valuable as a distinct exposition, and faithful application of Divine truth-this is, for the most impartial hearer, difficult.

But by their fruits ye shall know them. The true test of a sermon is the strength and duration of the impression made by it. The preaching which appeals exclusively to our feelings, or to our reason, which only strongly excites by high wrought pictures, or merely charms by intellectual beauties, is not likely to leave behind it a blessing.

The secret of eloquence is earnestness. To convince others of any truth, we must feel it deeply ourselves, and feel also a strong desire to make them realize it. A fine voice, an easy and fluent diction, a graceful and impressive manner, are some of the requisites of oratory, but not all; Christian eloquence is something of a deeper nature, it comes from the heart, and must reach the heart. It persuades men in spite of themselves. It pierces through a host of doubts and prejudices, attacks the spirit in its fortress of pride, and compels it to yield itself, rescue or no rescue, to the resistless power of truth.

Every power, and this more than all, is strongly influenced by the nature of the cause in which it is exerted. Men may be ingenuous, powerful, often persuasive in the defence of error; but eloquence, in its highest sense and degree, can only be displayed in behalf of truth, and of sacred truth. For then it is indeed the spirit of God, speaking by a human voice, one of the few notes of celestial harmony to which our nature, ruined as it is, can still respond. The volume before us is from one upon whom this gift has been bestowed in no ordinary degree, and in whom it has been entirely consecrated to this high aim. Seldom has the religion of Christ been made known from lips more eloquent, seldom have the glad tidings of salvation and the invitations of the gospel been presented in a more simple, correct, affectionate manner. Ephemeral as the results of popular preaching are generally esteemed, we cannot but hope and believe that the zealous and laborious ministry of this messenger of truth has left its seal upon the heart of many.

The subjects treated of in this volume are important in themselves, and are handled with great power. We need not speak of them in detail, nor will we attempt to discuss their merit as literary compositions, for as such the author evidently did not intend that they should be considered. The discourses of such a preacher must lose some of their attractions when divested of the circumstances which attended their delivery. In reading them, those who have heard them from the pulpit cannot but miss the animated gesture, the deep, solemn tones which kept the crowded assembly in breathless silence, yet they cannot lose the earnest spirit of exhortation and of entreaty, the love, and the zeal, not without knowledge, which made the saint and the sinner alike feel that it was good for them to be there. Without the aids of time and place, they are still plain, simple, forcible appeals to the heart of man, in behalf of his Creator.

The substance of them is contained in these words of the Apostle: "We pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." That which is purely and practically religious, is void of interest to a large proportion of the reading public. Many therefore will not deem them either beautiful or striking; none can say that they are not faithful and true.

The great principles upon which Mr. Kirk dwells in these, and in all his sermons, are the fundamental truths of the Christian religion, unadorned by mysticism or sentimentalism, unperverted by sectarian views. The spirit he inculcates, is the missionary spirit, that active love to God and man which induces Christians to labor to promote the glory of the one, and the greatest good of the other, that love which prompted the command of the Saviour: "Go ye into all the world, and preach my gospel to every creature.”

8. The Countess Ida. A Tale of Berlin. By the Author of Norman Leslie, etc. New York: 1840. Harper and Brothers. Two vols. 12mo. pp. 270 and 250.

FICTION is now one of the widest channels of moral instruction; for every single reader of any work purely didactic, a popular story counts its hundreds, and although we are far from regarding this as the best form of inculcating important truths, we acknowledge the necessity of so using it, in order to resist the floods of falsehood and corruption which sweep in through the same inlet. The instance before us is one in which we think it was well to make use of it; in no other way could the absurdity of the barbarous and unchristian practice of duelling be so clearly exposed, or the practice itself so efficiently assailed, as it is in this tale of the Countess Ida. The author has shown no ordinary degree of moral courage, in thus venturing to attack one of society's deepest rooted prejudices, in defiance of the ridicule to which it must expose him, and no common talent in the execution of his purpose-he has drawn a real hero, notwithstanding that he is deficient in the first requisite of the character, as the world counts heroism. A single consistent principleunwavering firmness in refusing to do what conscience condemnscarries this hero triumphantly through all the trials, to which insults, scorn, poverty, persecution, and false accusation can subject him, and secures to him respect and sympathy under every imputation which hatred and malice contrive to cast upon him. We plead guilty, however, to the charge of having some of the common prejudices of the world, which conscience now calls up-we did rejoice when our hero had an opportunity at Paris of facing dangers more appalling even than meeting an enemy in single combat, and met them in a manner to silence every suspicion of want of courage-this is a natural

feeling; we cannot entirely divest ourselves of it, and we are never fully satisfied with any man's claim to heroism, until he has proved it by the strongest test-voluntary exposure to death in a good cause. We do not give an analysis of this book, because it is too well known to our readers to make that desirable; but we can assure any one who may not yet have read it, that he would do well to take it in hand, forthwith, and that he will find some three or four hours most pleasantly and profitably spent upon it. As a tale it is well told, the plot is well laid, and well developed, and the interest is sustained throughout; the language is pure, the sentiment elevated, and the moral lesson inculcated important and instructive-as a work of fiction, altogether, it is one of the most agreeable and instructive of the times.

9. Theory of Legislation, by Jeremy Bentham, translated from the French of Etienne Dumont. By R. HILDRETH, author of Banks, Banking, and Paper Currencies, etc., etc. Vol. I. Principles of Legislation-Principles of the Civil Code. Vol. II. Principles of the Penal Code. Boston: 1840. Weeks, Jordan, & Co. 12mo. pp. 276-268.

To need double translation first into a foreign language, and then back into his own before he could be read or understood by his fellow countrymen, is, we suspect, the singular fate among authors of Jeremy Bentham, substantia singularis. Yet such, with him and his writings, has been the simple fact. His own original speculations were unread, if not unreadable, in English; translated into French, by his household friend and admirer, Dumont, they became a familiar theme to the continental public, while yet a mystery at home - again to be re-translated into their original tongue, with all the advantages of double distillation under ordinary circumstances, the eventual product would not be likely to have gained much from such compound process. With Bentham, however, it has been otherwise; and to his first translator his speculations are indebted for much of their popularity, and the whole, it would seem, of their intelligibility and scientific order. Such dubious parentage, however, naturally awakens some interest as to the circumstances that led to it. Dumont, it seems, was a political refugee from his native city, Geneva; driven from his own country by persecution, he first sought a genial home in St. Petersburg, but eventually in London, under the patronage of the Lansdowne family. There he first made Bentham's acquaintance, soon became his friend and disciple, and eventually the domesticated guardian of his fame, at least, and his papers. He was thus permitted to examine Bentham's manuscript treatises rudis indigestaque moles, and

discovering the value of the hidden treasure in spite of the uncouth casket, proceeded zealously to the task upon extorted leave of arranging, condensing, filling out, compiling, and eventually translating it into the French language, these scattered leaves of his Sybilline oracle. Such was the origin of the successive French works, of which the present was the earliest, which spread through continental Europe the fame of Bentham as a master mind in political science, and which, re-translated, have awakened the question in his own country, under the more bitter form of personal and party politics. Of this result, in our country, there can be no danger; and therefore we hail this translation of Mr. Hildreth with a pleasure unqualified by any fear of consequences. We, who have nothing among us, whether of good or evil, that stands on the ground of ancient reverence- neither cherished abuses nor antiquated errors in which a doubtful balance must be struck between the evil of innovation and the good of reformation — we Americans can have nothing to dread from a voice like the present, that summons them in the name of reason to the bar of utility. Whatever reverence our laws have, they have upon this showing; so that the reasoner who becomes their accuser, is but enabling them to produce, upon their trial, the title-deeds by which alone they pretend to hold possession. Were we, indeed, Englishmen, on the other hand, we should scruple at such summary process, and be inclined to hold on to many an ancient buttress built in the olden time, and take for granted that it propped up some material part of the edifice, rather than permit this modern Archimedes to undermine in order that he might try its strength, or pull it down in order that he might re-construct it on more scientific principles. An old government, it is true, like an old mansion, will be apt to accumulate in it what may rightly be termed lumber, and to have here and there a dark hole or corner in which dirt accumulates notwithstanding all which, it is, we think, apt to be a more quiet and comfortable residence, especially to those long accustomed to it, than a more tasteful building - and even a new occupant will, if he be wise, think twice before he tumble all things "topsy-turvy" for the sake of untried alterations. These scruples, however, belong not, as already said, to America. As for us, we have lashed our political rudder on that "tack," and must bide the billows it brings upon us of popular expediency. We give up to the question, therefore, every arraigned culprit among our civil institutions only let him have fair trial, and stand or fall according as "the greatest good of the greatest number," the modern Minos, shall determine. But there is another point on which we do not yield, but are and must be at open war with Bentham and the Benthamese philosophy, whether sheltered under the name of its first or second parent, or any of their prolific offspring — we mean the application of his principle of "utility" to moral reasoning and ethical duties. As a political reasoner, Bentham is as sharp

sighted and sagacious as he is bold; this we acknowledge- carrying out fearlessly, and in general soundly, the infinite ramifications of the branches of man's civil life, as they spring from the one sole root of political society- EXPEDIENCY. But when, stepping beyond this line, he appears as the moral teacher of our race, and proceeds to demonstrate the present expediency of an action as the sole ground of duty to the individual himself, or to measure the line of that duty by man's microscopic vision of its visible results, then we must confess we hold Bentham and his opinions alike in high disdain, and declare against them war, irreconcilable war. Moral science and Benthamism cannot both stand-one or other to the block. If duty be but another name for expediency, then may we shut up our ethical works, and even the precepts of the Gospel may be dispensed with-there is then no other virtue than prudence no other test of it than its visible consequences—and the good man and the profitable machine are placed on the same level of merit and desert or rather there is no such thing as "merit." This word " "merit," 66 Bentham, says can only lead to passion and error. It is effects good or bad, which we alone ought to consider." So much for Bentham's one-sided philosophy of man's nature -80 much for the man with the leathern apron applying his rude "last,' which sufficed well enough for the lower parts of the structure, to measure the God-like lineaments which speak for the man as originally made in the "image of Him who created him," and who even now, in this work-day world of expediency, has not yet lost "all his original brightness." But we must take ampler space and a more appropriate time for this braving of Bentham and his opinions on moral science; suffice it for the present to say, that it stands wholly apart from our judgment of him in legislation, though even here his conclusions are often false, through the imperfection of his philosophy of human nature. Laws fitted for man without a conscience, will not always suit the man who has a conscience. Among the marked instances of this, is Section II. of Chapter V. upon Divorces-under the question, For what time the marriage contract is to be formed. Bentham's decision here flies in the face of both law and gospel. It is, that the marriage contract should be "dissoluble at the pleasure of the parties." Now we hold him to be not only a bold, but a most unwise reasoner, who thus ventures to shake, that he may try the strength of this fundamental pillar of society- the inviolability of the marriage contract- and we trust that, on this point, at least, we Americans shall not learn the Benthamese language, nor ever hear it spoken in our halls of legislation. Amid all our attacks on monopoly, let us reverence at least that

"Sole propriety in paradise, Of all things common else;"

nor be willing to take from the lips of a Jacobin and a celibate, the