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stir up the bounty of the rich and wealthy ; nay, himself worked often with his own hands, not only to maintain himself, but to help and relieve them. But infinitely greater was his charity to the souls of men, fearing no dangers, refusing no labours, going through good and evil report, that he might gain men over to the knowledge of the truth, reduce them out of the crooked paths of vice and idolatry, and set them in the right way to eternal life. Nay, so insatiable his thirst after the good of souls, that he affirms, that rather than his countrymen the Jews should miscarry, by not believing and entertaining the gospel, he could be content, nay, wished, that “himself might be accursed from Christ for their sake;" i.e. that he might be anathematised and cut off from the church of Christ, and not only lose the honour of the apostolate, but be reckoned in the number of the abject and execrable persons, such as those are who are separated from the communion of the church. An instance of so large and passionate a charity, that lest it might not find room in men's belief, he ushered it in with this solemn appeal and attestation, that " he said the truth in Christ, and lied not, his conscience bearing him witness in the Holy Ghost." And as he was infinitely solicitous to gain men over to the best religion in the world, so was he not less careful to keep them from being seduced from it, ready to suspect every thing that might “ corrupt their minds froin the simplicity that is in Christ." “I am jealous over you with a godly jealousy," as he told the church of Corinth : an affection of all others the most active and vigilant, and which is wont to inspire men with the most passionate care and concernment for the good of those for whom we have the highest measures of love and kindness. Nor was his charity to men greater than his zeal for God, endeavouring with all his might to promote the honour of his master. Indeed, zeal seems to have had a deep foundation in the natural forwardness of his temper. How exceedingly zealous was he, while in the Jews' religion, of the traditions of his fathers; how earnest to vindicate and assert the divinity of the Mosaic dispensation, and to persecute all of a contrary way, even to rage and madness; and when afterwards turned into a right channel, it ran with as swift a current; carrying him out, against all opposition, to ruin the kingdom and the powers of darkness, to beat down idolatry, and to plant the world with right apprehensions of God, and the true notions of religion. When, at Athens, he saw them so much overgrown with the grossest superstition and idolatry, giving the honour that was alone due to God to statues and images, his zeal began to ferment and to boil up into paroxysms of indignation ; and he could not but let them know the resentments of his mind, and how much herein they dishonoured God, the great parent and maker of the world.

This zeal must needs put him upon a mighty diligence and industry in the execution of his office, warning, reproving, entreating, persuading, “ preaching in season and out of season,” by night and by day, by sea and land; no pains too much to be taken, no dangers too great to be overcome. For five-and-thirty years after his conversion he seldom stayed long in one place; from Jerusalem, through Arabia, Asia, Greece, round about to Illyricum, to Rome, and even to the utruost bounds of the western world, “ fully preaching the gospel of Christ :" running (says St. Jerome) from ocean to ocean, like the sun in the heavens, of which it is said, “ his going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the end of it ;” sooner wanting ground to tread on, than a desire to propagate the faith of Christ. Nicephorus compares him to a bird in the air, that in a few years flew round the world : Isidore the Pelusiot to a winged husbandman, that flew from place to place to cul tivate the world with the most excellent rules and institutions of life. And while the other apostles did as it were choose this or that particular province, as the main sphere of their ministry, St. Paul overran the whole world to its utnost bounds and corners, planting all places where he came with the divine doctrincs vf the gospel. Nor in this course was he tired out with the dangers and difficulties that he met with, the troubles and oppositions that were raised against him. All of which did but reflect the greater lustre upon his patience ; whereof, indeed, (as Clement observes,) he became a most eminent pattern and exemplar, during the biggest troubles and persecutions, with a patiunce triun,phant and unconquerable. As will easily appear, if we take but a survey of what trials and sufferings he underwent, some part whereof are briefly summed up by himself. In labours abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons frequent, in deaths often ; thrice beaten with rods, once stoned, thrice suffered shipwreck, a night and a day in the deep ; in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by his own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren ; in weariness, in painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness; and besides these things that were without, that which daily came upon him, the care of the churches. An account, though very great, yet far short of what he endured; and wherein, as Chrysostom observes, he does modestly keep himself within his measures ; for, had he taken the liberty fully to enlarge himself, he might have filled hundreds of martyrologies with his sufferings. A thousand times was his life at stake ; in every suffering he was a martyr, and what fell but in parcels upon others came all upon him ; while they skirmished only with single parties, he had the whole army of sufferings to contend with. All which he generously underwent with a soul as calm and serene as the morning sun ; no spite or rage, no fury or storms, could ruffle and discompose his spirit : nay, those sufferings, which would have broken the back of an ordinary patience, did but make him rise up with the greater eagerness and resolution for the doing of his duty.

His patience will yet further appear from the consideration of another, the last of those virtues we shall take notice of in him, his constancy and fidelity in the discharge of his place, and in the profession of religion. Could the powers and policies of men and devils, spite and oppositions, torments and threatenings, have been able to baffle him out of that religion wherein he had engaged himself, he must have sunk under them, and left his station. But his soul was steele:l with a courage and resolution that was impenetrable, and which no temptation either from hopes or fears could make any more impression upon, than an arrow can that is shot against a wall of marble. He wanted not solicitation on either hand, both from Jews and Gentiles; and questionless might, in some degree, have made his own terms, would he have been false to his trust and have quitted that way that was then every where spoken against. But, alas! these things weighed little with our apostle, who “counted not his life to be dear unto him, so that he might finish his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus.” And therefore, when under the sentence of death in his own apprehensions, could triumphantly say, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith :” and so indeed he did, kept it inviolably, undauntedly to the last minute of his life. The sum is,-he was a man in whom the divine light did eminently manifest and display itself; he lived piously and devoutly, soberly and temperately, justly and righteously, careful “ always to keep a conscience void of offence both towards God and man.” This he tells us was his support under suffering, this the foundation of his confidence towards God, and his firm hopes of happiness in another world: “this is our rejoicing, the testimony of our conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity we have had our conversation in the world."


169.-MÝ MAIDEN BRIEF. [The following paper was first printed in Knight's Quarterly Magazine.' It is so true, and there is such a quiet vein of humour running through it, that we cannot but regret that this is almost a solitary specimen of our friend's power as a writer. However, he has won his laurels in his own field; and, what is better, his life has been one in which his professional eminence has been principally valued by him as affording opportunity for advancing the cause of public improvement.]

“A lawyer,” says an old comedy which I once read at the British Museum, "is 'an odd sort of fruit—first rotten, then green, and then ripe.” There is too much of truth in this homely figure. The first years of a young barrister are spent, or rather worn out, in anxious leisure. His talents rust, his temper is injured, his little patrimony wastes away, and not an attorney shows a sign of remorse. He endures term after term, and circuit after circuit, that greatest of miseries—a rank above his means of supporting it. He drives round the country in a post-chaise, and marvels what Johnson found so exhilarating in its motion—that is, if he paid for it himself. He eats venison and drinks claret; but he loses the flavour of both when he reflects that his wife (for the fool is married, and married for love, too) has, perhaps, just dined for the third time on a cold neck of mutton, and has not tasted wine since their last party-an occurrence beyond even legal memory. He leaves the festive board early, and takes a solitary walk, returns to his lodgings in the twilight, and sees on his table a large white rectangular body, which for a moment he supposes may be a brief-alas! it is only a napkin. He is vexed, and rings to have it removed, when up comes his clerk, drunk and insolent : he is about to kick him down stairs, but stays his foot, on calling to mind the arrear of the fellow's wages, and contents himself with wondering where the rascal finds the means for such extravagance.

Then in court many are the vexations of the briefless. The attorney is a cruel animal; as cruel as a rich coxcomb in a ball-room, who delights in exciting hopes only to disappoint them. Indeed, I have often thought the communications between solicitors and the bar has no slight resemblance to the flirtation between the sexes. Barristers, like ladies, must wait to be chosen. The slightest overture would be equally fatal to one gown as to the other. The gentlemen of the bar sit round the table in dignified composure, thinking just as little of briefs as a young lady of marriage. An attorney enters,—not an eye moves ; but somehow or other the fact is known to all. Calmly the wretch draws from his pocket a brief : practice enables us to see at a glance that the tormentor bas left a blank for the name of his counsel. He looks around the circle as if to choose his man ; you cannot doubt but his eye rested on you-he writes a name, but you are too far off to read it, though you know every name on your circuit upside down. Now the traitor counts out the fee, and wraps it up with slow and provoking formality. At length, all being prepared, he looks towards you to catch (as you suppose) your eye. You nod, and the brief comes flying; you pick it up and find on it the name of a man three years


n ha "pontyos, and intuang ist, vere asert gainst iim. I of wine Burt, paflost, he gate 416 43 ian Ais satuence ; vleranf, indeert. ( Clement de SA 1434,, ne narave i most, omninens, atiem ad esempiar, turing the biggest EPOCblas and partantons, w t4 L patrinos umphant ant nnconquerable. As Atsily rogant, if a palca kurt, 2 ray ať viat trials ant sufferings he underwent, sma party whorenf hrafty ammest up hy himself. In labouzs abundant, in stripas above menta, in prisons Arterinent in deaths ofien ; thrice beaten with pocie, non stonest, thrice operert shirwerk, night and a day in the deep ; in journeyinga oftesto, in partie of water, in pers of möbers, in perils by his own coul.frythen, in povilas by the beataert, in pers in the city, in perily in the wilde!eä. in papils it the sea, in poriis ataong false brethren, in wearinese, in painfu... watchinga oftar, i hinner and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedienVaidle these things that were withonts that which daily came upon him,

the o rches, All automat, thongh very great, get far short of what I.! and wherein, as Chrysostoto observer, he does modestly keep hin . thansrites , five, bad be taken the liberty fully to enlarge himself, he 11 bruindreds of martyrolonges with his sofferings. A thousand times #tako s in every suffering he was y martyr, and what fell but in 1. ofthe wall upon hiin, while they skirmished only with single. whole arany of sufferings to contend with. All which he gel A monil e enlia wml serene is the morning sun; no spite or emuld rutes and discornjose his spirit: nay, those sufi Troken the lock of an ordinary patience, did but make 1 eagerness and resolution for the doing of his duty.

Ilis patience will yet further appear from the co of those virtutes we shall take notice of in him, discharge of his place, and in the profession policies of men and devils, spite and oppo, it Teen able to batlle him out of that religio have fundetunder them, and left his stati and resolution that was impenetrable, or fears could make any more im against a wall of marble. Ile wat and Centiles, and questionles would he have been falset every where spoken against who tf counted not his with joy, and the min fore, when under phantly say, "T



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170.-APOPHTHEGMS.-VI. .NG.—“Sir I would no more deprive a nobleman of his respect than of y. I consider myself as acting a part in the great system of society, and thers as I would have them to do to me. I would behave to a nobleman Juld expect he would behave to me, were I a nobleman and he Sam Johnson. ere is one Mrs. Macaulay in this town, a great republican. One day, when I it her house, I put on a very grave countenance, and said to her, “Madam, I now become a convert to your way of thinking. I am convinced that all manid are upon an equal footing; and to give you an unquestionable proof, Madam, at I am in earnest, here is a very sensible, civil, well-behaved fellow-citizen, your ootman ; desire that he may be allowed to sit down and dine with us.' I thus,

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