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and learned men have thought to be, at least, doubtful! We consider impositions in matters of faith, whether the subject imposed be Calvinistic or otherwise, as a species of opprelfion; and we sincerely declare ourselves to be, as we trust we have always approved ourselves, the friends and advocates of liberty, both civil and religious ; but we will, in regard to disputable points, that writers would not dogmatically prescribe to, or be harsh upon, others, who have an equal claim to form their own opinions. Why then, for instance, should it be peremptorily said, concerning the Calvinistic doctrine, particularly as to atonement and satisfaction, ' Whatever charms it might have for the visionary and licentious, no fober or sensible man would ever become its apologist?' The doctrine, confidered in its full exa tent, appears. indeed to us to be sufficiently absurd and unreasonable, but can it be affirmed with propriety or truth, that wa persons of fobriety or good sense have embraced or defended it? · Agreeably to our professed impartiality, we may be allowed to alk, whether the following paragraph is not too cenforious ? Speaking of the Calvinists, the Writer fays,-“ if their power were but as little circumscribed, as their tongues and pens, it is to be feared they would purlue the fan e sanguinary measures with regard to both (that is, rational Churchmon and rational Differters, who had been before mentioned) which their founder and apoftle fohn Calvin was not ashamed to glory in.'

It happened, indeed, that as to points of faiin, many of the reformed churches adhered to the Calvinistic scheme, and in fome places, as in England, they ob'ained the fanction of law : but it can hardly be suppoted that our governors have a solicitude to maintain them any farther than as they may prove po. litically convenient : ner are we wiiling to imagine, as to prixate persons who receive these opinions, that they would generally encourage a disposition dogmatically intolerant,' or exerc a power, if they possessed it, of persecuting those who could not agree to their propofitions - The passions of-men-may indeed (as hath been often verified in fact) be irritated and enitamed upon any subject. The profligate and irreligious, the ignorant and fuperititious, may be rouzed, upon any tle of a question that is held forth as important, and prinpid to oppreilide and cruel measures, either as a kind of co..mating for their sofa fences, or under the overpowering infuence of a blind and bigoited zeal : but it is very unlikely, especially in a Proteitant country, that persons of piety and go one's of honest and upright hearts (and lich there are, we doubt not, under every denomination) Thou'd ever content to fuch intolerant proceedings. The principles and causes of perfecution, we apprehend, are commonly to be fought for, not to much in



REV. Aug. 17720

the religious sentiments which persons embrace, as in the interested, the selfith, and corrupt passions of mankind, which when excited and encouraged, (let the object be what it may) will, as far as there is opportunity to gratify them, be always attended with fuch effects.

Although we consider this tract as the work of a sensible and ingenious Writer, yet, upon the whole, it might perhaps have Joft nothing of its merit, had he made it pals under a more mature revifal, and softened or corrected those passages which may afford just cause of disgust to his moderate and candid readers. He may possibly have been irritated by some instances of unfriendly treatment among those theologians whom he oppofes; but is it not, above all things, defirable, that enquiries after truth should be coolly conducted, without any bias from prejudice or resentment?

Having made these free remarks upon his performance, we think it juftice to observe, that after he has been censuring those perfons, who he imagines avail themselves of popular prejudices, for felfish and finifter ends, he adds, • I would not, by what I have said, be understood to infinuate a contempt for popular prejudices, or that they ought to be treated with coniempt. I would have them, on the other hand, treated with all imaginable lenity. I would have allowances made for education, and other circumftances that may demand indulgence ; but, neverthelefs, think it extremely wrong to rivet unreason able prejudices, as many do, instead of attempting their removal ; to facrifice truth to filthy lucre, and the low itch of popularity.'

In the sequel of this pamphlet, a letter of Dr. Duchal's, to Dr. Taylor of Norwich, is re-published, from the Theological Repository. That wortby man freely acknowledges his difficul. ties, with respect to the doctrine of atonement, and appears, as in his other writings, to be a modeft and sincere enquirer after truth.

ART. VII. Wensley Dak; or, Rural Contemplations. A Poem.. 460.

2 s. 6 d. Davies. 1772. T!

HIS Poem was first published at York, in 1771, for the

benefit of the General Infirmary at Leeds; and it is now re-published in London for the same benevolent purpose. It is chieAy moral and descriptive, and exhibits cuany picturesque views of that great variety of rural scenery, and of those grand and grotesque appearances, which are found in the various and beautiful dale it describes. We have seen some of its principal objects, and can bear witness that the poet, in describing them, gave us back the image of our minds, particularly where he speaks of the cataract of Aysgarib in Yorkdhire :

• But

• But now, O AYSGARTH! let my rugged verse;
The wonders of thy cataracts rehearse.
Long ere the toiling feets to view appear,
They found a prelude to the pausing ear.
Now in rough accents by the pendent wood;
Rolls in stern majesty the foaming flood;
Revolting eddies now with raging sway;
TO AYSGARTA's ample arch incline their way.
Playful and flow the curling circles move,
As when soft breezes fan the waving grove
Till prone again, with tumult's wildelt roar;
Recoil the billows, reels the giddy shore ;
Dalh'd from its rocky bed, the winnow'd spray

Remounts the regions of the cloudy way.' Our Author's profe description will, however, give a more precise idea of that curious place. It is as follows:

« The romantic situation of the handsome church of Ay garth, on an eminence, solitarily overlooking these cataracts of the Eure, wonderfully heightens the picturesque idea of this unusual scene; nor is there any place, that I know, more happily adapted to inspire the soothing sentiments of elegy, than this. The decency of the structure within and without, its perfect retirement, the rural church-yard, the dying sounds of water, amidit wood and rocks, wildly intermixed, at a distance, with the variety and magnitude of the surrounding hills, concur greatly to encrease the awfulness of the whole. But some late admirable productions, in the elegiac strain, impose an utter filence on me, did the propriety of my subject countenance an attempt.

In approaching the falls that are above bridge from the road on the north side, on which it always ought to be visited, you have the fingular advantage of seeing them through a spacious light arch, which, from the obliquity of the highway, presents the river, at every step you advance, in many pleasing attitudes, till you mount the crown of the bridge, and take the whole in one beautiful grotesque view.

We may add to this elegant circumstance another incident in character, that the concave of the bridge is embellifhed by hanging petrefactions, and its airy barclement happily feftooned with ivy; near, on the right hand of the road, a tends a floping wood, on the left is Aysgarth steeple, magically, as it were emerging from a copse, while the closing back ground of the view is an assemblage of multifarious thrubs, evergreens, projecting rocks, and a gloomy cave.

The waters falling near half a mile upon a surface of stone, worn into infinite irriguous cavities, and inclosed by bold and Thrubbed cliffs, is every where changing its face, breaking forth into irregular beauties till it forms the grand tefcent called the




-The late learned traveller, Dr. Pococke, whose search after the fublime and marvellous' brought him to this part, was said to own, with exultation, that these cataracts exceeded those in Egypt, to which he was no stranger,

• The callle of Bolton, Middleham, and the scenes of Aylgarth, with other subjects of eminence, in this distria, have not escaped the pencils of the curious; and particularly that very expert and ingenious artist Mr. Dall of Great NewportStreet; scene-painter and machinift to Covent Garden theatre.

• There is yet an object seldom seen but by those who narrowly seek amusement, and even little known in the neighbourhood, which demands our note, for our description it cannot have, upon a rivulet at Heaning, distant about two miles from thefe falls of the Eure.

· The curiosity of this fall of water, which runs into a low steep gill, the point of view at the bottom being indeed but of dificult access, is fuch, as to make the stream appear a silver chain, whose higheft link feems faftened to the clouds, descending through'a display of hovering branches and shading foliage, which, în proportion to the thick or thinner weaving of the boughs, noir burits and then twinkles in a manner moft amazingly captivating. In a word, 'the most copious' language mult fail or fagser in any attempt to describe its unutterable charnis. it'

"Many fcenes of entertainment of the like kind offer themfelves, but of a much inferior class, 'on the Eure and its tributary ftreams, especially towards its fource, such as those of Bowbridge, Hardrow Fors, Whitfeild, and Mill Gill near Alkrig, and Foss Gill in Bishopcale, which, however capitally

, pleasing they might prove in any other part, appear diminished when put in comparison with those already remarked.'

The Author of this Poem, Mr. Thomas Maude, of Bolton in Werley-Dale," has favoured the public with some anecdotes of Sir Isaac Newton, that have hitherto been little known; and as every thing of that kind must be esteemed curious, we fhall lay them before our Readers :

"As the smallest anecdotc concerning so great an ornament to human nature, becomes amusing, especially in a character fo uniformly ftudious as his, I shall briefly relate what may not be fo generally known, and therefore give the curious traveller an opportunity of bestowing one tranfient glance upon the humble tenement where first this illustrious man drew breath, or the clegant situation where he resigned it.

• The frit is a farm-house at the little village of Woolsthorpe, confifting'or a few meftunges in the fame stile of humility, about half a neile west from Coliersworth, on the great north road be



tween Stamford and Grantham, known to every peasant in the neighbourhood.

He died at lodgings in that agreeable part of Kensington, called Pitt's Buildings. His academic time was spent in Trinity College, Cambridge, where his apartments continue to be mentioned occasionally, on the spot, to ftrangers, with a degree of laudable exultation.

His principal town-house was in St. Martin's Street, the corner of Long's Court, Leicelter-Fields, where is yet standing a small observatory which Sir Isaac built upon the roof.

His temper was so mild and equal that scarce any accidents disturbed it. One instance in particular, which is authenticated by a now living witness, brings this allertion to a proof : That Sir Isaac being called out of his study to a contiguous rooni, a little dog, called Diamond, the constant but incurious attendant of his matter's researches, happened to be left among the papers, and, by a fatality not to be retrieved, as it was in the latrer part of Sir Isaac's days, threw down à lighted candle, which consumed the almost-finished labours of so ne years, Sir Isaac returning too late, but to behold the dreadful wreck, rebuked the author of it with an exclanation (ad fydera palmas) “ Oh Diamond ! Diamond! thou little knoweft the mischief done !"

• The obscurity in which Sir Isaac Newton's pedigree is involved, who only died A. C. 1725, makes it less a wonder that we should be so little acquainted with the origin of the great characters of antiquity, or those of later ages.

* The author of Biographia Philosophica, has made Sir Isaac Newton's father the eldet son of a baronet, and further speaks of the knight's patrimonial opulence; the contrary of which affertions, the tradition of his parish will suficiently confirm, did not the account alone confuie itself; for by consequence Sir Isaac would have had an hereditary title, 'wnich evidentiy was not the fact. This renowned philofopher was indebted more to nature for the gifts with which the bad endowed'hini, than to the accidents of any great defcent; a circulance, which adds, if posible, greater luttre to the man, who, uithout the advantages of eminent birth, alliance, or fortune, attained the highelt pinnacle of scientific fame.

• The little I bave been able to collect of the family of this great man, by a diligent enquiry both in and about his native parish, also among the very few of his furviving diltant relations of half-blood, for none císe remain, lerves but to c mise the many palpable errors committed by his biographers on this oca casion; most of whom, in copying each other, have erroneously made him descend from a barcnet. It may be now tiine cherefore, when the traces of cruth on that subject are nearly lost,


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