything, was never willing to lose a moment of it. To effect this purpose, he had written upon the door of his study, in large letters, "Be brief.” Ursines, a professor in the University of Heidelberg, wishing to prevent the idlers and babblers from interrupting him in his hours of study, had written at the entrance into his library: "Friend, whoever you may be, who enter here, be quick with your business, or go away." The learned Scaliger placed the following phrase upon the door of his cabinet: "My time is my estate." The favorite maxim of Shakspeare was:-"Consider time too precious to be spent in gossiping." "Friends are the real robbers of time," said Lord Byron.

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

From the German Fest-Kalender.

A SONG, a song, keep singing,
Of heaven-attemper'd strain!
Of Him who balm is bringing
To cleanse our deadly stain!

Of princes, gold, and gifts, O sing,

And shepherds waiting on their King!

A star in east hath risen,
Beheld by sages' eyes;

Long groped they, as in prison,
Until they saw it rise:

When first they mark'd its radiant light,
They wept for joy, and blest the sight.
With thanks to God low bending,
They saw night's horrors fade,
And watch'd the sign ascending,
For which so long they pray'd,-

That light of lights, whose rising ray
Gave promise of eternal day.

Wake up! wake up! they shouted,
And call'd a royal train;
They never fear'd, or doubted,
That hope was but in vain:

The star before them beaming went,
Until before their Lord they bent.

O'er many a hill and valley,
And stream renown'd they pass'd;
Until their train they rally,

By Bethlehem's gates at last:

With hymn and song they cheer'd the way,
Still guided by the orient ray.

O'er many a palace towering,
In pomp it journey'd on;
O'er castles, darkly lowering,
And cities vast, it shone:

Where pride and prosperous sin abound,
The humble babe can ne'er be found.

O Bethlehem, thou lowly,
Yet highly-favor'd place!
As told by prophets holy,
The star now stays its pace,

And rests o'er thee, for to the cry
Of poverty the Lord is nigh.
"T was o'er a manger's dwelling,
Arose a heavenly strain;
From earth and heaven swelling,
All join'd the blest refrain,

To sing the glories of the Child,
Now sleeping with his mother mild.
The sages, lowly bowing

Before their mighty King,

All reverence are showing

For him who deign'd to fling

His royal robes aside, to save

Our race from Satan and the grave.

Their precious gifts outpouring,
They spread them at his feet,

The infant King adoring,

With gold and incense meet,

Homage of hearts that were his own,
Homage with lowly worship shown.
All other gifts transcending,
They brought their best-the
heart;

In that one offering

blending

Gems rarer far than

Their blest example let us feel, And with like holy

homage kneel.

VOL I, No. 6.-MM*

HISTOR

[ISTORY, at long intervals, records a period of which it may be truly said "there were giants in the earth in those days." Such periods has the history of literature in the Augustan ages of Rome and England; such in arms were the eras of Cæsar and Napoleon. And while troublous wars rocked New-England's infancy, first assailed by the ruthless savage, then by those who should have been protectors, her mighty men arose. A truly great mind will be felt in whatever direction it may exert its energies. Such an intellect as that of Edwards or Hopkins, if turned to war, would scorn a lesser aim than Alexander's or Napoleon's. Had human glory been its object, it would have been satisfied with nothing short of the loftiest eminence. The genius of the Puritan mind was a religious one, and mind can desire no nobler field for the exertion of its powers than the investigation of God's great truths.

The influence which Dr. Hopkins exerted upon his time, was one of no ordinary extent and power. Whatever differences of opinion may prevail respecting his theological doctrines, his name is historical among us, and his elevated character and greatness of intellect entitle him to a place in a biographical series which, like this, is designed to represent impartially the leading minds of different sects. For a long period prior to his day, lax doctrines and practices had been creeping into the Churches founded by the Puritans. Against these defections, Jonathan Edwards contended; and under his instruction, Samuel Hopkins prepared for the ministry.

He was intellectually a match for any of his cotemporaries, and they were men of might. His mind was naturally adapted to theological pursuits. It delighted to expatiate on the vast and illimitable, and was remarkable, less for acuteness than

for comprehensiveness. His character was colossal in its strength, and he was fearless of opposition. Indeed, he seemed rather to provoke and brave it in the cause of what he considered to be the truth.

Though the number is probably small who adopt his peculiar theory of the divine agency, yet his writings have exerted a wide influence upon the theology of his age and country. His views of man's natural ability and of disinterested benevolence have been extensively received by those who reject other of his tenets. He was a champion for true conversion, as a necessary qualification for Church membership and Christian ordinances; and in advocating it, he encountered a strong tide of opposition from the lax views then prevailing, and which subsequently opened the floodgates of error upon the Churches of New-England. Without receiving his peculiar views of theology, or implying any disrespect for those who reject them, we may admire the boldness and vigor with which he maintained and defended the convictions of his own mind. Moral honesty was a part of his nature, and he never hesitated to avow his convictions and principles, however odious they might be to the multitude.

The inquisitiveness for which Dr. Hopkins is said to have been proverbial, entered into his theological investigations. He took up the word of God with a spirit of hopeful study, confident that new light would be cast upon its sacred pages. And this spirit of inquiry he encouraged in others.

Such a man-so restless in his inquiries after truth, so open in acknowledging his convictions, so firm in upholding and brave in defending them—could not be without great influence. His whole life was a battle, and that with no puny antagonists. Many prominent men of the New-England Churches were arrayed against him, and misrepresentation multiplied enemies. Yet to the last he held his creed unshaken, and after sustaining it against the attacks of half a century, published it in extreme age," without a single attempt to subdue its offensive features, or to win patronage or renown." Such a life is worthy of history. At the age of twenty-two, the student left his theological pursuits, and the ennobling society of President Edwards's family, to enter upon an active ministry. An uncommon number of invitations to

settlement awaited him. We should, perhaps, expect to find him in a community of educated and meditative men, endeavoring to win them to the system of doctrine then forming in his own mind. But no; he chose a missionary field.

In a region, then wild and uncultivated, on the frontiers of American civilization, exposed to the attacks of the savage, lay the town of Housatonic, now called Great Barrington. It contained but thirty families, and there were but six other settlements in Berkshire County. Often the yeomen went to "meeting" with their guns shouldered, and occasionally the savage hordes came indeed, forcing the inhabitants to leave their houses and fly for protection to small block forts. Here Samuel Hopkins took up his abode, denying himself the comforts of more civilized life, and the intercourse which he might have enjoyed, had he accepted a settlement near his friends.

With a church of five persons, and a salary of $116 55, the pastor commenced his labors, which were faithfully continued, in the midst of many disheartening circumstances, for twenty-five years. There he manifested an extraordinary power of detecting the symptoms of religious decline, and of discerning the human heart-that knowledge of human nature, in fine, which distinguished him always. "He will read you through in fifteen minutes," said an acquaintance of Dr. Hopkins to a young clergyman about visiting him in later years. Doubtful cases of Church discipline were often referred to him, by clergymen from a distance. A person once came to him and described a "great conversion" which he had recently experienced. Mr. Hopkins said to him: "After several seasons of excitement and life, and several of depression, you will probably give up all your hope, and within two years, perhaps one, you will be worse than ever. Go, now, I beg of you, and become truly penitent for your sins." The predicted apostasy took place. But after a few years the same person returned, and mourned over his own sinfulness, and wondered he did not love the divine character which appeared so amiable. "Ah," said the sagacious pastor, "you will not get rid of this in six months. Your raising God one minute and depressing yourself the next, seem to indicate that God's Spirit has been with you."

And so it proved. In this respect there was a great resemblance between Mr. Hopkins, and Edwards, his instructor.

Mr. Hopkins felt a deep concern for the spiritual welfare of the Indian tribes, who were settled very near him at Stockbridge. After the death of Mr. Sergeant, the missionary, in July, 1749, he was offered the mission by the Commissioners of Indian Missions at Boston; but not deeming himself qualified for such a post, he secured the appointment for his friend and instructtor, Edwards, who had just been dismissed from the Church at Northampton. And among these humble wigwams often moved the giants in theology together, and casting aside for the time the lofty language of polemics, they told in simple words the simple story of that Redeemer, who is alike the Redeemer of every kindred, and tongue, and nation. Hopkins was metaphysical in his tendencies, but he often successfully resisted those tendencies, and aimed to speak such words as fitted his audience.

After twenty-five years' ministry at Great Barrington, he was finally dismissed, amid ecclesiastical and political commotion. He admitted to his Church during his ministry one hundred and sixteen members: seventy-one by conversion, forty-five by letter.

His next settlement was at Newport, R. I. This town was then larger, and far more enterprising, than at the present day. It was the second commercial town of New-England, and contained eleven thousand inhabitants-half the then population of New-York. It had, indeed, in many departments, a more extensive foreign trade; the merchants of NewYork sending to Newport, as Newport now sends to them. A London mercantile house is said to have directed a letter to "New-York, near Newport." The town was noted for its fashion and luxury, as well as its refined society. Here Mr. Hopkins, though he could not sympathize with the "fashion and formalism prevalent," found many attractions. He felt more religious freedom, had access to valuable libraries, and found more Christian society. He addressed himself to the care of this Church with fresh zeal, and the results were soon visible in its gradual numerical increase, and other improvements. "This," it has been said, was the sunniest period of his ministerial life."

66

66

"Mr. Hopkins," says his biographer,

was an embodied refutation of the saying of Edmund Burke, that there is no heart so hard as that of a thorough-bred metaphysician." His heart abounded with love to all men, and overflowed with it to his friends. Love must be a ruling principle in every great and noble nature. God is love. Though Hopkins at times appeared stern, and wrapped up in the contemplation of truth, or, as a little child of his congregation expressed it, “lost in divinity,” he had an earnest love for individual souls. Toward the end of his life, he had in his study a complete list of the congregation in Newport, for whom he prayed daily by name.

He delighted in using the strongest expressions of love to the Supreme Being. One who was acquainted with his private habits, says :-"He would sometimes come from his study, where he had been engaged in the contemplation of the law made honorable, and magnified by the atonement, and would walk across his parlor floor for the space of two or three hours, pressing his hands together in the most ravishing delight, and seemingly in such an ecstasy as to be unable to contain himself."

The Canadian war had exerted a very discouraging influence upon his ministry in Great Barrington. He was doomed to suffer still more in his Newport labors by the Revolutionary War. Rhode Island was among the first of the colonies to resist British aggression, and flamed with a revolutionary spirit. In December, 1776, the British troops under Clinton and Percy took possession of Newport. Hopkins, with characteristic resolution, had held on till this time, while the Whigs had nearly all fled to the country. Some of his congregation who remained were imprisoned by the enemy; his parsonage was destroyed, and his church turned into a barrack and hospital; the pulpit, pews, and windows demolished, and the bell carried off. The British cut down the shade and fruit-trees for fuel, and destroyed the fences and wharves. When they finally left the town, in October, 1779, it was a complete wreck-sashes and glass almost entirely gone, and about four hundred and eighty buildings destroyed.

Hopkins returned the following spring; but his congregation did not recover from the shock, nor did the town itself. Its public spirit was gone, with the wealthiest