of all who would either gain the esteem, or win the hearts of others, is to learn the fpeech, and to adopt the manners, of candour, gentleness, and humanity. But that gentlenefs which is the characteristic of a good man, has, like every other virtue, its feat in the heart; and let me add, nothing, except what flows from the heart, can render even external manners truly pleasing. For no affumed behaviour can at all times hide the real character. In that unaffected civility which springs from a gentle mind, there is a charm infinitely more powerful, than in all the studied manners of the most finished courtier.

True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe to Him who made us, and to the common nature of which we all fhare. It arifes from reflections on our own failings and wants; and from juft views of the condition, and the duty of man. It is native feeling, heightened and improved by principle. It is the heart which easily relents; which feels for every thing that is human; and is backward and flow to inflict the leaft wound. It is affable in its addrefs, and mild in its demeanour; ever ready to oblige, and willing to be obliged by others; breathing habitual kindnefs towards friends, courtesy to strangers, long fuffering to enemies. It exercises authority with moderation; adminifters reproof with tenderness; confers favours with ease and modefty. It is unaffuming in opinion, and temperate in zeal. It contends not eagerly about trifles; flow to contradict, and still flower to blame; but prompt to allay diffenfion, and to reftore peace. It neither intermeddles unneceffarily with the affairs, nor pries inquifitively into the fecrets of others. It delights above all things to alleviate distress; and, if it cannot dry up the falling tear, to footh at least the grieving heart. Where it has not the power of being useful, it is never burdenfome. It feeks to please, rather than to fhine and to dazzle; and conceals with care that fuperiority, either of talents, or of rank, which is oppreffive to those who are beneath it. In a word, it is that spirit and that tenor of manners, which the gospel of Chrift enjoins, when it commands us 66 to bear one another's burdens; to rejoice with thofe who rejoice, and to weep with thofe who weep; to please every one his neighbour for his good; .to be kind and tender hearted; to be pitiful and courteous; to fup port the weak, and to be patient towards all men."

BLAIR.

CHAP. VI.

PATHETIC PIECES.

SECTION I.

Trial and Execution of the Earl of Strafford, who fell a Sacrifice to the Violence of the Times, in the Reign of Charles the Firft.

THE Earl of Strafford defended himself against the accufations of the houfe of Commons, with all the prefence of mind, judgment, and fagacity, that could be expected from innocence and ability. His children were placed befide him, as he was thus defending his life, and the cause of his royal master. After he had, in a long and eloquent fpeech, delivered without premeditation, confuted all the accufations of his enemies, he thus drew to a conclufion : "But, my Lords, I have troubled you too long: longer than I fhould have done, but for the fake of thefe dear pledges, which a faint in heaven has left me." Upon this he paufed; dropped a tear; looked upon his children; and proceeded." What I forfeit for myself is a trifle : that my indifcretions fhould reach my pofterity, wounds me to the heart. Pardon my infirmity. Something I fhould have added, but I am not able; and therefore I let it pass. And now, my Lords, for myfelf. I have long been taught, that the afflictions of this life are overpaid by that eternal weight of glory, which awaits the innocent. And fo, my Lords, even fo, with the utmoft tranquillity, I fubmit my. felf to your judgment, whether that judgment be life or death not my will, but thine, O God, be done !”

His eloquence and innocence induced thofe judges to pity, who were the most zealous to condemn him. The king himself went to the house of Lords, and spoke for fome time in his defence; but the fpirit of vengeance, which had been chained for eleven years, was now roufed; and nothing but his blood could give the people fatisfaction. He was condemned by both houses of parliament; and nothing remained but for the king to give his confent to the bill of attainder. But in the prefent commotions, the confent of the king would very easily be difpenfed with; and imminent danger might attend his refufal. Charles, however, who loved Strafford tenderly, hefitated, and seemed reluctant; trying every expedient to put off fo dreadful an office, as that of figning the warrant for his execution. While he continued in this agitation of mind, and state

fufpenfe, his doubts were at last filenced by an act of great magnanimity in the condemned lord. He received a letter from that unfortunate nobleman, defiring that his life might be made a facrifice to obtain reconciliation between the king and his people: adding, that he was prepared to die and that to a willing mind there could be no injury. This inftance of noble generofity was but ill repaid by his mafter, who complied with his requeft. He confented to fign the fatal bill by commiffion; and Strafford was beheaded on Tower-hill; behaving with all that compofed dignity of refolution, which was expected from his character.

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SECTION II.

An eminent Inftance of true Fortitude.

GOLDSMITH.

ALL who have been diftinguished as fervants of God, or benefactors of men; all who, in perilous fituations, have acted their part with fuch honour as to render their names illuftrious through fucceeding ages, have been eminent for fortitude of mind. Of this we have one confpicuous example in the apostle Paul, whom it will be inftructive for us to view in a remarkable occurrence of his life. After having long acted as the apostle of the Gentiles, his miffion called him to go to Jerufalem, where he knew that he was to encounter the utmoft violence of his enemies. Just before he fet fail, he called together the elders of his favourite church at Ephefus; and, in a pathetic fpeech, which does great honour to his character, gave them his last farewell. Deeply affected by their knowledge of the certain dangers to which he was expofing himself, all the affembly were filled with distress, and melted into tears. The circumftances were fuch, as might have conveyed dejection even into a refolute mind; and would have totally overwhelmed the feeble. 66 They all wept fore, and fell on Paul's neck, and kiffed him; forrowing moft of all for the words which he spoke, that they fhould fee his face no more." What were then the fentiments, what was the language, of this great and good man? Hear the words which fpoke his firm and undaunted mind. Behold, I go bound in the fpirit to Jerufalem, not knowing the things that shall befall me there; fave that the Holy Spirit witneffeth in every city, faying, that bonds and afflictions abide me. none of these things move me; neither count I my life dear to myself, fo that I might finish my courfe with joy, and the miniftry which I have received of the Lord Jefus, to testify

But

the gofpel of the grace of God." There was uttered the voice, there breathed the fpirit, of a brave and a virtuous man. Such a man knows not what it is to fhrink from danger, when confcience points out his path. In that path he is determined to walk; let the confequences be what they may.

This was the magnanimous behaviour of that great apoftle, when he had perfecution and diftrefs full in view. Attend now to the fentiments of the fame excellent man, when the time of his laft fuffering approached; and remark the majefty, and the eafe, with which he looked on death. "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight. I have finished my courfe. I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteoufnefs." How many years of life does fuch a dying moment over-balance? Who would not choose, in this manner to go off the ftage, with fuch a fong of triumph in his mouth, rather than prolong his existence through a wretched old age, ftained with fin and fhame ?

SECTION III.

The good Man's comfort in Affliation.

BLAIR.

THE religion of Chrift not only arms us with fortitude against the approach of evil; but, fuppofing evils to fall upon us with their heavieft preffure, it lightens the load by many confolations to which others are ftrangers. While bad men trace, in the calamities with which they are vifited, the hand of an offended Sovereign, Chriftians are taught to view them as the well intended chaftifements of a merciful Father. They hear amidst them, that fill voice which a good confcience brings to their ear: "Fear not, for I am with thee; be not difmayed, for I am thy God." They apply to themfelves the comfortable promises with which the gofpel abounds. They difcover in these the happy iffue decreed to their troubles; and wait with patience till Providence fhall have accomplished its great and good defigns. In the mean time, devotion opens to them its bleffed and holy fanctuary: that fanctuary in which the wounded heart is healed, and the weary mind is at reft; where the cares of the world are forgotten, where its tumults are hufhed, and its miferies difappear; where greater objects open to our view than any which the world prefents; where a more ferene fky fhines, and a fweeter and calmer light beams on the afflicted heart. In those moments of devotion, a pious man, pouring out his wants and

forrows to an Almighty Supporter, feels that he is not left folitary and forfaken in a vale of wo. God is with him; Chrift and the Holy Spirit are with him; and, though he fhould be bereaved of every friend on earth, he can look up in heaven to a Friend that will never defert him.

SECTION IV.

The Clofe of Life.

BLAIR.

WHEN We contemplate the clofe of life: the termination of man's defigns and hopes; the filence that now reigns. among thofe, who, a little while ago, were fo bufy, or fo gay; who can avoid being touched with fenfations at once awful and tender? What heart but then warms with the glow of humanity? In whofe eye does not the tear gather, on revolving the fate of paffing and fhort-lived man?

Behold the poor man, who lays down at laft the burden of his wearifome life. No more fhall he groan under the load of poverty and toil. No more fhall he hear the infolent calls of the mafter, from whom he received his fcanty wages. No more fhall he be raised from needful Дlumber on his bed of ftraw, nor be hurried away from his homely meal to undergo the repeated labours of the day. While his humble grave is preparing, and a few poor and decayed neighbours are carrying him hither, it is good for us to think, that this man too was our brother; that for him the aged and deftitute wife, and the needy children, now weep; that, neglected as he was by the world, he poffeffed perhaps both a found understanding, and a worthy heart; and is now carried by angels to rest in Abraham's bofom. At no great distance from him, the grave is opened to receive the rich and proud man. For as it is faid with emphafis in the parable, "the rich man alfo died, and was buried." He alfo died. His riches prevented not his fharing the fame fate with the poor man; perhaps, through luxury, they accelerated his doom. Then, indeed, "the mourners go about the streets;" and while, in all the pomp and magnificence of wo, his funeral is preparing, his heirs, impatient to examine his will, are looking on one another with jealous eyes, and already beginning to difpute about the divifion of his fubftance. One day, we fee carried along the coffin of the fmiling infant; the flower juft nipped as it began to bloffom in the parent's view: and the next day, we behold the young man or young woman, of blooming form and promifing hopes, laid in an untimely