although alas! they almost forgot it, are now, blessed be God, in these days endeavouring, in some measure, to fulfil the high project which their fathers had in view. Where should the missionary spirit be constantly felt, if not in the land which it peopled? May that spirit long burn in every Christian heart in New England, for she owes it to the country, to the world, to Christ, to fulfil the high destination, which, in the choice of her Pilgrim Fathers, and the providence of God, has been assigned to her! Somewhat of the same spirit influenced many of the individual emigrants in the other colonies which settled in the United States, but not comparable as to extent, and not at all as to organized form, to that which influenced the colonization of New England. In vain shall we seek a parallel to this in the colonies of other times or countries. An escape from oppression, and often from the restraints of law; a restless curiosity, and a spirit of hazardous enterprise; commercial pursuits, and love of gain; political measures for the increase of power, or for the abstraction of a redundant population, were the causes which led to the planting of all the colonies in the Old World, and, excepting New England, in the New World also. A desire to extend the kingdom of God had nothing to do with the colonies sent forth from Egypt and Phœnicia, from Greece, from Carthage, and from Rome. And it had little, very little to do with those which went forth from Spain and Portugal, from France and Holland, and from Denmark and Sweden, in modern times. situate on Massachusetts Bay, they were not far from | and Brainerd, did not forget this. Their descendants, each other, and as they advanced in numbers they began to act in concert; and from the year 1643, occasionally held meetings, or congresses, of delegates from each town, for the purpose of concerting measures for their common defence against the Indians. The colonies of Plymouth and of Boston, or Massachusetts Bay as it was called, were united in the year 1692, and thenceforth they constituted but one commonwealth, and were governed by the provisions of a royal charter. At an early period after their settlement, colonies went out from those on and around Massachusetts Bay, and formed settlements in what was afterwards called the Provinces, and at present Connecticut, New Hamp. shire, and Rhode Island. At a later period, Maine and Vermont were added to the number of New England colonies or commonwealths. The population of these various districts augmented gradually. Many difficulties had to be encountered, one of the most formidable of | which was, the hostility of the native tribes of Indians. Several destructive wars were waged with them, ending in the subjection of the aborigines. Meanwhile the work of clearing away the forests, building towns and cities, establishing schools and churches, founding colleges, &c., went on, and at the end of eighty years, the New England colonies embraced a population of nearly 100,000 souls. From that epoch, (1700,) the increase of the population was rapid and without interruption, excepting during the two French wars, as they are called, in 1745-49, and 1754-63, when England being at war with France, involved the colonies in war with the Canadas, (which then belonged to France,) and the war of revolution in 1775-83. During those three periods of war, New England, in common with the other portions of what constitutes the United States, suffered much. It was only, however, a temporary depression. The present population of the six New England States, viz.: Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine, is not far from two millions and a-half. And probably there is not on the globe a country better supplied with a well educated ministry, or the means of popular education. There is probably not a district containing a sufficient population, which has not a school. Besides many academies or high schools, there are twelve colleges, some five or six theological seminaries, and I know not how many medical and law schools in these six states. Having given a sufficient sketch of the history of New England, I now proceed to describe very briefly, the character of the men who were the founders of the New England colonies, and the authors, under God, of those blessed institutions which have produced many good fruits. I. The colonists who planted the standard of Christianity and civilization on the shores of New England, were actuated by the noblest motives which could influence men. It is true that they were oppressed and denied some of their dearest rights in their native land. But this could have been borne, nor was redress impossible. Or they could have remained in Holland, and there worshipped God in a manner congenial to their feelings and to their conscience. But they chose to emigrate to an almost unknown land-to inhospitable shores to an unsubdued wilderness, and this chiefly for the nobie purpose of extending the kingdom of the Redeemer. In the statement of the reasons given by the emigrants from Leyden for their removal is the following: "Fifthly and lastly, which was not the least, a great hope and inward zeal they had of laying some good foundations, or, at least, to make some way thereunto for the propagation and advancement of the Gospel of the kingdom of Jesus Christ, in those remote parts of the world; yea, although they should be but as stepping-stones unto others for the performance of so good a work." Eliot and the Mayhews, Sergeant II. Very many of the first settlers in New England were descendants of the most respectable families in England, and made great sacrifices in going to that land. This was remarkably the case with the colony which founded Boston and the neighbouring places. They were not convicts transported for their crimes; they were not men who fled from justice, to find an asylum in that wilderness; nor were they an ignoble rabble, driven by starvation from their native but famished land; but they were almost, to a man, in good circumstances in their native country, and not a few were, for those times, wealthy. The respectability of Winthrop, and Stoughton, and Ames, and Chauncey, and Sherman, and Hobart, and Fisk, and Johnson the founder of Boston, and his wife, Lady Arabella, and many more who might be named, is well known. most every important town of New England was settled by respectable emigrants, many of whose descendants are now to be found in those places, inheriting, not only their names, but also their virtues and their respectability. Al III. They had a noble regard for, and interest in, their fatherland, its customs, and its civil and religious institutious. Although they had suffered wrong, and felt it deeply, yet they never could forget that they were English, nor lose their love for England. One reason why the congregation of Mr Robinson in Leyden did not choose to remain in Holland was, that "their posterity would, in a few generations, become Dutch, and so lose their interest in the English nation, they being rather desirous to enlarge his majesty's dominions, and to live under their natural prince." IV. The first settlers of New England were generally pious, and many of them eminently so. Their religion was strict, affecting their whole conduct, cheerful in the main, though somewhat stern; their morality was excellent; their observance of the Lord's day most rigid and exemplary. They were industrious, frugal, and temperate in a remarkable degree. No people on earth ever acted more from principle in everything. Custom and habit had their influence; but custom and habit with them were founded in principle. They were emphatically men of principle. They had great regard for the Word of God and its precepts. They paid great deference to the divine authority, and but little to that which is human, when not supported by that which is divine. They carried their religion into everything. It was a constituent quality of every action, a pervading element, whose influence was seen and felt everywhere. They were remarkable for their regard to providences. They saw God's hand in every event. V. In doctrine they were "incorrupt." The fall of man, his total alienation from God, the supreme divinity of Jesus Christ, atonement by his sufferings and death, the necessity of regeneration by the influence of the Holy Spirit, the perseverance of believers in holiness, and their kindred truths and doctrines, were cordially embraced, and faithfully preached. They had their defects, no doubt, and their manner of exhibiting truth was not always felicitous and skilful; yet the great doctrines of the Bible were fully, faithfully, and, in general, successfully delivered. Their ministers were much such men as were their contemporaries Owen, Howe, Baxter, and Bates. The religious instruction of their children was faithful and wonderfully successful. No object was felt to be more important than this by the Pilgrims; and it is remarkable what a blessing attended their solicitude and their efforts. VI. No people on earth ever estimated the importance of learning at a higher rate than did the colonists who settled New England. They were themselves an educated people. They were an intelligent people. They brought with them the love of letters. There were few, if any, among them who could not read. One of the first subjects to which they turned their attention, was suitable provision for the establishment of common schools and academies. And but few years rolled away before they founded a noble institution for the preparation of ministers of the Gospel, and of men to manage the affairs of state. Many of their ministers were eminently successful. The In the following papers I shall have occasion to point out some mistakes which were committed by the ministry and the Churches of New England, the evil influence of which has reached down to the present time. Pilgrim Fathers were not perfect men, but, take them altogether, they were such men as the world has seldom seen, and they deserve to be long and respectfully remembered by every American Christian. CHANGE PRODUCED BY DEATH: A DISCOURSE.* BY THE REV. ROBERT SMITH, Minister of Lochwinnoch. "And Abraham stood up from before his dead, and spake unto the sons of Heth, saying, I am a stranger and a sojourner with you; give me a possession of a burying-place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight."-GEN. xxiii. 3, 4. WHEN not merely the whole kingdom, but a large portion of the continent of Europe, has recently been one wide spread scene of disease and suffering, like a great hospital filled with the sick and dying, how much affliction, as well as sin, has passed under that eye which "looketh to the ends of the earth, and beholdeth under the whole heaven." Though the sphere of our vision be more limited, and the range even of our imagination be circumscribed, yet we have seen, or can imagine, many touching scenes of calamity. At present we shall confine ourselves to a view of the Preached during the prevalence of Influenza in this country and on the continent. revolution produced in our sympatnies and feelings by the death of the nearest and dearest relatives and friends, together with one or two reflections thereby suggested. A remarkable example of this occurs in the eagerness which Abraham shewed to consign his beloved Sarah to the grave, when he said to the sons of Heth," Give me a possession of a burying-place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight." His affection for the wife of his youth, and companion of all his wanderings, the sharer of his fortunes, and the mother of the promised seed, was very remarkable, and led him to do the only thing recorded in his history that seemed to be harsh and cruel. For her sake he banished from his house, not merely his handmaid Hagar, but his son Ishmael, and left them to wander, and, for aught that he knew, to perish in the wilderness; and yet mark what a change death produced in this beloved companion. She is no longer the delight of his eye, and the desire of his heart, but he is fain to have her buried out of his sight. Formerly he felt as if he could not live without her, now he can no longer live beside her. Death has quenched and closed that eye, which beamed with affection and intelligence. livid paleness has overspread the cheek that glowed with health. The lips are closed on which dwelt the law of kindness. The whole frame has become a piece of inanimate clay, and threatens to spread putrefaction and disease around. And, therefore, Abraham said to the sons of Heth, regarding her whom erewhile he loved as his own soul, "Give me a possession of a burying-place, that I may bury my dead out of my sight." A And who is Sarah, and what has she done, that she has become so offensive to him? Why, she is the companion of his youth, united to him by the ties of consanguinity, as well as the strongest earthly tie that binds one human being to another in this world. They had probably grown up together, and engaged in the same amusements, and followed the same pursuits in their earliest and happiest days. Their affection for one another "had grown with their growth, and strengthened with their strength," till it was firmly and perinanently established by the relation in which they stood to one another. Sarah had every quality, not merely to procure, but to retain his affection. Her external appearance was the least recommendation, though, alas! it be a primary object with many persons; and of it, you will observe, it is said, in the 12th chapter of Genesis, ver. 14, 15, "When Abraham was come into Egypt, the Egyptians beheld the woman, that she was very fair. The princes also of Pharaoh saw her, and commended her before Pharaoh; and the woman was taken into Pharaoh's house." But the qualities of her mind were a far higher recommendation. We do not, indeed, know what measure of intelligence she possessed; and there is evidence that she was far inferior to Abraham in faith and patience, in temper and kindness. She, indeed, appears sometimes very unreasonable to her lord, as well as harsh and cruel to her domestics. But still, with all these imperfections, we know that she was a pious woman; and as such, her faith is spoken of in Scripture, and her example held up for the imitation of others. She is one of the "cloud of witnesses," whose faith is celebrated in the 11th chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews; and, so far from being habitually disrespectful to her husband, she is set forth as a model of conjugal respect in the 3d chapter of 1 Peter, ver. 5, 6: "After this manner in the old time the holy women also, who trusted in God, adorned themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands; even as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord: whose daughters ye are as long as ye do well, and are not afraid with any amazement." For his sake, or rather entering into his views, and animated by the same spirit, she renounced the religion of her fathers, and forsook the land of her nativity, relinquished all her possessions and prospects, and became a wanderer and pilgrim on the earth. She attended all his steps, and shared in all his fortunes, entered into all his plans, and participated in all his cares, joined with him in every act of worship, and was inspired with the same hopes. At length she became the mother of the promised seed which had so long exercised their faith and solicitude, and opened up to them the prospect of so much honour and advantage. And after more than one hundred and twenty years spent in this manner, (for we have supposed they grew up together from their youth,) by how many ties were they united, and by how many endearing recollections were their hearts knit together! And yet death came and burst these ties asunder; and so great was the change produced, that Abraham, instead of wishing to keep up the connection any longer, was fain to have her buried out of his sight. Alas! what havoc has sin wrought in the world, and what a melancholy change does death produce, and how desirable is it to have the prospect of meeting our friends in a happier land, where there is no separation, and no sorrow, and where death itself shall die! Many such events as the one now described have lately occurred, and the peculiarities in the case of every individual will be best suggested by his own experience. I shall not speak of the ties which unite those who have sat upon the same knee, and been fed by the same hand, have reclined on the same couch, and kneeled around the same domestic altar, and "who are dearer to one another than any strangers." Nor shall I speak of those friends who are united by community of sentiment and feeling, whose calling and pursuits have brought them together, and whose esteem and affection have been established by time and habit, but they must all be separated at last. Death bursts every tie, and dissolves every connection that is formed in this world, and makes us glad to be separated from those whom we esteemed most highly, and loved most ardently. The ties which unite parents and child are more tender, and more touching. Even at an age when children are altogether helpless and dependent, and can do nothing but awaken solicitude and give trouble, they are very dear, especially to the heart of one parent, and she is very loath to have her infant torn from her bosom. There is something truly painful in seeing persons so young struggling with unknown sufferings, and feeling ills which they cannot express. How appalling the stroke of death when it falls upon infants before they have arrived at intelligence, and have done neither good nor evil in their own persons! And, how are the affections of parents torn, and their hopes blasted by such events! Yet, even these little victims of mortality must soon be consigned to the narrow house. Though the feelings, however, awakened in this manner, be peculiarly tender and touching, they are not the most permanent. The longer a child lives, the deeper and more durable is the wound produced by its sickness and death. He may not merely have become, in some sense, independent of his parents, but be able and willing to afford them assistance, and then his death is a temporal loss. But if, besides this, he lived under the influence of religion, and had devoted himself to the service of God-if he possessed such talents, and had received such an education as enabled him to be useful to others, and to promote his own reputation in the world, though he should not have the prospect of rising to such eminence as to occupy "the high places of the earth," and "read his history in a nation's eyes," his decease is then a peculiarly sore bereavement to pious and intelligent parents, as well as a loss to the community at large. For I must take leave to say, that those who, either in a limited or more extensive sphere, are instrumental in promoting the glory of God, by the instruction and improvement of mankind, are better employed, and greater benefactors to their race, than those who are admitted into the councils of nations, and guide the helm of affairs. No wonder, therefore, though parents value highly such children. But when death arrests their labours, their usefulness is terminated, and their society no longer desired. On the other hand, how unwilling are affectionate and dutiful children to part with their beloved parents, even at the most advanced period of life! They feel the advantage of their experience, and the weight of their lessons. They prize their holy example and fervent prayers; and when a pious parent can do nothing but pray for his children, it is a very great boon; for "the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." A pious and dutiful child reveres the hoary head of his venerable parent, and supports his tottering steps till death bring him home to his grave, "like a shock of corn fully ripe, that cometh in in his season." And then he too must say, "give me a possession of a burying-place, that I may bury my dead out of my sight." The case of Abraham, however, is more affecting than any of these; but there is a more touching case still, and you have only to look at the reverse of the picture formerly drawn, in order to see it. Sarah looked up to Abraham, and called him Lord and master, was guided by | tion, and the source of his joy. He loves him his counsel, and supported by his arm, and there- supremely, and knows how to bow to his authority, fore, his death would have been a far greater and be resigned to his holy will. He endeavours calamity than her's was. A believing husband, to engage his relatives and friends in his service, besides being wise and pious, prudent and in- and so far as he succeeds he is not left to mourn dustrious, is the head and staff of a family. To over the deceased, even as others who have no him all look up for counsel, and upon him all hope. He feels an unspeakable complacency in depend for support. He ought to be able to the persuasion that they have passed into glory, direct amidst all perplexities, and to soothe under and rejoices in the prospect of recovering their all sorrows, to control on all occasions, and to society in far holier and happier circumstances assist in all emergencies. What, then, are the than those in which they were united in this widowed mother and the fatherless children to do, world. when deprived of the head which guided them, and the arm that sustained them? And how can they part with such a one, and be cast upon their own resources, or, it may be, obliged to look to the cold hand of charity, and endure the insolent scorn of a heartless and evil generation? And yet such is the change that death produces, that even such a mourning circle are fain to remove from the midst of them, him who occupied the chief place, and to have their dead buried out of their sight. Now, it is obvious to remark, from so many proofs and illustrations of the ravages of disease and death, how foolish, as well as sinful, it is to set our hearts supremely upon any thing in this world. I speak not merely of those riches and possessions which perish with the using, and which add nothing beyond the bare necessaries of life to the happiness of any man; nor of those occupations and indulgencies which soon superinduce weariness and loathing; nor of that honour and authority which involve in perplexity and trouble. But it is both sinful and injurious to love excessively any earthly relative and friend. They are indeed all entitled to their own proper place in our hearts, and may be esteemed and loved very highly for their personal worth or useful qualities. The grace of God does not eradicate any lawful affection of the human mind, but confirms and purifies it. You can depend, far more safely upon the affection of a Christian, than upon that of any other person; and you are sure he will do you good and not evil, all the days of his life." Divine grace only restrains and modifies every inferior feeling of the human heart. It subordinates the creature to the Creator, and teaches us to love father and mother, wife and child, brother and sister incomparably less than God, to devote them all to his service and resign them all to his will. To love any creature supremely is putting it in the place of God, and giving it that throne in our hearts, which is due only to him. It is as really idolatry as the worshipping of other gods than the Lord; and as such is not merely criminal, but injurious. Such unrestrained and excessive attachment keeps the mind restless and unhappy so long as the beloved object lives, and leaves it disconsolate and miserable when it is gone. Such persons are ready to exclaim, with Micah, "They have taken away my idol, and what have I left behind?" But the Christian has still God as his por It is equally obvious to remark, from the scenes described, how much evil sin has introduced into the universe. For it was sin which "brought death into the world, and all our woe." We should remember habitually, and feel sensibly that it is the root of all evil. We should hate it with a perfect hatred, and Hee from it as our greatest calamity. If we escape from sin to the Saviour, we are safe, and will be for ever happy. Now all the ills that we see, and all the sorrows that we feel, admonish us to have recourse to his righteousness and grace, and teach us that "sin is exceedingly sinful." But when it sends famine or pestilence into the land, and converts many habitations into houses of mourning, its malignity becomes more conspicuous. Turn into the abode where the king of terrors has left his victim. Behold the weeping relatives gathered around all that remains of one, erewhile very dear and valuable to them. Mark the heaving sigh, and the bursting tear, and see the pale and ghastly countenance so much changed by the stroke of death, that it can no longer be contemplated without pain. The most affectionate friends cannot always look upon it, and all are soon glad to have it buried out of their sight. But if we could draw aside the veil which hangs upon the future world, we should discover more terrible consequences of sin than any that are seen on this side of the grave. For whilst the souls of believers, at death, pass into glory, the wicked are turned into hell, and lie down in everlasting burnings. And if the body be so much changed by death, then I have no doubt the unpardoned and unrenewed soul will be still more changed. If the dead body become so offensive in a few days, that the most affectionate relatives are glad to have it buried out of their sight, how much more offensive will the guilty and polluted, condemned and ruined soul become? At present we feel as if we could hardly be happy even in heaven unless we had our parents and companions, our children and beloved friends, around us, (and their presence would, no doubt, greatly enhance our bliss ;) and we think we could not bear to be separated from them for ever, and to see everlasting destruction come upon them, and yet mark what the numerous facts already adduced in illustration of the text, seem to teach us. will not merely perceive the rectitude of the divine administration, and acquiesce in the sentence of their condemnation; our love to God, and hatred of sin, will not merely prevail over We raised to an exaltation and glory, a perfection and happiness, "which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." The redeemed from amongst men will mingle with the society, and participate in the enjoyments, of angels and archangels, and of the cherubim and seraphim, which surround the throne of the Eternal. They shall come to Jesus, the Mediator of the new covenant, and to God the judge of all, whom they shall see as they are seen, and know even as they are known. "For to him that overcometh," says Christ, "will I grant to sit with me upon my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father upon his throne." And for what do men forego all this glory and felicity, and incur all the degradation and misery of the unbelieving and impeni for a season, yea, for those things which are not; for the wicked are, of all men, most miserable even in this life. The line which separates between lawful and unlawful indulgence, at the same time marks out the boundary between happiness and misery; transgress it, and you will soon bring upon yourself a degree of suffering proportioned to the greatness of the transgression; so that sinners contract guilt without the prospect of a compensation, and embrace misery for its own sake. "Let the wicked then forsake his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, who will have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." every other feeling, but we could not there bear | the presence of a guilty and polluted relative, and would be ready to exclaim, "Banish them out of our sight!" And O! say not this is strange, and unnatural language. If a child, even in this sinful world, may so provoke us to anger, as to obliterate, for a time, our tenderness and affection for him, or so defile himself with sin, and cover himself with shame, as to turn our hearts away from him, and provoke us to disown him, and banish him from our presence, think it not strange if the far guiltier and more polluted souls of the wicked, after death, completely destroy the natural sympathies and affections, towards them, of those relatives and friends who have been made perfect in holiness, and stand continually in the presence of God and of the Lamb. It is painful, it is appalling, especially to a husband, or a parent, to contem-tent? For the pleasures of sin, which are but plate even the bare possibility of such a consummation. But it is just all the more calculated to rouse us from our lethargy, and call forth the most energetic exertions to pluck the souls of those who are near and dear to us like brands out of the everlasting burnings, as well as to use the greater diligence to make our own calling and election sure. And, to quicken our diligence, let us look at the consequences of sin, not merely in the perdition of a single sinner, but of all the children of condemnation. What will that place be, which is the habitation not merely of solitary individuals, as sinful and miserable as we have described them, but of ten thousand times ten thousand, and millions of millions of fallen angels, and of the condemned children of men? will we, after all, still harbour corruption, and live in the indulgence of sin, that we may have our everlasting portion with the devil and his gels? If there were no remedy for these evils, it might be prudent, and for our comfort, to close our eyes against them. But a complete antidote has been provided. The Lord Jesus Christ assumed human nature into personal union with his divine nature, and came into this world, and laboured, and died, "to bring men out of a state of sin and misery into a state of justification and salvation." Those who are united to him by faith shall not merely be pardoned and rescued from future punishment, but sanctified and qualified for heaven. As soon as the body falls by the stroke of death, "the souls of believers are made perfect in holiness, pass into glory, and shall be for ever with the Lord." Even the body, though left behind in the grave, sleeps in Jesus, and he will raise it up at the last day. It will then not merely put off the hue of death, and the corruption of the tomb, and become as fresh and beautiful as ever it was in its best days on earth, but far lovelier than anything that is ever seen in this world. "It shall be changed and fashioned like unto Christ's glorious body, not having spot nor wrinkle nor any such thing." The soul, too, will be still more changed and improved; and the whole man, soul and body, after the morning of the resurrection and the day of judgment, will be And an PHILOSOPHY OF THE SOCIAL CONDITION. BY JAMES STARK, ESQ., ADVOCATE. IN a former paper, under this head, I offered some observations on the character and condition of man in general; and brought under the notice of the reader two great principles of conduct, namely, piety and charity, the fear of God and mutual love, by the former of life, and by the latter, man is bound in every condition which, every creature is bound in every condition of of social life. But man is not merely a social being. In no period of his history do we find the human race associating together in what may be called a general or promiscuous state of society, uninfluenced by the ties of country and into little communities, each differing from the others kindred; but, on the contrary, at all times distributed in language, laws, and manners, and every attempt to amalgamate them under one universal monarchy, as fruitless as it is permanently to unite together the drops of quicksilver. It seems, therefore, a proper sequel to the observaple of attachment implanted in the human constitution; tions formerly made, to advert for a little to the princithe operation of which is to contract the social circle, and divide mankind into associations, fraternities, friendships. The purpose and final cause of this principle it is not difficult to perceive. It cannot be to counteract or Such a thought destroy the social character of man. would be an impious arraignment of the all-wise Creator, as if he had endowed man with opposite and contradictory powers, and frustrated the work of his own hands. Yet this has, in many cases, been its actual effect. It |