If it be necessary that the above re- | persons, or inimical to the property, of marks should be confirmed by an ap- their neighbours; and should their peal to facts, the pages of history lawful exertions prove ineffectual, the furnish us with innumerable instances. language of their hearts and lives will The horror which filled the mind of uniformly be, "Not our will, O God, Thomas Paine, when on his death-bed, but thine be done.” is already known to the world. And who has not read the affecting representation of the death-bed exercises of the young and noble Altamont, by Dr. Young, which fictitious name is generally understood to have applied to Lord Bolingbroke? The awful and terrifying manner in which Voltaire expired, is likewise generally known. But the feelings and experience of Francis Freeport were of the most painful character of which we ever heard. This young man, when on his death-bed, having been long in a state of the greatest horror, pointed to a fire that was in his room, and said "that he would be content to broil on that fire a thousand years, could it but obtain for him the pardon of his sins, and procure the favour of God." But, alas! in a few moments after, he expired, exclaiming, "Oh! the pains of hell! Oh! the pains of damnation!" Let us now briefly contrast infidelity with the Christian religion, as these systems respectively operate on the minds of their disciples, on the near prospect of an eternal world. We have already seen the awful and alarming state of mind to which infidelity, at such periods, generally subjects its votaries; but, O how immensely different is the influence which Christianity, at this awful season, produces on the minds of true believers! Instead of trembling at being in a state of solitude, they can individually adopt the following language of the poet Thomson :"Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Flame on the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me, Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beams Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full: And where HE vital breathes, there MUST be joy." To these melancholy exercises of infidels, at the closing scenes of their Instead of shuddering at the apmortal existence, we trust it is un- proach of death, and trembling at the necessary to make any additions, idea of a judgment-day, he looks forespecially as the columns of the Im- ward with calm serenity and holy joy perial Magazine contain several truly to the arrival of that moment, when affecting accounts of a similar nature. his soul, disunited from his body, shall In the pages of history too, many aw-wing its flight to the tribunal of God, ful instances of the last moments of and become a perpetual inhabitant of infidels may be found; and others eternal bliss. equally distressing are to be met with in the every-day occurrences of life. But what opinions soever men may now entertain, in the day of judgment no atheists will be found. They will then for ever abandon those sentiments which are so derogatory to the dignity and glory of God; but it will be too late. Nor will those who give a speculative assent to the doctrines contained in the sacred scriptures, but who fail to reduce them to practice, experience any milder treatment at his hands. To these also, with a stern look, and in an indignant tone, he will then say, "Depart from me, for I know you not." J. G. I will now just glance at the striking contrast which the religion of Jesus presents. We have already seen, while considering the influence of infidelity, its powerful tendency to make men discontented with their situation and condition in life; and we have also seen the most convincing manifestations of this discontented spirit, in those enormous crimes which they have committed, in order to increase their wealth, and to attain dominion over their fellow men. The Christian religion, on the other hand, renders its disciples submissive to the dispensations of Providence. They are indeed not only allowed, but actually THE APOTHEOSIS OF CAPNIO; OR, THE commanded, to endeavour to better their respective conditions in life; but then they are to do it in such a manner as will not prove hurtful to the Elgin, March 24th, 1825. FRANCISCAN'S VISION. (FROM ERASMUS.) [A pleasant relation of John Reuchlin's ghost appearing to a Franciscan P. WHERE have you been with your spatter-lashes?-B. At Tubingua.-P. Have you any news there?-B. 'Tis a wonderful thing that the world should run so strangely a madding after news. I heard a camel in a pulpit at Louvain charge his auditory, upon their salvation, to have nothing to do with any thing that was new.-P. Thou meanest a Carmelite; but it was a conceit indeed fit for a camel; or if it were a man, by my consent, he should never change his shoes, his linen, or his breeches; and I would have him dieted with sauce, musty drink, and rotten eggs.-B. But yet, for all this, you must know that the good man had rather have his porridge fresh than stale. -P. Prithee come to the point, and tell me what news.-B. Nay, I have news in my budget too; but news, he says, is a wicked thing.-P. Well; but that which is new will come to be old. Now, if all old things be good, and all new things bad; that which is good at present, will hereafter be bad; and that which is now bad, will hereafter be good.-B. According to the doctrine of the camel, it must be so; and a young wicked fool will come to be an old good one.-P. But prithee let's have the news, whatever it is.B. The famous triple-tongued phoenix of erudition, John Reuchlin, is departed this life.-P. For certain?-B. Nay, it is too certain.-P. And where's the hurt of it, for a man to leave an immortal memory of his name and reputation behind him, and so pass from this miserable world to the seats of the blessed?-B. How do you know that to be the case?-P. It cannot be otherwise, if his death was answerable to his life.-B. And you would be more and more of that opinion, if you knew as much as I. P. What's that, I pray?-B. No, No; I must not tell you.-P. Why not?-B. Because he that told me the thing, made me promise secrecy.-P. Trust me upon the same condition; and upon my honest word, I'll keep your council.-B. That same honest word has so often deceived me. But yet I'll venture it; especially being a matter of such a quality, that it is fit all good men should know it. There is a certain Franciscan at Tubingua, (a man of singular holiness, in every body's opinion but his own.) The greatest argument in the world of true piety! If I should tell you his name, you would say as much; for you know the man.-P. Shall I guess at him?-B. Do so.-P. Hold your ear then.-B. Why? there's nobody within hearing.-P. But, however, for fashion's sake.-B. The very man.— P. Nay, we may swear it; for if he says it, it is as true as the gospel.B. Mind me then, and I'll give you the naked truth of the story. My friend Reuchlin had a dangerous fit of sickness; but not without some hope of recovery, neither. What pity 'tis, so admirable a man should ever grow old, sicken, or die! One morning I made my Franciscan a visit, to put off some trouble of thoughts, by diverting myself in his company; for when my friend was sick, do you see, I was sick; and I loved him as my own father.-—P. As if ever any honest man would have done otherwise! B. Mr. Franciscan bade me cheer up; for Reuchlin (says he) is well. What, (said I) is he well again so soon? for but two days ago, the doctors despaired of him. Then satisfy yourself, (says he), for he's so well, that he shall never be sick again. The tears stood in my eyes, and my Franciscan taking notice of it, Pray be patient (says he) till I have told you all. I have not seen the man this week, but I pray for him every day that goes over my head. This very morning, after matins, I threw myself upon my bed, and fell into a gentle, pleasant slumber. Methought I was standing by a little bridge that led into a meadow, so wonderfully fine, what with the emerald verdure and freshness of the trees and grass, the infinite beauty and variety of the flowers, and the fragrancy of all together, that all the fields on this side the river looked dead, blasted, and withered, in comparison. In the interim, while I was wholly taken up with this prospect, who should come by, in a lucky hour, but Reuchlin ? and, as he passed, he gave me, in Hebrew, his blessing. He was gotten above half over the bridge before I was aware; and as I was about to run up to him, he looked back, and bade me stand off. Your time (said he) is not yet come; but five years hence you are to follow me. In the mean while, be you a witness and a spectator of what is done. I put in a word here, and asked him if Reuchlin was clothed or naked, alone or in company. He had nothing upon him (said he) but one garment, and that was white and shining, like damask; and a very pretty boy behind him, with wings, which I took for his good genius. | me, then, (said I,) in what habit or shape St. Jerome appeared? Was he so old as they paint him? Did he wear a cowl, or a hat, and the dress. of a cardinal? or had he a lion for his companion? Nothing of all this, (said he,) but his person was comely, and his age was only such as carried dignity with it, without the offence of any sort of sluttery. But what need had he there of a lion by his side, as he is commonly painted? His gown came down to his heels, as transparent as crystal, and was of the same fashion with that he gave to Reuchlin. It was painted over with tongues of three several colours; in imitation of the ruby, the emerald, and the sapphire. And besides the clearness of it, the order made it exceedingly graceful. that they professed, I suppose.-B. No doubt of that; for upon the very borders of his garments, were the characters of these three languages, in many colours. P. Then he had no evil genius with him?-B. Yes; the Franciscan told me, he thought he had; for there followed him, a good way off, certain birds, that were black all over, saving, that when they spread their wings, they seemed to have a mixture of feathers that were betwixt white and car--P. In imitation of the three tongues nation. By their colour and cry, one might have taken them for pies, but that they were sixteen times as big, and about the size of vultures. They had combs upon their heads, and seemed a kind of gorbellied kites, with crooked beaks and talons. If there had been but three of them, I should have taken them for harpies.-P. And what did these devils do?-B. They kept their distance, chattering and squalling at the Heroic Reuchlin, and would certainly have set upon him if they durst.-P. Why, what hindered them?-B. Reuchlin's turning upon them, and making the sign of the cross at them. Begone, (says he,) ye cursed fiends, to a place that's fitter for you; you have work enough to do among mortals, but you have no commission to meddle with me, that am now 'listed in the rolls of immortality. The words were no sooner out of his mouth, (says my Franciscan,) but these filthy birds took their flight, and left such a stink behind them, that a putrid carcase would have been orange-flower water to it; and he swore that he would rather go to hell, than even snuff up such a perfume again. But hear what the Franciscan told me more. While I was musing upon this, St. Jerome (says he) having gotten close to the bridge, saluted Reuchlin in these very words, "God save thee, my most holy companion. I am commanded to conduct thee to the blessed souls above, as a reward from the Divine bounty, of thy most pious labours." With that, he took out a garment, and put it upon Reuchlin. Tell 80.-VOL. VII. P. Had Jerome no company with him?-B. No company, do you say? The whole field swarmed with myriads of angels, that flew in the air as thick as atoms; (pardon the meanness of the comparison;) if they had not been as clear as glass, there would have been no heaven or earth to be seen.-P. How glad am I now, for poor Reuchlin! But what followed?--B. Jerome, (says he,) for respect's sake, giving Reuchlin the right hand, and, embracing him, carried him into the meadow, and so up to the top of a hill that was in the middle of it, where they kissed and hugged one another again. And now the heavens opened to a prodigious wideness, and there appeared a glory, so unutterable, as made every thing that passed for wonderful before, to look mean and sordid.-P. Cannot you give us some representation of it? -B. How should I, without seeing it? But he that did see it, assured me, that the tongue of man is not able to express the very dream of it. And farther, that he would die a thousand deaths to see it over again, though it were but for one moment.-P. Very good; and how then?-B. Out of this overture, there was let down a great pillar of fire, which was both transparent and very agreeable. By the means of this pillar, the two holy souls, embracing one another, ascended into heaven; a choir of angels all the while 3 A accompanying them, with so charming a melody, that the Franciscan says, he is not able to think of the delight of it, without weeping. And after this, there followed an incomparable perfume. His sleep, or rather the vision, was no sooner over, but he started up like a madman, and called for his bridge and his meadow, without either speaking or thinking of any thing else, and there was no persuading him to believe that he was any longer in his cell. The seniors of the convent, when they found the story to be no fable, (for it is clear that Reuchlin died at the very instant of this appearance to the holy man,) unanimously gave thanks to God, that abundantly rewarded good men for their good deeds. P. What have we more to do, then, but to enter this holy man's name in the calendar of our saints?-B. I should have taken care of that, though the Franciscan had seen nothing of all this; and in golden letters too, I'll assure you, next to St. Jerome himself. —P. And let me die, if I don't put him in my book too.-B. And then, I'll set him in gold, in my little chapel, among the choicest of my saints.-P. If I had a fortune to my mind, I would have him in diamonds.-B. He shall stand in my library the very next to St. Jerome.-P. And I'll have him in mine too.-B. We live in an ungrateful world, or else all people would do the same thing too, and love learning and languages; especially the holy tongues.-P. Truly it is no more than he deserves. But does it not a little stick in your stomach, that he's not yet canonized by the authority of the bishop of Rome? B. I pray you, who canonized St. Jerome, Paul, the Virgin Mother? Tell me, whose memory is more sacred among all good men; those that, by their eminent piety, and the monuments of their learning, and good life, have entitled themselves to the veneration of posterity, or Catharine Senensis, who was sainted by Pius II. in favour of the order and city?-P. You say true; that is the right worship that is paid voluntarily to the merits of the dead; whose benefits will never be forgotten. -B. And can you then deplore the death of this man? If long life be a blessing, he enjoyed it; he left immortal monuments of his virtue; and, by his good works, consecrated him self to eternity. He's now in heaven, above the reach of misfortune, and conversing with St. Jerome. P. But he suffered a great deal, though, in_this_life.-B. And yet St. Jerome suffered more. It is a blessing to be persecuted by wicked men for being good.-P. I confess it; and St. Jerome suffered many indignities from wicked men, for his virtues.-B. That which Satan did formerly, by the Scribes and Pharisees, against our Saviour, he continues still to do by Pharisees against good men, that have deserved well from the world by their studies. He does now reap the fruit of the seed that was sowed. In the mean time, it will be our part to preserve his memory sacred, to glorify him, and to address him in some such manner as follows:-Holy soul! be propitious to languages, and to those that cultivate and refine them. Favour holy tongues, and destroy evil tongues, that are infected with the poison of hell.-P. I'll do it myself, and persuade all my friends to do it. I make no question, but we shall find those who will employ their interest to get some little form of prayer, according to custom; to perpetuate the honour and memory of this blessed hero. -B. Do you mean that which they call a collect.-P. Yes.-B. I have one ready, that I prepared before his death. "O God, who art the lover of mankind, and by thy chosen servant John Reuchlin, hast renewed to mankind the gift of tongues, by which the holy Spirit from above did formerly enable the apostles, for their preaching of the gospel; grant, that all people may, in all tongues, preach the glory of thy Son, to the confounding of the tongues of the false apostles, who, being in confederacy to uphold the wicked tower of Babel, endeavour to obscure thy glory, by advancing their own; when to Thee alone is due all | glory, &c.”—P. A most excellent and holy prayer! and it shall be my daily one. How happy was this occasion to me, that brought me to the knowledge of so edifying and so delightful a story. It was by such strains of keen and cutting irony as the above story displays, that Erasmus exposed to public scorn the solemn mummeries of the papal Church, and promoted the cause of the Reformation, REMARKS ON THE STATE OF THE SOUL BETWEEN DEATH AND THE JUDGMENT-DAY. Suggested by reading a Paper on this Subject in the Imperial Magazine for Sept. 1824, col. 819. MR. EDITOR, SIR,-Poets may indulge their imagination, and range in its fruitful regions, to gather flowers, which charm by their beauty, and enliven by their fragrance, and thus secure the apparently well-earned praise of their devoted admirers, for most are agreed they are entitled to this indulgence. Speculative men may investigate every subject within the grasp of their noble minds, and carry the world with them almost to the margin of certainty, for we listen with profound attention to their powerful reasonings; and men of leisure, who seek nothing but amusement, whose souls disdain the search for "immortality and eternal life," may ramble through the passing world, and drink largely at every stream, save at that of piety, and while the tear of heartfelt pity falls unheeded, they must be left to the justice of the Great Supreme; but theology is a subject too sacred to be treated in a mere imaginative or speculative manner. Its appeals are made to the whole man; it lays supreme claim to all our powers; it calls for deep experience and constant practice; and it exhibits, with convincing clearness, the righteous power of Jehovah, to all who refuse to yield their souls and lives to its evidently just mandate. This "garden of the Lord" is too sacred to be entered, and its flowers too precious to be plucked, by mere theorists. Here experience and practice may walk in holy agreement, but all inferior visitors should be deemed intruders, while all mere supporters of hypotheses should be resolutely repelled at their very entrance, by the united strength of all the watchful guardians of this pure enclosure. Men who leave the solid rock, the bible, for the moving sands of mere hypotheses, and all who build with them on this insecure foundation, may rest assured, that the breath of the Lord will sweep away their towering fabric, and they will greatly hazard being buried in its ruins. Alas, what multitudes fall into this fatal error! -fall to rise no more: so infatuated is man-so desirous to display his wit! All who love the sacred page, should diligently avoid this dangerous ground, and always satisfy themselves with Thus saith the Lord!" There is indeed an unsanctified curiosity, which passes by what is revealed, and infinitely important, to exhaust its powers in searching after what is not revealed, and therefore not important; but all should guard against this fair-faced enemy, and be guided only by Jehovah's counsel, that they may at last be received into glory. The state of the soul between death and the judgment-day, has been a subject of anxious inquiry with many, and all their rational inquiries, on this important point, would have been speedily answered to their eternal satisfaction, had they only given up their carnal wisdom to divine teaching-had they only consulted the scriptures with a teachable heart. But for want of this, they have wandered in endless mazes, and unhappily prevailed on many of the simple to follow them; thus becoming the "blind leaders of the blind." We deliberately reject all mere philosophy, hypotheses, and analogy, as to any information they can give respecting the nature and certainty of the soul's state between death and judgment, and listen with profound reverence to the infallible statements of revelation. In this we find a teacher every way suited to in part the information we need, and to this, all who wish to be safe and happy, should lend an "obedient ear." This sacred volume states as distinctly the certainty and nature of this state, as it does the existence and glory of that blessed Saviour, who died to make us all partakers of eternal bliss. It uniformly exhibits the awful grandeur of that solemn day, when the immortal Judge shall take possession of his "great white throne," in the presence of whom shall assemble all who ever lived, before whom, the "books shall be opened," and each receive a sentence which even his conscience will approve. It speaks clearly of our constant progress to the "house appointed for all living," and it presents numerous passages that can apply only to the state of the soul between these two momentous events. The scriptures do not, indeed, indulge mere curiosity, much less idle and injurious curiosity, but they inform us, that all who die in |