his tomahawk, and, denouncing the speedy vengeance of the Great Spirit on their whole recreant race, darted from the circle with wild impetuosity, and disappeared in the shadows of

the forest.

ESSAYS, MORAL AND LITERARY.

No. 1.-On the Forgiveness of Injuries.
"To err is human, to forgive divine.---POPE.
THERE is something in a forgiving
temper so noble and endearing, that
it alike commands our reverence and
our love.
We almost consider it,
when contrasted with the usual acts of
men, as a possession scarcely belong-
ing to human nature, and look upon
it as a disposition of feeling which is
not of this world. It wipes away from
our remembrance every painful reflec-
tion; it makes us more in love with
mankind; and it atones for a thousand
errors. We cherish a kindly regard
for its possessor, and feel an interest
in every thing which he undertakes.
We view him as a being with some-
thing more of humanity about him
than appears to be the common lot,
as one, who, partaking of the evil
and the good, travels over the path of
this life scattering peace and good will
around him; whose track is strewed
with blessings, and brightened with
the deeds of pity and forbearance.
The man whose heart is thus fashion-
ed, has a consciousness of peace in
his own bosom, which the world can
neither give nor take away, and will
ever have the gratitude and respect of
the better portion of his species.
Whether in the higher or humbler
walks-whether in public or private
life, he will be followed by the same
regards and associations, and of him
it will be said, "When the ear heard
him, then it blessed him; when the
eye saw him, then it gave witness of
him."

lamentably true, that the evils arising
out of a state of society are almost all
the creation of man's perversity of
will, and are rendered so numerous
by the neglect of that noble maxim,
"Do unto all men as ye would they
should do unto you." If a fault is
committed, it is viewed in a thousand
lights, and magnified in a thousand
ways; it is scattered far and wide;
and, although the inadvertency be,
perhaps, small in reality, it becomes
a by-word for the wicked to mock at,
and the hypocritical to rejoice in.
Well might that sweet-soul'd poet,
who himself experienced no small
portion of such treatment, say,

"Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.”
BURNS.

Charity is a virtue which every one claims, but of which very few are in possession. It does not appear in the distribution of certain sums of money,

it is not in the supporting of the various institutions which at present exist,-it is not in the performance of those splendid acts which have their reward in this world; but, it shews itself in the humble prayer of piety, in the secret act of benevolence, in the expansion of that heart, whose philanthropy takes in the boundaries of the world, and which, forgetting every variation of custom, and colour, and tongue, looks upon every man as a "friend and a brother." And here, if we would observe this feeling in its widest and most unqualified exertion, we must turn our attention to those devoted men, who are yearly leaving the shores of their native countrywho forfeit every national comfort, and every friendly enjoyment-who, in the loftiness of their views overstep the limits of almost all that makes life desirable; and, instead of the society of friends and kindred, are content to take up their abode with the scowling savage, and the long-forgotten heathen. These "angel visitants," whose But, alas, if we examine the general only object is to plant "peace upon body of mankind, how widely diffe-earth, and good-will towards men," rent appears to be the feelings by which they are usually actuated. As if the world did not present difficulties enough-as if life itself was not attended with sufficient evils-as if the state of human nature was not sufficiently degraded, we see men acting as though their only object was to injure their fellow creatures. It is

are swayed by other motives than those which belong to this world-by hopes which are to be realized hereafter, and by feelings which have "their answering chords in heaven."

To forgive an injury, is to call for gratitude on the part of the offender, to insure the good-will of every real Christian, and to act in obedience to,

and receive the favour of heaven. | only be done to show how nobly we "Blessed are the merciful, for they can forgive it, and to convince the shall obtain mercy." But perhaps offender that he may yet become a there is no command, which, in the friend. How much greater is the general, is so little acted upon, and thought, I have forgiven him, than with which it is so difficult wholly to the feelings which cherish a lasting comply, as that which tells us to dislike, from prejudiced notions of "love our enemies." The common right and wrong. Even to treat one voice is, an eye for an eye, and a who is fully and decidedly our enemy tooth for a tooth,--and it is seldom that as an enemy, is unchristian like-how an offence can be committed, without much more so then to withhold the at the same time awakening a wish to hand of reconciliation from him, who, retaliate. To "bless them that curse conscious of his offence, is ready to us, and to do good to them that de- give it. We should always endeavour spitefully use us," is in direct oppo- to keep up that principle of general sition to every human feeling, and it benevolence, which looks not to indiis only when those many frailties that vidual cases, but to the whole human "flesh is heir to" have become chang- family, and should consider ourselves ed by an unearthly influence, that we as placed upon earth to promote the can in any way obey the command. interest and comfort of our fellowHowever, when an injury has been creatures. The world should be lookcommitted, and contrition on the part ed upon as the property of every one; of the offender is evinced, it is then and the various distinctions of state, that we see the disposition of a man in and customs of nation and province, its true state. Few, I apprehend, on ought not to merit consideration. such an occasion, would be hardy The man, who, because he happens enough openly to call for vengeance; to be born in any particular country, and yet how often do we find the ac- views his surrounding neighbours with tion of this same principle in other a sneer, and supposes himself of a channels,—how often do we find that superior order of beings, has but a a secret enmity is cherished in the narrow mind, and is unfit for the conheart, and is willing, in any hidden templation of human nature. When way, to seek revenge. This is too Goldsmith said, often the fact; the cold sneer-the proud recollection of the past-and the whisperings of malice, are proofs of the aversion which still rankles in the bosom.

There is a species of pride and pleasure, perhaps of the worst description possible, that is sometimes apparent in a man, when one who has been his enemy becomes suddenly bowed down by misfortune. Such a situation as this will show us both the nobility and the depravity of human nature. To contemptuously smile even upon an enemy struggling with adversity, is despicable: but to step in to bind up his wounds, and to shed a tear over his sorrows, is an act which almost raises man above humanity. The old saying, “I can forgive, but not forget," which we hear so often repeated as a sort of salvo to the conscience, is absurd. We may, and it is right we should, remember it was a friend, a brother, or a relative, that wronged us; but we should only do it to call up in review our own failings, and to feel that we are liable to err, even as others. To recollect an injury, should

Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine, there was a fine feeling of artless philanthropy in his bosom, which it would be well to see more generally in action; and it was a noble saying of that philosopher, who, on being asked what countryman he was, replied, "I am a citizen of the world."

The indiscretions of men, although they call for reproof, seldom meet with that treatment which is fittest for them. Harsh language, and severity of behaviour, are not the most probable means of effecting a reformation in any one. Men are not to be frightened out of their way of thinking and acting, neither will they submit to be catechized with unkindness. There are a thousand ways of convincing a man that he has done wrong, and of inducing him to do better, besides openly and sourly enumerating his faults and their consequences. The feelings of every heart are more inclined to be soothed and sympathized with, than sneered at and condemned; and, if a change is ever to be wrought in any one, it must be by calm and

the frailties of others; and yet we sometimes find, that even the follies of the dead are counted over and commented upon. It would seem likely, that the simple knowledge of what they are, and of what all else must be, would forbid an investigation; but it is not so, they are dragged from their resting places, and exposed to public notice; surely this is in no slight degree unfeeling. If the names of the dead are mentioned, let it be with a consciousness that we are speaking of that which is now sacred: and, if the veil of their offences must be removed, let it only be done silently to weep over them. Oh! there is something in the contemplation of the grave, which breaks down every lofty pretension, and which destroys every proud idea. It is there that all distinctions are obliterated, and all degrees of rank unknown. The world is equal there. Every ambitious thought, every high-sounding word, every towering hope, there meet with one answer. The rich and the poor, the wise, the ignorant, and the powerful, of this world, there mix and mingle together in one lowly habitation; and it is while acknowledging this, that we feel the whole force of those noble lines:

friendly advice. The inadvertencies and induce us to cast a shade over of youth are too often exposed, and treated in a way that, so far from promoting good, commonly produces an increase of evil. It is not by severe correction, it is not by cool behaviour, it is not by a sort of conscious distinction marked out between them and others, that they will be found to lay aside their evil actions, but it is by a true and friendly interest in their welfare, and by a way of acting that, while it seems to overlook their follics, points out the path in which they should tread. A look of tenderness will do more than all the various species of authority that have ever been practised; the heart catches at such a proof of regard, and every better feeling is awakened, while a distant demeanour, or a hard saying, if it does not hurry the offender into deeper crime, will at least serve to lessen his consciousness of guilt. Youthful minds generally act from the impulse of the moment, and are as quick in their actions one way as another. They are as ready to confess a fault as to commit it; and, when properly treated, are as easily won over to the right side. Their acts are the movements of nature, unbiassed by reflections on particular circumstances; they have a truer conception of the rectitude of any action, and feel more acutely for the performance of any thing blameable, than perhaps is done at any other period of life. If they have their follies, they have usually their hour of repentance, and their day of reformation; and few are there, who, even while they have been partaking of the vanities around them, have not known and felt the truth of those fine and original lines of Burns, where he tells us that

"Pleasures are like poppies spread, We seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow-falls on a river,

One moment white, then melts for ever." But there is one consideration, which, supposing there were none other, should ever incline us to live in charity with all men, and to regard their worst deeds more "in sorrow than in anger," and that is, the consciousness of our common doom-that we are all hastening to that place where every strife is quieted, and every grief forgotten. Did this recollection more frequently arise within us, it would humble our pretensions,

The glories of our earthly state

Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate,
Death lays his icy hand on kings.
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
SHIRLEY.

Let us then cherish those feelings,
that incline us to pity and forgive the
frailties of others, and that direct us
to the contemplation and practice of
those actions which are virtuous and
praiseworthy. So shall we pass
through life, enjoying and giving
happiness, and be conducted to the
very threshold of death, fitted to die
smilingly.
G. M.

Derby.

TRANSLATION OF AN OLD CHARTER.

THE following is a translation of an Old Charter, originally written in the Saxon language, and granted by William the Conqueror to the inhabitants of London (communicated by J. D. B. of Bilston, Staffordshire.)—

"WILLIAM, King, greets William,
Bishop, and Godfrey Portgrave (the
same in office as Lord Mayor) and all
the Borough of London, French and
English, friendly. And I now make
known to you, that you are worthy to
enjoy all those laws and privileges
which you did before the decease of
King Edward. And it is my will that
every child be his father's heir after
his father's decease. And I will not
suffer any man to do you wrong.
"God you keep."

MEMOIR OF THE REV. CLAUDIUS BU-
CHANAN, D. D. LATE VICE-PROVOST
OF THE COLLEGE of Fort WILLIAM

IN BENGAL.

With a Portrait.

Few ministers of the gospel, who have appeared in modern days, are more entitled to the notice of the bio- | grapher than Dr. Claudius Buchanan. His visiting the Syrian Christians, his history of Juggernaut, and his_entrance into the Inquisition at Goa, are circumstances that cannot easily be forgotten. His Christian researches in India can hardly fail to immortalize his name.

Claudius Buchanan was born at Cambuslang, near Glasgow, on the 12th of March, 1766. He was the son of Mr. Alexander Buchanan, a man of respectable learning and of excellent character, who was highly esteemed in various parts of Scotland, as a laborious and faithful teacher, and who, a few months previous to his death, was appointed rector of the grammar school of Falkirk.

His mother was the daughter of Mr. Claudius Somers, one of the elders of the church of Cambuslang. This gentlemen was awakened to a deep and lasting sense of real religion by the preaching of Mr. Whitefield, in the year 1742. His piety was solid and lasting; and his spirit seems to have been imbibed by his daughter, the mother of young Claudius, who, at an early age, was awakened to the importance of religion, and on whom, as he advanced to maturity, the spirit and mantle of Elijah fell. By his pious parents he was carefully trained up in religious habits; and though naturally of a lively disposition, his mind was susceptible of serious impressions, which it received from the No. 37.-VOL. IV.

devotional exercises of his parents, and from the kind, but serious admonitions of his grandfather, from whom he derived his baptismal name.

In 1773 young Claudius, at the age of seven years, entered the grammarschool of Inverary, in Argyleshire, of which his father was then master, and under whose instruction he made a considerable proficiency in the Latin and Greek languages. He continued at Inverary until some time in 1779, when, spending his vacation with a schoolfellow near the island of Mull, he attracted the attention of a Mr. Campbell, of Dunstafnage; and on the following year, though only fourteen years of age, he received an appointment to become the tutor of his two sons, one of whom, in the year 1803, was the captain of the “United Kingdom" East Indiaman. In this situation Mr. B. continued nearly two years; and it is probable that he would have remained longer, had it not interfered with a necessary attention to his own education. While in this employment, his serious convictions again returned, an account of which he communicated to his pious grandfather, who did all in his power to cherish them both by his advice and his prayers. But these continued only for a season: his association with a dissipated companion soon quenched the kindling spark, and several years elapsed before he was permanently led to seek that God whose invitations he had so ungratefully disregarded.

In the year 1782, he left the family of Mr. Campbell, and proceeded to the University of Glasgow, where he remained during that and the following year, diligently pursuing the various studies for which he afterwards became so distinguished. In the year 1784, he left the University, and went to the island of Islay, for the purpose of becoming tutor to the sons of Mr. Campbell, of Knockmelly. In 1785, he removed to Carradell, in Kintyre, and performed a similar office to the sons of Mr. Campbell of that place. In 1786, he again returned to the college at Glasgow; and a certificate from the Professor of Logic testifies, that he regularly attended the public lectures, and that, at the examination, he gave commendable proof of attention, diligence, and improvement, in

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