social and domestic connexions, and taking all the measures that are requisite for our establishment and welfare in the world. In this part of our lives it is that we become parents, and acquire new sensations peculiar to that state, which is productive of the purest delights in nature, and also of the most extreme cares, inquietudes, and afflictions, that the human breast can know.

Parental pleasures with me have been confined, in one instance, to the short date of infancy, and, in the other, to almost as transient a duration; having parted from my only surviving child, for a very distant country, at the early age of fifteen, and recently lost him at that of twenty-two. Here I shall be readily indulged in some effusions of paternal regard to his memory, by those parents who experience, at the present season, the delightful gratification of receiving their children from school, or mourn like me the loss of one in whom their happiest hopes on earth were centered; governed by every principle of virtue, blessed with the warmest heart and the most enlightened mind, possessed of some advantages of person, and the distinction of an honourable and lucrative appointment. It is a season that never fails to carry back my mind to the remembrance of those joyous days, when the dear youth, of whose death I have just commemorated the second anniversary, came home at his Christmas vacations, to partake those little festive pleasures which maternal fondness prepared for his return. In my manner of keeping Christmas at that time, I pursued as far as my circumstances would admit, and indeed somewhat beyond my proper ability, the beneficent and hospitable customs of former days, which, in my present situation, it is not in my power to continue; but I am not unmindful of the goodness of Providence in the comforts I am yet allowed to possess, which I am very conscious are still more than I could hope for upon any plea of desert. It is with little or no regret that I look back upon the gay-spent festive nights which the Poet alludes to, or the discontinuance of those social entertainments, which I have heretofore given and received: although far from any degree of excess, they were often purchased at

the expence of some indiscretion and embarrassment; I therefore very willingly relinquish them; but I must lament that I have not the means of continuing to bestow any substantial comforts on those who can make no return; and, though they have been in some instances bestowed on the undeserving and unthankful, they were of such a nature as to bring me an immediate reward, in the persua sion that I had benefited my fellowcreatures, to the full extent of my power, and thereby obtained the approbation of Heaven, and, consequently, that of my own heart, in having thus far executed the trust reposed in me, of dispensing to others the actual means I possessed, of relieving their necessities, and promoting their welfare, although it might eventually accelerate the deprivations I have since experienced. With my departed son I have lost the expectation of having those means restored; but from his dutiful and, alas! fatal exertions for his beloved parents, in a climate destructive to the health of Europeans, we derive, under Providence, the blessing of what, we trust, will prove a competent support for our remaining days; which, however inadequate to his affectionate solici tude and purposes, we receive with peculiar gratification through the medium of so dear a hand; and every comfort it may afford us will be augmented by the consideration that for him it has obtained a reward infinitely greater, than even the delight and satisfaction he might have had in conveying to us, or partaking with us, all the acquisitions he ever hoped to gain. It is probable that I shall be considered, by some Readers, as having made too long a digression from my proper subject, by introducing a private personal concern; but it will, I am sure, be allowed that there is none which could more naturally claim peculiar notice, in a retrospect of time, than one so recent and so deeply interesting to the heart of a tender and afflicted parent; on this ground I rest my apology, to those who may conceive it requires one; in particular to young persons who will meet, with sentiments of a very different cast, the pleasurable amusements of this festive season; and may many years elapse, ere any mournful occasion shall call them away

away from the innocent and cheerful participation of such pleasures! To those who are advanced to the latter part of life, the enjoyment of every scene of festivity must be connected with a pensive remembrance of many a deceased friend, more especially of those dear relatives, with whom they bave partaken of similar pleasures in the years that are gone; and every revolution of the seasons, in particular the present, must call forth such a retrospect as will impress the consideration of a future world, to which they are removed, will in a great measure detach us from that which we are soon to leave, and lead us to regard, with superior interest, every event and every circumstance that may remind us of the state at which we are so nearly arrived: thus are we progressively induced, by the order of Providence, to the important duty of “setting our affections" where we are so strictly enjoined by the highest authority to place them.

To revert to the subject of the lines I have prefixed, and bring it to its proper conclusion. Without supposing those, who make the application to themselves, to have been peculiarly ambitious in their "dreams of greatness," or views of advancement in the world; peculiarly unfounded in their "hopes of happiness;" uncommonly aspiring in their “longings after fame," or desire of distinction; incessantly filled with "restless cares," or exhausted by immoderate exertions in "those bustling days,” which were passed in the toils of business, or conscious of dissolute excess in their "gay-spent festive nights;" or that "those veering thoughts," which were "lost between good and ill," had carried them to any gross or fatal deviations into error or misconduct; without supposing their faults or follies to have been to such an extent; there are few, or perhaps none, who have passed their "flowering spring," their "summer's ardent strength," their “sober autumn faded into age," and are arrived at the winter of their days, which "comes at last to shut the scene," can behold the Poet's picture of man's life, without observing in it several features of their own very accurately drawn, and find abundant cause to admire the colouring and correctness with which he has finished

this moral portrait, and the just and striking effect which he has given it; and also to concur in the artist's design, which he has expressed and shewn to be, that the reflecting powers of the beholder shall present, this deduction to his mind, and leave on it this impressive truth - That all those views of advancement, hopes of happiness, desires of distinction, anxious cares and exertions, social pleasures, variable thoughts, and successive pursuits, which have “shared his life," and are now passed away, have vanished like a dream, and left no traces of real enjoyment or permanent good, but what have been derived, in a greater or less degree, from the principle and practice of virtue; which, in every stage of his existence here, and under all events, is his never-failing friend, as well as his certain guide to happiness hereafter; respecting which we are instructed to believe that, though infinitely above our conception, and beyond our imperfect service, it will be finally adjusted to the degree of virtue we have actually maintained; and that on this ground must ultimately rest our claim to the mercy and reliance on the merits of our Redeemer.

What, it may be asked then, has He done for the world, if salvation is thus dependent on our own conduct, and what is the extent of our redemption? The answer to this inquiry must involve the primary consideration of the fall of man, and the consequent depravity of his nature; we know it is expressly declared, that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord;" but we also know that human virtue, in the best of men, is so defective, that in the sight of God shall no man living be justified, and that nothing but the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the promised influence of the Holy Spirit, can ever enable us to observe the terms prescribed, to subdue, in any respect, our evil habits, to forsake our sins, and attain that measure of holiness or virtue which will render us acceptable to God; and nothing but the mysterious atonement, the merits, and mediation of his blessed and adorable Son, can prevail to restore us to his favour, after repeated transgressions, to induce Him to pardon the offences which, not merely from in

firmity,

C

(Remarks, &c. concluded from p. 7.) HAPTER VIII. Dr. Milner proceeds: "It is the condition of all mortal things to be subject to change; hence human arts, like the human body, when they have attained their perfection, tend towards a decline. This was the case with that singular invention of human genius and piety, Pointed Architecture. Its rise, progress, and decline, occupy little more than four centuries in the chronology of the world." This decline the Doctor instances in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, King's College Chapel, Cambridge, and Henry's Chapel, Westminster. "The ar

chitects of these admired erections, Bishop Close, Sir Reginald Bray, &c. displayed more art and more professional science than their predecessors had done; but this they did at the expence of the characteristical excellence of the style itself which they built in." Observations are then made upon some of the principal deviations from the styles of foregoing periods. Dr. M. then says, "Hence the judicious critick, after admiring their ingenuity (Royal Chapels, and Mortuary Oratories), fails not to sigh for the chaste grandeur of York Minster, or even for the unadorned majesty of Salisbury Cathedral, instead of them." The various and conspicuous decorations of this, the Third Order of the Pointed Style, are brought forward, so as to enforce the idea of the inferiority of their design, in due effect, to those more perfect works raised before them. "In short, (says the Doctor) the downfal of Pointed Architecture in this kingdom, as its established style for ecclesiastical purposes, was inevitable, from a variety of causes, but chiefly from falling off from its primary character, the sublime, which was the necessary consequence of the depression of its aspiring arch. The ruin was complete when Edward VI. mounted the throue, in the middle of the sixteenth

century. Then began a truly Gothic, or at least a barbaric style, consisting of irregular and ill-executed Grecian members, with intermixed globes, triangles, frets, pyramids, obelisks, and other absurd devices, as may be seen on all the ornamental tombs and other works executed in England between the close of the reign of the last Henry and the early part of the reign of the first Charles, by whose taste and munificence, and the genius of Inigo Jones, true Grecian architecture was introduced into this Island."

Chapter IX.-The Doctor now demonstrates, "that there are three Orders of the Pointed Style, corresponding with the different periods in which they prevailed, each one of which has its proper character and members, as much as the Five Orders of the Grecian Style have theirs." Advice is next given to professional men; and the Doctor recapitulates the characteristics of the Three Orders of the Pointed Style, points out those edifices wherein such styles are most conspicuous; and concludes his very learned, comprehensive, and unanswerable work, thus: "It will be readily gathered from the whole of this treatise, which of the three Orders the author himself prefers for religious structures, as best calculated to produce the proper effect of style; though, doubtless, the impracticability of raising a lofty arch, from want of strength in the supporters or other causes, may sometimes render the obtuse arch preferable upon the whole, especially for small chapels. But whichever Order of the Pointed Style is adopted, good taste as strictly requires that their respective members and ornaments should not be blended together, as that Grecian and Pointed Architecture should not be intermixed in the same work."

An Appendix of much curious and important information succeeds; wherein is interspersed many judicious replies to Mr. Whittington, evincing that this surveyor of French architecture, who dwells with rapture on the works raised in that country, is not either happy, or just, in his comparisons of the structures there found, with those adorning this his native land.

Ten illustrative and well selected engravings follow, constituting, with

the