The interest of this wide and various scriptural scene gradually gathers itself in towards a single point. There is One who stands at the place where its converging lines all meet; and we are led over the expanse of world-history, that we may rest at length beneath the eye of the Prophet of Nazareth. He is the central object, around whom all the ages and events of the Bible are but an outlying circumference; and when they have brought us to this place of repose, to return upon them again would be an idle wandering. They are all preliminaries, that accomplish their end in leading us hither."The law,” aye, and the prophets too, we esteem "our school, masters to bring us to Christ;"* and though, like grateful pupils, we may look back on them with true-hearted respect, and even think their labours not thrown away on such as may still be children in the Lord, we have no idea of acknowledging any more the authority of the task, the threat, the rod. To sit at the feet of Jesus we take to be the only proper position for the true disciple; to listen to his voice "the one thing needful;" and however much others, notwithstanding that he is come, may make themselves "anxious and troubled about many things besides, and fret themselves still about the preparations for his entertainment, we choose to quit all else, and keep close to him, as that better "part, which shall not be taken from" us. Whatever holy influences of the Divine Word may be found in the old Scriptures, are all collected into one at length; "the Word hath been made Flesh," and in a living form hath "dwelt among us;" and from its fulness of "grace and truth" we will not be torn away.

If the ultimate ends of Scripture are attained in Christ, that portion of the Bible which makes us most intimate with him, must be of paramount interest. Compelled then as I am, by my limits, to narrow our inquiry into the proper treatment of Scripture, I take up the New Testament exclusively, and especially the Gospels, for examination and com

ment.

Suppose then that these books are put into our hands for the first time; disinterred, if you please, from a chamber in Pompeii;-without title, name, date, or other external description; and that with unembarrassed mind and fresh heart, we go apart with these treasures to examine them.

It is not long before their extraordinary character becomes evident. All minds are known by their works, the human quite as distinctly as the Divine: and if "the invisible things

VOL. VIII.-4

Galatians iii. 24.

of God" "are clearly seen" "by the things that are made," and on the material structures of the universe the moral attributes of his nature may be discerned,-with much greater certainty do the secret qualities of a man's soul,-his honesty or cunning, his truthfulness or fraud,-impress themselves on his speech and writings. To a clear eye his moral nature will unerringly betray itself, even in a disquisition; more, in a fiction; more still, in a history; and most of all, in a biography of a personal companion and teacher, drawing forth in turns his friendship and grief, his pity and terror, his love and doubt and trust, his feelings to country, to duty, to God, to heaven. Accordingly in these Gospels, and in the Journal of travels and Collection of letters, which carry out and illustrate the development of a new religion, I find myself in the presence of honest and earnest men, who are plainly strangers to fiction and philosophy, and lead me through realities fairer and diviner than either. They take me to actual places, and tell the events of a known and definite time. They conduct me through villages, and streets, and markets; to frequented resorts of worship, and hostile halls of justice, and the tribunals of Roman rulers, and the theatres of Asiatic cities, and the concourse of Mars' hill at Athens: so that there is no denying their appeal, these things were "not done in a corner."* Yet their frank delineation of public life is less impressive, than their true and tender touches of private history. Following in the steps of the world's domestic prophet, they entered, evening and morning, the homes of men,-especially of men in watching and in grief, the wasted in body or the sick in soul; and the unconsciousness with which the most genuine traits of nature gleam through the narrative, the infantile simplicity with which every one's emotions, of sorrow, of repentance, of affection, give themselves to utterance, indicate that, with One who bare the key of hearts, the writers had been into the deep places of our humanity. The infants in his arms look up in the face of Jesus as we read; the Pharisee mutters in our ear his sceptic discontent at that loving "woman who was a sinner" kneeling at the Teacher's feet; and the voice of the bereaved sisters of Lazarus trembles upon the page.

But, above all, these writings introduce me to a Being so unimaginable, except by the great Inventor of beauty and Architect of nature himself, that I embrace him at once, as having all the reality of man and the divinest inspiration of God. Gentle and unconstrained as he is, ever standing, even on the brink of the most stupendous miracles, in the easiest

Acts xxvi. 26.

attitudes of our humanity, so that we are drawn to him as to one of like nature, we yet cannot enter his presence without feeling our souls transformed. Their greatness, first recog nized by him, becomes manifest to ourselves; the death of conscience is broken by his tones; the sense of accountability takes life within the deep; new thoughts of duty, shed from his lips, shame us for the past, and kindle us for the future with hope and faith unknown before. His promise* fulfils itself, whilst he utters it; and whenever we truly love him, God comes, and "makes his abode with" us. He has this peculiarity: that he plunges us into the feeling, that God acts not there, but here; not was once, but is now; dwells, not without us, like a dreadful sentinel, but within us, as a heavenly spirit, befriending us in weakness, and bracing us for conflict. The inspiration of Christ is not any solitary, barren, incommunicable prodigy; but diffusive; creative, vivifying as the energy of God:-not gathered up and concentrated in himself, as an object of distant wonder; but re-producing itself, though in fainter forms, in the faithful hearts to which it spreads. While in him it had no human origin, but was spontaneous and primitive, flowing directly from the perception and affinity of God, it enters our souls as a gift from his nearer spirit, making us one with him, as he is one with the Eternal Father. Children of God indeed we all are: nor is there any mind without his image: but in this Man of Sorrows the divine lineaments are so distinct, the filial resemblance to the Parentspirit is so full of grace and truth, that in its presence all other similitude fades away, and we behold his "glory as of the only begotten of the Father." It is the very spirit of Deity visible on the scale of humanity. The colours of his mind, projected on the surface of Infinitude, form there the all-perfect God. The mere fact of his consciousness of the alliance with the Creator, and his tranquil announcement of it, without the slightest inflation, and amid the exercise of the meekest sympathies, appears to me all-persuasive. From whom else could we hear such claims without disgust? In moment they would turn respect into aversion, and we should pity them as insanity, or resent them as impiety. But to him they seem only level and natural; we hear them with assent and awe, prepared by such a transcendent veneration as only a being truly God-like could excite. This is one of those statements which refutes or proves itself. Whoever, calmly affirming himself the Son and express similitude of God, can thereby draw to him, instead of driving from him, the affections of the

*John xiv. 23.

wise and good, proclaims a thing self-evident; requiring, however, to be stated, in order to be tested.

Of such self-evidence as this, the gospels appear to me to be full. Whenever men shall learn to prefer a religious to a theological appreciation of Christ, and esteem his mind greater than his rank, much more of this kind of internal proof will present itself. It has the advantage of requiring no impracticable learning, and being open, on internal study of the books, to all men of pure mind and genuine heart; it is moral, not literary; addressing itself to the intuitions of conscience, not to the critical faculties. It makes us disciples, on the same principles with the first followers of Christ, who troubled themselves about no books, and forged no chains of scholastic logic to tie them to the faith: but watched the Prophet, beheld his deeds of power, felt his heavenly spirit, heard his word, found it glad tidings, and believed. In short, it is identical with the evidence to which our Lord was so fond of appealing when he said, "No man can come to me, except the Father, which hath sent me, draw him;"* "every one that is of the truth, heareth my voice;" "if I do not the works of my Father, believe me not;" "my sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me;"§ "if any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." This spiritual attraction to Christ, arising out of mere contemplation and study of the interior of his life, is enough to bring us reverently to his feet, -to accept him as the divinely-sent image of Deity, and the appointed representative of God. If this be not discipleship, allow me to ask, "What is it?”

I consider, then, this internal or self-evidence of the New Testament, as incomparably the most powerful that can be adduced; as securing for Christianity an eternal seat in human nature, so as to throw ridicule on the idea of its subversion; and as the only evidence suitable, from its universality, to a religion intended for the majority of men, rather than for an oligarchy of literati.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

A man who mistakes his own contracted individuality for the type of human nature, and deals with whatever contradicts him, as if it contradicted this, is but a pedant, and without true wisdom.-CARLYLE.

*John vi. 44. +John xviii. 37. John x. 37. John x. 27. John vii. 17.

CHARLES HAMMOND.

Among the distinguished characters of the West, CHARLES HAMMOND ranks high. For the last forty years an actor in the busy scenes, and stirring events, which mark this period, he was no less honored for honesty of conduct, than for superiority of intellect. It is no exaggeration, therefore, to declare him first among our great men. As such it becomes us, not on his account, but on our own, to speak of his character.

. Mr. Hammond was born in Maryland 1779, but was brought up in Virginia. He had no early advantages. The schools of the neighborhood in which his father resided, he attended; beyond this he received no further aid. But he pressed on. Intent upon his education, and resolved to fit himself for the Bar, he allowed no difficulties to damp his ardor, or check his efforts. He was admitted to the Bar forty years ago, not only with credit to himself, but with the prospect of certain success. He was prepared by energy, developed in early trials, to act a high part in life. He had self-reliance. His growth was sturdy, and his mind was matured in its own strength. As a boy he dared to act for himself: as a man such action became his habit, and trusting to his own stout heart, he felt that he had the power to succeed. He had, too, independence. No authority, no decision ever deterred him from examining whatever subject came before him, or checked him in the free expression of his conclusions. And thus was he thorough. Thoroughness, indeed, was his characteristic. He had to feel that he knew his subject, before he uttered himself upon it. But when his mind was made up, he was fearless in declaring and following out his convictions. It was impossible to keep down such a mind. Mr. Hammond rose fast, and early in life took the first stand on the professional list. The Court heard him with deference; the Bar felt that he spoke with authority. He was first, therefore, among the men who adorned it.

Nor did Mr. Hammond gain, or gaining, seek to hold this position by cunning, or any low artifice. No man could have been truer. Ambition, wealth, or love of popularity never made him swerve from his duty, nor for a moment forget it. He acted as became a noble mind. He was true to his client and to the community. He was just to his opponents; just and generous ever to his juniors; and desired to triumph only because the happiness of society, or its safety, seemed to him to demand it. And so acting, he won for himself the