had an opportunity of viewing the whole affair with the eye of a soldier. There was a number of ministers among the insurgents, several of whom discharged the duty of officers, and even lost their lives in the field. When the conflict began, two of them who chose to retire into the rear, exclaimed from time to time, “the God of Jacob! the God of Jacob!" Turner asked his guard what the preachers meant by such an ejaculation; they replied "Do you not see that the Lord of Hosts is fighting for us?" On the contrary, he saw that the King's troops were employed in making a movement which would in all probability drive the Covenanters from the ground, and accordingly told the foolish rebels, that, if their party did not reel, run, and fly within a quarter of an hour, he would be content that they should pistol him. His prediction was speedily fulfilled; the rustic soldiers after one desperate charge took to their heels, followed by their canting ministers, who now gave ample proof that all their visions and revelations of success were the mere offspring of enthusiasm, or of a professional deceit more severely to be condemned. In the confusion which ensued, Turner made his escape; but he was not restored to his command, as the neglect with which he was chargeable in allowing himself to be surprised at Dumfries was considered a military offence too great to be overlooked. It was insinuated, besides, by his enemies, that to his severities alone the whole insurrection might be attributed, inasmuch as he had fined good and loyal subjects with the sole view of filling his private purse, and that he had quartered his troops upon families who had long relinquished the practices of non-conformity. Fortunately for Sir James the Covenanters who seized his papers, discovered that, so far from exceeding the instructions put into his hands as the rule of his official conduct, he had acted with great lenity and moderation; not having extorted half the sums which he was authorized to demand in the name of fines and assessments. But the several charges brought against him of cruelty and avarice, involved him in much trouble, and affected his reputation both as a soldier and as a patriot. At length he resigned his commission, retired into private life, and resumed his literary pursuits, in which he spent the remainder of his days. He threw some variety into this period of tranquillity by carrying on a correspondence with several of the most distinguished persons of the age, more especially with the Duke of Hamilton, the Earl of Arran, and the celebrated Bishop Burnet; all of whom were desirous to obtain intelligence from him respecting the latter campaigns of the civil war, and the benefit of his advice during the commotions which agitated Scotland in the closing years of Charles the Second. He appears to have died about the end of 1682, as no letters addressed to him

bear a more recent date, nor is his name mentioned in any transaction under the reign of James.

The main value of this work arises from the corrections which it supplies, in regard to sundry facts stated by other historians who were misled either by their ignorance or by their partiality. Clarendon wrote under a decided political bias; while in reference to military matters he did not possess the requisite information. The Scottish annalists, on the other hand, were not more free from prejudice, while their command of materials for constructing a perfect narrative was still more limited. Respect for their church, too, has induced them to draw a veil over the character of their ministers, during the troubled reigns of the two last of the Stuarts, and to vindicate their motives even when they were the leaders of an avowed rebellion. Burnett himself is compelled to admit that they were, generally speaking, illiterate, stiff, and unmanageable; and no reader requires to be told that they entertained the most narrow and impious notions of the Divine Being as the moral governor of the world. Turner relates that Robinson, one of their number who acted both as captain and chaplain, upon being asked to say grace before taking a draught of beer, "summoned God Almightie very imperiouslie to be their Secondarie,' (for that was his language): "and if," said he, " thou will not be our Secondarie, we will not fight for thee at all, for it is not our cause but thy cause; and if thou wilt not fight for our cause, and thy owne cause, we are not obliged to fight for it." "This grace," adds Sir James, "did more fullie satisfy me of the follie and injustice of their cause than the ale did quench my thirst."

There is a remarkable coincidence between the contents of this volume, as well in regard to facts as to opinions, and those of Captain Creighton's Memoirs, supposed to have been written by Swift. Both officers served in the same army, supported the same views in Church and State, hated the Covenanters with the same intensity, and executed the laws against them with the same coolness and contempt. It is farther deserving of notice that they agree in the judgment which their experience in the Scottish insurrection had led them to form, in respect to the real character of the most noisy among the fanatical preachers. They both maintain that there was little religious feeling among them, no sincere piety, or heartfelt devotion; and moreover that several of them, especially Williamson and King, were suspected of certain violations of morality, which would not have been overlooked in less ardent professors. This coincidence in the historical collections of two writers entirely independent and ignorant of each others opinions, is very striking and cannot fail to command attention.

ART. V.-Sermons, Explanatory and Practical, on the Thirtynine Articles of the Church of England, in a Series of Discourses, delivered at the Parish Church of St. Alphage, Greenwich. By the Rev. T. Waite, D.C.L. Chaplain to His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, and Master of the Grammar School, Lewisham Hill.

HUMAN societies arise from principles and feelings common to the individuals who compose them and every subdivision of these great communities has its centre of force, around which are assembled all those who sympathise with its peculiar energy. The political party has its creed, corporations their articles of union, and institutions of learning their tests and canons, and churches are distinguished by their modes of faith and rules of practice. Such bodies could not long exist, unless held together by some common bond of union, unless distinguished by some mark well understood by all their members; destitute of which, they would resemble an army without standards, buildings without cement, and ships without anchors. If their objects be important, unanimity desirable, dissension imminent, and error dangerous, the more necessary is it that every individual should rightly apprehend the character of the society to which he belongs, the purposes for which it was established, the grounds of the authority which it claims, the doctrine which it teaches, and the conduct which it requires. It does not appear easy to devise any better means for the attainment of these objects than what are offered by public declarations, adopted after mature deliberation, and promulgated with that degree of solemnity, which the occasion may demand. None need hesitate, in proper time and place, to avow their principles; except those principles be such as they are either ashamed or afraid to maintain.

The Christian Church has in all ages required public professions of faith, from those admitted within her pale. The earliest baptismal confession of faith, (and originally all confessions were such,) of which there is any record, is that made by Candace's treasurer to Philip, and by him required as an indispensable preliminary to the initiatory rite. Sir," says the convert, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized?" and Philip said, "if thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest." And he answered and said, "I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God."-Acts, viii. 36. A simple acknowledgment that Jesus was the Messiah seems to have been all that was demanded, and, under the circumstances of the Church in that early age, this was sufficient. "The method," says Mosheim,

"of teaching the sacred doctrines of religion was at this time most simple, far removed from all the subtle rules of philosophy, and all the precepts of human art." But it was not in the nature of things that this simplicity should be permanent, or even of any long duration. Christianity was continually extending to a wider circle, and drawing within its limits men of every rank in society, and imbued with long-confirmed habits and prejudices: philosophers from every sect, and all replete with tenets more or less inconsistent with their new profession. There could be few indeed of them, who did not bring along with them into the Church some taint of their old principles; few even who would not fondly endeavour to spare some cherished notion, as a stock upon which they might ingraft the scion from the tree of life. The human mind does not, cannot, at once discard, as a loose robe is thrown off from the shoulders, opinions, long the boasted pride of reason, associated, perhaps, with endearing recollections, or venerated as a patrimonial inheritance. Besides this, the ancient schools of philosophy were inflamed with an ardent love of interminable disputation, and the questions chiefly agitated amongst them, and upon the resolution of which all their ingenuity had been so long exercised in vain, were precisely those of which the system of Christianity offered a satisfactory explanation. In receiving that explanation, they yielded to a temptation perhaps too powerful for human vanity to resist. They strove to connect the doctrines of the Gospel with their old tenets, and to support them by their favourite dialectics. Stoics, Academics, and Oriental philosophers, under new-names and upon a different field, still continued to dispute; and scarcely were the Apostles laid in their graves, when the purer light which their preaching had diffused, was refracted and obscured by a cloud of heresies. To collect the scattered beams, and enlighten the path of the believer, afforded continual employment to the pastors of the Church, and demanded the unwearied exercise of all their vigilance and care. To this origin we owe confessions and summaries of faith, and they who, in the present day, object to such formularies, would do well to consider what Christianity might have become, but for their conservative influence.

The sacred volume consists of a large number of pieces written by different authors, and embraces between the dates of the first and last piece in the collection, a period of many centuries. Whilst we admit that a single stupendous object pervades all these writings, and unites them into a perfect whole, we must also confess, that in the greater part of them, matters are included of a secondary and incidental character. History, ethics, prophecies, devotional pieces, ordinances of rites and ceremonies,

institutes, political and civil, take their turn, and present an immense mass of facts, precepts, oracles, antiquities, and laws, interspersed with topics of the most awful and universal interest to mankind. In the doctrinal portions of the volume, the subjects are not treated in a manner conformable to modern notions of system and regularity. Sometimes matters are rather hinted than declared; at others, the reader is left to deduce for himself an implied consequence, and not unfrequently he is obliged to collect from distant situations, and arrange the scattered members of an important article of faith, the true form and dimensions of which he can only comprehend after this task has been diligently performed. It is quite evident, that the skilful execution of such a task, demands the critical perusal of the Scriptures, to which plain Christians are incompetent. We do not allude to that branch of erudition generally known as Biblical criticism, and which, along with many other attainments, demands a minute acquaintance with the original tongues; we contemplate that lower exercise of the faculties, by which a man is enabled to comprehend the plan of a large work, to select from it the particulars which his purpose requires, and so to arrange them as to form a methodical and lucid summary of its contents. Nor if every man who reads the Bible were adequate to such a task, would there be any reason for requiring him to undertake it: as well might we impose on the theological student the necessity of making his own concordance; or expect that every mathematician should compute a table of logarithms for himself. The work once accomplished by competent hands, remains a xтμа ES E to succeeding generations, and imparts to the religious community which adopts it uniformity, dignity, and strength.

The early followers of the Reformation shared the fate of the first professors of Christianity, in being like them accused of holding the most impious tenets, of leading the most abandoned lives, and of seeking to throw off the authority of the old establishments, only that they might be enabled to pursue their licentious courses without restraint. "Quos per flagitia invisos vulgus Christianos appellabat," says Tacitus. "Nec habeat fidem," are the words of the Augsburg Confession-" Cæsarea majestas, istis qui, ut inflamment odia hominum adversus nostros, miras calumnias spargunt." And again--" Nam Cæsarea majestas haud dubiè comperiet tolerabiliorem esse formam et doctrinæ et ceremoniarum apud nos, quam qualem homines iniqui et malevoli describunt."-Confess. Augus. 1581. One of the earliest cares of the Reformers was, to refute, if not to silence, the calumnious misrepresentations of their adversaries, by laying before the Christian world expositions of the points in which they agreed,