repaired to the chamber of affliction and there the loveliness of his character rendered him peculiarly welcome and remarkably successful. He formed and nurtured a large Sunday School, as well as a Benevolent Institution, the quarterly meetings of which he regularly attended. At the very last of these, immediately before his illness, he observed, that " he had no doubt, when they met together in heaven, they should look back with pleasure to many of the evenings spent there in endeavouring to administer comfort to the souls and bodies of the afflicted, in however small a degree." In his school he had peculiar success. Not a few holy lives and happy deaths were, by the grace of God, the result of it. Many of the scholars became teachers when they grew up, and as many as twenty or thirty went out as catechists and schoolmasters in the foreign stations of Missionary or other societies. He took a lively interest also in public religious institutions. The City National School, the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge, the Church Missionary Society, and the British and Foreign Bible Society, shared his regard; and for the Prayerbook and Homily Society he had a particular affection, and its anniversary sermons were regularly delivered in his church But he never suffered these engagements to interfere with his duties to his family and parish; and he consequently kept himself out of the region of an excitement inconsistent with his particular charge.

His laboriousness in his hours of retirement is attested by the immense number of sermons which he composed and wrote out at length. He published only a few occasional discourses; but his ordinary sermons were marked with much labour and consideration. There was an earnestness and affection in them almost peculiar to himself. He thought maturely over his subject, and his whole heart was thrown into his compositions. They were rich in solid, instructive, scriptural matter; and were marked by peculiar simplicity, pathos, sobriety, and mild authority. But though overwhelmed, as it might appear, with these numerous duties, Mr. Crowther found time for the diligent and affectionate inspection of his family. He diligentlyinstructed his servants and children especially his eldest son, who was blind.

In the purity of his conduct he was in his measure, like the Apostle, an example to the believers. He could have said, as far as any fallible man may adopt the language, "Ye are witnesses, and God also, how holily and justly and unblameably we behaved ourselves among you that believe." Even when a boy at Winchester college, he was generally beloved with a regard inferior only to that which, at an interval of thirty years, his higher excellencies ensured, when the grace of God had elevated his inoffensiveness of spirit into Christian meekness and affection.

man,

His behaviour, both as a minister and a was remarkably consistent. There was a singleness of heart, a transparency in all he said and did, which those who knew him longest could best appreciate. This arose partly from the just proportion in which the several Christian graces were united in his character. The main ingredient was gentleness; yet there was such an infusion of fidelity, boldness, and knowledge of human nature, as to produce a wholesome and powerful result in the way of general consistency. He evinced also a calm, thoughtful, clear-sighted discernment, which preserved him from those errors which very mild dispositions are prone to commit. He had much of heavenly wisdom: his mind was under constant discipline; and, consequently, his speech was with grace, and his advice well considered. Most of his statements, in the pulpit and out, were calmly measured; and few ministers had so little occasion to retract what they have advanced. have said so little evil of others, or spoken so seldom unadvisedly with their lips. Few during so long a course, and in a day of great excitement, and many novelties in religious opinion, have been less drawn aside.

Few

But the chief source of his consistency was the depth of his religious principles, and the care with which he applied them to the details of his duties. He was a man taught of God. He believed with the simplicity of a child in his Redeemer and Saviour. Religion was with him an affair of the heart and conscience; he walked with God, as the patriarchs of old; he was much in prayer; the habitual stand. ard of his principles and feelings was high and scriptural: and even in his very deportment there was a placid diguity which repelled folly, and made all who approach him feel that he was a most sincere and holy man.

The constancy of our friend's mind under afflictions and trials, and when called to meet the approach of death, evinced the sincerity of his faith and hope in Christ Jesus. Four or five and twenty years since he was seized with the first paroxysm of a most excruciating complaint. Often have his friends observed his agonized countenance when sitting in his pew during the prayers (for latterly he was compelled to have the assistance of a curate), and then have seen him force himself into the pulpit and deliver his discourse. In this state of health he preached, he visited the sick, he taught his children, he attended societies and committees. In his domestic circle, also, much occasional affliction arose, aggravated at times with what his disinterested spirit would never fully make known the pressure of narrow circumstances. Yet under these afflictions his constancy, his patience, and meekness never failed. He was cheerful and resigned. The grace of God was evidently

strengthened in his heart by means of them, and probably to them, under the Divine blessing, he owed much of the effect of his ministry.

On the 27th of March 1825, in reading the prayers at morning service, his speech was observed to falter, he became confused, and he fell senseless into the arms of one of his parishioners. From this attack of apoplexy he partially recovered; but a paralytic affection remained which deprived him of the use of one side, and rendered his speech at times nearly unintelligible. In this languishing state he continued, during four years and a half, to exhibit the passive virtues of the Christian minister. Under a debilitated frame, with the lowness of spirits and tendency to irritation which arose from his complaint, in the view of his beloved family whom he was about to leave, and of the separation that was at hand between his flock and himself, there appeared in him such submission to the will of God, such trust in his forgiveness and acceptance through Jesus Christ, such a desire to depart and to be with Christ, and such an anticipation of the peace and joy of heaven, as formed an affecting attestation to the sincerity of his preceding life.

About five days before his departure, he observed to a friend, "that he could not but earnestly desire that it would please God to release him; he feared he should quite wear out his kind family." But he retracted the expression, when reminded that his countenance might still be beneficial to his children and parish. He said, "Yes, and I am willing to stay." On the Sunday evening before his death, he seemed better than usual. He had been accustomed to have a part of the prayers of the Church read to him daily, morning and evening; and on Sundays the whole service, and a sermon whenever he could bear it. On this evening he expressed peculiar delight in the whole religious duty, observing that he had not always been able to have it performed. But the very next

morning the apoplectic attack returned for the third time, and he "was delivered from the burden of the flesh, and transmitted to joy and felicity." What the transition must have been under such circumstances as his-under any circumstances-from earth to heaven;-what the change from the imprisonment of the body, to the liberty and perfection of the unembodied soul-what the joy, to be for ever free from sin, and grief, and pain, and to be eternally with the Lord-no mind can conceive, no language express.

The most tender respect has been paid to his memory by his parishioners. Business was suspended during the funeral, the shops were closed, and the church was crowded with affectionate friends and neighbours. An interment in Westminster Abbey, says Mr. Wilson, could scarcely have been more honourablecertainly not so indicative of individual sympathy and love; and this, after he had been laid by from public service for more than four years and a half.

Some further interesting particulars respecting this excellent man are given in Mr. Wilson's discourse; to which, as before stated, we are indebted for the preceding notices; and which we the more strongly recommend to the perusal of our readers, not only for its intrinsic value, but as the extensive sale of it will assist the honourable fund which the friends of this disinterested minister of Christ are raising for the benefit of his family. It adds much to Mr. Wilson's many claims upon the gratitude of all who wish well to the church of Christ, and the increase of religion in our own beloved national communion, that, amidst his numerous occupations, he has not shrunk from the demand made upon him to embalm the memory of his revered friend; taking advantage of the occasion to exhibit to the world a most finished and instructive portrait of what a minister of Christ ought to be, and what, by the grace of God, in an eminent degree was Samuel Crowther.

THE new French cabinet has already been weakened by the secession of M. Bourdonnaye, and has a far more formidable opposition to encounter at a meeting of the chambers. Should the house of Deputies prove refractory, they may possibly be dissolved, and a new election take place; but the influence of the government must be strong, indeed, if in such an event the people can be induced to uphold this unpopular ministry. The Prince de Polignac's general views of policy are

well known; but it remains to be seen at the meeting of the chambers, whether he may not have determined to adopt measures less in hostility to the opinion of the great body of his countrymen. The avowed abandonment of the Greeks, the revival of Jesuit influence in France, the thraldom of the press, and the support of arbitrary power in Spain, Portugal, and other places, would be justly, and perhaps fatally, unpopular.

The legislature of New York has passed

a law, that capital executions in that state shall henceforth take place in private, on the ground that public punishments harden the spectators, and lead to the commission of crime.

:

The correspondence between Lord Mountcashel and the Bishop of Ferns, proceeds with great animation; but, we fear, with a want of sound judgment in either party. We are not insensible to the defects in our ecclesiastical administration, and certainly have never been accused of erring on the side of scrupulousness in adverting to them, with a view to their correction; but with regard to the proceedings which originated this correspondence, and the correspondence itself, we think them most unadvised, and calculated to be highly mischievous. We may say this the more freely, because we respect the motives of the parties chiefly concerned. Lord Mountcashel is a young nobleman of great piety, simplicity, amiableness of character, and purity of intention. He deeply laments the practical defects in our church discipline, and is honestly anxious to amend them but he has suffered himself to be led into exaggeration of state. ment. Besides which, was it well-judged to summon a lay meeting to deliberate upon our ecclesiastical grievances, to publish its proceedings in the newspapers, and to excite anew the animosities which had grown out of the Catholic Question? How is it that Lord Mountcashel and Lord Winchelsea never found out these abuses till the moment when their late disappointment in parliament, and the grievous exasperations which followed, led them to express their intentions of reforming the church? thus giving to their projects an air of party spirit, quite hostile to that calm deliberation which so great a matter required. The proper time and place for Lord Mountcashel's motion for reform, would have been, in the first instance at least, legislatively in his seat in the House of Lords, and not by means of popular excitement. Look at the present state of Ireland. The Catholic gentry, with Mr. O'Connell, the intended repealer of the Union, at their head, are hailing Lord Mountcashel as a brother agitator, through whom they hope to get rid of a Protestant Church Establishment altogether. The Catholic peasantry are banded in conspiracies-not in consequence of the Relief Bill, but in spite of it; and in spite of Dr. Doyle himself, who has issued two pastoral letters, urging them to abandon all secret illegal societies; the Catholic peasantry, we say, or at least many of them, are banded in confederacies hostile to law, and property, and life itself; as fearfully appears from the late trials at Cork, where twenty-one prisoners were arraigned for a cold-blooded and diabolical conspiracy to murder three Protestant gentlemen. Three of these conspirators were convicted, while others escaped only yb a single juror's

Mo

refusing to convict upon the evidence of mercenary spies and accomplices, or by the ultimate determination of the Crown to proceed no further with the prosecutions. While matters are thus proceeding in Ireland, and while in England our Humes in the House of Commons, our Lord Kings in the House of Lords, and our radicals and infidels every where, are urging the new crusade against the Established Church of both countries, is it desirable that such a newspaper correspondence should be proceeding, as that which has given rise to these remarks? We would hazard much for reform, where reform is wanted-and wanted, we scruple not to say, it is-but measures like these tend not to reform, but to ruin. derate, and conscientious, and religious men may furnish the weapons; but the common enemy will soon snatch them from their hands, and use them for purposes they never intended, and will shudder to contemplate. Lord Mountcashel's committee wish for a more equalized distribution of church property; the abolition of parochial unions and distant pluralities involving incompatible duties; and a better remedy for the ejection of scandalous clergymen: all which objects, calmly and judiciously, yet zealously pursued, are of great moment; but they are not matters to be rightly settled by popular inflammation: they require much thought, and wisdom, and prudent advice; they are not to be adjusted amidst the exaggeration and conflict which are now in progress respecting them. The Bishop of Ferns, in his wish to protect the citadel, has stepped forward and widened the breach. He has convicted Lord Mountcashel of mistakes; but he has unintentionally led the public to think that the Church dreads discussion, and is resolute against reform. "All's well," is as untrue and as dangerous a watchword as "All's ill." The Church wants pious, honest, disinterested, yet temperate friends. She may be embraced to death, as well as strangled to death; her flatterers are her worst enemies. An ordeal is impending; the hour of trial is perhaps not far off. Let every true churchman, then, study her best interests. It is a time, not for angry conflict, but for calm discussion, diligent exertion, and earnest prayer. We have no fears for the result; but we dread the evils of the struggle. Reform, to be at once both temperate and efficient, should proceed from within. The clergy, individually and collectively, may do much, the lay members of the Church may do much; above all, our revered prelates may do much, and we trust they will not be backward to do all that is in their power, to render the Church, in all respects, what she ought to be, merely because some wellintentioned friends, like Lord Mountcashel, may err in prudence, or deliberate enemies may wish for subversion, not amendment.