less refined taste generally thought pleasing, agree able, and mirth-inspiring-this seems to be the standard of mental superiority which the prevailing taste of the age would fain erect. Many people now-a-days are ashamed to be found admiring what our fathers admired before us. They look for something new and rare-something different, at all events, from what we have in books, in music, in poetry, in address, in manners, &c. This impatience and scorn of what we have, this yearning, this longing desire after something better, seems to be the great touchstone now of the superior mind and birth, understanding and judgment. Where the exquisitely fastidious taste will end it is hard to say. It is like a fabric wrought up into such fineness and extreme tenacity that it will require more than ordinary optics to see it at all; and I fear, if our taste goes on refining and refining at the rate it has done amongst all classes, that mere sublunary and vulgar terrestrial things will not answer us at all. It must be something more than the coarse productions of man that will be required to meet the spirit of the times. We must get something ethereal-the nectar and ambrosia of the gods. For even what we now admire we shall soon grow dissatisfied with, and throw aside as common-place and out of date. Now, it appears to me that the great delusion under which thousands of the present day labour is that this fastidiousness, this exquisite refinement of taste, this hardness to be pleased, this quickness in detecting blemishes and defects is a mark of superior powers of discernment and understanding. Bat so far is this from being the case that I Lesitate not to affirm that it is, on the contrary, a proof of a morbid and not of a vigorous and healthful state of the mind. The fastidious taste is most generally found to be the result and offspring of sloth and sensual indulgence and pampered appetite. It has no more merit than the gorged epicure, who, after feeding on dainties, despises plain and wholesome food. The fastidious taste is invariably found to prevail most amongst the idle, vicious, self-indulgent, the inert in mind and body. The fastidious taste is decidedly an indication of a morbid, unhealthy state of the moral system; and, if you want to discover who are they, for the most part, of the most fastidious and exquisitely refined taste, or, in other words, who are they that are "the hardest to be pleased," you shall find them amongst the most systematically voluptuous and self-indulgent of men; and, in truth, the fastidious taste should rather be regarded as a penalty inficted than as an accomplishment or a gift; for it is quite plain to ordinary apprehension that there could not be a greater drawback upon enjoyment than a fastidious taste-a difficulty, or rather impossibility, to be pleased with anything. And it is quite manifest that fastidiousness of taste might be carried to such an extreme as to poison every Source of enjoyment. Every thing here would by reason of it appear coarse and repellent and disgusting. A more dreadful punishment than this, imagination could scarcely conceive. This fastidious taste we commonly find to be a penalty attending a self-indulgent, vicious, voluptuous life. Whereas, on the other hand, to be saved from a fastidious taste is a happiness, and an inseparable attendant on a virtuous course of conduct. O, he who best consulted for his happiness even in this

life would desire few things more earnestly than entire freedom from fastidiousness, an easiness to be pleased. What, indeed, could give a much higher idea of happiness than one's looking on all objects now with the same loveliness and freshness of feeling with which he looked upon them in the buoyancy of his early days? What greater happiness could we conceive of them than to enjoy things with the same relish that we did then? What could so multiply the sources of enjoyment within a man's self as this? Who is more to be envied than he whose bodily organs, whose outward senses, whose nerves are in such a healthy state that all objects in nature afford him pure refined enjoyment; who needs but" the earth, the air, the common sky," and the simplest food, to make him realize the best, because the purest happiness? He inhales pleasure from a hundred objects from which the fastidious, the sated turn away in disgust. O, were one permitted to make choice of a quality which would more than almost any other add to his earthly happiness, he would, were he wise, choose the plain, the unfastidious taste, the easiness to be pleased, which is accounted by many so unfashionable, the disposition to be satisfied with the plainest things, and to look upon all objects with the same pleasure and admiration and freshness of feeling which characterized the days of his boyhood: "Who would not wish to be a boy again"*?

And that this is in fact one of the attendants upon a virtuous and religious course of conduct experience proves. I believe it will be found (and it is matter for deep reflection) that, in proportion to the advances a man makes in the divine life, in true godliness, in the same degree will his taste grow simple and pure, and (so to speak) unfastidious; in the same degree will his capacity for pure enjoyment and the pleasure which he derives from the common bounties of Providence be augmented. You rarely ever find a truly pious man a man of a fastidious taste. Christianity is eminently conducive to the formation of a plain simple taste. It was manifestly such a taste our Lord in his human nature possessed. Nothing recorded of him, notwithstanding all his sensibility and tenderness, gives the remotest idea of any thing like fastidiousness of taste or hardness to be pleased. It was the plainest food he provided: great plainness and moderation in the use of food distinguished him. His advice to his disciples, when he sent them on their mission, was to take whatever was set before them, to be satisfied with and thankful for the simplest fare. The godly man is, as a general rule, always noted for the simplicity of his taste. He dislikes luxury and refinement. Whatever may have been his taste previously, a plainness and simplicity mark him ever after. He is satisfied with plain things. He is thankful for all that God bestows on him. He sees something to like and to admire in all God's gifts and blessings. It would be easy to adduce proofs in support of this. If it were necessary to quote examples, many would occur to all. I would just allude to one, because universally known as a man of the most refined and cultivated mind and uncommon sensibilities-the poet Cowper, "the Christian

* There is something inexpressibly mournful in this lanthat wrote it.

guage when we connect it with the miserable course of him

poet." The simplicity of his taste was remarkable: the plainest food was his choice, the simplest pleasures. Few could have had much less in the way of earthly enjoyments, according to human estimation, than himself; the secluded village residence, the small nook of a garden, the little green-house for study, the country walk, a scanty library, and little or no society, except of that pious and exemplary woman*, who watched over him with a maternal tenderness. And yet out of the fulness of a heart glowing with gratitude he exclaimed,

"Had I my choice of sublunary good,

What could I wish that I possess not here ?"

And were these words of course, or indited "to serve the purpose of poetic pomp"? Ah! no: he felt, he deeply, sincerely felt what he uttered. He felt it in his in most soul. And why? Because he was a good man, “a man of God," and therefore a stranger to that fastidious taste which is found in a corrupt, debauched world. He had that simplicity of taste and that capacity for pure enjoyment, that readiness, that easiness to be pleased which God gives, as I believe, as a reward of the virtuous and godly life. The remark also made by a keen observer of life, of another, whose name is alike eminent for genius, piety, and philanthropy, was, "He is the easiest man to be pleased and amused that I have met." And why was this but because he had that fine healthy tone of feeling which constitutes the great essential to pure enjoyment, and which is the sure concomitant of piety? Indeed this is perhaps the true secret of much of the happiness of religion. There has been often a good deal inconsiderately and unwisely said on the happiness which religion brings. And it is reasoned as if the pleasure found in the society of religious persons-agreeable, accomplished, wellmannered, well-informed, communicative, religious persons, more than compensated for the pleasure foregone in giving up worldly society. This may be true to a certain extent. But I am persuaded that the proper ground on which to rest the point of religion being conducive to happiness is different from this, viz., that one invariable consequence of religion (or of one becoming truly religious) is a gradual restoration of the whole moral constitution to a state of perfect healthiness; and the necessary result of this perfect sanity, this healthy, moral tone, is an enlarged capacity for pure enjoyment. Pleasure is now derived from a hundred objects that were insipid before, from all the works of God, from the beauties of natural scenery, from the garniture of flowerst, from the songs of birds, as well as from all that is excellent in the works of art, and in the productions of human industry. In fact, this follows in the same way as the effect follows from a restoration to bodily health, which is a greater capacity for or capability of physical enjoyment. This I believe to be the great secret of religious happiness, and not that which is too often mistakenly assigned as such. This seems to me to be implied in David's glowing description of the happy results, both mental and physical, which followed the restoration of the soul to its Maker, when he says, "Who forgiveth all thy sin, who healeth all the impurity,

* Mrs. Unwin.

+ Wilberforce.

This pure taste distinguished our Lord's human nature: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow :" "Consider the ravens, which neither have storehouse nor barn."

who maketh thee young and lusty as an eagle;" for indeed no figure could more strongly convey the idea of a fine, vigorous, healthy tone of feeling, which is the great constituent of pure enjoyment, than that which he has employed in this glorious burst o frapturous feeling.

Poetry.

SONNET ON MATT. VI. 19-21. (For the Church of England Magazine.) O CHILD of earth, hoard not thy gold; Nor goodly vestments lay in store: Treasures there are, of worth far more : Seek them-their value is untold; For moth and rust corrupt and turn The garment rich-the golden urn; And thieves break through, and take away Thy hoarded lumps of glittering clay. Let works of faith and love secure Heaps high in heaven, that will endure; Nor moth nor cankering rust 'twill feel: Thieves cannot there break through and steal. Then to that treasure, soul, aspire:

Thy treasure there, there be thy heart's desire. S. S.

Miscellaneous.

THE DYING PUBLICAN.I once was called to

visit a dying man. He gave me the following history of himself: "I was in business in the town of by which I made a little money. I was also a church with a family. In an evil hour I was induced to take member, a sabbath-school teacher, and a married man up a public-house, in spite of the remonstrances of my fellow-teachers, who would no longer allow me to remain in the sabbath school. I tried to keep up the forms of religion in my house: I had family worship night and morning. I was soon obliged to give that up. How could I worship God with people running in and out at all hours-some singing in one room, some swearing in another? Were it even possible, it seemed base hypocrisy. And then what miserable wretches gathered round me! while all my respectable acO those sights of dissipated quaintances shunned me. tradesmen-drunken mothers and wives, brothers and could not stand it: I became miserable: I was terri sisters, who were the disgrace of their families! I fied for myself, for my wife and children: I felt that I could not expect God's blessing, which maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow to it.' 'By God's grace,' I said, 'I shall sin no more! let me die a pious beg gar, rather than live a rich publican.' So I sold all I had, paid every debt, and, with a few shillings, came here, casting myself and family on God's providence. I have been wonderfully supported and provided for. My family are doing well, and finding employment. I am now dying. I have more peace than I ever had in the whisky-shop. Now, sir," he added earnestly,

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my request to you as a dying man is this-as long as you live, and whenever you have the opportunity, O warn professing Christians against the snare and temp tation to evil in keeping a public-house!" I promised him to do so, and in these tracts I have so far kept my promise.-Tract for Working Classes.

London: Published for the Proprietors, by JOHN HUGHES, 12, Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be

procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country,

PRINTED BY ROGERSON AND TUKPOrd, 246, STRAND, LONDON,

It is worth while observing on how many grounds the scriptures inculcate a spirit of kind berality. They set before us the example of God our heavenly Father, "who maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust" (Matt. v. 45). They exhibit the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, "though he was rich, yet for our sake became poor," and left us a pattern of love to our No. 944

very enemies. They remind us that we are "members one of another," and that therefore with such connexion we should care one for the other. They also put before us the actual advantage to ourselves when we "look not each man on his own things," but are ready to "bear one another's burdens."

Perhaps, as the Jewish dispensation embraced more prominently temporal promises, this advantage might the rather be looked for then than That under the law it was the surest way to

now.

governors over all the earth, not by thyself, but by Peter, thy vicar." And in another place the same writer states that "Paul and the other apostles might not preach in the church committed unto Peter, but with Peter's licence; for of Christ they had only ability, but of Peter they received authority. If all were of like power, as protestants allege, unity could not be maintained. It has therefore been ordained, by the institution of Christ himself, that matters pertaining to faith and religion (at least, such as are of importance) shall be referred to that one prince of pastors, who sits in the chair of Peter. And this has always been done and observed from the apostles' times to our days. This has preserved unity in the catholic church; and the neglect of this supremacy has led to endless divisions among protestants.

Another reason may be stated why the supremacy of the pope is so much opposed in this realm. It has been confidently asserted that the see of Rome is hostile to civil and religious liberty. Now, in reply to this calumny, I feel it necessary to do more than to quote the declaration of the most reverend Paul Cullen, at a recent public meeting in Dublin: "Wherever catholicity," said his grace, "prevailed, there civil liberty existed; and, wherever catholicity did not prevail, there slavery is to be found. So it has been for ages; and the pope, as well as the bishops, are the true friends of civil and religious liberty." Thus I dispose of that accusationt.

As to the alleged tyrannical and cruel exercise of this power during the reign of queen Mary, when so many protestants suffered death for their religion, I beg to say that it is very unjust to state that those dreadful scenes were enacted either directly or indirectly by the catholic hierarchy. The civil power alone was to blame. The catholic clergy were most anxious to prevent those misguided persons, who denied the catholic faith,

De potest. apost., art. 2 et 6.

†The learned counsel, being a popish layman, and, consequently, not permitted to examine and judge for himself, bat being bound to believe implicitly whatever his church by the mouth of her accredited ministers teaches, supposes, of course, that Dr. Cullen states nothing but the truth. Let us, however, mark what a priest, well acquainted with the system of pepery, has recently communicated. "Jesuitical popery," he says, "makes use of yet another stratagem little dreamed of by protestants. Previous to the Council of Trent, popery, with a few trifling exceptione was one and the same all over the world; but no sooner did jesuitism come to its assistance than this state of things was changed. Popery, since that epoch, has sanctioned double doctrine, double morals, double practice-one to be adopted at home, and the other abroad. In protestant countries she upholds liberty of conscience, and calls it just and holy, and even excites the people to rebellion in order to obtain it. It is well known that the political inspiration of the too famous Daniel O'Connell proceeded from Rome, and that he is almost canonized at Rome; but this same liberty of conscience which she claims abroad she denies to those from whom she has herself obtained it. The liberty of conscience which she esteems holy in England is heretical and infidel in Italy. The reading of the bible is tolerated, and sometimes even enjoined, in protestant countries, but only to prove to sincere protestants that their controversial writers are liars; but in (Roman) catholic countries, in Rome, the possession of a bible may condemn you to the Inquisition. Roman-catholic worship itself is modified by the same deceitful policy in a protestant country; it is less superstitious, and more evangelical, than in Rome" (L. Desanctis, DD., formerly curé at Rome, professor of theology, official censor of the theological academy in the Roman university, examiner to the Roman inquisition, &c., &c.).

in

from suffering death. I can prove this by an authority which protestants cannot well reject. John Fox, in his "Acts and Monuments,' forms us that that great and good and fearless friar, Alphonsus de Castro, when preaching before queen Mary and her court, denounced the cruelty of putting men to death on account of their religion. In this he ought to be considered as giving utterance to the sentiments of the catholic church. "When these six persons aforesaid," writes Fox, respecting some heretics who had been condemned to death, were cast upon Saturday the 9th of February, upon Sunday following, which was the 10th of February, the said Alphonsus, a gray friar, preached before the king (Philip, the queen's husband), in which sermon he did earnestly inveigh against the bishops for burning of men, saying plainly that they learned it not in scripture to burn any for his conscience; but the contrary, that they should live, and be converted with many other things more, to the same purport"*.

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It would have been more correct if Fox had stated that this good friar had inveighed against, not the bishops, but the civil or secular power; for it was the act of Mary which he denounced as opposed to the wishes of the catholic hierarchy or church; and, as Dr. Doyle rightly stated, in a late sermon at St. George's, "it is the same church now as on the day when De Castro defended it." Ours a persecuting church! Let me read to you a passage from a sermon preached not long ago by his eminence, and then judge whether it breathes persecution against even his bitterest enemies. "It may seem," said this meek, humble, and much calumniated cardinal-"It may seem to you who are not accustomed to the way in which the catholic church does her work, that she has not done enough, and might be doing more than she has done, to resist our opponents; but know well that the strength of the catholic church is in suffering with resignation, in enduring all that is inflicted on her, in praying always, praying daily, particularly for those who calumniate her. We know that this is the true way to succeed; and therefore think not it is weakness when we disdain to meet our enemies with countermeetings and declarations and resolutions and addresses. These are not the means which the church of God employs. On the contrary, she rejoices more and more, that it has pleased God to give you, so soon after becoming members of his church, the opportunity of really knowing and understanding the spirit of the church, and of seeing how perfectly she comes up to the standard which our Saviour plainly gave when he told his followers that like him they shall be reviled, and like him be brought before the judges of this world, and be condemed, and should suffer every species of indignity". Let me also give you a * Fox's Acts and Monuments, vol. vi., p. 704. Edit. 1846. † Sermon at St. Edmund's popish chapel, Herts, Feb., 1851. "The study of Bossuet, Wiseman, or others, whose writings are intended to influence protestants, affords no true idea of papal doctrine: that, too, must be learnt at Rome. The church of Rome has two systems of doctrine-the one official, the other real. The skilful theologians, who write in order to attract protestants over to the Romanist church, put forward her official doctrine, and dissimulate or deny her real. But go to Rome, and take notice there whether the catholicism taught by Wiseman, Bossuet, and others, be the catholicism of the pope" (L, Desanctis, D.D.).