their children!"-These were the tidings brought by every new fugitive.' pp. 17, 18.

But the soldiers had their sufferings too. In the following passage we are introduced to the grand agent in this scene of carnage and desolation.

• Several couriers had been sent forward to announce the speedy arrival of the king of Saxony and Napoleon. The hero of the age, as he has been styled, actually came about noon, not, as we anticipated, by the Dresden road, but by that from Berlin. He passed hastily through the city, and out at the farthest Grimma gate, attended by some battalions and squadrons of his guards. A camp-chair and a table were brought in all haste, and a great watch-fire kindled in the open feld, not far from the gallows. The guards bivouacked on the right and left. The emperor took possession of the head quarters prepared for him, which were any thing but magnificent, being surrounded only by the relics of the stalks and leaves of the cabbages consumed by his soldiers, and other matters still more offensive The table was instantly covered with maps, over which the emperor pored most attentively. for a considerable time. Of what was passing around him he seemed not to take the smallest notice. The spectators, of whom I was one, crowded pretty close about him. On occasion of his visit to the city, a few months before, the French had discovered that the people of Leipsig were not so malicious as they had been represented, but tolerably good-natured creatures. They were therefore allowed to approach unobstructed within twenty paces. A long train of carriages from the Wurzen road, the cracking of the whips of the postillions, together with a great number of horsesoldiers and tall grenadiers, announced the arrival of another distin, guished personage, and called the attention of the bye standers that way. It was the king of Saxony, with his guards and retinue, alighted, and a kind salutation ensued between h m and his august ally. The king soon afterwards mounted a horse, and thus proceeded into the city. Napoleon meanwhile remained where he was.' pp. 14, 15.

The engagements are described in a very vivid manner. Sometimes the eye ranges over the intermediate lines of troops; at others the course of the battle is conjectured only from the approaching or receding sound of the cannonade. The field of battle is thus depicted.

The smoking ruins of whole villages and towns, or extensive tracts laid waste by inundations, exhibit a melancholy spectacle; but a field of battle is assuredly the most shocking sight that eye can ever behold. Here all kinds of horrors are united; here death reaps his richest harvest, and revels amid a thousand different forms of human suffering. The whole area has of itself a peculiar and repulsive physiognomy, resulting from such a variety of heterogeneous objects as are no where else found together. The relics of torches, the littered and trampled straw, the bones and flesh of slaughtered ani.

mals, fragments of plates, a thousand articles of leather, tattered cartouch boxes, old rags, clothes thrown away, all kinds of harness, broken muskets, shattered waggons and carts, weapons of all sorts, thousands of dead and dying, horribly mangled bodies of men and horses, and all these intermingled !I shudder whenever I recall to memory this scene, which, for the world, I would not again behold. Such, however, was the spectacle that presented itself in all directions; so that a person, who had before seen the beautiful environs of Leipsig, would not have known them again in their present state.' p. 51.

We will only add the following extract from the "Memorial."

"All the countries of our continent have been more or less drained by this destructive war. Whither then are these poor people, who have such need of assistance-whither are they to look for relief? Whither but to the sea-girt Albion, whose wooden walls defy every hostile attack, who has, uninjured, maintained the glorious conflict with France, both by water and by land? Ye free, ye beneficent, ye happy Britons, whose generosity is attested by every page of the annals of suffering Humanity-whose soil has been trodden by no hostile foot-who know not the feelings of the wretch that beholds a foreign master revelling in his habitation,-of you the city of Leipsig implores relief for the inhabitants of the circumjacent villages and hamlets, ruined by the military events in the past month of October. We therefore entreat our patrons and friends in England to open a subscription in their behalf. The boon of Charity shall be punctually acknowledged in the public papers, and conscientiously distributed, agreeably to the object for which it was designed, by a committee appointed for the purpose. Those who partake of it will bless their benefactors, and their grateful prayers for them will ascend to Heaven.' pp. 103, 104.

Art. XIII. The Pleasures of Religion, in Letters from Joseph Felton to his son Charles, 8vo. pp. 72. Price 2s. London. Williams, Conder, 1814.

IT

T is perhaps quite as difficult to write for the illiterate as for the cultivated ear many who shine in drawingroom representation, produce but an awkward effect when they assume the dialect of the cottage. No one can do both, with more grace than Miss Edgeworth, and, in the latter, not even Miss Edgeworth exceeds Mrs. More. Her cheap Repository Tracts are exquisitely true to the kind of nature which they profess to delineate, and present a model of appropriate excellence, which might almost deter others from a similar attempt. But that desire of usefulness which is the growth of christian principle, does not inquire, can I utvie my competitors? but, can I throw, if it be but a mite,

into the treasury?-if I can I will.-The poor man's library is at present but scantily supplied, and the composition of religious and moral tracts is a labour of love, which seems to call, with peculiar emphasis, upon the leisure and the benevolence of intelligent christians; of such as the author of the little volume before us appears to be. Much has already been done, but subjects are by no means exhausted. There are many hints conducive to individual or domestic improvement, which well written tracts might seasonably convey, and which, to a certain degree, might disencumber the dwellings of the poor both of vice and misery, even if that well of water which alone can effectually purify the abodes of moral wretchedness, were not to spring up in them. But we have fancied that it is not piety, merely, that qualifies for such an employment; and have wished, occasionally, that the best intentions, sentiments the most evangelical,a glowing devotion, and lively concern for the spiritual interests of the poor,-had been seconded in their exertions, by some little knowledge of human nature, and ability to sketch it with truth and vivacity. Tracts written with these advantages would not only stand a chance of being read through, but would be understood by the humblest reader; who is never at a loss when addressed in his own language, and to whom, in general, it is not the idea, but the words that envelope it, which are unintelligible. We have seen an address to a child, commencing with a sentence, which would have suited a treatise on ethical philosophy.

The little volume before us (certainly one of the cheapest we have lately seen, considering the style in which it is presented) was originally intended to occupy this humble but useful station, "but the materials were too copious tó ba compressed within the stipulated limits, or rather, the writer became diffuse as the character she attempted to delineate passed before the mirror of imagination." It is now, therefore given to the public in a small, neat, volume. Joseph Felton, the hero of the tale, is "a pious gardener;" and if, now and then, we perceive indications of a taste better cultivated than usually falls to the lot of such a personage, though admitted to my lady's special favour,-appointed head gardener, and superintendant of the botanical conservatory, yet, the style throughout is well adapted to the class for which it is designed. It will seldom, if ever, be unintelligible to the lowest; the story, though simple, is sufficient to interest; and the piety, though unequivocal and pervading, is not so profusely scattered as to offend them at the first approach. We think too, that the simple tale

will be read with interest and pleasure, even in those intelligent circles in which the fair author is reported to move, and which she appears equally fitted to improve and ornament. The design of the story is to illustrate the pleasures of religion in the life of a simple hearted christian; and the narrative is given by himself, in a course of letters to his son. The sentiments are truly evangelical, and the spirit catholic: we could almost venture to assert that it will please, equally, churchmen and dissenters; but perhaps it would be safer to predict, that they will be pleased with it, who are christians, without being either; who think it becoming a brotherly feeling, to prove most but not all things; holding fast much that is good, but, for charity's sake, being indifferent to the rest. The style and sentiments of the author are as fairly exhibited in the subsequent quotations as in any we could select. The first is occasioned by the death of a worthy coachman, under whom Joseph Felton served as stable boy, in the early period of his history.

Jollity may fitly be compared to the crackling of thorns under a pot, it makes a great blaze and soon flies off, leaving a few ashes to be scattered away with the wind, probably the wind of adversity but a Christian's joy comes from a vital principle; and though it may be but like the light of a glow-worm, yet the glow-worm has life in itself, and shines brightest in the darkest night. But it was not so much the burial of my master which I remember, as its important consequence. My sobs and tears at his grave caught the attention of our pious clergyman, and with the sweetest look I had ever seen directed towards me, he touched my unworthy hand, and drew me aside into the vestry, where seeming to know me he told me it was only the dust of my good friend we had committed to the grave. His Soul,' (said he) is in eternal glory. He then said much was expected from me, who had seen a Christian both live and die.. He then and there put into my hand a new Bible, and laboured to make me sensible of its value, making me often repeat after him, Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? even by ruling himself according to thy word.'-Which he bid me remember as a constant inducement to me to read that sacred book. pp. 9, 10. A consistent, conscientious discharge of humbler duties promoted him, at length, to the honourable office of head gardener; and, at this time,

4

Her ladyship proposed (said he) to honour me with the care of a building, wherein she greatly delighted; it contained a music room and what was called the dressed dairy, besides an aviary for curious birds, under the same roof. Somewhat hidden behind the stone entrance, was the dwelling prepared for me, wherein I put the best furniture I could afford to purchase. It

was embosomed amongst stately trees, a limpid stream passed the door, a lovely landscape was spread in the front, and the folding doors and the music room opened into the prettiest flower garden imaginable. My wages were proportionably increased, my situation in the garden became more respectable, my prospects more encouraging. Here I spent ten more years blessed with the kindest, gentlest, most prudent wife, presented with two fine children, honoured by my Lord and Lady, and familiarized to better conversation than my situation seemed to promise; for step by step 1 became head gardener, and was used to shew the grounds to visitors and exhibit rare plants and early esculents. During five of these years religion and prosperity went on hand in hand," but at the end of this time our most worthy and reverend pastor died, to the inexpressible grief of the parish, and to the decline of religion in many professors, to the trial of it in all, and' alas! to the injury, though I trust not the extinction, of - Christianity

in me.

The preaching of the gospel is an invaluable privilege. I take it to be that river which maketh glad the city of God. And whereas trees may live in a dry soil and put ut forth leaves, yet the finest

fruit is produced by those whose roots are refreshed by rivers and streams; so though Christians may still as it were show their sort without the means of grace, yet they flourish but by the pools of Heshbon. And whilst the sun of prosperity scorches up the sap, if no doctrine distils as the dew, or t falls like ram upon

the mown grass, spirituality must decline. pp. 21-3. 21 zi

This is pleasingly expressed, and to the truth of the sen timent every heart, attentive to its own religious improvement, will accede. In another letter, an idea equally familiar, is illustrated with peculiar sweetness and the delicate line is drawn which distinguishes the lawful, from the unlawful enjoyment of commendation. ada

1

، Much more he said, which it would not become me to repeat; for our corrupt nature will not bear to be regaled with praise, which though it fall from a good man's lips, and be grateful to the palate, should, like the manna in the wilderness, suffice for the hour, but not be gathered up, ho, not an omer full, lest it breed worms, and grow corrupt. p. 50.

To the sunshine of prosperity, just mentioned, succeeded a state of religious, declension, and afterwards of severe trial; the heaviest stroke of which is described in the following

letter.

Dear Son,-It ill becomes a Christian to dwell with too much minuteness upon the difficulties and trials through which a gracious Providence has led him; he knows this world is called a wilder. ness, and, consequently, expects a thorny path; so much however as will subserye to shew the accomplishment of God's promise,