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very pressing were the duties of the new Archbishop, in reforming irregularities. The see of Dublin was also much agitated by religious dissensions, and there was great reason to apprehend that many of the Protestant clergy might be prevented, by intimidation, from the firm discharge of their duties. Under these circumstances, a general feeling of joy at the appointment of Archbishop Magee prevailed amongst the friends of the Protestant Church. The Archbishop felt the awful importance of the call made upon him on behalf of the Church. He sacrificed every consideration of his own ease and quiet. He naturally loved popularity, but he never would purchase it against his honest conviction of paramount duty;-which now urged him forward, in the exalted and conspicuous station in which he was placed, to support, by his high authority and example, the clergy, and all the friends of the established religion in his country, in a firm resistance to Roman Catholic encroachments. His resolution was accordingly taken, and he put himself forward for the defence of the Established Church, prepared to meet in his own person the assaults of its enemies.

In his primary Charge, his Grace expressed his condemnation of parts of the Roman Catholic system in strong terms; which, coming from such authority, produced among Roman Catholic bishops, clergy, and others of their persuasion, much offence. He was assailed with the utmost zeal of theological hostility, heightened by strong political feelings. His Charge, which excited so much animosity amongst Roman Catholic ecclesiastics, was against the errors of their church, not against any individual; but the answers consisted chiefly, or almost wholly, of personal abuse. Yet no attack, however bitter in spirit and unfounded in fact, could provoke him to speak with severity against any individual; for to the latest period of his life he exemplified the lessons which he had earnestly given to his children :-"You may censure principles when they are bad," he used to say, "and I trust you will always feel condemnation for bad principles, but do not judge and condemn other persons; each of us has to answer to our common Master and rightful Judge." The . most scurrilous abuse never ruffled his temper. On his daughter one day shewing him a vilifying attack upon him which she had read with much abhorrence and indignation; turning on her a look of the most tender benevolence, he said, "Does this vex you, dear?"-" Very much indeed, sir," she answered. "It would vex me," he replied, "if it were

And throwing by the book, without even the slightest appearance of anger, but with a fond parental look to his daughter, he proIceeded to his business and duties. Thus unshaken he steadfastly pursued his high course of duty. He had ever a deep conviction of the errors and corruption of the church of Rome. Among his papers found after his death, was one containing a petition which he had drawn up, when a fellow of the University, against establishing the Roman Catholic College of Maynooth; but he could not prevail on the board of senior fellows to join in the petition, and it fell to the ground. His Charge, however, did not contain more than may be found in the Articles and Homilies of our Church; and it had no expressions so severe as some in the latter. The stand which he made against the encroachments of the Roman Catholic church was of more importance, on account of the misconceptions of his sentiments, caused by his devoted friendship to Mr. Plunket.

In this Charge, the Archbishop, as in his former Charge at Raphoe, had a word of advice to offer to those who "boast of their orthodoxy,' which they exhibit only by "exclaiming against what is called new

light;" who "pronounce a person to be a Calvinist because he holds the doctrine of original sin, or of justification by faith;" and who profess much astonishment that any man can find in the Articles of the Church of England what the fanatics call "the vital truths" which they say are set forth there and in the inspired word. We will copy a passage.

"It will not do, to boast of our orthodoxy, and shew no fruit of right opinions in our practice; to content ourselves with exclaiming against what is called new light, without endeavouring to extend to our flocks the benefit of the old; to be fearful of an excess of zeal, without any alarm as to the consequence of indifference; and to reserve for the appearance of sanctity and separation from the world amongst our brethren, the indignation and censure, which should be bestowed upon levity of demeanour and habitual carelessness about spiritual concerns.


"The time is come when, if not from higher considerations, we must, from dence at least, bring these things to an end. The time is come when we must shew ourselves, in truth and in spirit, what we profess ourselves to be, the soldiers and servants of Christ; when we must manifest in our lives the superior excellence of that pure and reformed religion which we have undertaken to teach."

In his family Dr. Magee exhibited a beautiful example of domestic amiability. His affability was unreserved and attractive; and his manners were lively with his children, even to playfulness. But his serious thoughts were ever fixed on heaven; and the pious feeling which prevailed in his breast continually showed itself, and in the most engaging manner. He was also remarkable for considerate kindness to his servants, who were exceedingly attached to him. From the earliest period of his being master of a family, it was his invariable custom to assemble every member of it to prayers each morning and evening; and when he observed that a servant was absent, he inquired the reason; and if it was illness, he not only took care that every kind attention should be shown to the invalid, but visited the sick bed, imparted the best consolation, and when the servant again appeared in the domestic circle assembled for devotion, he in the most benevolent manner expressed his congratulation to the recipient of the divine mercy on being again enabled to join in the family prayers and praises to God.

In 1825, the Archbishop and others were examined, on the subject of the tenets of the Roman Catholic religion, before a Parliamentary committee. Particular interest was felt respecting His Grace's answers. Two or three peers, who were strongly opposed to him in politics, crossexamined him sharply; but no man was better qualified to come off successfully on such an occasion. Lord Holland asked him, "Does your Grace really think that there is any person capable of holding such a monstrous opinion, as that the Roman Catholic religion is idolatrous ?" The Archbishop calmly fixed his eyes on Lord Holland's countenance, and replied, " "My Lord, some have sworn to it." The force of the application was so striking that a very strong impression was immediately produced on all present; and Lord Holland resumed his seat, and continued silent during the remainder of the Archbishop's examination. Not long after his return to Dublin in 1825, the death of his beloved and admirable wife took place. She had been for thirty-six years his greatest earthly comfort, the partner of his cares, the sharer of his joys: and had aided him in dispensing his charities, in enforcing on their children his lessons of piety and virtue, and in promoting the religious education of the children of the poor. From the period of her death his liveliness departed; and even after time had softened the poignancy of his sorrow, his manner and expression were those only of resignation. He had fixed to attend her body to the grave; but as the time approached he felt unable to do so; and gave it up, saying, "The Lord has supported


me wonderfully but I feel that the trial might be too great for me; I might dishonour Him; I will not go."

He was an affectionate father, and his children were exceedingly attached to him; but even their attention could not supply the mournful void left in his heart by the loss of his long endeared partner. His children saw that while he meekly bowed to his heavenly Father's will, he could never be himself again. Several weeks passed before he was able to bring himself to see, or be seen by, any person except the members of his own family. He took his children on a tour in England in each of the two succeeding summers, for the restoration of their spirits; but his own seemed to have sunk into placid submission. "On the second of these tours," (says his daughter,) "he indulged us with a visit to Barley Wood, the seat of Mrs. Hannah More. There I witnessed a scene which I never can forget. After a short delay, Mrs. Hannah More received us. She had withdrawn from the general reception of visitors; but as soon as she learned who desired to see her, she admitted him and his family immediately. Here a trial awaited him for her first inquiry was after my mother's health. He was instantly overpowered. He seemed to struggle for a few moments: and then, pointing with his hand to our deep mourning dresses, with quivering lips and trembling voice, he said, 'My family are before you.' After a little time he recovered himself and entered into conversation with Mrs. Hannah More, to which we listened with the utmost interest. When we rose to depart, she conducted us into an inner room, where her works were arranged on shelves, and desired us to take what we wished for. On my expressing a request that she should select for us, she presented to me Hints to a young Princess.' Her companion whispered to her: and she immediately said, 'O yes, let him come in.' Soon, to our surprise, we saw my father's man entering the room; he came in cautiously and timidly: but she spoke kindly to him, and presented to him a small book in which she had written her name. He received it with reverential gratitude; and often read it with comfort and benefit. She desired my father to take us through her grounds; and when we were returning, her little carriage, made for her by her coachman, was on the lawn near the window of her room. My younger sisters rushed into the carriage alternately, to sit in it. I looked up and saw Mrs. Hannah More standing at her window, smiling at their eager enthusiasm. My father approached the window. She threw it up, and spreading her hands over his head, while he took off his hat, his white hair floating in the breeze, she prayed most fervently for the Redeemer's grace on him, and for the welfare of his family. She then said to him, My Lord, you will not depart without giving me your blessing;' which he did with the greatest fervency. We returned from the interesting visit; and as we were coming away, though her companion had, just at our departure, entreated her not to remain at the open window, she continued standing there until we could see her no more. My father wiped the tears from his cheeks. The scene had been exceedingly affecting. We continued our tour, and after some weeks returned to Dublin. My father exerted himself to the utmost to recover his spirits, for our sakes and on account of his many duties: but he was never the same man after my mother's death. All that we could do was done to supply the indescribable loss of such a mother."

With dejected spirits, the Archbishop felt the heavy pressure of his arduous duties more than before. Besides those which were most immediately connected with the superintendence of clerical duties and

the care of the churches in the diocese of Dublin, numerous charitable institutions required his attention. He personally attended to them all. To these duties, those of a privy counsellor were added; which, on some occasions, occupied much anxious time. The commissioners who were appointed to compile a book for the use of schools on a new system, submitted different attempts to him for his approbation; but after careful examination he rejected all. He could not allow the mutilation of God's word, which even then was attempted; and he would have been still more opposed to the later system.


After some years of declining health, (during which, however, he continued the most faithful attention to all his duties,) he remarked one day to his eldest daughter, in June, 1829, that he had a strange sleepy feeling in his left hand: but at the same time he looked as well as usual. This was the first symptom of a series of attacks of illness increasing in severity. She entreated him to consult a physician. But after this he appeared to be in as good health as for a considerable time before. left his family at his seat in the county of Wicklow, at the latter end of September, in order to attend the meetings of the Board of First Fruits at Dublin, in October. He consecrated a new church in a village near Dublin; but, when he was on his way to it in his carriage, he remarked to the Vicar-General, that he felt very ill, and feared that he should not be able to preach and go through his duties for that day. However, he did so, but with much difficulty. In a day or two afterwards, walking with one of his clergy, he felt so ill that he went into an apothecary's house, near which at the moment he was passing, and was cupped; and he returned home in a sedan chair. His son, who was then in Dublin, wrote to his eldest sister, who had long anxiously endeavoured to take the utmost care of her admirable father, informing her of his illness. She hastened to Dublin, and was surprised to meet him riding on horseback; so quickly had the violence of the attack passed off. But she was shocked at the change in his look. It appeared to her as if twenty years had been added to his life during his short absence.

He had several attacks and partial recoveries; still persisting, during the intervals, in attending to his various duties. His death was brought on by two complaints, a determination of blood to the head, and an affection of the heart. At one time, while his power of speech was impeded by his illness, expressing himself with difficulty and looking up to heaven with resignation, he remarked, "God is pleased to suit my chastening to my fault: in my younger days, if I felt pride, it was on account of my idea that I possessed a fluency of delivery."

To the last hour of his life his fine intellect continued sound, and his faith and piety seemed to become even more and more fervent. He marked a number of the Psalms of David, which he continually read with devout aspiration to Heaven: they were all penitential psalms. The whole closing part of his life, for months while his disease approached, was a continued time of prayer, with very little intermission. His faith continued to the last, of the most unwavering and undoubting kind; and he exhibited a beautiful example of Christian meekness, family affection, gratitude for every attention, unmurmuring submission to the will of God, and devotion to his Divine Redeemer, until his spirit departed to that Redeemer's keeping, on the 18th of August, 1831.

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To the Editor of the Christian Observer.

THERE is something in the aspect of self-denial that arrests attention and generally secures respect. It is natural and reasonable to inquire, In what does such a practice originate? Considering its rarity, and its opposition to the dictates of "flesh and blood," we may imagine that the self-denying man must, under all circumstances, be disinterested; and, if a sincere religionist, unearthly. Whether he go, as a martyr, to the stake; or perish, as a self-devoted victim, under the wheels of Juggernaut; or submit to certain severities of bodily or mental discipline, professedly "for conscience' sake," he lays a proportionate claim to present and posthumous distinction.

That the foregoing estimate of self-denial prevails to no small extent, the Romanist is sufficiently aware. It does not, it cannot escape him, that the principle in question is one of immense efficacy, and that it secures an influence to its possessor which he may turn to a valuable account. It was by self-denial that the Grecian and Roman commanders once won the hearts, and thus "wielded at will" the energies, of their respective countrymen. The Papist takes advantage of the fact; and, in order to secure that attachment to his own communion, which may subserve his secular designs, (whether he be a priest, or a layman,) he will acquiesce, to a considerable extent, in fasts, in the occasional sacrifice of certain temporal amusements, and even in bodily maceration and torture, especially in a rigorous observance of Lent, and more especially the Passion-week. To such practices he confidently appeals in proof of his boasted superiority to (what he calls) the self-indulgent Protestant. How far the Church of Rome, by the observance of such self-denial, has invested herself with an external sanctity, and thereby extended her dominion temporal and spiritual, is an inquiry on which my subject does not call on me to enter.

Yet I cannot overlook, however painfully I may notice, that resemblance to the Papist, which is now so remarkably borne by some among us, who appear to have travelled almost to the Vatican for their model; and who, to a degree hitherto unknown to the most sincere Protestants, have zealously endeavoured to enforce the observance of every fast maintained by the deluded Romanist. Friday is with them a day to be invariably kept sacred, as one of self-mortification; and, it seems, is to be regarded with even more reverence and affection than the Lord's Day. For on the latter they would admit certain secular diversions, whereas on the former we are to be clad in the most sombre suit of self-denial. Again the Tractarians tell us (and in no spirit of diffidence,) that they only are true to the Anglican Church in the observance of her appointed fasts; and consequently they charge others with a certain unfaithfulness to her cause, if not with that indulgence of appetite which is inconsistent with our Christian calling,

While occupied with these extraordinary circumstances of our beloved Church, I have not unfrequently asked, With which of the conflicting parties does the truth lie? (not that I myself have been infested with any doubts upon the point,) and, Is there not a species of self-denial which is compatible with self-indulgence? The question may at first appear to involve a contradiction; for how can a man deny himself, and at the same time indulge himself? Yet this may be; and apart from all

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